The Sky's Gift
I hadn't seen the sky in who knows how long. I stared up at the bright ceiling as if entranced, forgetting even that the sunlight stung my eyes.
"Haa... haha... ha..."
"What the— are you crying?"
Only when she pointed it out did I notice the tears streaming down my face, at odds with the empty smile on my lips. My hand felt impossibly heavy as I struggled to lift it and wipe my damp eyes. Staring at the afterimage of sunlight floating behind my closed eyelids left me dazed, the tension slowly draining away. Whether it was joy or gratitude, I felt a faint swell of emotion and felt relieved by its presence. If I had accepted the brainwashing any deeper, the feeling coursing through me now would not have been this sense of liberation, but fear and anxiety.
"Anyway, get up already. If we just lie here like this— ow, ow, ow..."
She had burst straight through the Inquisition's roof and landed in a heap beside me, yet she was already trying to stand as if she'd forgotten the incredible feat she'd just pulled off. She staggered and collapsed back to the floor. It wasn't my place to say anything, but I couldn't bear watching her push that small body any further.
"Scarlet, are you all right?"
"Not at all. For a whole month the only thing they fed me was that disgusting prison slop. I've got nothing left."
I was in the same boat, so asking had been pointless. I had already spent every last bit of strength just holding onto her; I couldn't move another inch.
"Oh my, then I suppose my appearance here would be rather inconvenient~?"
"..!!"
Both Scarlet and I flinched, goosebumps rising along our arms. From the massive hole in the ceiling, a lazy voice drifted down through the smoke—Sarakael's voice—calm and unhurried, yet enough to set every nerve on edge. With a graceful flutter of wings she descended, folding those pristine white feathers as she approached.
Whoosh...!
Scarlet tried to force her ability back to life despite her exhaustion. At that moment—
"Now, now, no need to get so worked up~"
Sarakael raised both hands in a placating gesture, as if she had no intention of harming us. Of course Scarlet wasn't about to listen. Flames and heat began to swirl around her—only to vanish in an instant at a single flick of Sarakael's wrist.
"Why?"
"Because this is nothing more than a stage reconstructed from each of your memories. The cast cannot act outside the script~ You greedy little thing."
".. Founder?"
"Mm, it's me, you greedy bear. I figured tormenting you any further would be pointless, so I stopped."
Sarakael's eyelids, which had remained shut the entire time, lifted slightly. Beneath them were the familiar black eyes I knew so well, gazing straight at me.
"Those eyes..!"
Scarlet's reaction confirmed it. The black-eyed girl she had mentioned was indeed the Founder. Even if I hadn't known before, meeting that pitch-black gaze now left no room for doubt.
"Creating things was never really my specialty anyway... The only reason we could even step outside the underground prison was because that greedy one remembered the outside world and let me reconstruct it through her memories."
The rest of her muttering was half-heard and half-understood, but it didn't matter right now. If this place was built from Number 13's memories through my ability, and if our minds were still connected... then where was she?
"Hm? You've been together this whole time... She's right beside you."
"Ah..?"
I turned my head in the direction the Founder's eyes indicated. There I was. No—not me. It was Number 13, wearing the half-burned priest's robe Scarlet had given her, sitting on the floor with that slender frame.
"Ah..."
I stretched both hands forward and realized I had returned to my original body. The sudden change in eye level made me dizzy; I staggered as I stood. Everything felt off.
"Founder... are you staying in that form?"
"Why? Don't you like this appearance~?"
"..."
She was clearly mimicking Sarakael's mannerisms in an exaggerated way just to tease me. It wasn't hard to tell.
"But your reactions are just too entertaining."
...Entertaining. The urge to snap at her rose and fell in an instant. I couldn't bring myself to say anything.
"I'm sorry. Here."
With a soft, out-of-place sensation, something warm pressed into my palm.
"Wh-what is this..?"
My hand had somehow been guided straight onto one of Sarakael's breasts.
"You like touching chests, don't you?"
"That's not—"
"Ah, is this chest a little too small for you?"
...That was rude to the original owner. I still hadn't pulled my hand away. Not that a single touch would solve anything.
"Want to touch the other side too?"
"N-no, that's enough."
She wouldn't have thrown me into this mess just for a joke. My sense of injustice insisted on it.
"Hehe... Well, you almost broke at the end, but you held on. Thanks to that, I was able to rewrite that little moldy one's perception."
...Rewrite her perception? I wanted to ask what that meant, but she continued.
"For the past month, that little moldy one watched you and the greedy one together with me. Seeing her own memories again from a third-person perspective must have given her something new to feel."
"...Haa..."
It was rude to sigh right after someone's words, but this was a sigh of relief. At least during that agonizing month, I had been able to help somehow. But if Scarlet hadn't arrived when she did, if I had been dragged away and dosed again... I couldn't be sure what would have happened afterward.
"So our part ends here. Let's leave the rest to the two of them."
"Ah.. uh."
The Founder linked her arm through mine while still wearing Sarakael's appearance. A complicated tangle of emotions churned inside me, but the hatred built over the past month wasn't meant to be vented here. At the very least, I wouldn't have to hear something like "What do you know!" from a moody teenage daughter. More importantly, this was the moment to stand quietly and focus on what was happening over there.
"...Hey, Number 13."
"Thank you... for saving us... Counselor... No, for saving me..."
Scarlet's voice carried a sharp edge after she'd pieced together the situation from our conversation. Unlike me, she hadn't returned to her adult form yet. She glanced my way once, then turned back to Number 13 and stepped closer.
"I went through a whole month of hell just to get in here, and for what..."
"I'm sorry... You came here to save us... You told us everything... Even though you didn't want to remember..."
"Haa, you don't need to worry about that."
Faced with Number 13's thanks and immediate apology, the young Scarlet scratched her head as if suffocating, then hesitated—uncharacteristically—before speaking her mind.
"Forget thanks or apologies... Are you not going to get angry?"
"..Huh?"
"You saw it yourself. You know how unfairly you've been treated. By these people... and by me."
She must have known for a long time. But believing otherwise had been easier, so my mind had conveniently deceived itself. It wasn't so much a delusion as a desperate wish. When people face an injustice they cannot change, they search for reasons to ease the unfairness. Brainwashing had simply provided that convenient justification, gently pushing her forward.
"...Aren't you actually mad at me? There's no way you can forgive everyone who did those terrible things to you."
"No... I..."
Nothing eats away at the heart more than hatred and resentment. Even when faced with the vile whispers of malice running through her veins, she had turned away and locked herself up. That decision had surely come from her will not to hurt anyone. But eventually, what was wrong reveals itself for what it is. The notions that had slowly taken over her heart over time returned as a vicious self-loathing. She had to stop denying it and let her emotions out. Painful as it was, it was necessary.
"No one here is going to scold you for being honest with your feelings."
"..Stop... please..."
"Right now I'm too weak to do anything, and since this is just a memory, there won't even be any scars left."
Scarlet spread her arms wide, offering herself defenselessly as if to say "do what you want." It looked almost irresponsible, like she was offering her body to atone, but perhaps that very sight would provoke something from Number 13.
"..."
"Go on. Show me. What do you want to do?"
Number 13 struggled to her feet and took one shaky step after another toward Scarlet. She slowly raised her thin arm. The bony fist barely reached Scarlet's chest. It trembled violently—not just from exhaustion, but from the storm of emotions raging inside her.
"...Ugh..."
Thud.
But that pitiful, trembling fist only landed softly against Scarlet's chest.
"Ugh... waaah..."
Number 13 began pounding her own chest with her other hand as well, bursting into loud, unrestrained sobs. Scarlet looked utterly bewildered. Come to think of it, Number 13 had never once cried in front of her despite all the bullying. Seeing her wail like this was bound to be shocking.
"I... didn't do anything wrong... Nothing at all... really nothing... ugh..."
Scarlet, who had been staring in confusion, awkwardly wrapped her arms around Number 13 and pulled her close.
"Yeah... that's right. It was like that from the very beginning. I had the sin of burning my family and neighbors, but you didn't."
"Ugh... sob... waaah..."
Scarlet let out a small sigh as she watched Number 13 cry pitifully in her arms, tears dripping steadily. Her expression seemed to say "I knew it," but there was no contempt in it.
"A kind kid like you could never hurt anyone. In the end, you just swallowed everything alone and suffered in silence... Honestly, you're such an idiot..."
Even as she spoke, her arms tightened around Number 13.
"So... I'm sorry. I knew everything, and still... I was even worse."
She lifted her head slightly, as if her eyes were stinging, and continued.
"Now that I think about it... yeah. I wanted to give you something in return, but the only thing I have right now... is my name."
"Sniff... Scarlet's...?"
"No, not the name I received later. The name I had before I became a prisoner and got a number. Coming back here made me remember it all of a sudden."
I was hearing this for the first time. Scarlet had said long ago that she'd forgotten her previous name and memories. During the time I'd been locked up here as Number 13, subjected to experiments and torture, all my memories as the counselor before arriving had been erased as well—only the awareness of being a prisoner remained. Maybe there had been no room to recall them, or perhaps remembering the free life and the people I loved would have only deepened the despair, since I could never return to them. Scarlet might have forgotten in the same way, but it couldn't have been completely erased from her mind. While experiencing the confusion of self-identity in these memories, she might have recalled something she'd forgotten.
"Dorothy Henning. That was my real name."
"..Dorothy."
"It's a bit old-fashioned, but apparently I was named after the main character of my mom's favorite fairy tale. The meaning isn't bad either."
No one had called it old-fashioned, but her defensive addition only proved that she herself thought so. Even so, she seemed to cherish the name deeply.
"It means 'gift from the sky.' My parents thought I was happiness coming to them."
"..Sniff."
"In the end I burned everything, and not satisfied with that, I even forgot their faces and voices to escape the guilt... but I must have kept this name buried in my heart."
She paused, then spoke as if she'd made a decision.
"So... won't you take it? My name."
She could never go back to being Dorothy now. Not because she already had the name Scarlet, but because of the guilt—she believed she could never use that name again. Yet she was offering this name, her own name, possibly the last memory of her parents' love, to Number 13. Perhaps this name was the most precious thing Scarlet could offer as compensation, and maybe even her truest feeling.
"Dorothy.."
"...Well, if you don't like it, I won't force you. But you don't seem like you can hit me out of resentment anyway... and when I tried to think of something to give, I realized I don't have anything else."
Number 13 shook her head frantically as Scarlet's words grew longer, clearly anxious about a possible rejection.
"No..! I... I like that name, Scarlet."
"..You don't have to force yourself. It's a name that only means something to me, so forcing it on you would be strange too."
"It's the first name... I've ever received! There's no way I wouldn't like it.."
"..."
Scarlet looked embarrassed at her own words, her sentences trailing off awkwardly, but she finally fell silent under Number 13's sincere gaze.
"Thank you... Scarlet."
"No need for thanks. And I'm not someone who can give you orders anymore, so you don't have to be so formal. Just... call me 'unnie' if you want... or... Dorothy."
Watching Scarlet awkwardly say Number 13's new name, I wondered when I should step in with applause and hug the two girls. But the next words from Number 13—Dorothy—were enough to overload my mind with something entirely different.
"Ah... but I'm... older than Scarlet..."
"..What?"
"...?"
...What did I just hear?
"..."
Unlike Scarlet, whose appearance had changed dramatically to look much younger, Dorothy's outward form hadn't changed much from when I'd first met her—still gaunt and thin. The compatibility test... the experiment of infusing demonic blood into a body marked with stigmata. Every time she used her ability, the demonification had progressed far more severely than expected. But if the experiment had been even partially successful... Considering how much blood she'd lost and how inadequate the meals were, there was no way this small body could have kept going otherwise. ...It wouldn't be strange if it affected aging or lifespan, right?
...Wait, wasn't Scarlet older than me? Then... hold on.
"What did you just say...? Huh?"