"Ha! Ha! Ha!"
Swing… Swing… Swing…
"Ha! Ha! Ha!"
Swing… Swing… Swing…
Lorelei was dripping with sweat. She could barely keep her eyes open, her mind cleared to the single thought of swinging her sword. Up and down, up and down, repeating the motion over and over. She adjusted her grip and footwork when needed, but since Brant had left, she hadn't taken her hands off the sword, nor had she taken a break. She had no idea what time of day it was, or even if the day had passed. The only thing she had the strength to think about was…
Swing… Swing… Swing…
More power. More accuracy. More speed. She needed to perfect herself. The sweat dripping from her body formed a puddle beneath her feet, and her temperature climbed far past the limit. The moisture evaporating off her skin turned to a light steam, yet despite her thirst and hunger, she kept going.
Swing… Swing… Swing…
The door behind her creaked open, and Samuel entered the hall, but Lorelei didn't notice—she was too busy slashing. He walked to the training rack, pulled out a sword, and without a word, rushed at her. She jumped away from his swing, still unaware of the person standing in front of her.
Swing… Swing… Swing…
She stepped forward and vanished behind Samuel, who froze, startled by what she'd just done. She slowly raised her sword with one arm and brought it down at him. He rolled away, but the sheer force of her strike split the ground and sent him flying into the wall. Without giving him a moment's respite, Lorelei lunged after him, ready to deliver the final blow—but Brant stepped in and knocked her unconscious.
"Swi-"
He hoisted her onto his shoulders.
"Almost died there," he said, groaning.
"Took her too lightly," Brant replied, turning away with Lorelei slung over his shoulder.
Even unconscious, she still gripped her sword, refusing to let go.
"One hell of a kid."
Brant and Samuel walked to her room and dropped her on the floor.
"Can't put her on the bed while she's sweating like that," Samuel observed.
"Just wait till she wakes up," Brant answered.
"Amazing plan, genius," Samuel said sarcastically. "The tournament's tomorrow—let her rest for now."
"You're saying we just leave her on the ground drenched in sweaty clothes?" Brant asked.
"…"
"Hmm," Brant scratched his head, thinking it over. "Let's undress her and put her in the bath, then!" he said, proud of his idea.
Samuel wanted to stop him, but Brant had already crouched and grabbed the hem of her shirt. At that very moment, Lorelei's eyes snapped open and met Brant's imposing figure looming over her. Lorelei stared and Brant and Brant stared back at her. He started sweating and gave her a forced smile. He realized how stupid his idea was, but it was already too late. Lorelei spun on her hands and drove a double kick into Brant's stomach, sending him flying not just through the door, but out of the mansion entirely.
"AHHHHHH!" he screamed as his body shattered the window.
Samuel sighed, and Lorelei jumped back to her feet.
"What was he doing?" she asked, startled.
"Don't bother; he's an idiot. Go take a shower and rest for the day," Samuel said, getting up to leave. "I don't want to see you touching a sword until tomorrow, got it?"
Lorelei nodded, and Samuel left, taking her sword with him. She felt like she'd done something, but couldn't quite remember what. To her, it was as if she'd been swinging her sword in the hall one moment and miraculously woke up in her room the next. She sniffed her shirt and gagged at the smell. She stripped it off and headed straight for the shower before sinking into the bath.
"Mhmmm," a sigh of relief escaped her as her foot met the warm water.
It was the first time in two months she'd allowed herself a full day of rest. Training endlessly without tracking time made two months feel like the blink of an eye, especially with the constant need to stop ticking bombs from exploding. Lorelei thought hard about what to do with her day off. Her mind drifted toward the library—more specifically, the journal. She was itching to learn the name of Meliviene's child. Once she'd made up her mind, she rose from the bath, still dripping, grabbed a towel, dried herself, dressed in fresh clothes, put on her glove and eyepatch, and hurried to Iria's chambers. From there, she retraced her steps from memory.
Turn the corner and walk forward to the drawer.
It didn't take long to reach her destination. Lorelei glanced around to make sure Samuel and Brant weren't nearby, then crouched. Her hand found the little bump on the wall and pressed it. Just like before, she was flung into a pile of books.
Forgot about that.
She brushed the dust off her clothes and walked to the middle of the library. It was exactly as she'd left it two months ago: dusty and disorganized. She circled the table and took the staircase down, one hand on the wall to guide herself through the pitch-black darkness. Soon she reached the bottom and met the metallic lid. She pulled it up and descended into Melivine's lab. The green liquid and shattered glass still covered every inch of the place, but unlike before, Lorelei was wearing shoes. She picked her way across the glass and sat down on the broken chair in front of the desk.
Now then…
She searched the drawers, hunting for where she'd left the journal, before finding it at last in the rightmost one. A smile spread across her face as she flipped through the pages, trying to recall where she'd left off.
Sixth log: 06.09.06
"Hmmmm."
She skimmed through the log and finally found the line where she'd stopped reading.
I will call him Vanille. I think it's a sweet name.
Seventh log: 13.09.06
It's evening; I gave birth to Vanille this morning. Surprisingly, he didn't cry at all. Maybe it's the Eye? He has sweet brown eyes, just like me. I'm glad he didn't take after his father, but he's been awfully quiet — abnormally quiet. I suppose it's just the kind of person he is. I will raise this boy to carry justice. Righteous justice.
Lorelei flipped the page, only to find the rest of the logs had been ripped out. She sighed in disappointment—but stopped when she came across a page still intact.
Fifteenth log: 21.11.08
He… he died. A clock appeared in his eye. For a brief moment his hair turned silver, and he started saying something about time. Then he just… What is this about? What exactly is this Eye? THIS CAN'T BE ##### IT JUST CAN'T. Oh! I know… I know exactly what I'll do. I'll take a child from the orphanage and run compatibility tests until I find one. For now, I need to gouge out Vanille's eye and bury his body. I can't let anyone find out about this. Not a soul.
Lorelei was taken aback, nearly falling off her chair before catching herself against the wall.
Experiments on children?
She flipped through the ripped pages again, reading what little was left intact.
##### log: ##.##.#4
No.124:
Status: Incompatible, dead.
No.###:
Status: Incompatible, terminally ill.
No.4##:
Status: Incompatible, dead.
No.6##:
Status: Incompatible, dead.
No.6##:
Status: Incompatible, dead.
No.1###:
Status: Incompatible, terminally ill.
No.12##:
Status: Incompatible, dead.
No.134#:
Status: Incompatible, dead.
No.14#4:
Status: Incompatible, dead.
No.#4##:
Status: Incompatible, dead.
No. ####:
Status: Incompatible, dead.
The list went on and on, some parts torn away, others scribbled over. There was no way to deny what Lorelei was seeing. She had conducted experiments on children to find someone compatible with the Eye. They were sacrificed, butchered before they'd even developed consciousness. All for the sake of her so-called "justice." Many of the numbers were unreadable, the pages torn and tattered. But one phrase stood out from the rest, written in dried blood that still held a touch of its crimson red.
No.62## Status: Compatible, Alive.
Thirty-fourth log: ##.#6.#1
Subject No.62## is showing no sign of abnormality. He's staying with me in the mansion. He will be Vanille's replacement. He will achieve what I dream of, and this time it won't fail. I gouged out his left eye and placed in it the Eye of Fate. He cried, but it must be done. It must be. ## #### #### ######## ###### ###### ##### #### ######## ###
Forty-f#### log: ##.##.#3
Subject No.62## reacted to the Eye for the first time. He spoke to me, even though he was only # years old. I'm sure it wasn't him who spoke. It was the Eye. Just like Vanille, his hair turned silver, and a clock appeared in his left eye. This time I heard what it said, "Time favors ###, Time empowers ###, Time embodies ###." The clock in his eye disappeared, but his hair stayed silver. This time, he was still breathing.
Fifty-##### log: ##.##.##
I will give Subject No.62## a new name: ######. I'm returning to the capital now. It's a huge risk, given the Eye's instability, but I can't delay any longer. I've discovered which Eye of Fate it is: the Eye of Time. Livina and Deam have entered the order; everything will work accordingly, no matter how many bodies need to drop, no matter what means I must use to get there. I will, one day.
Lorelei stopped there and closed the journal, her mind still spinning from everything she'd read.
Who is she?
If anyone could know about a member of the royal family, it would be another member of it: Iria. She needed to talk to her. The dates in the journal predated her birth, but there was a chance this Melivine was still alive somewhere. She decided to bring the tattered journal with her, and climbed the stairs. The questions she'd tried so hard to repress came surging back. Slowly, the itching need for answers took over. She pressed the button, left the library, and the first person that came to mind was Samuel.
Lorelei ran to the library and threw open the door. Samuel was there, sipping his tea.
"Reili? You need something?" he asked, without taking his gaze off his book.
Lorelei walked closer and sat beside him, hiding the journal behind her back.
"Do you know Melivine… Melivine Di Vileth?"
Samuel's eyes widened at the name, but he still didn't look at her.
"Yes, I do. Is something wrong?"
"Is she… still alive?"
"No. She's dead."
Lorelei didn't know whether to feel relieved. It wasn't as if Lorelei was a hero pursuing justice for these used children. All she'd wanted was to satisfy her thirst for knowledge.
"What is an Eye of Fate?"
"You're interested in that?" he asked, confused.
"Mhmm."
Samuel set his book down and went searching through the shelves. He knew the library by heart—the placement of every single book. After all, he was the one who had organized it. A few minutes later he returned with a thin, leather-covered book and handed it to Lorelei, then went back to reading.
"There are multiple Eyes of Fate. I think this one lightly covers two of them."
Lorelei flipped through the pages, but they were old and brittle. Apply too much force and they'd tear without much struggle. Worse, the writing style was something she simply couldn't read at all. It made no sense—the word structure, the phrases, the words themselves.
"I don't understand it," she told Samuel.
"Figures. It was written during Lan's time, after all."
"Lan?" Lorelei repeated.
"Don't worry. If you get into the academy, they'll teach you who Lan is. More importantly—which Eye are you looking for?"
"The Eye of Time."
"Hmm… I know of it, but barely anything about it. It manifests a clock in the user's eye. That's about it. Nobody really knows much about these Eyes, except that there are four. Well, four known—there could be more."
"What are the four?"
"Space, Time, Destruction, and Divinity, I think?"
If the Eye of Time exists, then what is the authority of time?
Lorelei wanted to voice the thought, but refrained. She needed to figure out the rest herself—and, more importantly, settle matters with her past.
"Do you know when Iria will be coming back?"
"…I have no idea," he said firmly, still reading.
"Thanks."
Lorelei got up and was about to leave, but Samuel stopped her.
"Iria—I don't know what you think of her right now, but if you picture her as a nice, gentle lady, then wake yourself up. Don't be naive enough to think so. She's a complete sadist, the worst of the pit." He paused, and for once turned to look her straight in the eyes. "I'm saying this as family, because we are family, but sniff around in the dark too much, and you'll end up biting your own tail."
He said nothing more, and returned to his book. Lorelei left, puzzled by his final words. She went back to her room and changed into her nightclothes. The chandelier swayed above her, the lights flickering gently, the curtains stirring with the wind—enough to sink her into deep thought. She lifted the journal and opened it.
Clovis is Iria's brother…
Iria is royalty, so Mister is also royalty…
It finally struck her. She flipped through the pages until she found the second and third log.
It will be the third now.
She looked down at the third log.
Costan is the child of the first wife.
Her eyes widened, and she began shaking her head in denial. She flipped to the log where she'd read about the compatible subject.
No… no… no…
Through the scribbled marks and dried blood, she saw a C.
I will name Subject No.62##. His new name will be C#####.
She squinted and brought the page closer.
His new name will be C##v##.
There was no more doubt. If Costan was the first wife's child and Iria the third, then Clovis was the experiment. He was the replacement.
"No…"
"Enough. You've seen too much."
Lorelei felt her left eye throbbing, a cold freeze racing down her body. She lost control and pitched forward over the open journal. Despite the pain, she spoke.
"You finally decided to speak now," she said provocatively.
"Don't search any further."
"Why? Tell me why! Why do you want to keep me in the dark? Why?"
"To protect you, Lorelei."
Lorelei laughed.
"You? Protect me? Think I haven't seen that field of graves? Think I haven't heard them speak? Think I haven't heard their pleas? I'll end up like them, won't I? I don't know how you're doing this or why. The truth is… the truth is YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A SELFISH BI—"
"…"
Her mouth began to foam, and she felt her consciousness slowly slip away.
"I'm sorry. I am Lorelei… to all of you. It's too soon now. I know it's a selfish request, but please give me a little more time to prepare. Please…"
Lorelei could give the figure no answer. Her mind was long gone, and her body surrendered.
…