9. Black and Gold (22)
9. Black and Gold (22)
More than ten days had passed since she'd started staying with the Monster Circus Troupe.
In that time, she'd grown close to a good number of the members.
Rolling around in the dirt together during practice had a way of doing that.
Conversely, the members she hadn't trained with, she hadn't gotten close to at all.
There were two of them.
One was Yobel.
She'd heard he was a balding dwarf, but in all this time she'd never once laid eyes on him.
The other troupe members admitted it had been a good while since they'd seen his face, too.
Supposedly it had something to do with a new Inspira he'd acquired, but the details were lost on her.
The other member she saw every single day and yet felt as distant as a stranger.
That was Maya.
Reina herself wasn't exactly a social butterfly, but Maya took "not social" to an extreme.
She constantly acted as if no one else was in the room.
Even during meals together, she'd stare blankly into space, lost in her own world.
A few days ago, when Reina had gathered her courage and tried to talk to her, Maya had answered in clipped, one-word responses before shutting the conversation down entirely.
Still, Reina didn't hold any ill will toward her.
She wasn't the only one who found Maya difficult to talk to.
The girl had joined three months ago, and the others also struggled with her unfeeling, self-absorbed personality.
Reina couldn't help fretting over whether she herself had seemed like that to her colleagues back at the Golden Carnival.
So last night, when Maya ignored her greeting and walked right past, Reina simply wrote it off as her being eccentric—not as any personal malice.
But had that been a mistake?
Reina stared at the cat blocking her path.
The creature swished its tail side to side, chin raised toward her.
The way its leg joints flexed looked almost like arrogant posturing.
And the condescending glare and curled lip were unmistakably mocking.
-Pfpfpt.
What the—
What's so funny?
This cat was one of Maya's creations.
The troupe members had told her that by observing this creature's demeanor whenever it appeared, you could gauge Maya's mood.
The cat was clearly sneering at her.
Reina recalled the girl's expression when she'd coldly snapped at her—if she didn't like it, she could just leave.
That look had been unmistakably hostile.
Maya ignoring her greeting yesterday and walking away with a cold scowl—that hadn't been a misunderstanding after all.
Since she was a child, Reina had been told over and over, hammered into her very bones: never, ever let them see you lose. Not to anyone. Not anywhere.
She'd learned by now, through losing to Ella, being abandoned by her father, and being taught by Wonderstein, that it wasn't the only right answer. But old habits died hard.
A fighting spirit surged through her.
A cold wind whipped across Reina's face.
"Block my way and I'll kick you aside."
It was an illusion anyway.
Breaking it wouldn't cause any real trouble.
She shot the cat a vicious glare and strode toward the door.
-Nyaaang!
Just as the cat moved to block her path, a voice came from inside.
"How do you find this outfit? Yurakne once recommended it—said it would suit you, Miss Maya."
That was Troupe Leader Wonderstein.
The moment she heard that warm voice, threaded with laughter, the strength drained from Reina's body.
It was a reaction akin to standing before her father.
A desperate wish not to be disliked seized her, coiling tight.
What right do I have to interfere?
This is something the Troupe Leader approved of...
Then Maya's flat, cold voice followed.
"It's slippery. Change the socks for a different pair."
The tone was like addressing a shop clerk.
Reina's fists clenched.
So rude.
What infuriated Reina even more was the Troupe Leader's deferential attitude.
He was being ordered around by a girl years his junior and just kept laughing, not a trace of displeasure on his face.
"Haha, understood. In that case, how about these socks...?"
The soft rustle of fabric sounded.
Reina's head spun in dizzy circles.
A scene painted itself in her mind.
Maya sitting primly at the dressing table, legs crossed, and the Troupe Leader kneeling before her, pulling socks off her feet and sliding new ones on.
She didn't wonder where the clothes came from.
She'd seen him often enough, stuffing things into his hat and pulling them out again.
A magic tool, or some Inspira related to space, no doubt.
"How about these socks? The texture?"
"Good."
She could picture it: his fingers tickling against the pale softness of Maya's soles.
"This..."
Shame and envy detonated inside her all at once.
No matter how she looked at it, this antisocial brat was just taking advantage of the Troupe Leader's easygoing nature, soaking up his attention.
Part of her wanted to barge in, but she couldn't muster the nerve.
She was standing there, fidgeting in an agony of indecision, when Yurakne approached.
"Miss Reina, what are you doing over here?"
She was holding the assigned number slips and the tour guide leaflets.
Reina explained what was going on inside the restroom.
She had assumed Yurakne would share her indignation at this utterly inappropriate situation.
Yurakne, however, knew about Wonderstein's 'Costume Room' ability.
The scenario Reina was imagining wasn't happening.
He could change the troupe members' clothes with a single snap of his fingers.
But to Reina, unaware of that, the words 'change my clothes' could only sound suggestive.
Yurakne was about to tell her the truth when a spark of mischief stopped her.
Watching this girl who normally seemed made of ice blush crimson, her hands trembling as she fumed, was adorable.
She smiled brazenly and asked, "It's not weird at all. The Troupe Leader helps me change my clothes, too."
"Wh-what?"
Reina felt dizzy.
Maya she could at least shoehorn into the category of 'she's a child.'
Her blank mental state and sluggish reactions could be dismissed as childish petulance.
But Yurakne was different.
She was a perfectly grown adult.
Why in the world would the Troupe Leader be changing her clothes?
Yurakne bit back a laugh at the girl's dumbfounded expression and fabricated a plausible excuse.
"Our members' body types are a bit unusual, so off-the-rack clothes won't work. The Troupe Leader took all our measurements and cuts the fabric himself—he's gotten used to it by now."
Examined coolly, it was a ludicrous excuse.
But Reina, deep in confusion, found herself nodding along.
"O-oh, is that so..."
But it only took her a second to realize that explanation had nothing to do with Maya.
"M-Maya... wh-what about Ella...?"
"Ah, Miss Ella has never once had the Troupe Leader change her clothes."
At that, Reina nodded frantically, like a woman possessed.
"R-right! Th-this is weird, isn't it? With that girl?"
Just then, the restroom door opened and Wonderstein and Maya walked out.
Reina sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of Maya's changed outfit.
She hadn't just changed her outerwear or socks—everything, right down to the chemise she wore directly over her underwear, was completely different.
"I-I..."
Wonderstein saw Reina stammering, her face bright red, and assumed she was still embarrassed about the factory tour.
"Miss Reina, if you're feeling unwell, you can head back with Yurakne. Miss Maya and I can go in alone—"
"N-no! I—I really love cookies!"
Wonderstein tilted his head at Reina, her face blazing as she practically yelled at him.
Maya, wearing a sullen look, dismissed the loitering Wally with a wave.
Yurakne hid her mouth behind her hand and stifled a secret laugh.
***
A colossal dough mixer churned, filling the corridor with the scent of butter.
Sugar like white snowflakes puffed from a pump, filling the air, while a bank of ovens swung open simultaneously right on schedule, blasting dry, scorching heat through the space.
Inside the factory were dozens of confectioners and hundreds of support staff.
Crates of vividly colored fruit filed past on a conveyor belt.
Knife-wielding workers skillfully trimmed away peels and hollowed out centers, dropping the pieces into baskets.
The confectioners piped fresh cream onto cake surfaces, cut and sculpted pastry, and decorated sweets with fruit.
It was a spectacle: dozens of different confections taking on multicolored life all at once, each through its own meticulously divided step, flooding out in a river of color.
The Golden Carnival members, having finished the factory tour, were seated in the supervisor's office, treated to pastries and drinks while looking down at the panorama of the factory floor.
The factory manager proudly introduced the confections they were eating as new products still under development.
"Hoho, who knew freshly baked pastries could be this delicious!"
"Right? I've had these a few times at the villa, but this is on a whole different level!"
"Lucky employees. Do they always get to eat like this?"
"Look at this one. Goes absolutely perfect with coffee, just like the artisan lady recommended earlier."
As their stomachs gradually filled, the factory door opened.
The general public tour was beginning.
The factory manager stepped into the office.
"Right then, I'll now guide you to the 'Collection Hall.'"
"Ah, the place that holds the President's personal treasures?"
Candyman was famous as a circus fanatic.
He was rumored to be a zealot for the playwright 'Christian' in particular.
A chance to see his collection!
The troupe members all rose from their seats.
At that moment, Ella raised her hand with a pained expression.
"My stomach's a bit upset. I'll swing by the restroom first."
"Do you know where it is? Shall I call an employee to guide you?"
"Ah, I'm fine. It's just next to the room they called the President's office earlier, right?"
With that, Ella made a show of heading in the opposite direction from where the troupe members were going.
Once she'd confirmed everyone had left, she slipped back into the office.
The truth was, she had no urgent need for a bathroom.
She reached for the pastries on the tray, still radiating warmth.
And she stowed them inside her hat.
Trait: Inspira - Hat Magic
Applicable Targets: Inside Ella's and Wonderstein's hats.
Effect: The two targets are spatially linked. Place an object you wish to send into the hat and put it on. The object vanishes before it ever touches your crown. The moment the other person removes their own hat, it appears inside theirs.
Requirement: Ella's Affection level ≥ 30
This was the Inspira she'd received just before being stabbed by Reaper's Scythe.
Hat Magic had been something Ella had performed as an intermission diversion on the stage of Rouge. It had apparently linked her Inspira to Wonderstein, likely because he had assisted her at the time.
She had welcomed the new blessing.
Virtually no one her age had managed to acquire two Inspiras.
It was something to take pride in as an acrobat.
Most enjoyable of all was that this ability linked her to Wonderstein.
It was almost as if the Demon God Kirkeus was recognizing the two of them as soul partners.
Ella stuffed her hat full of pastries.
Every time she ate something delicious, her thoughts kept drifting to him.
So she often sent him things like this through her Hat Magic.
She also planned to use these pastries as a setup.
During tonight's regular call, she'd steer the conversation like this:
-They gave these out as snacks at the villa, and they were so good I thought I'd send you some to try. So? It's from a super famous confectionery factory called Slagbort. New products they haven't even released yet. Oh, so that was the place you wanted to go? Uh-huh, because the owner of the Golden Carnival villa is the president there. The confectioners came to the villa and made them fresh. There's definitely a difference when they're fresh out of the oven. It was good, right? Mmm, I want more. So, about that... could you make that offer you did back then again?
Didn't I already say no? Tch, so you're not going to ask again? Hmm?
-Understood, Miss Ella. May I ask you a favor—would you please go out with me somewhere?
-Hmph, I'm pretty busy... Fine. Since you're begging, I'll make a special exception. Okay?
Ella stared into the hat full of pastries and giggled to herself.
She didn't know that the supervisor's office window was one-way glass that could be peered through from the factory director's room.
Candyman sat on the sofa in the factory director's room, listening to his secretary relay the interior goings-on, and chuckled.
'Hoho, if you wanted pastries, I could have packed you as many as you like. Sneaking them away in your hat, of all things.'
In his younger days as an artisan, he would have roared at her, calling her a thief trying to steal his secret recipes.
But in his old age, he found the child's antics merely adorable.
He gestured to his secretary.
The office door swung open.
Ella flinched in alarm and jammed the hat on her head.
In the doorway stood an old man in a tailcoat, supported by a younger man.
The old man spoke in a deliberately stern voice.
"So you're the thief trying to make off with my pastry secrets, are you?"