Dark Wasteland #1
A sky the color of ash. Snow falling endlessly, wearily.
Young Isabella stared at it all with empty eyes.
That year brought more rain and snow than usual. The weather stayed relentlessly cold and damp, and the crops couldn't withstand it.
In a situation where the mouths to feed only grew day by day, it was a catastrophe.
But hoping for help from the nobles? That was a pipe dream.
The lord of the barony where her village lay was no leader worthy of the name—not even as a joke. His vanity and greed were as bloated as the fat around his neck, and he poured his energy into booze, women, and gold rather than strengthening his domain.
What reason would a man like that have to care about a remote village on the edge of his lands?
And so, under the indifference of this incompetent ruler, the rural village where young Isabella lived quietly withered away.
By the time the sensation of snow against her face faded entirely, Isabella glanced down. No wonder it felt numb—snow had already buried her up to her knees.
Yet she didn't brush it off. Instead, she let her body go limp. She didn't want to die, even now, but she had no strength left to fight.
Her parents were gone. Her mother three days ago, her father just last night. The monster called hunger had burrowed into their bellies and devoured their lives without mercy.
Isabella had held on this long only because her parents had given most of their remaining food to her.
But now even that was gone. There was no way for a little girl to keep living.
The rest of the village was in the same boat.
Some starved. Some fell to the plague that ravaged that summer. Others had already fled the dying village.
Isabella shuddered suddenly. It felt like icy death was crawling up her throat.
I don't want to die. She wanted to scream it, to sob uncontrollably—but even that was frozen solid inside her.
All she could do was stretch her gaunt, skeletal arms toward the sky, trembling violently, as if begging someone to take her hand.
But Isabella knew. No one would come.
“⋯⋯There's a kid here! She's still alive! Get some dry towels!”
One person.
“Good thing. You held on this long.”
Silver hair nearing gray, eyes like blood. A boy in a solemn black cloak.
“⋯⋯Who are you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah⋯⋯ Are you an angel?”
“Nah. Just a person. Like you.”
“Like me?”
“Yeah. I'm Ricardo. Ricardo Bardi.”
Everyone except Ricardo, who wrapped a scarf around her neck.
Isabella awoke from the dream of her first meeting with Ricardo and quietly folded the lingering echoes away in the center of her heart.
“⋯⋯.”
Unlike back then, when she placed a hand over her now full, grown breasts, she felt a warm thump-thump of her heartbeat. That rising warmth—all of it came from her young master.
Feeling her life reaffirmed by it, Isabella dove into her daily routine with haste.
Today was the day Beltum Professor had invited them to heal her young master's inner self. More important than ever, she couldn't afford to dawdle.
With practiced skill, she tidied her appearance and cleaned the already spotless dorm room while waiting for him. He'd gone exploring the forest with his friends last night and hadn't returned yet, leaving the room eerily quiet and cold. And it had only been empty for a day.
Thanks to his steady, periodic check-ins, she wasn't too worried⋯⋯.
Still a bit before he gets back? Isabella gauged, glancing at the clock.
Alone, it felt lonely and chilly. Especially after dreaming of her childhood.
Only one thing could soothe her now.
Hop.Poof—.
Bold as ever, Isabella leaped onto her young master's bed.
The sheets had cooled overnight, sadly lacking warmth, but his lingering scent remained. True to Nicola Class dorm standards, the bed cradled her softly, and with his fragrance, her heart settled a little.
Sniiff—.
She inhaled deeply. His scent flowed into her sinuses.
Even regretting its disappearance into her body—was that too perverted?
She pondered briefly, but didn't stop. It was too addictive.
Just a little. A tiny bit more. Until right before he returns.
She'd need to fix the rumpled clothes and blankets earlier than that, but humans were weak to pleasure, after all.
Face buried in the pillow, rubbing against it on the bed—Isabella's indulgence stretched on, timeless.
“⋯⋯Bell, sorry to interrupt your rest, but it's about time to head out.”
“⋯⋯Huh?”
⋯⋯Until Ricardo returned.
Awkward. On the early morning walk back from a quick shower, heading to Beltum Professor's room.
I stole glances at Isabella, her face flushed beet red, silent as we walked.
In a crisp shirt and pants instead of her usual maid outfit, she looked refreshingly different—enough to stir my heart anew. But this atmosphere⋯⋯.
In my defense, I had no choice. Returning to the dorm alone, there she was, sprawled on my bed.
Thinking she'd be embarrassed if caught, I left her be and showered in the communal bath, only to return and find her still there!
So I stepped out, made some noise, cleared my throat—but she was too immersed to notice.
Time was running short, no sign of her stirring, so I called out softly. And this is the result.
“⋯⋯Hoo.”
As Beltum Professor's room neared, Isabella let out a small sigh.
Turning, I saw her usual cool, intellectual expression. The blush lingered faintly.
“⋯⋯Bell?”
“Yes, Young Master.”
Her calm reply. Asking if she was okay felt like the worst move.
“Ready?”
“Of course. Today is an important consultation. I've been fully prepared since dawn. Because I'm your maid—”
Isabella poured out words in a rush.
She wanted to pretend this morning never happened!
I respected her wish, giving a lukewarm look of understanding.
“⋯⋯.”
She clamped her mouth shut, face reddening further!
Anyway, after the brief mishap, I soon knocked lightly on Beltum Professor's door.
“Professor, it's Ricardo Bardi. May I come in?”
Instead of a reply, the door swung wide.
Pine scent wafted from Beltum Professor's private office. Spacious enough for his massive frame, yet surprisingly spartan—no dense furnishings or clutter, just the essentials in minimalist style.
“Come─ in. Ricardo Bardi. And─ Isabella.”
“Hello.”
I gave a short reply to the turtle professor's resonant voice as Isabella bowed.
“You likely─ suspect as much, but today is less consultation, more diagnosis of your inner self. Do you─ consent?”
“Of course.”
I nodded to the professor, who blinked slowly at me.
I couldn't live like this forever.
Cowering in every duel, bound to the past despite knowing Isabella's and my own feelings.
I needed to prepare to move forward.
“First─ the method. Isabella and I will enter your inner world to examine your─ mental image.”
“My mental image?”
The professor, born from an ancient sage's mental image turned monster, knowing how to enter a human's psyche made sense.
But⋯⋯.
“Is that safe? It's awkward saying it myself, but my mental image is⋯⋯.”
“I─ surmise as much. It will be dangerous, surely.”
“I'm fine, Young Master. Professor.”
“Firm─ resolve is key. It will be your anchor to maintain self in Ricardo's mental image. Of course, I will─ deploy every protection at my disposal. However.”
Beltum Professor paused, eyes on me.
“One more─ helper would boost stability.”
“Another helper⋯⋯ you say.”
“Yes. Say,─ Professor Georgia. Your choice? I haven't─ told him yet, so decide freely.”
“⋯⋯.”
Was that okay? Black storms of doubt swirled in my mind.
Exploring my mental image meant possibly seeing my past life's memories.
The monster professor aside, could humans of this world—Isabella and Georgia—handle it?
The memories of a battlefield where humans slaughtered each other?
“Young Master.”
As I pondered, Isabella gently took my hand.
Her clear blue eyes met mine steadily.
“Right now, think only of yourself.”
“⋯⋯.”
“A patient doesn't worry about the healer and nurse. Same here.”
A gentle smile bloomed on her face.
“Professor Georgia is surely ready to help you. Considering his nature. And—”
It was so pure, so beautiful.
“Of course, I'm ready too, Young Master.”