Does God exist? And if He does, who exactly is He?
Why are we so sure that He's obliged to listen to our prayers and grant our wishes?
Not knowing who to turn to, people invented an omnipotent being just so they'd have someone to shove the responsibility onto.
If a wish comes true, they keep praying. If it doesn't, they get disappointed in the very thing they made up themselves.
Does that mean we're simply afraid to take responsibility for our own lives?
If that's the case… who am I supposed to blame for my own powerlessness?
How much longer do I have to pretend I'm asleep?
My arm had gone numb, my pulse throbbing against the pillow. Without opening my eyes, I tried my hardest to stay perfectly still.
It was morning… or maybe already noon. Sunlight was stabbing into my face. Yet the sound reaching my ears wasn't birdsong or the clatter of kitchenware; it was the soft voice of a girl.
It sounded like she was praying.
"Please… wake up… I'm sorry… please wake up…"
Who exactly was she trying to wake? And what was she apologizing for? I had no idea how I was supposed to react. Getting up right now felt way too awkward.
Still, there were questions that needed answers.
Who is she?
And… where am I?
Could it be that I died and got reincarnated in another world? And this body had been in a coma this whole time? If that were true, what kind of face should I make when I "wake up"?
The thought broke off. I wasn't even sure what a coma was. It just felt like the right word.
I remembered falling asleep. But instead of resting, it felt like I'd sunk even deeper. And now the exhaustion was only worse.
The girl shifted. My numb shoulder felt the weight of her body again. Then someone's fingers gently, yet suffocatingly, closed around the tips of mine.
I couldn't even tell what season it was. The air simply didn't know what it was supposed to be.
She lay still, and part of me found her presence almost comforting. As long as I ignored the fact that I was this close to a complete stranger.
But was she really a stranger? Mom and Dad would never let someone unknown near me. At least not while I was home.
Besides, there was no hint of danger from her. If anything, she was overly friendly.
I decided to pretend I'd just woken up and wiggled my fingers. The girl stopped praying and lifted her head—I could feel it.
Slowly opening my eyes, I saw the familiar ceiling, and then the girl's face looming right above me.
Way too close.
Her eyes shot open like twin round suns born in the shadow of her lashes as she hurriedly let go of my hand. With every passing second her expression grew more joyful… or was it sad? Hard to tell. Her lower lip kept trembling, brimming with emotion.
"Y-Yori… you're alive…"
What a weird greeting. This girl was definitely strange, wasn't she?
And what was I supposed to say to that?
"Hmm… looks like it," I nodded.
Without any warning, she threw herself at me and… hugged me. Her arms wrapped around my neck and back—tight, hot, and just a little painful.
She started talking fast, stumbling over words, practically yelling right into my ear. I couldn't catch the meaning.
Maybe this wasn't the best timing… but I really wanted to tell her to speak quieter.
"You… really…"
Her passion faded before she could finish the sentence.
Really what? Yori? Alive? What had she been trying to say?
Just like her, the way her mind worked remained a complete mystery to me.
By the way… why was she clinging to me like this? The question almost slipped out, but it would've sounded too cold, so I swallowed it.
Then the door burst open—loud and sudden. Nobody was sparing my ears today.
"Yori… you're awake." Mom's voice cracked, tears already rolling down her cheeks.
Despite her words, a wave of joy surged from the bottom of my heart the moment I saw their familiar faces. But I was genuinely shocked when Dad, hugging Mom, started crying with her.
The girl was still hugging me, so I couldn't see her face. I could only feel her breath tickling my neck.
Seriously… what is going on?
I'd heard somewhere that a personality is built from memories—happy, disgusting, proud, shameful—every grain of sand adding another brick to the castle called "me." Even though nothing inside me seemed to have changed, it quickly became clear that something outside was different.
So… what exactly had I forgotten?
My back started to ache, and I cautiously raised a hand to touch the girl's shoulder. In response she only squeezed tighter, as if her fingers were digging into my skin.
"Don't go."
That statement left me just as confused as before. Yet her words sent a faint prickle through me—like sarsaparilla vines wrapping around me, trying to protect me while pricking me with their thorns.
"Luisa, let her breathe a little," Mom said, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. She obeyed instantly.
"Okay…"
Luisa slowly pulled away, drifting like an astronaut in zero gravity.
So her name is Luisa. …That explains absolutely nothing. But it did feel easier once she let go.
I looked up—and saw Luisa's face had turned bright red. Against her green hair, it looked like a forest had suddenly caught fire.
A rare sight… probably.
Anyway.
Propping myself up on my elbows, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The moment my bare feet left the blanket, cold air nipped at my skin.
"Mom, what's going on? Why is everyone freaking out?"
Her mouth fell open, eyes darting between me and Dad in panic. The corners of her lips twitched, like she couldn't decide which emotion to show.
"Well… you've always loved sleeping," she began, "but this time it was different."
"Different?" I frowned.
I didn't like how that sounded.
"Different how?"
Maybe it had something to do with this girl—Luisa. What had she been apologizing for? Why had she been clinging to me like that?
That was all I could think about while staring at my palm, still warm even after being freed.
"You were asleep for almost two whole days," Dad added. "We even called Aelis. He said there's nothing wrong with your body. You were just… sleeping."
Who's Aelis?
No, wait.
Two days?
The situation was getting more confusing by the second, but I decided not to dwell on it. After all, I had woken up, hadn't I?
Instead, I focused on the people in front of me. For some reason that felt like the right thing to do. And I wasn't sure I'd ever done it before. Wonder why?
With every little sigh, the hair covering Mom's ears swayed gently. Her gaze seemed to be searching for support—or maybe an explanation. Of course I had neither, so I chose the first option.
"It's okay now," I said, touching her cheek with my palm.
There was something weird about those words. Who exactly was I trying to reassure?
"You need to eat something. Or at least drink some water," Luisa declared, making everyone turn and nod at her.
I stared at her, which made her grab the hem of my pajamas. What in my expression or words had triggered that? As always, she remained a total enigma.
"She's right, you must be starving," Mom said, standing up. "I'll come get you when lunch is ready."
"Well… I won't get in the way," Dad muttered and hurriedly followed Mom out.
He was unusually considerate today. I'd thought he usually ignored common sense, but… well, maybe I didn't need to worry about that.
Even though the curtains were open, the room was a little chilly. The amount of light pouring in didn't match the temperature. The sun warmed my back, but the front of me was freezing, making me shiver. After thinking about it for a second, I reached for the red stone—but Luisa's hands clutching my pajamas stopped me.
"Luisa? Did you want to say something?"
"Y-Yes."
That was all she managed before looking away.
"Of course, I'm listening."
Luisa sat cross-legged on the bed, letting go of my pajamas and resting her hands nervously on her knees. It wasn't like I desperately wanted to know what she had to say, but I waited patiently, scratching my leg.
By the way, where did these pajamas come from?
"So… um…"
She swallowed. Apparently she liked speaking in fragments. She was clearly nervous, but I had no idea why.
"I mean… I…"
I noticed Luisa stealing glances at me, head bowed, as if begging me to finish for her. But I genuinely had no clue what she wanted from me.
It would be rude to make up motives for someone else. At the same time, I was scared to face the truth. What if it was something I couldn't handle?
It was probably much simpler—she just wanted to apologize directly. After all, she didn't know I'd been pretending to sleep and heard at least part of it.
That conclusion felt strangely plausible given the few clues she'd left me.
But just looking at Luisa's crimson face was enough to make me anxious too. Seriously, what could I even assume in this situation? A girl hugs you, begs you not to leave, and now she can barely look you in the eye.
Even my wildest guesses were unbearable.
If that were the case, I'd panic hard, right? No doubt.
"Hm, hmm…" I forced a smile.
I knew that the longer I waited, the more I'd corner myself. The more I analyzed, the worse conclusions I'd reach. I needed to say something—anything to distract us both.
With those useless thoughts swirling, I looked at Luisa, trying to grab onto at least something.
"Your hair is really pretty," I said, running her green locks through my fingers.
God, that was lame. It sounded like a line from a cheap romance novel. Still, it felt like little weights were falling off Luisa one by one, letting her relax.
"Oh… yeah. It's the same as my mom's."
Mom, huh. Was that a good thing… or not? I couldn't tell from her reaction.
"That explains a lot," I said, trying to smile.
The silence dragged on too long, so I took the initiative.
"So… are we friends?"
It didn't sound like me at all, but I needed to know what we were to each other and how she ended up here. If she'd only arrived in the two days I was asleep, why was she so worried about me?
But if we'd met before… when?
I'd definitely forgotten something, but I couldn't remember what. It was like digging a hole in the sand only for the waves to fill it right back up.
"You… don't remember?" she asked incredulously, looking straight into my eyes.
It would've been easier to lie and say I remembered everything. But if she asked what exactly I remembered, I'd have nothing.
"No, sorry," I said awkwardly, scratching the back of my head. "Honestly… I don't remember you either."
The moment I met her gaze, I almost regretted telling the truth, but I pushed the feeling away. Because of the light fog in my memory, it felt like time was flowing at different speeds for us. The sadness that flashed across her face felt so heavy… while nothing stirred inside me.
Another piece of proof that everyone really sees the world differently.
Come to think of it… I feel like I once heard something that perfectly described this moment: "Be careful with the memories you've forgotten. Your happy color is white."
So… where could I have heard something like that?
My head suddenly hurt even more.
"Maybe that's for the best," she said uncertainly. "And no, we're not friends."
"I see."
In the end, we hadn't gotten anywhere. I'd thought I'd escaped the dead end, but I'd just been spinning in place in front of it.
"Even if you don't remember… I'm sorry." She suddenly bowed deeply, and I staggered.
I was speechless. My half-raised hands wavered in the air as if trying to push her away.
Swallowing hard, my anxiety kept growing. For some reason, I didn't want to know what she was apologizing for. Or rather… I didn't want to remember.
I wanted to tell her that the past should stay in the past. But seeing her hair tremble because I didn't respond left me no escape.
"Even if I don't remember, huh?" I clenched my fingers and repeated in my mind, my heart fluttering for some reason.
"For what?"
"You looked sad… and I yelled at you… Then you fell asleep… and wouldn't wake up… What if you…"
Her words dissolved into a whisper, swallowed by tears.
She was crying.
Crying because of me.
A chill colder than the air around us seeped into every inch of my skin.
In other words, she was blaming herself for my…
I was about to ask the scariest question of all, but the words froze somewhere in my throat.
"Yeah," was all I managed.
Words weren't necessary.
Luisa's desperate embrace, Mom's bewildered eyes, Dad's unnatural silence; everything I needed to know was right there.
If she'd learned that I remembered nothing, most people would probably let go. I think I would have.
That cowardly thought simply didn't fit inside her shy but brave heart.
Yet Luisa still said it.
Between the two of us, she was definitely the better person.
Even if my memories were fragmented, it's hard to call me empathetic. No matter how much I observed, I always struggled to understand other people's thoughts, let alone their feelings.
Was I wrong for trying to crawl out of my shell?
If I'd just let everything go from the very beginning, would none of this have happened?
I don't know.
What was I supposed to do now?
Tell her it wasn't her fault even though I wasn't sure myself?
Or let her cry and then end it with something like "good job" and call it a day?
No matter which path I chose, our relationship would never be the same again. Whatever it used to be.
And yet…
The current me couldn't just brush it aside. Not her. Not anyone else.
Why? I had no idea.
I simply… didn't want to.
Ignoring every mistake that had been made up to this moment, I just hugged her.
Not to comfort her, but to accept the thing that had hurt us both. I didn't need memories to feel.
Warm moisture spread across my shoulder, soaking into my skin. My heart beat slowly, like a tide in a quiet cove. Through the roughness of her fingers crumpling the fabric and the quiet sobs she tried to muffle, I could hear every beat; like distant fireworks popping far away.
"It's not your fault… I'm right here. And I'm not mad."
At first I'd meant to say something else. Something proper, simple, adult.
But in the end I just said what I truly felt.
"You're… way too grown-up for your age."
Her whisper reached me, soft as frost crackling on glass. I wasn't sure if she was talking to me or just thinking out loud.
"Is that bad?"
"N-no," she shook her head. "It's just… kind of absurd."
With the lightest smile I'd ever seen, Luisa curled one hand into a cat-paw and wiped away her tears.
She felt like my complete opposite, and yet she'd chosen to stay with me.
For the next few moments we said nothing. The sobs had long stopped, and only the draft trembled in the window frames. The sun had turned a little amber.
Then there was a quiet knock, and right after, Dad peeked in.
"Lunch is ready," he said with a forced smile.
I answered with the same strained grin.
"So, Dad… how much did you hear?"
As much as I wanted to trust my parents, I couldn't shake the feeling they'd been eavesdropping. It felt very on-brand for them.
"Ho-ho-ho! Would a loving father eavesdrop on his daughter?"
At first glance he seemed his usual self, but I didn't miss that it was all an act. Behind the goofy mask, Quint was actually incredibly fragile.
Quint?
I blinked.
Never mind. I'll think about that later.
If I start tying the present to the past, I'll never be able to move forward.
I need to talk to my parents. I can't let the present become the past.
"By the way, the person you called… A… A… Amethyst? Who was that?"
"Aelis," Luisa corrected before Dad could open his mouth. "Chaplain to Euriel."
I glanced at her, then back at Dad.
"Chaplain?"
"Euriel's personal aide."
Got it. Euriel's aide. Lately he really had been so busy we barely saw each other. But why didn't he come himself this time?
"Where's Euriel, then?"
Dad gave me a… strange look. Cautious, maybe? Or studying me. Hard to say.
"Yori, do you remember what happened three days ago?" he asked.
Three days ago?
I rarely did anything noteworthy. Days flowed the same: I watched, but never lingered. I slept, woke up, and the next day came. That single sentence was enough to describe my entire life.
"Um…"
I couldn't answer.
"Let's try a different angle." He paused, then nodded. "Do you remember your birthday?"
"Which one?"
There weren't that many, but it felt like important information.
"The third one."
So many threes. Wait. The third?
It's already passed? In my memory it hadn't even happened yet.
I looked at the calendar. Some date had a weird doodle around it, but that didn't tell me what day it was today. Yet I clearly remembered it was supposed to be tomorrow. If I'd slept almost two full days… had I actually been there?
I scratched my head. It felt like yesterday I was waiting for the party, but now those memories felt impossibly far away.
I'd forgotten my own birthday. Why that of all things? According to Luisa, I'd looked sad. Why?
And then… I fell asleep. Well, that part wasn't surprising.
Remembering those days suddenly felt incredibly important. But the details were so foggy I couldn't grasp a single one.
The sense of helplessness grew with every second. The more I tried to grab something, the more my head tilted sideways and my neck bones creaked.
"No… For me it hasn't even happened yet."
In the end I told the truth. Solving the problem would mean one less thing to worry about… or maybe the opposite.
"I see," Dad said curtly and turned his gaze to the window.
His zero-explanation response made me both anxious and irritated at the same time. My shoulders and stomach started to hurt.
I wanted at least some reaction. Get upset, or crack a joke like usual. But all I got was a dry "I see."
Maybe that's just how adults are supposed to act.
In moments like these I painfully realized how little experience I had. And how little I understood people.
"Well…" Dad suddenly straightened his back. "Then we'll just have to celebrate again when Euriel gets back!" He flashed a thumbs-up.
It would've sounded reasonable if we were only talking about a party. But it wasn't a solution; it was an escape.
His attitude was starting to annoy me. Like everything had already been decided and I was just being informed of the plan.
"No, wait." I stopped him before he could do anything else. "I want to know. Why is she here?" I pointed at Luisa. "Where's Euriel? And… why are you acting so weird?"
My body started trembling, as if I'd been splashed with cold rain. The threads holding something inside me had suddenly snapped. My chest felt hollow.
It felt unfair that I was the only one left in the dark. Like everyone else was discussing a book's plot while I only knew the title.
A long sigh escaped Dad's lips, and his shoulders dropped.
"Let's not keep Emi waiting. We'll continue after lunch."
His voice was much firmer than before, leaving no room for argument. Like he'd slammed the book shut the moment I cracked it open.
Luisa immediately hopped off the bed and held out her hand, probably to help me down.
"Coming?"
The way she asked felt like she was seeking permission.
I had the impression that if I didn't answer fast enough she'd just grab me and drag me along like a pet. My words hadn't fazed her at all? And if we weren't friends, then what were we? What can two people become in the short time we'd apparently had? Or was she still carrying guilt?
My words probably hadn't helped her one bit.
Well… whatever.
Suppressing a twinge of embarrassment, I took her hand and slid off the bed. Her face tensed and her shoulders jumped—she clearly hadn't been ready for it either.
"Don't do things you're not ready for yourself," I wanted to say, but instead I just let go and headed for the door.
Passing Dad, I reached the stairs to the first floor. I doubted anything had changed that much. I probably hadn't suddenly gained stamina or strength. They looked as endless as ever.
Just like always, I sighed looking at them.
"You can do it…" Luisa said, as if trying to cheer me on.
For a split second her words made me feel like I'd done it before and simply forgotten. But Dad's quiet chuckle snapped me back to reality.
"Thanks. But I'm not sure your cheering will help…"
"Yori's never been the athletic type," he said with a grin, hands on hips like he was comparing us. "And now's definitely not the time."
Without another word he scooped me under the arms and hoisted me onto his shoulders. That small gesture told me at least one thing hadn't changed.
And so the three of us headed down to the kitchen. Mom was there, chin in hand, twirling a fork with a watery tentacle-like thing in the air. Her magic was as practical as ever. Not sure that's the right word, though.
From her tired expression it was clear we'd taken way too long.
"Finally here?" she asked, lowering the fork back to the plate.
"Yori took forever picking an outfit," Dad tried to joke.
"Oh? And that's why she's wearing the same pajamas?"
I shrank under her gaze. She didn't look angry, yet for some reason I wanted to apologize.
"Sorry… I wanted to talk to Dad."
"Oh, I didn't know he was capable of that," she giggled and waved it off.
"Hey!"
Putting the past aside, Mom was still Mom. Maybe she really didn't know anything. Though… I doubt it.
But this almost-normal scene taught me something important. Trying to force answers right now was doomed. Kicking down a door doesn't mean the people inside will welcome you. Better to knock and hope they open it themselves.
Dad set me down and sat me on a chair. Usually he'd take the seat next to me, but this time he chose the one across, leaving an empty space between us. Even more surprising: Mom didn't sit at the head of the table either; she and Dad sat side by side.
So Luisa was going to ascend to family-head throne? The thought almost made me laugh. Instead, she glanced at me as if silently asking permission and slipped into the chair beside me.
Fine by me.
In winter it should already be dark by this hour, yet outside it was still bright: the windows gleamed with sunlight; the clouds were dark in the middle and light at the edges; between them peeked a clear blue sky. In the kitchen Dad chattered away as usual, and there was a faint smell of food.
To avoid overloading my stomach they placed a bowl of rice with vegetables and a glass of water in front of me. Barely participating in the cheerful atmosphere, I took the glass and sipped. The water was lukewarm and tasted faintly of rust.
As if the house's water had aged in the two days I'd slept. Or maybe it had always tasted like that?
When lunch was over and Mom's floating water-ball dishwasher finished the plates, I was about to head back upstairs, but Dad tapped my shoulder and nodded sideways.
Curious what he was up to, I followed. Mom and Luisa came too, of course.
The way we crept toward the storage room felt oddly suspicious, like some terrible secret was hidden behind the door. But we were definitely missing a dog. And a bag of snacks to lure it in.
It was my first time seeing anything in the house besides my room, my parents' bedroom, the bathroom, and the kitchen. Since only Dad knew what he was planning, the rest of us were just as excited and nervous.
I stood right behind him. When he opened the door, a wave of cold air hit me, as if it knew exactly where to go: straight under my skin. Surprisingly pleasant.
"I'm pretty sure it was around here… weird…" he muttered while turning the place upside down.
He rummaged through drawers and chests, dumping everything onto the floor. Mom gave him a look that made my stomach hurt even without words.
"You're cleaning that up, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, of course," he answered distractedly, still searching.
I had no idea what he was looking for, but judging by Mom's face it had to be worth a second life.
"Maybe here…?"
After several more piles of random junk, a smile spread across his face. He'd found it.
"Ho-ho-ho! I knew I'd hidden it somewhere here. I'm a genius."
He spent a few moments praising himself, and I couldn't help but giggle. This was the Dad I knew. He pulled something flat and paper-like from a cloth pouch and held it out to me.
"What's this?" Mom asked.
"Dried helion, personally prepared by the one and only me. I added a dozen sugars to make it even sweeter…"
"So that's where all the sugar went."
"Eh? Heh heh…"
Putting their predictable marital spat aside, even Luisa had stopped being surprised. I wonder when she got used to it.
Anyway, whatever.
I glanced at Mom, but she was too busy scolding Dad's limp body to notice me, so I simply took the last piece of dried helion from the bag on the floor.
Poor Dad; the fruits of his labor were now scattered around him on the floor.
Holding the sticky, wrinkled thing, I slowly brought it to my mouth, like a moth drawn to light.
The sugar melted on my tongue, leaving a thin film of sweetness. The taste reminded me of… what was it again?
An apple. Maybe.
Too familiar to be new,
too distant to remember clearly. As if the memory was standing right beside me, watching, but refusing to come closer.
"Luisa, have you tried this before?" I asked, trying to bite off a piece.
"My dad used to make them all the time, so…"
"I see."
That was probably for the best. No matter how hard I tried, my jaw lacked the strength to tear off even a tiny bit. It started to hurt, and my hands got disgustingly sticky while I pulled. In the end I had no choice but to swallow it whole.
"If you don't mind… want to share?"
"Huh?"
As soon as I said it, Luisa leaned in from the opposite side of the fruit.
Her eyes, nose, lips were so close. Just moving my face a little would let me feel her.
Why? Wasn't this weird? She could easily tear the thing in half or just bite her side. Those thoughts flooded my mind.
Without hesitation, she kept chewing. With every bite her hair and forehead came closer.
My throat tightened. A nervous jolt shot through me.
When the helion between us disappeared… what would happen next?
No, I was the weird one for reacting like this to another girl's closeness.
With that thought I pulled away from the helion and from Luisa, taking a step back.
"Too sweet…" I mumbled, wiping my lips.
"Oh, really? Then I'll finish it?" She straightened up. "Thanks!"
The back of my neck burned. I didn't need a mirror to know I was bright red. I hunched my shoulders and turned my back to her.
"Glad you like it," I said to the side.
From the side I probably looked like I was grinning to myself. But my lips moved on their own; I just couldn't stop.
I tried to listen, but all I heard was Mom's sigh as she finished her lecture.
I glanced over my shoulder.
Luisa was frozen with the helion still in her mouth. Cheeks scarlet almost to her ears. She wasn't even chewing. The only part of her face that obeyed her seemed to be her eyes.
That's when I realized: the awkwardness was mutual. Not just mine.
"And what are you two hiding in corners again for?" Mom asked, rubbing her temple.
Her voice forcibly yanked me out of the tiny isolated world that had only contained Luisa and me. It suddenly got so cold I could almost feel my fingertips freezing.
She didn't see anything… right?
"N-No, it's nothing. Just sticky hands. Wanted to wash them," I said, raising my palms as proof.
Mom didn't reply, just nodded. Then a thin film of water covered my hands, absorbed the sugar, and vanished.
Looking at my clean palms I couldn't help wondering: was that really the proper use of magic? Or did "proper" even exist?
"Luisa?"
"N-No! Mine are clean! I didn't touch it!" She flailed her arms like a windmill.
I hadn't even noticed the helion disappear from her mouth. Did she spit it out… or swallow it?
"Ohhh," Mom drawled with a smirk. "So you're smarter than my daughter."
"Hey!"
I was about to protest, but they were both smiling… well, I didn't want to ruin the moment.
Then I noticed something else: a faint shine on Luisa's lips and cheeks. For some reason I was really happy the helion had left traces on both of us. Mom noticed too. The next instant a thin film, like shaving foam, appeared on Luisa's face.
Hmm. Foam? Whatever.
Luisa seemed to be experiencing it for the first time as well; eyes and mouth formed perfect circles while her hands moved robotically in front of her face.
As for Dad… he'd chosen the safest option: playing dead. His usually unruly hair lay flat on the floor, looking exactly like a pinecone.
"And now it's bedtime for the girls," Mom said, wrapping an arm around each of our shoulders and nudging us toward the stairs.
"What about Dad?"
"Quint still has some unfinished business. Right, dear?" Her gaze was far too calm to be kind.
Dad sat up, folded his legs beneath him, and hung his head like a scolded puppy. "Yes, dear…" he whined.
"Good boy."
And so we returned to the second floor.
"I am someone destined to live without others."
The phrase appeared so suddenly I couldn't grab it. It dissolved just as quickly, along with the gloomy haze of the room, the moment Mom and Luisa followed me in.
So… where does Luisa actually sleep?
Before I could ask, something warm and soft pressed against my back. Then Mom's slender arms circled my neck, pulling me close. Her long hair cascaded over my shoulder like a night veil as she quietly buried her nose in my neck.
"Mom, come on…"
"Don't sleep like that again, okay?"
"Huh?"
In the short time we'd spent together I'd already forgotten that something like that had happened.
Was it okay to just forget? I didn't know. But feeling Mom's faint trembling right now, I didn't want to think about it.
"It'll be fine," I said, placing my hands over hers as if to cheer her up.
"You said the same thing last time," she poked my cheek with a finger.
"Did I? Haha…"
I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. But laughter came out first.
I still couldn't look her in the eyes. Like a child who can't be honest.
But… I really was a child. So it's fine, right?
"Ouch—!"
"It's not funny at all," Mom grumbled, tugging my cheek.
"Got it, got it," I said, rubbing my cheek frantically once she let go.
Mom sighed. Soon, light as a drifting feather, her fingers brushed my head. Then her whole palm settled there, stroking so gently it was impossible to tell whether her hand or my hair was moving.
"That was a long time ago."
I didn't quite understand what she meant, but for some reason the words felt familiar. And since I was still facing away from her I had no idea what expression she wore. Even so, I felt a little calmer.
"Alright. Time to sleep, girls."
It took every ounce of courage to lift my head and look at her.
"What about Luisa?" I pointed.
"You're sleeping together," Mom said with a nod.
"Oh, wow."
I could barely believe my ears. Nighttime made up more than half of any day, and ever since I got my own room I'd never shared that time with anyone else.
No, wait. No matter how you looked at it, that statement sounded bizarre.
Maybe I'd misheard. But which of those three words could I have possibly gotten wrong?
I shook my head a little, but my swaying hair felt just as real as everything I'd heard.
So… together.
No matter what anyone said, sharing a bed with another girl was thrilling. And again, that sounded weird.
In the end I just got tired of thinking about it. There was something about winter that made me want to sleep no matter how much I'd already slept. Maybe my body was trying to tell me it wanted to hibernate. It'd be nice if I could, but…
Anyway.
Had this passive obedience always been part of my personality?
That question popped into my head while Luisa and I lay side by side in bed. Our voices had died the moment Mom left the room. Even the wind had stopped; snowflakes fell helplessly, only to shatter against the ground and cover it in white.
I wonder if Luisa's already asleep.
My first impulse was to turn and check, but I decided against it. At the same time my body kept restlessly twisting. Whatever desire I'd had to sleep had vanished.
I closed my eyes—maybe it would be easier. It wasn't.
The mattress dipped beside me and the blanket tugged, as if someone had pulled it toward themselves. That's when I felt eyes on me. My lids snapped open, still too relaxed to focus properly. And then…
"Looks like how bugs land," I commented as Luisa buried her head in the blanket.
"Rude," she huffed, lifting her face. "I just wanted to see if you were asleep…"
"I am."
"Liar…"
"So mean."
So… what did she want? Either way, I had my answer: Luisa wasn't asleep.
It was hard to read her expression in the dimness. Especially since moonlight through the window only lit half her face.
The moon behind her was huge and bright; I felt like I could touch it if I reached out. The light scattered in the cold air, making the snow sparkle like someone had sprinkled star-dust across the sky.
Staring at the midnight-blue sky, I suddenly remembered… once, in the same season, it had looked orange to me. Why? When had I seen it that way?
Slowly I started sitting up until I was hunched over the blanket. That made Luisa pull back and sit facing me.
"So… did you want something?"
"Well… I wanted to apologize…"
Feeling a déjà vu, I stared blankly at her. Though last time she'd clung to me like a crying child.
No, wait. Thinking that way is rude, isn't it?
Either way, I wanted to tell her I liked this method much better.
I closed my eyes and sighed softly.
"Apologize? I feel like I've heard that somewhere before."
"I saw kids at the orphanage do it, and… but it turned out super awkward," she said, covering her face with both hands. Even so I could see her ears turning red.
She was probably trying to say something important, but I didn't understand a word.
What kids? What orphanage? What was she talking about?
Despite my usual flippant attitude, I decided to think about it a little. Just a little. But forcing my sleepy brain to work was hard.
Hmm… orphanage?
"So… are you my sister? Like, half-sister?" I asked.
For some reason that felt logical. Orphanage → lives with my family → sleeps next to me. No other explanation.
"Uh?" She looked completely thrown by my conclusion. "No, I don't think so. I mean, not exactly… That's not it!" she protested.
"I see."
It was obvious I didn't see at all, but I was too lazy to argue.
"I wanted to say sorry for hugging you so much… and for the helion," she whispered.
"Hm? Oh… so you guys always act like that?"
"Wha—? No!" she yelped. "Y-You… you're the first."
I nearly panicked at that. My shoulders twitched. Good thing it was dark; my face was definitely burning with embarrassment.
"I see… Well, you should probably only do that with someone really close."
At what point do people become "close"?
It's naive to think a bond forms the moment you offer your hand and say "let's be friends." Choosing someone based only on your own preferences and assumptions about a stranger is just the beginning.
Sometimes you become friends without noticing. By chance. And sometimes you can call someone "friend" for years and never truly become one.
In the end every beginning has the same motive: a way to escape loneliness. Because humans decided for themselves that a person can't live alone.
But… is it really worth it?
Blood ties, friendship, romance… they're all indulgences that let you hurt someone and be forgiven. Like a license to kill. It might sound funny, but think about it: is an existence without the will to live really better than death?
Trust is the most precious thing we can give another person. Lose it, and you lose a piece of yourself. Or so I think.
So when does that bond form unconsciously?
In a moment like this? The one we shared a few dozen seconds ago? Or… the one from this morning?
Honestly, being unable to get even a little close would've made things easier. But I felt the Rubicon had already been crossed.
"I… don't have anyone left…"
Her whisper reached me, soft as a summer breeze, lonely as the last autumn leaf on a branch. Trying to guess the season by feeling alone, I sank a little into myself.
No one.
My unease had reasons. They ran far deeper than they appeared. I could feel it—feel it… but couldn't grasp it.
Was it sympathy? Or just pity? I didn't know. I just didn't like the feeling of being suddenly punched in the chest.
"Then… want to stay together?" I offered hesitantly.
"Eh?"
Her mouth fell open, the wrinkles on her forehead deepening as her eyes widened in shock. I wasn't even sure what I'd meant. It wasn't encouragement, nor indifference. Then what was it?
"No, I didn't mean it like that. I mean… I don't really know either," I sighed, hanging my head.
It probably wasn't what she wanted to hear. Actually, she might not have expected any reply at all. If Mom were here she'd have just hugged Luisa. And I… just said what I truly felt. Probably.
"Are you… sure?" Luisa asked, almost fearfully.
"Yeah," I answered with a small nod.
While I kept staring at the silhouette of my legs under the blanket, something tiny and thin appeared in my vision. My eyes had adjusted enough to the dark to see what it was: her pinky finger, held out toward me.
Slowly, uncertainly, I turned my head. Luisa was smiling. It was so sudden and childishly charming that my mouth fell open a little.
I raised my own pinky too and carefully reached toward hers. But instead of linking them, I just touched the tips together.
A fragile, but genuine promise.