I Will No Longer Be Played With
Once upon a time—long, long ago—twin flowers bloomed in a filthy slum somewhere in Italy.
The two of them grew up hard beneath parents who barely seemed human. Whether those people were their parents at all was an open question: there were ten fathers and five mothers, and every last one of them a junkie who did not even know whether they had borne a child. Born into a madhouse with no way out, the twins came to depend on each other with a terrible, total depth.
But oh, wonder of wonders—a chance arrived to change their lives. The elder sister was chosen as the Vatican Saintess!
Joy upon joy! What a blessing, what a blessing!
Doom. Doom.
Once the priests of the Vatican understood what the elder sister was, they took the twins away. A single thread of light rescued them from a place like hell. Beside a kindly pope, an easygoing cardinal, a lively nun, and fresh-faced young priests, the girls grew up hale and straight. Kept among people of upright character, the twins took on that same fine character for their own.
"Cut the bullshit!"
Shhhk—!
"Please, sit down! You must not barge into a performance!"
Ahem. Yes, there was a brief disturbance. It has been quieted, so rest easy. Now, where did that picture go… ah. Here it is.
Raised properly, the twins believed this happiness would last and last. But alas. The world is not a place filled only with happiness.
As I said before, the elder sister was destined for the Vatican Saintess, and so she received no end of support and love. Her family—the younger sister—shared in that blessing. Now it was time to pay the price.
The moment the elder was formally invested as saintess, the family had no choice but to live apart. A saintess who stood equal in rank with the pope could not be approached, neither in private nor in public. The younger sister saw the truth of it and sank into gloom, but she bore it bravely. The saintess's kin were, after all, treated very well indeed. She lived hard, holding close the thought of meeting her sister again.
The place she belonged to, however, had no intention of living hard.
The Vatican is the seat of the most powerful religion in the world. And like every place run by human beings, it was not so clean as all that.
"SHUT UUUUUUP!!!"
"Ah. This stretch is far too bleak, so I shall skip it."
Let us say, roughly, that because the younger sister resembled the saintess, she was made to see every sight worth seeing and every sight no one should ever see. I will only add that it was filthy beyond words. Even I get my tongue in a knot if I dwell on it.
A long time passed with the sisters living apart. At last the Vatican set a day to present the saintess in earnest, and the younger sister was even granted a seat among the honored guests. The storms had battered her and worn her thin, but when she looked up at that sister, radiant as heaven itself, her heart was healed.
The ceremony began. Hundreds of thousands of the faithful were blessing the saintess—
Boom! Boom!
Rumble—crash!
Ilshikgyo, enemy of the world, came down upon them! They called chaos and blood into the square and smeared filth across the face of the Vatican. Worse still, in the midst of that confusion they kidnapped none other than the saintess.
And yet.
There was something Ilshikgyo had overlooked. The Vatican kept its information so tightly leashed that no one knew the saintess was a twin. The girl Ilshikgyo carried off was the younger sister.
She shook with fear. Seized by mad cultist terrorists, who would not? She prayed. She prayed with everything in her that the heroes, and her own sister, would come to save her.
And sure enough, Ilshikgyo was struck by the Temple Knights and the heroes. The younger sister saw the light of salvation.
But…
"The ending was not a kind one."
"Haah… haah."
Saintess Aurone trembled, her whole body shivering. The memory had come back over her, and she could not master the rage. Blood dripped steadily from her clenched fists.
"I waited. I waited for them to come."
The safehouse where Ilshikgyo had hidden collapsed under the Vatican's assault. From beneath the fallen ceiling, the girl who had been hiding watched the knights descend.
"I was afraid. But I believed in them. I believed in my family."
The knights butchered Ilshikgyo without mercy. They tore off arms, shattered legs, and even in the middle of the fighting they savored torture. One could scarcely believe they were clergy at all.
Amid that slaughter they found a girl, bound. Family of the kidnapped saintess.
"They abandoned me."
They did not hesitate. They cut the girl down, and in her place they set the symbol of Ilshikgyo.
"They never meant to save me. Not from the very start."
Had the Eclipse God not saved her that day, she would have died with the wrong of it still upon her.
"Common, isn't it? This business of why a girl becomes a saintess."
The younger sister smiled a twisted smile. Sorrow, joy, and resignation stormed together in her eyes.
"Common enough."
Stories of those betrayed by the people they trusted, and of the revenge that follows, are far too many—in novels and in life alike. Not that he himself had ever been on the receiving end.
"I believed in the Eclipse God because he was the only one who saved me."
As her life cooled, God had appointed wretched, nothing-of-a-girl as saintess. Her—who had nothing. Her—who did not surpass her sister in talent, or in mind, or in any single thing.
"If you throw a person away so carelessly, you ought to pay the price."
"Even with your sister still in the world?"
"Of course."
How hypocritical it had looked on the news: her sister scattering tears and vowing revenge.
"This world is wrong."
People were killed by powers that had left humanity behind; over those people stood the ones with money; over them stood the ones who held power. Those with strength were forgiven no matter what they did, and those without it grew servile. A religion meant for human beings had become a religion of the few, worshiping not God but money. Wrong—wrong down to the root.
"A world like this should never have existed in the first place."
A brilliant civilization? The end of evolution? A world growing ever greater? And who did any of it come back to? Not, at the very least, to 99.99 percent of humankind.
"The Eclipse God can do it. He can burn this rotten world and build a new one."
Whatever stood in the way would be removed. That was the duty of one who had received.
"Yes. I have heard you."
Clap. Clap.
The Phantom gathered the pictures up in his hands.
"Miss Aurone. Calm yourself, first. The story is not finished."
The opening was over. That was all.
"We will now proceed to the tale of the Clown Saintess in earnest."
Aurone seized the Phantom. If he would not die when killed, then there was nothing for it but to seal him.
"Feel, within the eclipse, the pain of forgetting yourself."
The eclipse comes down. Its center splits, and the abyss is laid bare—the very hell into which the Eclipse God was once cast.
"An extra guest? Well, that's fine. The more of an audience, the better."
"All that bluster…"
Aurone stepped away as if the matter were already finished. The eclipse would take him; her part was done. Now she would go and seize the rest of the devils.
"Yes, yes. Sit right there, if you would."
"Wh…?"
Impossible. Why?
"Why is the eclipse—?"
The eclipse, halfway down, had stopped. It looked upon the stage. The split at its center seemed like an eye opening.
"It seems the story made you curious. Come, Miss Aurone. Up onto the stage. Today, you are the protagonist."
"Wai—"
Aurone stood upon the stage. The only audience was the eclipse.
No. There was more of an audience than that.
The stage widened. What had sat there alone stretched away to left and right, surged upward, and became a formal, dignified stage, like the Sydney Opera House. The seats filled. They were faceless people. From the neck up they scattered like smoke, and their bodies crackled as if shot through with static. Only their clothes were clear, and those clothes were of every kind. There were ladies and gentlemen in the dress of medieval Europe. There were laborers come straight from work, and ordinary families in modern clothes. There was a primitive soul wearing nothing but a single leaf, and someone sealed in a spacesuit. Every age was gathered in that place.
"Ah."
The Phantom tapped the microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for visiting us. I am the one who planned this performance, and its actor as well—an ordinary phantom thief."
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Applause rose.
"Yes. The opening is over. If by some chance you arrived without having seen the beginning, I am afraid the pleasure of it may be somewhat diminished."
A murmur. A murmur.
"Good. From the reaction, it seems you have all seen it. I had no idea this story was so popular. Had I known, I would have rented a park."
Ha ha ha!!!
"Save your laughter. Laugh it all away now, and you may come to regret it."
The Phantom indicated the stage.
"Enough of the asides. Today's performance has, no less, a special guest."
Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
"None other than the protagonist of the true story herself—Saintess Aurone—has come in person! Welcome her with your applause!"
Waaaaah! Clap, clap, clap!!!
Amid the roar and the applause, Aurone stood alone beneath the lights.
"What is this…"
Click. Click. Click.
Her teeth struck together. She could not understand it.
This is a Sanctuary. My domain. The realm of a god!
"Miss Aurone. You need only play the Clown Saintess."
"What did you say…?"
Clown Saintess? What was that? How was she supposed to do it?
"My apologies. I was inconsiderate. I am an actor myself, after all. I can hardly leave you to manage it alone."
The Phantom came forward, straightening his costume.
"Let us act together. We will bring the performance to a splendid close."
"I don't want to…"
I'm out of my mind. I have to get out of here!
"AAAAAAAH!!!"
Pat-pat-pat—!
Crash!
Aurone ran hunched on all fours, as if crawling. She smashed through the hall and scrambled outside in a graceless scramble. The Phantom looked at the ruined wall and snapped his fingers.
"Music cue."
A grand sweep of classical music unfurled.
"The performance has begun, and the clown has yet to realize it."
It was going to be the finest show of all.
"Hm~~. Hm~~."
He hummed, and his feet played along—one, two, on the beat.
Aurone, oh Aurone.
Child whose very existence is a contradiction.
You must face the truth.
The delusion has to end.
And I am not the only one who wishes it.
Saintess of the Vatican.
Saintess of Ilshikgyo.
Twins.
Sisters.
"What is true."
And what is false?
Do you know, or don't you?
Only this—
when the performance ends,
which of us is the clown,
you or I,
will be decided.
Crack.
Hm. And the mask—what was he supposed to do about that? Had he taken too many hits?
"So a god really is a god."
The thing was breaking.
He settled the mask back into place and sank into the dark. Hurry, and match the clown. The audience was watching. If the show had started, it had to be ended in splendor.
"May you have a happy time."
Within the emptied stage, the audience nodded. Settled in the posture of spectators, they waited for the end of the performance.