Afterimage (3)
Afterimage (3)
Estelle traced Serepina's body.
Under her fingertips, there was only the feel of skin.
Damp with sweat, faintly trembling.
She couldn't see the face.
It looked like a mess of black crayon scribbled over it without thought.
Where eyes, nose, and mouth should have been, nothing but senseless lines tangled together.
Levina stood beside her.
Her face was invisible, too.
The world held no people.
It had been that way ever since Ravin died.
Before that, she'd been able to make them out—hazily, at least.
Enough to tell one person from another.
Then Ravin's face had grown impossibly vivid, as if it had stolen all the color from everything around it.
After he was gone, nothing was visible.
Only shapes that were vaguely human.
That was all the world still held.
She'd gone to see her parents after his death.
Where their faces should have been, a black vortex churned.
The Church seemed to believe the Saintess loved her parents deeply.
They must have thought she'd grieve when they died.
The same people who, when Etoile died, had said it was God's will and there was nothing to be done.
The same vile creatures who, once she became Saintess, had rejoiced that now they'd be rich.
She had loved them, of course.
They were her parents.
Every time she killed another priest, the Church sent someone to warn her: they would kill her parents.
Her father died first. A week later, her mother was found dead.
The Religious Order announced that Estelle, consumed by madness, had murdered them both.
It made no difference to her.
Even when the Church split into those who would protect her and those who meant to kill her—it was all the same.
Estelle slowly stroked Serepina's cheek.
Her fingers slid over the scribble of a face.
Since she couldn't see it, she relied on touch.
"You know,"
Estelle's voice was light.
As if she were making idle talk about the weather.
"You and I, we know each other, don't we?
We hunted a demon together once.
That makes us friends, doesn't it?"
She straddled Serepina's body, pulling her into an embrace that was almost obscene.
Their bodies pressed close, no space left between them.
"Here's the thing.
I've been curious. Why did Ravin love you?"
Estelle tilted her head, as if honestly puzzled.
"I really can't figure it out. No matter how carefully I feel my way around, I can't understand."
Her fingers drifted across Serepina's lips, her nose, the corners of her eyes.
Nothing but the texture of skin.
"You're not even that pretty. Your skin's dry and dull, and your face isn't beautifully balanced like mine.
Those chapped lips of yours look like a stray pup that's been starving in the gutter for days."
Estelle let out a light giggle.
"Compare me. Everyone fawns over me—Saintess this, Saintess that.
Objectively, I'm far more beautiful, aren't I? So why you? Hm?"
She grabbed a fistful of Serepina's hair.
The lusterless, hopelessly tangled strands slipped between her fingers.
"A middling noble house. Magic skills that are, fine, fairly impressive, but still a dime a dozen.
You even threw away your engagement—kicked it aside with your own foot.
What did Ravin ever see in you?"
Estelle's voice grew colder.
Beneath the cheery surface, something thick and cloying was pooling.
"I'm different. The world loves me, doesn't it?
Right? And me—I loved Ravin. And even right there in front of me, he still loved you."
Estelle paused.
She studied Serepina's face more closely, leaning in.
"You're a noble girl, so I'm sure you grew up repressed somehow.
Then you end up in a party with a capable teammate straight out of a fairy tale, and you wander around hunting monsters—I bet that was fun.
Honestly, I don't really know. Levina told me these things."
Still, nothing was visible.
Only the black, filthy scribble.
"When you treated Ravin like garbage and ran off with those pathetic little shits, I was the one who stayed beside him.
When he smoked, I smoked with him.
When you threw him away, I was there to comfort him."
Now she hated the night streets she'd once loved so much.
"And Levina—that goddamn bitch is just like you!
Running around with commoner trash like some back-alley whore!
While my little brother was dying, those lofty bastards didn't so much as glance his way, and that son of a bitch Kyle—that fucking piece of—... haaah."
She had come to despise the version of herself who'd dragged Ravin out night after night.
She had tried to love herself, and when that proved too difficult, she'd tried to find someone who would love her instead.
And just when it felt like she'd finally found that person—
Just when it felt like she could finally hold him—
"When all of you were threatening him, I was the one holding him gently. Treasuring him."
Levina moved to argue, but Estelle looked at her, pressed a finger to her lips, and hissed a soft shush.
Then Estelle's hand seized Serepina's jaw.
She forced her head up.
"What did you ever do? What in the world did you do that made him still love you even after you broke off the engagement?
I just can't comprehend it. Why in the hell would he—?"
"That's—because Ravin, to me......"
Serepina forced the words out, barely.
In the instant she tried to answer,
Estelle's hand moved to Serepina's left shoulder—already crushed.
Without a moment's hesitation, she gripped it tight.
Crack.
The sound of bone and flesh grinding was horrifyingly clear.
Horribly distinct.
"Gk—khh—gahh!"
A scream tried to tear free from Serepina's throat.
Estelle's other hand clamped over her mouth faster than sound could escape.
The cry crumpled inside her throat, unheard.
Agony blazed through her whole body, bleaching her vision white.
Consciousness went thin and distant.
Convulsing, she clawed at the bedsheets.
"I don't want to hear it. Just listen."
Estelle looked down at Serepina's writhing form with a blank face.
Her grip was still tight on the shoulder, grinding.
"I suppose I'll never understand. I was just a lowly commoner, and then suddenly I became the great Saintess.
I have no idea how you nobles live, or what goes on in your heads."
Serepina couldn't answer.
Her mouth was covered, and her whole body was screaming with pain.
She could only shake her head and twist feebly.
"Ah, I suppose you can't talk. Sorry."
Estelle's voice held no trace of apology.
"But you see. I came back, and that bastard—fuck—I never even got to hear him say he loved me. And he was dead.
I heard he'd said it to you hundreds of times, though. Right? To you......"
Estelle's hand shifted to Serepina's throat.
Cold fingers wrapped around the slender neck.
Then, slowly, they began to tighten.
"Hk... kuh... hah..."
Her air was cut off.
The breath rushed from her lungs, and her vision dimmed steadily.
Desperately, Serepina thrashed, trying to grab Estelle's arm.
Her hands had no strength.
Her nails scratched uselessly against her skin.
Before long, the bedsheets grew wet.
As if she'd felt it, Estelle's grip abruptly loosened.
She let out a short sigh.
"Kuh—kuh! Cough, cough!"
Serepina gasped, chest heaving like a fish flung onto dry ground.
Tears, spit, and snot smeared her face into a mess.
The rush of oxygen flooding her lungs was sharp as a blade.
Estelle stepped off the bed and looked down at Serepina, collapsed in a heap.
Her face remained impassive.
"......"
Standing in the corner of the room, Levina spoke.
"Not killing her?"
Levina asked.
"I don't know."
Estelle's reply was clipped.
As if she'd lost all interest in Serepina, she walked to the window.
When she pulled the heavy curtain aside, pale moonlight seeped into the room.
Estelle stared vacantly out into the night.
The dark cityscape was still as a corpse.
"......I miss him."
Estelle murmured it so quietly the words barely reached her own ears before vanishing.
She drew a cigarette from her pocket and put it between her lips.
Then she struck a match.
Ssst—
A small flame bloomed in the darkness.
The moment she saw that orange glow, something surged up from deep inside her.
Estelle dropped the match and retched, dry heaving.
She pulled the cigarette from her mouth and crushed it in her fist.
Shredded tobacco leaves scattered lightly across the floor.
"Levina."
"Yeah."
"You could've stopped it, couldn't you."
A thin resentment laced Estelle's voice.
"Where were you."
For a moment, she looked ready to explode—her face twisted with rage.
Then her shoulders sagged.
She'd left her post herself, and Ravin had died.
She'd dragged him around, she'd spent blissful hours with him, she'd stayed the nights under the same roof—and because of that, Ravin had died.
She'd layered the image of her dead younger brother Etoile over him, and then she'd murdered priests one after another, telling herself she was wiping those layered traces away.
She'd wanted to see Ravin clearly.
Even though he had already become so clear.
She wanted someone to blame.
But there weren't many people left to blame.
The fact that she hadn't been able to save her family was already too much—and then the person she loved was burned alive.
Maybe she'd killed too many people.
She'd burned heretics alive, claiming they weren't human, and wandered around killing in God's name and spouting some such nonsense.
Still, she didn't want to think it was all her own fault.
She simply didn't want to think at all.
Because every time she couldn't see a face, every time the street-lamps lit up, she saw Ravin burning again.
Now she hated the night.
Something flashed past. A gash opened across her right arm.
Estelle wiped the blood dripping from her arm and shot a quick glance at Serepina, who was still panting, still crying, before turning to Levina.
"Besides her—who else did you say?"
Levina gazed at Estelle without answering.
After a long silence, her low voice cut through the air of the room.