3 bar menu

Golden Butterfly – Part 07

Thus, the flames of war silently yet inexorably swept across the world, toppling homes and large buildings alike relentlessly.

It eventually reached a point where hardly any nations were left untouched. Colliding patriotism and conflicting interests left everyone worldwide breathless for a long while.

What was right? Who was wrong? Which country was the aggressor, and who was the victim?

Justice kept twisting and turning with the shifting winds, and each time, nations and people toppled to the right or left like reeds.

What was really happening? Even future historians and thinkers would likely struggle to find the answer. The sands of time swirled, endured, and flowed, endlessly.

The battle gradually shifted to a struggle between the New World and its allies against the Old World. Reports abounded of the New World’s superiority, but among the coalition of nations on the supposedly weaker Old World, Sauville, the little giant of Europe, a country that joined the war relatively late, continued displaying curious moves. It was almost as if it could predict what was going to happen in the near future.

It wasn’t events happening months or even weeks ahead. The military, in particular, exhibited peculiar behavior, as if anticipating events set to occur tomorrow or the day after. Sauville, unlike the sinking historic land of the Old World, seemed to gradually rise. Lifting its feet, it softly ascended into the night sky, escaping the war-torn ground, carried away by the wind.

Rather than engaging in active combat, they seemed to retreat at incredible speed, focused on minimizing domestic harm. No one from other countries, or even the citizens themselves, knew what was concealed at the core of this nation.

Peculiar rumors quietly circulated among select government officials—there was a monster lurking in the prison, and its name was the Monstre Charmant.

Maintaining its mysterious maneuvers, Sauville drifted through the war, guided by ancient traditions and the occult forces of old Europe.

---

“I can’t see…”

Deep within the Soleil Noir, a prison on the outskirts of Saubreme, inside a small, stone chamber where light didn’t reach, something golden quivered on the floor.

“I can’t see the butterfly…”

A modest lamp in the corner flickered.

Victorique’s tiny frame sat limply on a simple chair. She wore a thin white garment that seemed to be stitched from sheets, its hem trailing on the floor. A golden pendant gleamed on her chest. Her green eyes wandered aimlessly within the stone chamber.

Seated nearby was her half-brother, Grevil de Blois, his hair pointed like a cannon. He read through documents aloud with an expressionless face.

“The golden butterfly is gone,” Victorique mumbled, letting her vacant eyes drift in empty space.

“More nonsense again? There was no golden butterfly from the start!”

Abruptly, her expression changed. Lifting her head, Victorique narrowed her eyes. “Because you are an uncultured swine!”

“What?”

Astonished, Inspector Blois lifted his head and met his sister’s gaze. Sparks flew.

Since the morning he brought her from Saint Marguerite Academy to Saubreme’s prison, Inspector Blois had been visiting this stone chamber day and night, reading out documents that detailed global affairs to his half-sister.

As soon as she was confined in the prison, Victorique’s mind transformed into a traveler wandering in the astral plane for eternity. Was something being added to the food and water? His once razor-sharp sister, capable of dissecting people’s thoughts without a word, cocked her head like a broken doll and let her limbs hang, spewing a mixture of delirious ramblings and forecasts. Inspector Blois had watched her with fear, a deeper disgust, and a faint trace of bewilderment.

And now, as if a fog suddenly lifted, she had returned to her former self, looking up at him with the same gaze as before, cold and cynical.

Did the effects of the drug wear off? Or was this her delicate body desperately fighting against her baffling and harsh fate?

Setting the documents on his lap, Inspector Blois fixed his sister with a sharp stare. “What is it?!”

“What month is it? Is it almost summer?”

“Unfortunately, summer is long over, and it’s almost fall.”

“Oh. So much time has passed, huh?”

Surprise and tension darted across her usually expressionless face. Her once rosy skin had turned pale, and she appeared even thinner than before. Her hair alone, as if a different creature altogether, retained its golden color and dazzling luster, cascading toward the floor.

“So, has my intellect been of any help to Sauville?” Victorique asked doubtfully.

“Y-Yeah.” Inspector Blois nodded, trembling. His hair, pointed like a cannon, bobbed restlessly from side to side. “Your predictions have been focused on the next few days rather than distant futures. But with their high accuracy, both the palace and the military have started depending on the Ministry of the Occult. By acting quickly, we’ve managed to minimize casualties within the kingdom.”

“But in exchange, somewhere in the world, someone loses their life,” Victorique replied dejectedly. “It’s how this world balances its grim ledger. From a scientific standpoint, you could refer to God as various things—nature, probability, equilibrium.”

“I-Is that so?”

“It’s what the Wellspring of Wisdom tells me. I bear a heavy responsibility.”

“Responsibility? Are you worrying about moral obligations? For a wild animal, you almost sound human.”

“Hmph. I’m human. I have been human since the day I was born, and I still am human now,” she said listlessly. She turned her head, slowly taking in the stone chamber. The place was dreadful, she realized belatedly, letting out a slight snort of disgust. “I understand my predictions have been highly useful. However, I believe their accuracy may decline from here on out.”

“Wh-What? Why now?” Shocked, Inspector Blois dropped the stack of papers, scattering them across the floor. The lamp flickered. “S-Sauville can’t fight or defend without your abilities anymore. The palace and the military have both become dependent on them. And Father’s influence is growing stronger by the day.”

“There is virtually no such thing as completely objective data, Grevil,” Victorique said. “Those worthless pieces of information you’ve been feeding into my brain for the past ten months are no different. Someone’s bias, some organization’s motives seep in, slowly causing discrepancies to grow, which results in less accurate forecasts over time.”

“What?!”

“And when that happens, I’ll be discarded. Likely turned into a cold lump of flesh, carried away from here, and thrown in a ditch somewhere, with no one to know my name.” A cynical look crept across her face. “You would be glad if that happened, wouldn’t you, Grevil?”

Inspector exhaled sharply. “O-Of course.” Trembling, he gathered the documents.

“But perhaps that’s fine.” Victorique’s deep, gentle voice came from above. “Better than staying in a place like this, humiliated, forced to play the role of a harbinger of destruction. Vanishing silently from this world seems like a much preferable outcome.”

“Harbinger of destruction?” Inspector Blois clutched the documents tightly to his chest, his expression filled with unease. “That might be true for other countries, but for the Kingdom of Sauville, you’re like a coldhearted angel. My cursed sister, it pains me to admit it, but we need your abilities to secure our future.”

“You’ve got it wrong, Grevil.” Victorique closed her eyes. “If the conflict drags on, the number of casualties within the kingdom will only keep on growing. That is why, at present, I’m essentially a symbol of destruction and ruin. I shouldn’t be here for even a day, and yet I’ve been stuck here for ten months, with no way out.”

“I disagree,” Inspector Blois said, half in doubt. “I believe you should be here to defend Sauville and lead us to victory. Surely you can imagine the desolation of a nation vanquished and the suffering of its people. Shouldn’t we be willing to bear the sacrifices to navigate through this storm and emerge victorious?”

“Grevil, the current storm is also a major shift orchestrated by the world itself. After the war, a new world will emerge from out of nowhere, accompanied by entirely different people and cultures. A world shaped by the science and commerce brought by the New World, a culture driven by a thirsty populace that desire progress and change over traditions and arcane mysteries. And…”

“And what?”

“And in that new world, there won’t be much of a place for us old beings. Everything will have changed so drastically.”

Inspector Blois’ breath caught.

“But that is not, by any means, a bad thing, Grevil.” Victorique’s voice turned somber. “Time is like… a vast ocean. It’s just there. During these past ten months of drifting between dreams and reality, I’ve been on a journey across it for what felt like an eternity. Time just exists… No past, no future, flowing for eternity. And everyone is there, including the loved ones we’ve lost. We can see them there again, because we too will become a part of the ocean. Our longing will become no more than a fragment of a wave. Grevil…”

“What on earth are you going on about? You were making sense just moments ago!”

Inspector Blois dropped the stack of documents again, stepping on them with his boots as he hurried over to his half-sister’s side. Her speech was devolving into unintelligible gibberish.

After almost ten months, she had briefly regained her sanity, and now her consciousness was fading once more, swept away into the vast, dark ocean.

“With our power… as humans…”

“Victorique? My sister!”

“Changing the form of time, a vast and formidable ocean, is an impossible feat. Extending the life of the fading old world might be feasible, but it would only be temporary… Father is smart, yet also foolish. His folly stems from desire. Desire clouds his judgment. Just like when he fell into Brian Roscoe’s trap, losing his eye.”

“Hey!”

Victorique’s head drooped, and she went limp on the shabby wooden chair, resembling a broken doll. Inspector Blois studied her face. Her clear green eyes flickered. She could still hear a little.

“My sister!”

“What is it…?”

“What was that about a butterfly?”

“Oh, that…” Victorique’s eyes shone with the pure delight of a child receiving a snack, and she smiled. “The golden butterfly?”

“Y-Yeah, that one!”

“When I was taken from Saint Marguerite Academy, it popped out of a letter and followed the carriage all the way here, to keep me company.”

“Come to think of it, back then, you were constantly following something with your eyes.”

“Yes… When I entered this chamber, the butterfly was there, too. But while I was gone in the last ten months, the illusion disappeared, and it’s a bit lonely.”

“A golden butterfly…”

“That, my friend, is the radiance of life.”

Even as she finished speaking, Victorique didn’t close her mouth, freezing like an electric-powered puppet whose switch had been turned off.

Inspector Blois stood in stunned silence, gazing down at Victorique. His brows furrowed worriedly. Cautiously he shook her shoulder, tugged at her hair, and called her name with a shaky voice, his drill-shaped hair bobbing.

“Hey… Pull yourself together!”

No matter how much he shook her, called her name, Victorique remained unresponsive.

Her green eyes resumed drifting across empty space, and from her mouth came predictions, pouring forth like an evil incantation.