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Blue Flame – Part 01

—Mechanical Turk 2—

I could hear a solemn hymn drifting in from somewhere.

The stone tower’s dirty floor and cracked walls were freezing cold. The chains stretching from my wrists rattled.

Is it almost Christmas? I can hear lovely voices far in the distance, singing Joy to the World.

“Is the drug working?”

I heard a deep voice. I opened my eyes softly. The melodious voice instantly faded away like a mirage.

Someone was studying me as I lay on the shabby bed.

Narrowed, green eyes were examining me.

“Yes,” said the doctor. “She should stay put for a while.”

“Will this Gray Wolf give birth soon?”

“In the next few days. Will you be around?”

“Ha! You jest.”

The man threw his head back and laughed, as if hearing a funny joke. I heard another hymn from the distance. I was falling into a deep valley of slumber.

The cold wind howled.

---

So stop crying!

Cordelia!

Life in rosy hues, remember?

Are you listening? You’re such a crybaby.

No matter how lonely you get, no matter how many walls you put up around you.

You’re not alone, unfortunately.

You come to the theater, you’ll have us, your fellow dancers.

They will come through for you.

You even have the cute red-haired boy.

And you know what?

Right now you’re no more than a little child.

But one day your young soul will mature.

And then you’ll have big hands to protect the ones you love.

Isn’t that nice?

I sound preachy, don’t I?

Oh, that’s our cue! Let’s go!

Life in rosy hues!

I was dreaming about the old days.

I didn’t know how long I slept. It felt like days had passed again. I had no idea what kind of drugs they were giving me, but for a long time now, moments of lucidity were few and far between.

When I opened my eyes, the doctor was there again. Several noble-looking men I hadn’t seen before were also looking down at me, their eyes wide with fear.

Strange folks.

I should be the one scared.

One night, I was suddenly kidnapped from the theater, and I’d been here ever since. My fellow dancers, the red-haired boy, everyone who knew me were unaware that I was locked up in here.

“It’s about time.”

“Goodness!” A nobleman squealed. “Our Father in heaven…” His voice was shaky.

I heard a hymn again.

“How ironic,” another added. “Tonight is Christmas.”

“Ah, the horror.”

They exchanged glances, making the sign of the cross.

The hymns that I’d been hearing for days were not hallucinations, it seemed. Somewhere out there must be a choir of pious girls singing in unison.

“On the night of Christ’s birth, a Gray Wolf will be born. Ironic, indeed.”

“Ah, I want to get home to my family as soon as possible. It’s so cold in here!”

“It’s almost time. Soon.”

The men looked at me in horror.

The chains holding me down rattled loudly.

A wind mixed with snow battered against the stone tower.

A while later, I felt something coming out of my body, something precious. Something I had carried with me since birth. Cherished.

Banished from my village for a crime I did not commit, with nothing but the gold coin that the village chief tossed to me in my pocket, I went down the mountain alone, terrified of beasts, wandering the town, until I arrived at Saubreme.

All those times, I kept it with me. My soul.

I resisted. The chains shook wildly. And I howled.

Men inside the tower shrieked in horror.

Ahh!

My soul… My soul is leaving my body! Give it back!

Pain, anger, fear. It felt like ages, yet at the same time lasted only an instant.

My soul, the irreplaceable thing inside of me, cried. A voice, sweet and lonely, crying in the darkness for me.

I’d never felt such affection before. The blessing of having something to love pierced through my body like a beam of light.

At the same time, I felt a void in me, as though my body, ripped of its soul, had turned into a hollow, wooden doll.

“It’s a girl.”

“A female Gray Wolf. No, a little monster with the blood of wolves and the kingdom’s nobility.”

A daughter!

My daughter!

I reached out my chained hands.

Hands that a fellow dancer, brown-haired, sexy, cheerful, and kind Ginger Pie, said would protect the ones I love. Adult hands.

But they were pale and emaciated like an old woman’s, with countless fine veins protruding from the skin. I couldn’t even stop the doctors from mercilessly taking my little girl, my soul, away from me. I growled in protest, but only the deep cry of a beast came out, as though the long period of confinement in the tower had made me forget how to speak.

I growled, cried for my daughter.

As though hearing the voice of her mother, the girl cried, her sorrowful voice cutting through the night.

The noblemen rushed to the door. I was alone again. The chains rattled. Two pale, tiny, powerless arms, like the claws of a scrawny beast, lay outstretched toward the void.

I screamed.

Please. Please don’t take her away. Let my soul stay close to me.

My dear daughter!

I howled, so loudly that the tower shook.

My soul!

I heard another hymn.

Tears flowed like a river, flooding my vision.

---

“It’s almost Christmas.”

“What?”

It was the winter season, but unlike the mountainous areas, there was not a lot of snow on the streets of Saubreme; cars and horse-drawn carriages were running down the roads, which were lined with cold, bare trees, without any problems. Pedestrians’ breaths came out in white puffs.

After turning several alleys from the main street, they arrived at a dim section of town. In contrast to the shops on the main street, the display windows here were lonely and dusty. There was not a lot of people around. But a closer look around revealed numerous fascinating shops—windows filled with Arabian baked goods, an antique camera shop that might have something valuable, a tailor’s shop with wooden mannequins in beckoning poses. Strolling around here would surely make for a pleasant Sunday afternoon.

Kazuya was marching down the street. Ms. Cecile, walking beside him, was fastening the front buttons of her coat and tugging at its bottom to hide the nightgown she was wearing underneath.

“It would be fun to do some Christmas shopping around here,” she said. “I wish Saubreme was right next to the village.”

“I thought you were talking about something important. Christmas? Really? We have more pressing matters at hand.”

“Actually, Kujou. Christmas is also an important day for you.”

“I think we’re here, Teach.”

Kazuya pointed to a shop. Ms. Cecile closed her mouth, but then opened it again, agape. She made a motion of wiping drool with the back of his hand.

The signboard bore a picture of overgrown wheat and freshly-baked bread, and enticing words that read: ‘Sam’s Bakery: Guaranteed Savory!’ On the other side of the glass window sat huge baguettes, soft brioches, and a pile of sandwiches packed with stuffings, a reflection of the cheerful Sam.

“Looks yummy!” Ms. Cecile squealed.

“Let’s talk to this Sam person. Apparently, he was a huge fan of the Downtown Blue Rose.”

“Ah, right.”

Kazuya straightened his back and entered the shop. The bell on the door clinked.

A man, thin as a needle, wearing overalls and a hat of the same color, and a plump lady in an apron, raised their heads.

“Welcome!”

“Guaranteed savory!”

“Um, sorry,” Kazuya said. “We’re not really customers.”

“Hmm? Why are you here, then?”

“We’re actually looking into Nicole Leroux, the Downtown Blue Rose.”

The skinny man—Sam—turned pale as a sheet. His eyes darted to his wife, to Kazuya, to the pile of bread, then back to his wife again.

Swiftly, he pounced at Kazuya. “Ssh! Keep it down, will you? I’m gonna get my ass kicked by my wife!”

“O-Oh, sorry. Um…”

“It’s been ages. More than twenty years. But my wife’s jealousy is as timeless as a classic film or a great piece of music.” He turned to Ms. Cecile. “You! Do me a favor and distract my wife by asking her questions about types of bread.”

He didn’t even need to ask; Ms. Cecile’s eyes were glued to the delicious-looking sandwiches.

She just had a sandwich, Kazuya thought. “I’m counting on you, Teach,” he whispered.

Ms. Cecile made another motion of wiping drool off her mouth. “Leave it to me.” She nodded, then moved closer to the lady. “Excuse me! Do you have any pastrami sandwiches? Are those red lumps in the brioche snakeberries? Or is that raspberry jam?”

“Oh, impressive. Those are indeed snakeberries. You don’t see them in bread a lot.”

“I knew it!”

“You’re no ordinary woman.”

“Hehe. I’m a teacher, so I’m particular about bread. Is this meat pie over here made with pork? Or pheasant?”

Rolling up her sleeves, the lady began explaining things to Ms. Cecile. Kazuya and Sam left the shop quietly.