Fer-de's Fang (1)
The contract, founded on nothing but our mutual interests, had given my solitary journey something I could finally call a companion.
It was an unfair arrangement by any measure, but Maeve complied without a hint of resistance, so I decided to think of her as one. Even if I did hold the key to the only way she could die, I had no intention of working her like a slave. The moment her heart changed and she decided to kill me, my life would plunge straight back into the abyss of despair, after all.
"So, where are we headed?"
We had been walking in silence, matching each other's stride, when Maeve — who hadn't been told a thing about our destination — asked flatly.
"The Rift Labyrinth."
I answered briefly and turned to keep walking, but Maeve cautiously tugged at my sleeve.
"...Don't tell me. You want to die?"
Apparently she knew the Rift Labyrinth's reputation. Uncharacteristically, cold sweat beaded on her face and she hesitated to take another step.
"Sorry to disappoint you. I have no intention of dying."
I told her there wasn't the slightest reason to entertain such a thought, then shook my sleeve free of her grip.
"I need equipment that can only be obtained in the Rift Labyrinth."
"Once you get that equipment... will you kill me?"
"...I'll think about it."
To prevent any further misunderstanding, I made our purpose in going there absolutely clear, then resumed walking in silence. The atmosphere had grown too awkward for any more conversation, and Maeve merely nursed her lip carefully, saying nothing.
But the emotion bleeding off her was painfully vivid — she clearly wanted to speak. In the end, I sighed and broke the quiet-that-wasn't.
"If you're curious about something, just ask. Stop tiptoeing around me like that."
"Okay. No, wait... okay."
She had clearly been trying her best to observe me quietly, and her face flushed red at how easily she'd been caught out.
"Dean... why are you still alive?"
"...What's that supposed to mean?"
The question that flew at me was not one that belonged in the realm of common sense. Entirely unexpected, and disturbingly sharp.
"When I look into your eyes... there's a darkness in them even deeper than mine."
"..."
"Most people with eyes like that don't want to go on living."
Maeve had seen through me far too easily, and I couldn't find an answer.
...It had been quite some time since I let go of life. I lived only because I had no choice — because of the ability that dragged me back from death, again and again.
"But... Dean is still alive, so..."
"That's enough."
"Okay."
"Everyone has stories they'd rather keep hidden. I'm no different."
"That's a good thing to say... I'll remember it."
Too awkward to answer honestly, I rejected her question outright, and Maeve didn't press me any further. Whatever her fondness for conversation, she wasn't lacking in tact.
The Rift Labyrinth was still some distance away, and as we made our way along the road, I noticed at some point that the sun hanging in the sky had begun to set. As always, I was prepared to press on through the night without stopping — but I wasn't alone anymore, so I asked for Maeve's opinion.
"The sun's going down. Want to rest, or keep moving?"
"It's best to hold your breath at night."
"Got it."
Respecting her judgment, I sank down right there onto the ground to rest.
"...?"
I noticed a faint crack appear in Maeve's expression as she quietly watched me, and I glanced back at her without thinking. Had something about my behavior bothered her?
"Dean. Have you ever been camping? Like, ever?"
"..."
...Oh. That was it.
Having never once camped in my life, I'd simply plopped down on bare ground — and apparently that had rubbed her the wrong way. I nodded silently to confirm that I had no experience whatsoever, and Maeve's eyes went wide.
"How on earth did you survive until the Ruin with zero camping skills?"
"...Mind your own business."
I shot back without thinking, but her point was fair. Surviving until the Ruin without a single survival skill was, on its face, absurd.
According to how the game had depicted it, the forests crawled with bears and insects grown massive under the Ruin's influence. When night fell, wisps that stole souls fluttered high in the sky, running wild. And even if you sought help from other people, most ordinary folk had long since turned to banditry, preying on travelers to get by.
Through Maeve's eyes, my way of staying alive must have seemed like some incomprehensible irregularity.
"Right... anyone capable of killing me..."
Since I offered no real answer, she seemed to have simply gone ahead and defined my existence on her own terms. I didn't bother correcting her and let her think whatever she liked. The more misunderstandings like that piled up, the better it was for me.
Unlike me, sitting motionless on the ground, Maeve set about building a campsite around me. She gathered dry branches into one spot to lay a fire pit, then collected leaves and moss to shape a makeshift bed.
"Here. Get these under you too, Dean."
Apparently the sight of me sitting directly on bare dirt bothered her, so Maeve gathered a pile of leaves and handed them over. At first I tried to wave off the help, but it was obvious I'd be freezing badly by nightfall at this rate, so I spread the leaves she'd given me into a thick layer beneath me.
"...I'll help too."
Watching her keep moving long after she could have stopped, I joined in on building the makeshift camp. Her personality had soured into something cynical, but I figured in matters like this, helping was simply the right thing to do.
"It's almost done, so just gather the dry kindling."
Following her request, I collected dry branches suitable for tinder. I snapped the longer ones in half, and set aside a few thick limbs to saw through later. Once the campsite was finished, Maeve sprinkled a little gunpowder over the prepared fire pit and lit it with her lighter.
With a soft fwoosh, the fire caught, and she fed it twig by twig until the flames steadied. As I quietly watched her practiced movements, I realized at some point that Maeve was looking straight at me.
We weren't close enough for easy conversation to pass between us, so only a heavy silence traveled back and forth. Our hollow, empty eyes soon drifted elsewhere, and Maeve drew a pistol from her hip and began maintaining it. She wiped down the grip and barrel with an oiled cloth, then carefully tended the blade as well. After that she pulled open her coat, took out the knife she'd kept inside, and gave it the same treatment.
But just as I found myself staring blankly at the sight, one of the emotions that had been swelling inside me suddenly wilted into a rush of gloom, and I lay myself down on the makeshift bed.
...The bed Maeve had made for me was warmer than I expected.
Not long after I settled in, Maeve finished her maintenance too, and the forest was left with nothing but the crackle of the campfire and the chirping of night insects.
"Dean."
Just as the sounds of nature were swelling into full voice, Maeve's languid voice brushed against my ear.
"You're looking for Fer-de's Fang in the Rift Labyrinth, aren't you?"
"...!"
The moment she spoke the name of the very equipment I was after, I bolted upright. I stared at her — she still hadn't lain down in her own spot — with a look that demanded how she could possibly have known, but Maeve didn't avert her gaze. She simply gave me her reason.
"That dagger is what you killed me with. You cut off my limbs with it, I believe."
Her hands moved busily — a round sliding into the musket's barrel, powder filling the priming pan jutting out beside the grip. Click. As the hammer drew back for the last time and the musket stood fully loaded, I felt a killing intent that had, at some point, come to dominate the entire space around us, and I swallowed drily.
...I had to run. There was only one reason she would bring all this up, and the meaning of openly loading a weapon in front of me was unmistakable.
"Don't run."
Maeve, catching the shift of my body toward flight, aimed the musket at me. If her finger on the trigger pressed down even a hair further, the powder would ignite and the fired lead ball would blow my head apart.
Cold sweat ran down my face as Maeve — her lightless eyes holding nothing in them but me — approached, slow and unhurried. At last she pressed the blade beneath my chin to tilt my head up, and then, exactly as I had once done to her, laid her palm against my cheek.
"If I pull this trigger... you'll die, won't you, Dean?"
"..."
"Your handsome head will burst open, and the life-water inside it will come spilling out."
Her fingertip tickled the tip of my nose.
"And once the life-water drains away, your body will lose control and stiffen up, and all its warmth will be gone."
"...What do you want from me?"
It didn't seem she intended to fire right away, so I asked, still sweating, why she was doing all this.
"Unfortunately, I don't have any desire left in me to want things from people."
Contrary to her claim that there was no reason behind it, Maeve's lips drifted slowly closer in a perfect paradox, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
"Dean. You see, when I want something... I've always made it mine. Ever since I was little."
At the distance of a breath between her lips and mine, her exhale ghosting across my mouth, the chilling story began — delivered without a shred of feeling.
"When I look at you, I think of the dog I raised as a child. A brave thing, absolutely obedient to its master. But... that obedience was never directed at me."
Maeve pushed against my shoulder and knocked me flat.
"So. Do you know what I did?"
"..."
"I had it stuffed. So it would look at me, and only me, forever."
"What does that have to do with me...?"
"This is the first time I've ever wanted to taxidermize a person. Until now, they were all just pets."
She was... not right in the head. Compared to her, Eileen and Carmen had been paragons of mental health.
"I like you, Dean. ...I think I fell for you at first sight."
"..."
In those eyes that held no emotion at all, something called me had, at some point, grown to fill them entirely. When had it started? I should have noticed that the way Maeve looked at me had warped into something twisted. But how? Was it even possible to catch a feeling like that in a single day?
"The moon is beautiful tonight. Isn't it?"
Maeve carefully set the blade aside and climbed on top of me. Then she laid her hand gently around my throat and began to squeeze — and I could see her cheeks flushing a shy pink.
"It's strange... When I'm with you, I don't think about wanting to die."
"That's not a good rea—son—"
"We have so much in common, after all. That must be it."
I tried to tear her hand from my throat, but as always, the overwhelming level gap was something I could never overcome.
"Pl...ease... spare... me..."
"Good night, Dean. See you tomorrow."
Perhaps she hadn't intended to kill me — she cut off my oxygen to exactly the point of unconsciousness. As darkness closed over my vision, Maeve confirmed that I had fully passed out, pressed a light kiss to my cheek, and then quietly nestled my body against hers, settling in to wait for tomorrow together.