13. Circus Charlie (20)
13. Circus Charlie (20)
In less than an hour, she had endured shocks that would test any soul over a lifetime. She would have preferred to simply faint and be done with it. But against her wishes, her consciousness remained painfully sharp as it murmured one name.
Frank Wonderstein.
The first audience member who had ever acknowledged her art. The man who had promised to take her away from this life.
This was the true face of the monster who had slaughtered her friends and her neighbors. A searing agony tore through Ella's chest.
"Why... why is the Troupe Leader..."
She collapsed onto the ground, her expression utterly vacant. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks.
He had been holding her friend's head in his hands. He tossed it aside and smiled. Not a trace of guilt shadowed his face—no remorse for the murder and devastation he had caused.
"Miss Ella."
Wonderstein felt a lurch of dismay at her sudden appearance. He had never imagined she would see him like this. Realizing he was still gripping the child's head that Igor had thrown at him moments before escaping, he let it drop to the ground at once.
He had no idea how to explain. He had wanted so desperately to keep this scene from her...
While he hesitated, she spoke. Her voice shook.
"D-Did you kill them?"
Wonderstein could read the grief, the resentment, the despair in her eyes. Those emotions were adrift, searching for a target.
"Why? Why did you do this?"
Her voice was subdued. But that wasn't composure. Deep inside her charred-black heart—like charcoal that looks cold but still glows at the core—her feelings were boiling, about to erupt.
Silence stretched. Then, unable to hold back any longer, she broke into anguished sobs.
"Say something! What wrong did they commit?! Why did they have to die?! Why!"
"That's..."
Hearing the raw accusation in her voice, Wonderstein's mouth opened on its own. The need not to be hated by her pushed the words forward. But he shut it again at once.
The truth was far too cruel for her to bear.
He could not bring himself to tell her that her own eyes, and a single letter she had written, had brought all of this down upon them.
She would be consumed by guilt. She might even try to hurt herself. He could not allow that. He couldn't heal her if she shattered.
For now, he decided to bury the truth.
"These people committed no wrong. They were simply unlucky."
The last time he had visited this village, he had intended to confess everything. Before leaving with her, he had planned to sit down with her grandfather and lay it all out.
But the situation had changed, and his plan had to change with it.
"If you refuse to leave with me, I cannot guarantee the safety of those who remain."
Getting her away from here came first.
He had no way of knowing when Igor would regroup and return. If Igor discovered Ella's existence, it would be a catastrophe. She was not merely an Eye of Kirkeus.
"You... you—ugh."
Willy, who had been watching them, tried to rise while pressing a hand to his wound. Wonderstein silenced him with a slight shake of his head, then spoke to Ella.
"Pack your things and prepare to leave. It would be best to hurry."
He approached her as she stared blankly at him through her tears and picked up the bag she had dropped.
"Thank you for bringing my luggage. I'll be waiting at the village entrance."
With that, he descended the hill—to finish off the remaining infected plague victims and secure the perimeter. He was worried about her, but her grandfather was beside her. He was far better suited to offering comfort than someone like himself, who was clumsy with human emotions.
"E-Ella... a-are you all right?"
"Grandpa..."
Ella ran to Willy. Her suppressed feelings erupted. Buried in his arms, she wailed like a child.
A crumpled gift box fell from her embrace. It was the necktie she had bought a few days ago in Vegas, meant for Wonderstein.
What Ella felt for Wonderstein.
You could call it the yearning a girl holds for a traveler from the outside world. You could also call it gratitude toward a colleague who understood her craft.
But another label fit it better. It was the kind of feeling a teenage girl, just turned sixteen, might develop for a handsome and kind adult man.
"Huuk... I... I liked him... I liked him... I liked him..."
The realization—that the man she had liked was now someone she had to hate—mercilessly tore her heart apart. She cried and cried, buried in her grandfather's chest, until at last she lost consciousness.
***
Ursus, once a taming professor at Rekachev Circus School and a member of the celebrated acrobatic group the Five-Person Gang, lifted Ella onto the horse-drawn wagon and draped a blanket over her. It was a wagon he had been secretly building alone in his shed, intending to gift it to her on the day she left with Wonderstein.
Working as an equestrian advisory board member for a carriage company, the skills he had picked up along the way had proven surprisingly useful. He had been especially busy during this festival season precisely because he was building this.
'All it needed now was the final decoration—engraved with both their names...'
Ursus glanced at the metal ornament lying in a corner of the shed and sighed. It was a shame to send the wagon off unfinished. He turned to Wonderstein, who was just returning after clearing the village interior.
"Aren't you going to tell Ella the truth?"
He looked at Ella's sleeping face for a moment, then shook his head.
"She'll come to despise herself."
"But it's fine for her to despise you instead?"
"Wouldn't telling her the truth end the same way? If it has to happen either way, it's better if I'm the only one she hates."
Sixteen years ago, his own mistake had allowed the Plague Lord to roam the world again. Earning her resentment was unavoidable no matter what. He judged it was better to shoulder it alone.
Ursus looked at his friend with sympathy. Unlike in years past, this man now knew how to smile and how to read people's hearts. But his way of dealing with people was still clumsy.
"What will you do now?"
"First, I'll need to gather Devoluts. I'm going to need more resources for the final confrontation with Igor."
"How? You and Igor can't draw on the Avatar's power anymore. Didn't you say you sealed each other's abilities earlier?"
"There is still one more way to gather Devoluts, isn't there?"
Ursus recalled the conditions under which the Curse Plague erupted. It required a "monster circus" to be performed before an "Eye of Kirkeus"; as a "laughing person" watched, "Sleeping Chaos" would descend upon their body, spreading Devoluts.
He nodded, understanding at once.
"So you intend to stage a monster circus. With Ella as the audience."
"First, I'll have to go recruit some actors. The more tragic their circumstances, the stronger the effect should be."
Ursus sighed at Wonderstein, who said it as casually as if he were discussing the weather.
"Are you truly going to keep hiding the truth from her?"
Wonderstein, who had been lost in thought while gripping the driver's seat, shook his head.
"I'll confess before we enter the Circus Grand Prix. Most likely after we secure a sponsor and our competition entry is confirmed."
"Finding a sponsor won't be easy. A monster circus isn't exactly welcome in this day and age."
"I plan to visit Viscount Bergson's daughter. I still haven't fulfilled a promise I made to her father. I'll request sponsorship in exchange for curing her illness."
"Can you do it?"
"Now that the Avatar's power is gone, Devoluts won't be forced to manifest solely in ways that entertain Kirkeus anymore. With practice, I can control it. Even if I implant something monstrous inside, I should be able to make it look perfectly normal—at least from the outside."
Before climbing onto the wagon himself, Wonderstein handed a bundle to Ursus. It was something that had been inside the luggage Ella had retrieved from the station earlier.
"What's this?"
"Something I prepared a few days ago, but I don't think I'll need it anymore. Well, I'll be off. Take care of yourself, Ursus."
Wonderstein took the reins and departed, Ella resting in the back.
Ursus watched the wagon cut across the desert for a long while, then untied the bundle he had been given.
His eyes welled up as he confirmed what was inside.
Neatly packed were a training whip, a whistle fitted with a device to modulate five distinct tones, a new red hat, and a box of lemon cheese cake adorned with sugar decorations celebrating a birthday.
"Wonderstein..."
Ursus lifted his head to look at the wagon again. The girl celebrating her sixteenth birthday today, and the man who had failed to deliver the gifts he had bought for her, disappeared over the horizon just like that.
***
I reactivated the regeneration I had paused upon detecting the unexpected gunshot. I could hear Ella shouting something, but the words wouldn't resolve. My eardrums and ears weren't fully restored yet.
I rose just as she collapsed to her knees in front of Mysterious, sobbing. From the look of it, she had shot him. The shock of pulling the trigger on another person must have been overwhelming—she clung to his body, her shoulders shaking without pause.
"Well done, Miss Ella."
I hurried to assess the condition of the man who had been shot. He was still alive, thank goodness. Once the Status Window's power returned, I could save him.
"You... knew... about this man... Charlie?"
Ella asked in a subdued voice, her head hanging low.
Charlie? Had Mysterious given her his name? Or perhaps it was an alias. A common enough name.
"A man who holds a grudge against me."
"Cough."
Charlie coughed up a mouthful of blood.
"That must hurt a great deal."
I stepped past her and climbed quickly onto the altar. To heal him, I first had to lift this Sanctuary. Carrying him outside the barrier was an option, but moving a wounded man unnecessarily could worsen his condition.
I stood upon the altar, which radiated light.
A Sanctuary.
The place felt nostalgic.
TTT boasted an exceptional degree of freedom. That applied to the enemies as much as to the player. Monsters roamed the map according to their behavioral patterns, and if two hostile groups crossed paths, they would fight on their own. Some areas even used that mechanic to guide strategy.
Still, if enemies were allowed to roam entirely unchecked, quest NPCs could get wiped out. So NPCs mostly stayed in safe zones called camps—places surrounded by bright light, just like what I was seeing now.
I extended a tentacle, lifted the stone coffin at the center of the Sanctuary, and hurled it to the far side of the chamber. The coffin slammed into the wall and rolled across the floor with a thunderous crash. It felt like I was desecrating the dead, but saving a living person took priority. If the tomb's owner was truly a saint, they would forgive this much.
Once I confirmed the Sanctuary had vanished, I looked down from the altar.
Ella stood below, glaring up at me with eyes full of hatred.
"Wonderstein... I... haah... haah... can never forgive you..."
She had bitten her lip so hard that blood was trickling from the corner of her mouth. That hostility was familiar—but it was something I had managed to forget over the past three months.
Had her memories returned?
"Miss Ella."
I tried to calm her first. But she had no intention of hearing me out. She pulled something from her bosom. A transparent glass bottle.
I recognized it instantly.
Name: Professor's Flask
Target: Blood filling the flask.
Effect: Can trap a target Demon God creature inside the flask and freely insert or remove it. Contract duration is 30 days. Renewable.
Required Resources: None.
It was the item I had obtained after defeating Phairen. Since it was a taming-related magic tool, it had seemed more useful in her hands than mine, so I had given it to her...
I caught a glimpse of something hunched inside the glass.
What was that? Had she already put something inside it?
"Come out!"
At her command, black smoke billowed from the flask. Slowly, the smoke thinned, and the being within gradually revealed itself.
I could only stare at it in shock.
"Well, well. It's been nearly two weeks since the contract, and I'm only getting a single outing now? Truly, you are far too cruel. This isn't what you originally promised. Ah, it has been a while for this place. I owed you a great deal back then."
Standing hunched on two legs that reached over five meters high, the being bared its sharp fangs in greeting. Its red eyes curved into crescents as keen as the new moon.
Deer antlers, the hind legs of a goat, lion's claws, an ox's tail, and even a rabbit's head.
It looked as though every unclean beast that had ever blasphemed against the gods had been assembled into a single form.
The smoke coiling around its body gnawed at it—with what might have been teeth or claws—as it swirled and twisted. The massive scythe in its hand gleamed with a bloody crimson light.
It had been a long time, but this was in no way a welcome sight.
What Ella had released from the bottle was Nua Zakanuba, the Reaper.
