#044
When an unexpected situation arises, people's minds usually go blank. Catherine was no different. She'd anticipated they might cross paths like this, but now that they were face-to-face, none of her prepared responses came to mind. She'd given Demian a brief break, so there was no familiar companion nearby to pretend not to notice and slip past. And to top it off, this was Percival in an outrageously casual outfit she'd never seen before.
"How rude for a first meeting."
So Catherine decided to stick to her role as a foreigner. Percival's brows furrowed sharply at her stiff reply.
"What the hell is this bullshit? Did you hit your head when you fell while I wasn't looking?"
Doesn't work, as expected. Uselessly sharp intuition. Catherine slowly relaxed her wide-eyed pretense of being someone else.
"Hello, Percival."
"Hellllooo?"
His reaction to her reasonably friendly greeting was lukewarm at best.
"Why'd you board the Lilith Ship looking like that freak?"
"None of your business, right? Not thrilled to see you either, so let's just go our separate ways, Percival."
"You can't expect to see only friendly faces in life."
They happened to be heading up the same staircase, forcing them to walk side by side. She wished he'd stride past with his long legs, but he showed no intention of doing so.
"You've changed so much even I almost didn't recognize you, goat shit."
"It's normal not to recognize someone dressed like this. But how the hell did you spot me?"
"That's what I want to know."
Hard to believe such prickly words came from that upright, righteous face that always seemed to shine with noble light—unless he was openly showing his dislike. It had been ages since she'd been this close to Percival, carrying on such a casual conversation.
The world really is fair. A devout shell hiding a thug like this.
They continued side by side along the path from the stairs toward the deck's cafeteria.
"Why'd you pretend not to know me on the first day? Made me feel like shit when our eyes met."
"You're hilarious, Percival. Did you erase your memories or something? We're not exactly the type to smile and wave hello."
"Yet you greeted me just fine a minute ago."
"Damned if I do, damned if I don't."
What the hell did he want from her? Percival opened his mouth as if to say something, then slowly closed it. His expression looked profoundly conflicted. Well, she couldn't blame him. It had barely been days since he'd declared he'd cling like a leech, and here they were reuniting.
Ah, I want to ask. Do you know about Transfer roots...?
As a holy knight, he had magical knowledge rivaling most mages. Same with Fontpado Madam—plenty of people around to ask, yet she couldn't utter a word. Frustrating.
But my promise with Chezare comes first.
The late-afternoon cafeteria on deck was pleasantly breezy. With the leisurely pace of the voyage, it wasn't bad for enjoying the vast ocean vista. Heading toward a prime open spot, Catherine spoke up.
"Percival, how far are you planning to stalk me? Don't you have an appointment or something?"
Percival, who'd been blankly staring at the horizon, turned his head toward her. Watching his eyelids blink slowly, Catherine was certain. You're definitely following me up here.
"You aren't suggesting we grab a coffee together, are you?"
That was the trigger. Percival, who'd been unusually relaxed, reverted to his signature disdainful glare. A gust of wind tousled and scattered his bangs.
Ooh.
Somewhere, a chorus of admiration for Percival's beauty erupted. Catherine, of course, felt nothing.
"...Ha."
Even squinting, his face screamed utter disillusionment with life. Percival shook his head in profound self-disappointment.
"I've gone properly mad."
Then he turned and walked away from the cafeteria.
Whoa!
A woman who recognized his face covered her mouth, giggling. It must've been a shit-eating grimace, yet even that looked saintly in her eyes.
After ordering coffee, Fontpado Madam's whisper came as if on cue.
If she hadn't kept her ears open, she wouldn't have caught it. The speed was that rapid.
"Never reeled him in... well, okay, once, but no more in the future."
"Did what?"
Ugh. Her mood soured instantly, vision tinting red. Luckily, Yaong in her bag voiced her feelings perfectly.
Anyone overhearing would think she and Chezare were a second-year newlywed couple. No energy left to deny it, so she let it slide.
Catherine sipped her warm coffee, savoring the crisp sea breeze.
Chezare has it good. All this is under his feet.
Leviathan. One of the seven Great Demons ruling the hellfire pits of the demonic lands, dominator of the great ocean. Leader commanding sea dragon packs. To maintain power and reason over thousands of years, Great Demons periodically erase their emotional memories.
What does it feel like to wipe emotions? Regretful? Or accept it as duty, indifferent? Inconceivable emotion, yet it nagged her that an eternal being must repeat the same for eternity ahead.
But something had been off for a while.
Why does my vision keep going red?
The wind stopped.
Everything else remained the same. Chatting crowds, booming laughter, crashing waves, trailing seagulls.
But it felt wrong. This was...
"Something just brushed past me."
Fontpado Madam's voice was as urgent as when Giovanni was before her eyes.
"My vision's red. Like red dust in the sky..."
Fontpado Madam sharply inhaled at her answer.
Demon Summoning Array!
Time's short! Get to an empty spot, miss! Return to your original body now!
Crimson circle for demon summoning. The words conjured the red magic circle in her mansion's basement. Demon-summoning arrays were crimson. Ah!
Without grasping the full situation, Catherine abandoned her untouched coffee and headed below deck. The moment she reached the stairs' base, black smoke billowed from her bag, attempting to form a woman's shape.
No, trying to.
"Anne!"
Startled, Catherine's eyes widened. Rough hands seized her wrist and shoulder, yanking her. The black smoke hesitated, then vanished.
The owner of the firm jawline dragging her was Percival.
Anne? ...Right. I told Percival Anne's name, not mine.
Ah, damn. Now Fontpado Madam couldn't reform her body. Catherine dug in her heels, resisting being dragged.
"Percival, what the hell? This is kidnapping, you know? A crime!"
"Shut up and follow, idiot. Act all high and mighty, and you'll end up in a coffin at the seabed."
That line clued her in. Percival had recognized the demon summoning circle too.
"Where are we going?"
"Stick to me like a leech for now. Holy knights are tracking..."
"Sir Percival?"
Then a voice halted them. Calm and gentle, contrasting the crisis. The speaker was a priest. A familiar one at that—the one from the train with the monster egg allergy.
The priest asked Percival,
"I just saw Prince Jennan. Everyone seems busy. Something wrong?"
Percival snapped irritably, as if ready to swing a fist. Prince Jennan was the Lilith Ship's owner, prince of the Parhenrine Holy Kingdom, and his brother.
"What kind of stupid question is that? If you saw Jennan, you'd know the situation."
"Ah... Atchoo!"
Did he know or not? The priest, still serenely peaceful, wiped his nose and bowed with a creepy smile.
"Ahem. My condolences, sir. I'll be off then."
How absurd for Fontpado Madam to yell aloud, forgetting her position. In that instant, Catherine's mind raced, pinpointing the source of the priest's creepiness.
It's him. He's involved in this!
"Hey!"
Afraid to let him slip away, she yanked his sleeve.
"Yes?"
The priest turned, puzzled but still smirking.
Catherine glared coldly, snapping,
"Why's your smiling face so damn punchable?"
"...Pardon?"
Right, why blurt something suicidal like that? Unable to hide her anger, Catherine shouted,
"Madam, it's this bastard. He warned me my last trip would be boarding the Lilith Ship."
With Yaong chiming in, Fontpado Madam—already suspicious—reformed her body.
"...You really carry everything with you. Unbelievable."
She heard Percival grumbling, but that wasn't important now.
The flustered priest tried wrenching his arm from Catherine's grip, but she clung with all her might. Percival, who'd been watching, wedged between her and Fontpado Madam, extending a long arm.
"Move."
The priest, tussling with Catherine, was yanked like a handkerchief in the wind. Percival gripped his nape firmly, casually retracting one arm.
"For shady bastards, make 'em talk willingly."