Chapter 116

"What are you doing?"

"I'm tidying up..."

"Move aside for a moment."

Before he had finished speaking, Erabelle darted away in the opposite direction from his approach. Even after several days together, her behavior hadn't changed at all.

Remembering her dream from a few days earlier, when she'd shouted about returns and releasing him, only irritated him more. Dezeb suppressed the urge to be difficult and stepped inside the Great Spirit.

"...There's a lot in here."

The sight inside was hard to describe.

"I've been busy lately, so I haven't had time to organize it."

Erabelle followed him in and spoke with a composed face, though her hands were already hurriedly moving things out of the way.

Things. Miro's belly was crowded with all sorts of things.

It wasn't dirty. She had divided it into sections after a fashion, but there were garbage bags that looked as though they'd been dumped there, old belongings left in piles, and even a battered camper van.

Dezeb went around touching everything.

"Have I seen it like this before?"

"No, sir."

"I suppose it wasn't this bad then?"

"That's right."

Her face had gone pale, but she answered readily enough.

"Why is it like this now?"

"It hadn't occurred to me that you'd come in here again..."

"Why? Because we aren't anything to each other anymore?"

He wanted to take issue with everything.

For a start, the way she'd visualized the interior was strange. He doubted most Great Spirits imagined their insides as storage units with separate compartments. When he asked, she confirmed it.

"Yes. Those belonging to the spirit realm generally prefer natural surroundings."

"And you, my lady?"

"I don't."

Her careful explanation made it sound even more absurd.

"This is easier to maintain and clean than a dirt floor."

"How did you get a spirit-realm license?"

Having looked through everything else, he stepped inside the camper van as he asked. Erabelle hurried after him, stammering in alarm.

"Th-there were no other applicants."

"Ah."

The look on her face entertained him. For a moment, he hoped she'd hidden something in here that she could use against him. But this wasn't the sort of discovery he'd had in mind.

"...James?"

There were plenty of other things, but a third of it was James Crown. Curly blond hair, bright blue eyes, a kind face that would have looked right at home as a cherub in a church mural—if all traces of artificial treatment were removed.

"What is this?"

At his question, Erabelle answered as promptly as if he'd pressed a button.

"A hobby."

"Ah, a hobby. Didn't you say you mostly watch movies and dramas?"

"Yes, that's right."

Erabelle nodded as though that explained it exactly.

"Looks to me like you mostly watch James."

"He's a good actor."

"Oh, is he?"

With a short laugh, Dezeb tossed the DVD case back into its box.

"He must be very good, if you own three copies of the same title. Why three? Don't tell me one's to keep, one's to watch, and one's a backup."

"Th-that's right."

Dezeb narrowed his eyes at her vacant answer. Erabelle was looking at him cautiously, too, with a faintly puzzled expression, as though wondering how he'd known. He gave another disbelieving laugh.

"My lady, you're remarkably predictable sometimes."

He undid his belt and started toward her, then stopped. Erabelle's stomach had growled.

"Well, let's eat first."

As relief washed over her face, he leaned close to her ear and whispered, "After we eat, you won't be leaving the house for the rest of the day."

Dezeb frowned as he looked around the camper van. Even in that tiny space, traces of him were everywhere.

Marks left where tentacles had tangled, gripped, and dragged themselves past. He could almost see the violent surges of feeling that had driven them. Her body bore the same traces now. He was holding this woman, who knew nothing, entirely in his two hands.

"..."

And now that no longer felt like enough.

"Some hobby."

How irritating.

His plan to spend the entire day in bed with her fell through. Of all days, this was the day of Erabelle's weekly medical examination.

She fled to the infirmary at once. Left alone, Dezeb stood leaning against the table, a cigarette between his lips, glaring at the television.

For Oll, who had to report to him in that state, it was painful. Most of his Master's swings in mood had something to do with Erabelle Vermilion, and since losing his memories, they had grown more extreme.

"The Marquis has offered two rocky planets from his personal holdings as compensation. They're small to medium in size, but precious metals cover ninety-eight percent of their surfaces. We believe they have substantial development value."

"Keep one. Sell the other, or take the compensation in cash. And find a suitable planet with plenty of ocean, somewhere away from the imperial capital."

Dezeb sighed.

"The Great Spirit seemed badly stressed. She doesn't appear to have noticed because their emotional connection is weak."

"It's also possible she knows and is ignoring it."

Smoking his cigarette, Dezeb raised an eyebrow at his Dog through the smoke he exhaled.

"Why?"

"When she's busy, she always tends to handle things that way—"

"How do you know that? Why, are you interested in her?"

Ah. That kind of why again. Oll shook his head and imitated Aries from before.

"I'm seeing someone. It's been several years, and we're serious about each other."

Dezeb continued to eye him suspiciously. Then he switched off the television and tossed the title he'd taken out carelessly into its box.

"Some actor."

He pushed the box back into the Great Spirit with his foot, then opened the other boxes he'd taken out, one after another. It was the behavior of a stalker, but there was no one to stop him.

The boxes were much the same. One celebrity, then another. And another, and another.

A line appeared between Dezeb's brows. Only the bottom box felt a little lighter. He lifted its lid, expecting more of the same, and stopped.

"..."

Inside were all sorts of pamphlets, little souvenirs that looked useless, bundles of postcards, and several Polaroid photographs.

A frozen lake, a ranch, a Ferris wheel, a desert, a forest...

The two of them smiling together, eating something, looking at something... There were so many moments.

"..."

He took the photographs out and slowly went through them.

He had left no records. He had kept records of everything else, but nothing of Erabelle.

Everything was there except a record of her.

Of the time they had spent alone together, he had left nothing behind.

As though he had taken it all away because that, at least, belonged to him.

The thought had made Dezeb unbearably angry. Yet here was something that had remained in Erabelle's hands. Seeing it made him angrier still.

"Ugh."

It's cold. Erabelle tucked her hands into her trouser pockets and walked with her shoulders hunched.

Thank goodness today was her examination. Otherwise, she might have... She sighed again. Her thoughts were a mess.

"..."

She stopped walking, sat down where she was, and let out another sigh.

"He's a good actor."

"A prodigy. And he's only twenty."

No, seriously... She curled up and pressed her forehead to her knees.

This wasn't good.

It was very bad for similar situations to keep repeating themselves.

"Isn't twenty a little too young?"

Fortunately, James wasn't twenty anymore. Thank goodness he'd grown older, too.

Erabelle sniffed.

"...Huh."

What a life. Sitting here crying over the past... What am I even doing?

"Get a grip."

Despite muttering that to herself, she stayed curled over her knees for a long time before finally getting up and going into the infirmary.

She had thought that, even if the company didn't know, the Dogs would certainly be in an uproar. And they were—just not about what she'd expected.

"Sweetheart, you're coming again tonight, right? Hm? The others are making a fuss about going together."

They were making a fuss about going to the club.

Camillia didn't seem to know Dezeb was there at all.

"Last time, you made such a fuss about why I'd come..."

Apparently she'd changed her mind when nothing happened. Nothing happened to her. Plenty happened to me.

"This time, let's have a proper drink. You spent all night mixing drinks for everyone else last time and then left. This time I'll make you something good."

Erabelle had come for an examination, and her doctor was offering her mixed drinks.

"Lieutenant Ovia."

"I really will make you—"

"There's something strange about my noise levels."

"What?"

Startled, Camillia checked the chart again.

"Why? They're normal."

Erabelle looked at her and hesitated.

She wanted to ask whether it was possible to take on someone else's noise. But she doubted she would get a proper answer.

"Let's run the tests again."

Camillia sounded anxious, perhaps because °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° she couldn't find anything on the chart.

Erabelle was uneasy. She needed to know what else Dezeb was carrying. But since the retrieval ceremony—or, more precisely, since the wave that had erupted in Molin City—the Dogs had never given her proper information.

"It's nothing."

"What do you mean, it's nothing? Sweetheart, let's just—"

Camillia broke off and went pale. Erabelle fell silent, too. A dark, writhing shadow was spreading into the room from behind her.

The air felt suddenly cold.

Erabelle swallowed and turned around.

"..."

He was leaning crookedly against the doorway, staring straight at them.

"...Sweetheart?"