Clue (6): A Touch at Dawn
The royal capital lay beneath the faint glow of dawn that followed the moon’s setting. It was that hushed hour just before the sky shed its pitch-black mask and reclaimed its vivid blue, when a lone stray cat prowled a back alley.
The taverns and modest eateries of the back alleys regularly left out scraps, and before long a dead-end passage had become the cat’s territory. The cat stretched languidly, then headed for its shelter. A wall to block the wind and a human who brought food at regular intervals—for a stray cat, no better arrangement existed.
The cat wandered the alley with confident steps. A fishy, stagnant stench rose from near the sewer. A freshly caught mouse dangled from its jaws. The moment its paw crossed above the sewer grate—
Clang!
The violent vibration beneath its paw made the cat leap in terror, fur bristling. Another clang and tremor followed; the cat spat a furious yowl and fled down another alley as though its tail were on fire.
Thud!
In the now-silent alley the cat had abandoned, the clanging soon became the sound of something striking stone. One of the paving blocks forming the sewer lifted with a jerk.
As the stone shifted, a low murmur leaked through the gap.
“This gap is too narrow. I don’t think I can pull my body out. We’ll have to cut the road to widen it.”
“…Just be careful not to make too much noise.”
The first voice was male, the second female. After the rather ominous exchange ended, something abruptly forced its way through the paving block. A blade smeared thickly with something resembling dried blood emerged first.
The slash itself was silent, but its result was not. The paving block crumbled exactly along the path of a cut delivered at a speed the eye could not follow.
Beyond the opening, a pale hand broke through the dawn air of the royal capital. The hand groped across the ground, found a stable purchase, and braced to lift the body above.
Then the voices resumed.
“Ready?”
“Yes. I have a hold outside. I can come up now.”
Their brief conversation continued, and soon hair the color of the dawn sky poked through the collapsed gap.
It was Adeline, who had escaped the black mage’s dungeon by following the underground sewers.
“Haa…”
The sigh that left Adeline’s lips was the sound of someone tasting clean air after far too long. In the cold early-winter air of the royal capital, her breath emerged wreathed in white vapor.
She adjusted her posture with a small movement of her arms and spoke to Arsene, who waited below.
“I’m coming up.”
Her upper body cleared the opening, and then with effortless grace Adeline drew the rest of herself out onto the street. Black stains covered patches of her snow-white skin, and her once-pristine coat was smeared with filth that gave off a foul odor.
Without sparing a moment to savor the open air, Adeline pressed herself close to the gap in the paving stones.
“I’m coming up as well.”
Arsene’s voice rose from below. A hand soon gripped the edge of the road. Adeline reached out timidly toward the figure emerging from the dark.
Adeline could not see it, but Arsene—that is, Maxim—stared at the hand she offered him with a momentarily stunned expression.
“…Thank you.”
He did not refuse. Taking her hand, he used her steady pull to climb fully out of the sewer.
The stench should have faded, yet the dungeon’s vile odors still clung stubbornly to his nose. Maxim frowned and looked down at himself. Filth covered him from the journey through dungeon and sewer alike. He doubted he could ever wear this hood again.
He tugged at its hem and grumbled inwardly.
“Where are we?”
Adeline’s voice brought him back. Maxim glanced around, getting his bearings. Narrow alley, low buildings packed tightly together. He realized at once that this was the alley containing the tavern called Lily, where he and the king had met the second time.
“A back alley of the royal capital. A maze of buildings. You’ve probably never had reason to come here, so you wouldn’t know it well. You haven’t been in the capital that long, after all?”
Adeline nodded.
Maxim considered returning straight to the lodging where Denis and Charlotte waited, but arriving in their current state seemed unwise. Adeline appeared to share the thought; she spoke with careful hesitation.
“We’d be far too conspicuous returning like this.”
“I doubt the smell of filth would draw much notice.”
Adeline shook her head. The combined reek of sewage and monster corpses was too strong, she said.
“The smell of filth and the smell of corpses are distinctly different. We should remove every trace of odor before we go back.”
She lifted the grimy hem of her coat.
“It would be good if there were somewhere nearby where we could wash ourselves and our clothes…”
An inn was impossible. Their appearance alone would raise questions, and their pockets held no coins—only documents heavy with secrets.
Maxim remembered a well not far beyond the mouth of the alley.
“The well…”
Adeline murmured the words. Knowing it was the best option, she nodded with visible reluctance.
“Yes. Let’s clean up at the well first, then decide on our next steps.”
“Since it’s decided, we’ll head there now.”
Maxim and Adeline left the dead-end alley. Adeline walked toward the well in silence. Maxim occasionally glanced back at her as they moved. She followed at a measured distance, lips pressed in thought.
When that subtle silence had thickened into an atmosphere both could feel, the well appeared.
“We’re here.”
Maxim broke the quiet. Beside the well bucket lay another that someone had apparently left behind. He lowered the bucket to confirm the well was not dry, then drew water and filled the spare pail. The water was cold, but neither of them was in any position to be choosy.
“Then…”
What remained was simple: a man and a woman would have to undress in the middle of the night and wash. Maxim had walked forward without hesitation, yet now that the moment had arrived he found himself unable to speak or act first. Adeline stood a short distance away, equally still.
In the windless dawn, only the faint clatter of the bucket could be heard.
“You wash first.”
Adeline had read his hesitation instantly. Maxim answered stiffly, unable to hide his awkwardness.
“Yes…”
“Since I can’t see what’s in front of me anyway, it doesn’t matter whether you’re dressed or not. I wouldn’t know.”
Her added remark somehow made the situation even more embarrassing. After a long pause Maxim sighed deeply and removed the hood that covered his outer garments. The relief was immediate.
He pulled his top halfway up, then glanced at Adeline. She had considerately turned her back. Feeling an inexplicable sense of reassurance, Maxim finished undressing.
The cold night air brushed his skin. Patches of filth clung to the removed top, though compared to the hood they seemed almost clean. He poured the bucket of water over himself, drew more, and scrubbed his limbs and face vigorously. Finally he dumped water over his head. As expected, his hair was matted with grime. He rubbed it thoroughly until his body once more resembled something human.
Maxim shook the water from his hands.
“Whew.”
Movement sent warmth spreading through limbs chilled by the water. He spread the cleaned top out to dry and stared at the pitch-black hood with a troubled frown. Now that he had washed, the stench rising from it was unmistakable.
“We should probably discard the hood we wore.”
Water dripped from his wet hair. The outer garments might be salvageable, but the hood was beyond rescue.
“…Yes. That seems best.”
The reply came a beat late. Maxim glanced over as Adeline removed her own hood. As it slid down her legs her dark blue hair swayed. When her fingers moved toward the hem of her top, Maxim hurriedly turned away.
Behind him the sounds arrived a moment later: the rustle of fabric against skin, the soft whisper of laces being undone, the occasional catch of Adeline’s breath. Maxim frowned. Then came the sound of cloth being arranged, the clatter of bucket and well rope, and finally the crisp splash of cold water.
“Haa…”
An unexpectedly pleasant sigh escaped her. It cut off abruptly, as though she had realized she had let it slip. Maxim forced his body to remain facing forward. The occasional splash and the sound of her hands moving across her skin continued. Before long he found himself staring blankly at the dawn sky, expression dazed.
“…Arsene.”
Adeline’s cautious voice reached him just as he was about to lose himself completely in the silence.
He nearly turned, caught himself, and answered.
“What is it?”
Her next words sounded as though she had hesitated many times.
“Could you check whether any filth remains on my body? I cannot see for myself…”
Maxim stood speechless for a moment, then let out a long sigh.
“I understand.”
Was this her usual indifference, or simply pragmatic acceptance of the situation? Unavoidable situation, unavoidable situation. He repeated the words until his head ached.
“I’m still wearing my undergarments, so please just turn your head.”
Maxim wanted to retort that the undergarments were hardly the point, but he kept silent and slowly turned. The motion felt like an old door creaking open.
Adeline stood before him in her corset. Even in the faint predawn light the royal capital was never short of illumination. Maxim could see every curve of her body, the pale skin glistening like a wet moon, and the sparse knightly scars that crossed it.
When he remained silent, Adeline spoke anxiously.
“…Is there still some left?”
Having invited his gaze, she now seemed unable to hide her restlessness. Maxim shook his head once and looked at her carefully.
Her body appeared clean, but a faint stain remained beneath her left cheek.
“There’s still a mark. Under your left cheek.”
Adeline rubbed the spot, then turned her face toward him. Though her eyes could not see, Maxim felt as if her gaze were fixed on him.
“Still?”
“It won’t come off.”
She lowered her hand.
“…Could you help me a little?”
Maxim’s thoughts stuttered.
From the moment she had left the dungeon, Adeline had been unable to stop thinking about the present situation. She had obeyed the Count’s orders without her body being allowed the luxury of resistance, yet the fragments of memory that had surfaced underground were slowly kindling doubt.
Along with those doubts came thoughts of the surveillance target who had protected her through the crisis. If the Count ordered her to cut his throat, she would draw her sword without hesitation. Yet the memories Arsene had left her with in that short time ran deep—words that seemed to understand her pain, breathing that matched her own heartbeat, a touch that summoned memories that should not exist.
…Could you help me a little?
If she could step outside the situation for just one moment and feel that touch again, would her wavering heart settle? Would her loyalty to the Count reawaken? Would this emotion that burrowed so uncomfortably into her chest finally reveal the memories as false?
Adeline sensed Arsene’s confusion at her request. Of course he would be bewildered. Yet at this moment she could only hope desperately that he would listen.
She heard him rise. His footsteps approached, then stopped a single pace away. He was close—closer than he had ever been while she was conscious.
Adeline lifted her face to where his would be. Her mouth moved before she could stop it.
“Could you wipe it away?”
A short sigh brushed faintly across her cheek. Then she felt his hand extend toward her.
The sensation was astonishingly familiar, strangely unchanged. Adeline felt every contour of his roughened fingers with painful clarity. They had been hardened by years of swordplay, yet the touch that cleaned her cheek was gentle.
Her heartbeat shifted.
When this hand withdraws, she thought, we will once again take up our swords, point them at each other’s throats, call each other enemy, and fight.
Her arm twitched. This time she did not stop it. Her pale hand came to rest on the back of his.
Arsene froze. The instant stretched into eternity. Adeline memorized the warmth of his palm against her cheek and the texture of his knuckles beneath her own fingers.
It was not an illusion. The memories, the emotions—she could confirm every part of them.
Not knowing whether to feel joy or sorrow, Adeline lowered her hand. Soon his touch withdrew as well.
“…It’s all gone now.”
She nodded slowly. Arsene took two steps back. She had expected silence, but his voice kept the atmosphere from sinking.
“The clothes seem mostly dry. Shall we set off? Are you not tired?”
Adeline shook her head. She felt neither fatigue nor drowsiness. She retrieved her garments, dressed, and took up her sword. The familiar grip of the hilt usually brought stability; tonight it offered none.
“…Let’s go.”
At her words Arsene began to move. Adeline followed. The faint light was breaking apart. The sky’s color as it passed from predawn glow to early morning split the heavens in two, like the paths of two people who had walked together only to diverge.
“…I see.”
King George II’s eyes glittered with interest after hearing the full account. Hugo, commander of the Royal Guard, nodded repeatedly. On the table before them lay the evidence and documents Maxim had brought out of the dungeon.
“I believe this is more than enough justification for a large-scale operation,” Hugo said.
The king nodded. “I shall take the field myself. Hugo, you will move as well. It is strange that the Count has not stirred, but we must seize this chance and act quickly. Arsene—no, Maxim. You have done a truly great service.”
“You are too kind, Your Majesty.”
The king studied the knight who bowed before him. I was right to join hands with this man. Not only had he located the black mages’ base and gathered proof of their research, he had also brought back clues that might lead to the rescue of his former comrade.
A satisfied smile touched the king’s lips. His eyes, usually busy with political calculations, shone with rare sincerity.
“If you have a request, I will grant one. Speak freely.”
Maxim’s shoulders twitched. The king immediately understood that the knight had something he wished to ask.
“Though it may be presumptuous, there is one thing this servant would request here and now.”
“By all means. Raise your head and speak.”
Their eyes met. Maxim’s darkened gaze held a single earnest wish.
“What I wish to request is…”
“The king will move to subjugate the Magic Tower on a grand scale. The justification is more than sufficient. This works out rather well.”
In a dimly lit room, Count Leon Benning murmured to himself. Adeline knelt before him. The Count narrowed his eyes as he regarded his loyal puppet. Her report had been delivered in the usual flat tone, yet a faint premonition of change stirred in the back of his mind.
“The black mages are no longer necessary for the grand design. If they have become an obstacle, so be it. On this occasion we will bring the capable mages of the Magic Tower directly under our wing and dispose of the rest.”
Leon Benning intended to cut the tail cleanly. He would not deny his connection to the Magic Tower, but he would claim the black mages had nothing to do with him. Without irrefutable evidence, such denial was entirely possible. With more than half the royal court already in his pocket, there was little he could not accomplish.
“That Arsene fellow remains an irritation.”
He looked down at Adeline again. To proceed, he would first have to tidy up these loose ends.
“Adeline.”
“Yes, my lord.”
In the silence the Count simply watched her. Then the corner of his mouth curled in a thin, cold smile.
“You will lend your strength to the subjugation force the king assembles against the Magic Tower. While carrying out the operation, remain close to the one called Arsene Bern and continue your surveillance. If he displays even the slightest additional suspicious behavior—”
The Count’s voice remained utterly emotionless.
“—kill him.”
Each word fell like a stone, heavy and cold.
“However, should your skill prove insufficient and you fail to kill him…”
His mechanical eyes bored into her.
“You must not return alive to stand before me again.”