11. Wonderland (30)
11. Wonderland (30)
"Hah... hah... I said it hurts. Help me... Master... hng."
"I told you to stop whining, brat. Whoa there."
At the fairy's tug on the reins, Clara halted before the three of them.
They had stood frozen on the spot from the moment they spotted her across the street. The sight before them was too shocking to process.
A leather bit was strapped into Clara's mouth. Drool leaked steadily through the gap.
"Mmph... I-I hate this..."
"Our circus's very own four-legged transport! Ha ha! A bit noisy, I'll grant you, but quite obedient!"
Even dazed as she was, one word cut through Ella's confusion.
"Circus? You said circus?"
The fairy tout fluttered his butterfly wings and hovered in the air. His plump, almost uncomfortably babyish cheeks puffed as he nodded.
"That's right. We offer lodging, dining, performances, banquets — and we even arrange employment!"
He punted Clara in the rear with a light thwack. She burst into a wailing sob.
Ella's head swam.
Of every surreal thing she had seen since arriving here, this was the most unreal.
"H-hold on — "
She was about to demand an explanation, but Rumi stepped in front of her.
"Then let's catch a ride."
With that, she swung herself into the saddle strapped across Clara's back.
The casualness of it jolted Ella all over again. She leaned close and hissed.
"Rumi... this person is one of my people..."
"I understand what you're saying, but wait. There's a way to handle these fellows."
Rumi's tone was composed, reassuring, though her words seemed aimed less at Ella than at Oz.
Meeting Rumi's gaze, Oz wrestled his breathing under control and swallowed the fury rising in his throat.
The instant he'd seen Clara dragged along on all fours, the same visceral disgust he'd felt at the Judicial Theater surged through him again. At least back there, the victims had been strangers — the Voodoo Madosa would take offense at that characterization, but never mind — whereas this was a member of his own troupe.
He suppressed the near-overpowering urge to punch the leering, overweight fairies in front of him. "Do you know who these people are?" he whispered.
"I have my suspicions. They'll be confirmed once we reach the inn. But there is one curious thing."
"What?"
"This child is a Spirit Body."
"Pardon?"
"She has no physical body. Same as you."
Startled, Oz examined Clara more intently.
The white Rekachev uniform she wore was a reflection of her persona. Ella's crimson tailcoat was the same — like everyone else, her clothing had transformed into the costume she most often wore onstage.
But their physical bodies had barely changed. The more seasoned troupe leaders showed a hint of persona in their flesh, but nothing approaching the total metamorphosis Oz had undergone. That, he realized, was the difference between someone with a body and someone without one.
The Clara he was looking at right now had a human face, human hands, human legs.
And this was a Spirit Body?
"Huh?"
Something odd caught his attention.
Clara's bare skin was fully exposed. She looked, unmistakably, like a living human being. Yet no one nearby paid her any mind. Even the guards gave her nothing more than a passing glance before carrying on.
"How — ?"
"If this appearance is her persona, it explains everything. An 'ordinary human Clara' is the mask she is performing."
At those words, a scene from an old movie surfaced in his memory: an alien wearing a peeled-off human skin to pass as a person.
Was Clara — ?
He shook his head. No, that was absurd.
He had a far more plausible theory.
"Clara suffers from a condition where her soul and body are out of alignment."
"Is there such an illness?"
"Yes. Incurable, as far as I can tell."
"Hmm, an unstable soul? That might explain it... And would that be why the hypnosis took such a strong hold?"
Clara's mental state was plainly dire. She had locked eyes with Ella several times without a flicker of recognition.
She simply stared blankly and repeated, over and over, that it hurt, that it was hard.
It did not take long for them to reach the inn run by the fairies.
The sign over the entrance read:
⟨A Midsummer Night's Circus⟩
"Just as I thought."
Rumi breathed out a small sigh.
Of all the troublesome groups to get tangled with, it had to be these ones.
"A circus? These people are a circus troupe too?"
"You haven't heard of them? It's a troupe made up entirely of fairies."
From beside her, Ella let out a sudden exclamation of recognition.
"I've heard that name before. My teacher told me about it. He said if you're ever in the forest or a field at night and hear music, or laughter that sounds like children, you must never, ever go near it. It means the fairies are holding a revel, and the children who join the fun there get taken away to their realm."
The story felt like a half-remembered urban legend and a fairy tale all at once.
Rumi offered a plainer version backed by harder facts.
"I did mention that some fairies and demons reside within the domains of the Demon Gods, yes? A Midsummer Night's Circus is a troupe based here in Wonderland. They aren't followers of Kirkeus — they're more like long-term guests. They do sometimes travel up to the surface world to perform."
"And kidnap children?"
"They don't do that. This business is... probably a tangle of misunderstandings. In any case, leave this to me and stay quiet. I'm acquainted with the leader of Midsummer Night's. I promise I'll get your friend back."
They pushed open the door and stepped into the inn.
"Welcome! A Midsummer Night's Circus at your service!"
The person who greeted them was a young human girl. All three of them recognized the voice instantly.
Ruelo, bundled inside a bright yellow chick costume, bent into a deep bow.
"Ru — Luri?"
"Guests — wait, Ella?"
Ella's restraint snapped. She rushed forward.
"What in the world happened?"
"I-it's..."
Ruelo looked around, her face full of fear.
Nearby fairies had begun to murmur, their eyes on the two of them.
Unable to find anywhere safe to rest her gaze, Ruelo spotted Clara still crouched on all fours at the inn's entrance. The sheer wretchedness of the sight made her forget the shop's one inviolable rule — always smile — and tears welled in her eyes.
"It's — Clara, she..."
Her voice trembling, Ruelo told them everything that had happened.
***
After shaking off the pursuing guards, the two of them had entered Cadsun together.
Unlike Ruelo, who understood none of it, Clara possessed a thorough knowledge of Wonderland.
Personas, Bouncers, Ticketers, theaters — she broke each concept down into simple terms.
"You're amazing, Clara! Aside from personas, this is all completely new to me."
"Heh, just stick with me here and I'll handle everything."
At that moment, Ruelo's hair abruptly sprang upward and formed itself into the shape of a beast's snapping jaws.
"Was that fool act of yours a cover this whole time?"
"A fool? I know a whole lot more about the world than you do! You've barely been out in it."
"You behave more like a child than I do."
"What did you say? You little —!"
Clara grabbed a handful of Ruelo's hair and wrestled with it, the actual owner of the hair forgotten entirely in the tussle.
Ruelo smiled as she watched Clara and Samson go at each other.
She did not know exactly what had happened between them, but one night, without her knowledge, the two had put their heads together, come to an understanding, and grown close with startling speed.
Part of her had been a little hurt that her two body-sharing companions now shared secrets without her, but mostly she was glad. Clara had accepted Samson — a friend her own father had denounced as a malevolent spirit — as a friend.
Considering that Clara came from the same Monster Circus that was packed with all those terrifying-looking members, her capacity for boldness made perfect sense.
'I'll have to tell Ella someday.'
Ella and Reina were kind to her, but their age gap lent that kindness a slight distance, so she could never fully relax around them.
Maya was too cold to approach easily, and Karen did nothing but tease her, like a boy her own age.
Compared to them, Clara was the oldest of the five older girls, yet there was a guilelessness in her that felt almost like a child her own age. Over the past week, the three of them — Clara, Samson, and herself — had spent hours tumbling across the blankets trading silly jokes.
For all her scatterbrained air, Clara was knowledgeable and sharp. It had been her plan to use the Ticketer tag function to find the others.
"To take control of a theater, we'll need to enter a competition and place well enough first."
"Should I put on a strongman act?"
"No, no, you two youngsters sit tight. Leave the work to me."
Clara had not forgotten the Master's request to look after the younger ones.
Besides, if anything unexpected happened onstage, it would be better for her to be the one to adapt.
She chose a comedy stage.
Singing and acrobatics were not her strengths.
From the comedy options, she selected a duel.
Her reasoning: a contest of verbal sparring seemed a better fit for her than trying to be funny.
In this duel format, challengers took their pick from a lineup of reigning champions. Defeat a champion and you took their place; defend it enough times and you advanced to the main tournament.
Clara picked one particular champion.
A man whose entire body was covered in blue fur, with goat horns curling from his head. He stood taller than most humans, broad-bodied and solidly built.
The snow-white suit, crisp shirt, and chestnut suspenders lent him a rough, masculine image that did not fit the delicate fairy stereotype.
He set down his cigar and regarded her.
"You picked me. Why?"
His voice, too, was the dignified baritone of a middle-aged man.
Clara did not flinch in the slightest. She called back boldly.
"Because you're a fairy. You'll be weak at anything requiring brains, right?"
At her answer, the horned fairy fixed her with a piercing look.
"I'm not inclined to tolerate remarks that belittle fairies."
"Heh-heh, what are you gonna do about it?"
The fairy looked up toward the empty air and released a long, weary breath.
He'd only come out here to unwind and clear his head after a long while, and now he was facing this kind of headache again. Why was Kirkeus's paradise so infested with insolent little provocateurs?
"Shall we make a wager?"
"Huh? What kind of wager?"
"Anything. I may not look it, but I wield more influence in Wonderland than a theater owner."
Clara brightened at that.
"Oh, really? Then let me stage a performance at your theater. The moment I win!"
"Fine. But if you lose, you work in our establishment for one year."
"Heh, bring it on!"
The duel, a subcategory of the two-person act, had its origins in the quarrels of young fairies.
- The white dragon is stronger!
- No way. The black dragon is stronger!
Childish arguments like that usually escalated into contests where each side's illusions fought.
But an illusion was still only an illusion. However the fight ended, it said nothing about which was actually stronger. Projecting illusions was an act of will. Smashing each other's illusions was an act of belief, and that determined victory.
In other words, each duelist had to present something stronger than what their opponent presented, and so shatter the opponent's conviction.
The fairy and Clara faced each other.
When the fairy raised a hand, a roar went up from one side — mostly from his own troupe members.
"Boss, show that rude woman what she deserves!"
"To challenge the boss to a duel — the nerve!"
Clara threw a hand high toward the crowd in return.
"Whoa, a Rekachev uniform? A properly trained acrobat!"
"Smash that uppity fairy to bits!"
Those cheering for her were almost all Persona-bearers. After watching the residents get beaten down by fairies over and over, their pride had evidently reached a boiling point.
This pre-match psychological warfare mattered.
Officially, the illusion mage who provided the visual effects remained neutral. But there was a non-zero chance that an illusion could be swayed by confidence or sheer momentum.
The champion fairy opened the attack.
"Well then, let's begin. I, for my part, summon a great toad. These creatures feast on fairies."
Today's illusion mage was a fairy. She flinched for a heartbeat, but she succeeded in conjuring a single toad.
The image of the toad loomed over the blue-skinned fairy, its tongue flicking.
"Heh. Rattled the supposedly neutral mage, did you? A promising start. In that case, I'll deploy a cobra. A single toad is nothing more than a quick snack."
This time a snake materialized above Clara's head. It swallowed the toad illusion with a gulp.
"A honey badger. A cobra's fangs and venom have no effect."
The honey badger appeared, crunched down on the snake, and snapped its body in two.
"A fierce jaguar. Its claws will rip a honey badger to shreds."
The jaguar illusion drove its claws into the honey badger's belly and tore it open.
On and on they went, each summoning progressively stronger things to shatter whatever the other had conjured.
Occasionally a curveball was thrown — poison-drenched bees to counter a fierce tiger, or a deep swamp to bog down a lumbering elephant. But each time, the other parried instantly with a fresh concept.
The audience's jaws dropped.
"Good heavens — she's traded over fifty exchanges with the boss."
"Not a single second's hesitation in any of her counters. Does she have an encyclopedia in her head?"
"Is this okay? He isn't... losing, is he?"
The fairies, and even the watching acrobats, were stunned by Clara's skill. They had been cheering her on, but the fairy was a proven master who had demolished every notable challenger thus far.
"Rekachev students are supposed to be technical prodigies but weak at improvisation."
"Remarkable wit."
"A shame she died so young, though."
Time passed, and the duel began to scale up to grander, societal proportions.
"I am the emperor who unified the continent. All bow to my command."
"I am the people's revolution. It topples every absolute ruler, no matter how mighty."
The emperor's golden image, which had appeared upon a splendid throne, was dragged down by a ragged, surging mob.
The fairy's expression tightened almost imperceptibly.
He had expected to field an emperor and have his opponent counter with some lone assassin. Then he could simply parry with the imperial bodyguard. But revolution — that was not what he'd anticipated.
'To produce a concept of that scale without hesitation. She is not what her appearance suggests.'
The fairy concluded it was time to end this.
If they kept trading knowledge like this, there was a real chance he might lose.
"I am Kirkeus, Demon God of Amusement. I smile and revel in every misfortune."
"I am the God of Light. I subjugate every Demon God."
Clara smirked.
'Getting desperate, are we? Dragging a Demon God into it out of nowhere.'
She had once whiled away the hours listening to debates among the world's foremost scholars. Once the scale expanded to the cosmic level, her store of knowledge was wider. This was already as good as won.
But the concept that came out of the fairy's mouth next was entirely unforeseen.
"I am the Sleeping Chaos. When my eyes open, the God of Light and all the Demon Gods alike become my meal."
"What? There's no such thing!"
Faced with a piece of knowledge she did not possess, Clara blurted out the objection before she could stop herself. She drew in a sharp breath the moment the words left her lips.
That was the one thing never, ever to say in a duel. No matter how absurd, how impossible the opponent's imagined concept, you had to scrape your imagination dry and answer with something that shattered it. You could not simply stamp your foot and deny it.
"Nngh, wa-wait, I'll think of something, just wait — !"
Clara ransacked her mind.
But the phrase "Sleeping Chaos" was entirely new to her.
She could not picture anything that could destroy it.
A supernova? A black hole? A higher-dimensional collision?
While she waffled, her confidence crumbling, the Sleeping Chaos that had devoured the God of Light grew sharper, more distinct.
The translucent illusion solidified completely.
"The illusion has fully materialized. The match is mine. Am I correct, referee?"
"W-wait, I — I — !"
Clara shuffled backward.
She'd lost.
This wasn't possible.
She was supposed to win.
The fairy, however, had no intention of letting her leave.
He straightened his back and wings unfolded from behind him — one a fairy's, like a dragonfly's, the other a sprite's, like a butterfly's.
"An entertaining contest. Clara, was it? I am Oberon, leader of A Midsummer Night's Circus, whom you shall serve for the coming year."
"Eep — !"
The strength drained from Clara's eyes. Her mouth fell slack, a string of drool slipping free.
An illusionary leash formed itself out of thin air and fastened around her throat.