12. Rekachev Circus School Trial (3)
12. Rekachev Circus School Trial (3)
It wasn't until she returned to her quarters that she realized something was wrong.
She'd avoided showing her face in public, but to wash up, she had to take the mask off. Yet it refused to budge, as if nailed in place. The bond was unnervingly solid—less a physical phenomenon and more like something magical.
What she felt first was fear. A mask fused to her body that wouldn't come off?
Straight out of a Halloween horror tale.
La Llorona's ghastly face staring back at her from the mirror only fanned her terror.
After a long struggle to pry it off, she recognized a familiar sensation against her skin—something she'd felt before, somewhere.
A Persona. The ones she'd worn in Wonderland had never felt like real clothes; they'd felt like extensions of her own body.
The presence emanating from this mask was just like that.
She ran her fingers over the thing covering her face.
Why would a Persona manifest in reality?
And only on her?
The fact that it wouldn't come off no matter how hard she tried was strange, too. It was as though the mask had fused with her face.
She tried everything she could think of over the next two days. Nothing worked. The one mercy was the opening at the mouth—she could still eat.
The maddening itch of a face she couldn't wash was another matter.
Worried she might have to live the rest of her life behind a mask, she finally confessed the situation to Troupe Leader Wonderstein yesterday. Even he might not know what to do, she'd thought—but the moment he heard her describe the symptoms, he reassured her at once.
"So that's what happened. You needn't worry too much. Could you come by the villa tomorrow? Ah, Miss Ella mentioned she'll be going out—you could spend the day with her and then drop in together."
And so she'd followed Ella out into the streets, though a part of her wondered if going straight to Wonderstein would've been better. Three days without washing her face left her feeling thoroughly grimy.
What if, when she finally pulled the mask off in front of the Troupe Leader, she looked too filthy? Maybe she should spritz on a little more perfume before going.
Just then, a tiny, fern-frond hand darted into her line of sight.
"Reina... hold my hand..."
It was Ruelo. One of her hands was already clasped with Ella's; she was offering the other to Reina. Reina stared blankly for a second, then gave a soft laugh and took it.
If the Troupe Leader had told her to go have fun, there was surely a reason. She decided to trust his instructions.
With that, they plunged into the Halloween festival in earnest.
Umon and Trimery, seasoned festival veterans, guided them expertly from one attraction to the next.
Entering a workshop tent, the whole group hollowed out an enormous pumpkin to make a lantern. The pumpkin was bigger than a grown man. Horticulturists from the Yeterinpurk Alchemy Guild had cultivated them specifically for the festival.
"When we came last week, old Gaston was fuming that these were bigger than the ones he grows. Said it's nearly impossible to beat local alchemists who know the region's climate, environment, and plant habits inside and out."
They went to work with the chisels, hammers, and shovels provided by the organizers. Umon and Ruelo botched several cuts, gouging chunks out here and there, but wherever they slipped, Reina carved corrections so seamless they looked intentional.
The finished lantern was comical at a glance yet possessed an antique elegance in the details. Their creation joined the long rows of jack-o'-lanterns encircling the plaza.
"Easy spot to remember, too. Right next to the school, isn't it?"
"I'm bringing Papa tomorrow to show him!"
Pumpkin juice splattered all over their clothes, they next visited the Gypsy Sorcery Market. The selection had grown even larger than two weeks ago. They wandered the stalls, browsing eerie ornaments and charms.
"Oh! Look at that! Aaaaah..."
The group had discovered how entertaining it was to watch Ruelo cover her eyes and tremble at every grotesque sight. A silent contest began over who could shove the most horrifying thing in front of her face. The game ended when she caught sight of a headless chicken still flopping and scrambling about—and promptly fainted.
By the time she came to, everyone was apologizing profusely. She insisted she was fine, but her complexion was ashen and her legs had no strength, so Dosville had to carry her on his back.
"I'm sorry..."
"Tch. Then walk."
Dosville grumbled every time she apologized or thanked him, but he didn't complain beyond that.
The street of tamers offered plenty of curiosities, some familiar to the monster troupe members.
A two-headed pig, a dog with a human face, a foal with absurdly stubby legs—all displayed inside pens.
Umon and Trimery found them fascinating—and faintly bittersweet.
Along the way, they ran into familiar faces.
"A woman who commands dozens of serpents with a single flute!"
"The snake charmer Suave!"
Two men in cheap suits stood before the turbaned snake charmer's performance, tossing out patter to whip up the crowd's enthusiasm.
"Haven't we seen those two a lot somewhere?"
"Right?"
"They look so familiar."
Umon and Trimery, who hadn't seen Allen and Joe since that first meeting, tilted their heads. When Ella whispered a reminder, they nodded as though the memory had just surfaced.
"That's right. Those guys existed."
"Looks like they're getting by somehow."
Next they took in a joint cat acrobatics show and a mouse obstacle race.
Baron Dosville wagered his meager monthly pay on the race and lost every coin.
"I told you to bet on Number 3."
At Ella's scolding, he could only swallow his tears as Mouse Number 3 preened under its winner's crown.
They bought street food from stalls all around and gathered at an outdoor table for lunch. Dosville and the Trimery Triplets, who'd started out trading insults and picking fights, had somehow fallen into easy conversation and now sat across from each other with beers in hand.
"Ahh, booze tastes better outdoors."
"Drinking inside just kills the mood, y'know? Hell, the circus barely has any men who drink in the first place."
"The Troupe Leader doesn't drink. Sven can't. Bandik never talks. Yobel's just... never there."
Among the monster troupe members, the ever-together Trimery were the only ones who genuinely enjoyed going out and socializing. It wasn't the same as simple sociability.
Unlike the others, who'd each tasted loneliness at some point, the three of them had always had one another—they'd never known what isolation felt like.
"You've got each other to drink with anyway."
At Dosville's remark, all three heads shook at once.
"Doesn't matter if we're always together—one body, two arms."
"Where's the fun if you can't trade drinks?"
"Heh, fair point. Holding a glass in each hand and clinking them together would just be ridiculous. One of us still couldn't drink anyway."
Months of hardship had scraped away most of Dosville's aristocratic pretensions; he now downed the kind of cheap beer he'd once have sneered at without a second thought. Between the four of them, they drained over twenty glasses in no time.
"I was told to spend whatever, but watching them blow it all on booze still stings."
Ella clicked her tongue at the sight of them still guzzling while everyone else had long since finished eating and was sprawled out, rubbing their full bellies.
"So what'll you do?"
Reina's question drew a smile from her.
"Put them to work."
She led the group to an area crowded with enormous mechanical contraptions.
There were rail cars that rose and plunged, swings that spun in dizzy circles, a ship-shaped ride that swung high and low like a pendulum.
"Whoa! What is all this?!"
"When did all this stuff show up?"
"I-I've never seen anything like it!"
Jaws dropped. They'd never laid eyes on such sights in their lives. Even Reina stared at the rides, looking stunned.
Only Baron Dosville recognized them and nodded.
"The latest amusements in vogue in the Imperial Capital. I saw them during my studies abroad. Didn't know they'd reached the provinces."
"That's right. We've been wandering around for days and never saw these."
"They were in yesterday's paper. Said they were opening this afternoon."
A glance around confirmed people were gradually drifting over—some who'd heard the news, others whose curiosity had been tugged by the newly erected fence.
They decided to try the rides before the crowd swelled.
The first was the pirate ship that swung back and forth.
But the attendant stopped Dosville and Umon from boarding.
"One for every three."
"Excuse me? What does that mean?"
"For every three passengers, one must provide labor."
The attendant pointed toward a massive capstan, where several men stood rolling their shoulders.
As it turned out, the ride wasn't powered by a steam engine—it had to be turned by hand. Most of the men at the capstan were fathers of children riding the ship.
"What—in this age of steam engines, what nonsense—!"
"Hold on! Then the Trimery Triplets should be turning it! I'm ten years old! I oppose child labor!"
The three brothers just snickered and pointed at a warning sign attached to the ride. It read:
<No riders over 185 cm>
"Wahaha, Umon, we're riding. You do the cranking."
"Ebebeb, thanks to our brawny little brother, we get to enjoy ourselves!"
"Giddyup, get moving, Umon! Giddyup! Giddyup!"
Drunk and giddy, the three brothers wiggled their hips and slapped their own backsides at their youngest sibling.
Umon seethed and looked ready to erupt, but the attendant's rules forced him down to the capstan.
"Hey, big guy. Stand on the inside."
Dosville, having swiftly grasped how the capstan worked, whispered to Umon.
"You'll have to use a lot more strength if you're on the outside."
"Really?"
"Yes. Same principle as rowing. The man on the outer edge of the circle does the harder work."
"Whoa!"
Umon's eyes shone with admiration for a man who knew so much.
They hurried into the inner positions before more people arrived. Soon the ship was at full capacity. Eighteen men—three at each of the six spokes of the capstan—heaved in unison when the signal came.
"Hrrragh!"
"Nnnngh!"
A scraping screech.
As the capstan turned, the ship rose with the sound of grinding metal. The children aboard chattered excitedly among themselves.
Ruelo felt her backside lift off the seat and gripped the handlebar tight.
"Don't let go of my wrist! Promise?"
"Don't worry so much. We've all got our safety harnesses on."
"Promise anyway! Don't you dare let go!"
"All right, all right."
And the moment the ship reached its peak—
The crank holding the chain let loose, and just as promised, Ella and Reina flung their hands—and Ruelo's wrists with them—high into the air.
"Kyaaaak!"
"Wheee!"
"Ahahaha! All hands, set sail for the Caribbean!"
"Uuuuugh!"
"Bwahaha, this is incredible!"
Screams of terror and delight tangled together.
After ten or so swings, the ship began to slow. Relief and regret bubbled up at once—was that it?—but then the pirate ship clanked and locked back into the crank.
Joy and despair flickered across the children's faces.
The men who'd let go of the capstan for a moment's rest put their strength back into it and hoisted the ship once more.
"I feel like a damned marine!"
Dosville grumbled at the top of his lungs.
The pirate ship repeated the cycle three full times before the ride was over.
A falcon perched atop a nearby building watched the whole affair. In truth, he'd been shadowing them since the moment they'd stepped out of the carriage.
He observed the little girl climbing off the pirate ship with a tear-streaked face, thoroughly sulking and turning her back on the older girls—and he watched the giant youngest brother hoist his insufferable older siblings into the air and spin them around. A short laugh escaped him.
Once he'd confirmed they were heading for the next ride, he turned, spread his wings in the opposite direction, and glided away.