“You can keep your shoes on, detectives. I can assure you, my sister has done nothing wrong. You’ll be in and out before you know it.”
“Wait a minute,” Sato said. “Didn’t you say you were worried that she might’ve had a hand in the murder?”
Reina’s face was cast in shadow, forlorn and statuesque at the bottom of the staircase. “Yes. That’s exactly why I need you two here. To clear her of any wrongdoing. Not just for her sake, but mine as well. I know… I’m a terrible, selfish sister.”
Sato looked at her with pity in her heart. “No, you’re not. That just means you care about her. A bad sister wouldn’t think twice about anyone but herself.” She smiled warmly. Ma’at wondered just how much Sato had internalized her mother’s personality into her own. There was no way of knowing without knowing Shino herself, but perhaps one day she could ask her. Or ask Tien.
No. Why do I care at all? Sato’s her own person. The last thing she wants is me butting into her past. Hell, it’s the last thing I’d want her to do. I need to focus on the contract. On myself.
A bit of light returned to Reina’s face and her disposition cleared. Ironically, Sato had partially wiped away the storm cloud that had been brewing over the young woman’s head. “Th-thank you. That’s very kind of you to say. I’m sorry. I’m not a very confident or social person, you see. Rosaline’s always been the popular one.”
She led them up the carpeted stairway. With each step, the wood beneath the fabric quietly creaked. It was certainly an odd sight, if there had been anyone else there to see it. A Sirithisian woman clad in battle garments armed with two blades and a woman wearing a raincoat armed with an umbrella tip-toeing up some apartment stairs. The absurdity of it all was lost to them in the moment’s passing.
Along the banister they trailed until they reached the fourth floor, the penultimate story of the tenement. The ever-so-faint speech of the neighbors barely eked out through the sturdy walls. They were in a fairly long hall that led to other halls, and behind them was the staircase they had just ascended. A high-reaching yet slender window stretched across the other side opposite to the passage leading to the zig-zagging halls. It was clear, though very fine markings were scrawled across its corners. It was a glossy, pleasant paint. An artist had added much-needed color to the muted interior.
“Is this your work?” Ma’at studied the paint as she spoke. It was clear her inquiry was for Reina’s ears.
“Mm. No, that is Rosaline’s. I’ve done the bottom floors. They were some of our first works. Our first jobs painting. The old renter lady that owns these flats had pity on us starving artists, and… asked us to pretty the place up a little. It was tough work, and took a long while, but it was a pleasant time.” The painter nudged her black-rimmed glasses back up on the ridge of her nose and fell sullen. “Some days… I dearly miss those times. When it was just me and her, painting away. Giggling. Calling up to each other from the bottom and the top of the building. It was so much easier then.”
Sato examined the girl as she dreamt of the past. The violet flames around her pupils flickered. She tapped the end of her umbrella on the wall absent-mindedly. “Did something happen, then?”
Reina’s head bobbed up and down reluctantly. She clenched her apron again as if bracing for impact. As if someone were about to abuse her, but neither Ma’at nor Sato nor any ghost or apparition likewise made its move. Fear had begun to creep back into the poor woman’s muddled heart. “Then… my sister fell sick, unable to paint. Only I was left to take care of her. To take care of us,” she said, an ache lowering her tone. “For a while, I thought it was simply a cold or fever. But then she began to babble.”
“Babble?” Ma’at asked as they both followed Reina’s small steps further into the darting hallways. Countless doors passed them by. More creaking echoes accompanied their walk.
“Yes, detective. Incoherent things. Rambling. Like she’d gone mad in the night. She began to… obsess… over every little thing. It was hard to leave her alone for too long. But I had to, to pay the rent.”
Ma’at and Sato exchanged glances.
“Here we are,” Reina said, gesturing toward another wooden door. Except, this one was totally unlike the countless others that looked identical to one another. Their door was painted with wonderful flowers that stretched across the chipped frame and grew outward slightly onto the walls.
“Roses.”
Reina locked eyes with the dark-skinned mercenary, then turned back around, facing the door. “Yes. White-speckled roses are our favorites. I still bring home some every now and then for her. She still loves them. It’s one of the rare things she notices nowadays.” Finishing her explanation, she unlocked the door and pushed it open, leaving the way open for the two investigators to enter quietly.
It was a pleasant home, fit for two pleasant-sounding sisters. Flower pots holding buds and barely-blooming flora. Knick-knacks lining the pale-painted shelves over the steel kitchen sink. Cogwheels hanging like ornaments from the living room light. Quaint windows, few as three, squarish and rigid. The morning gleam now transforming into the midday autumnal shine shot rays of golden starlight into the abode. It was small, yet cozy all the same. A true artist’s home. Brushes lay drying, their tips still damp with cleansing water. The striking smell of paint stung Ma’at and Sato’s nostrils as they walked further in. The front door came to a silent close save for a metallic click of the lock being pushed up and over the tumbler.
“Welcome in. I’ll lead you to Rosaline’s room, u-unless you’d like something to eat and drink first?”
They both shook their heads no, though Sato was much more downtrodden in her refusal.
“No, that’s alright. Sato doesn’t need to put on any more pounds,” Ma’at mused, a nefarious gleam in her eye.
“Pff. Speak for yourself,” the Maiden of the Rain retorted. She shook her head dispiritedly.
Reina giggled. It was such a quiet, somber laughter, as if she hadn’t laughed in a long time. “Hmhm. You two seem to be good friends. That’s great. Work with those you love makes time fly by.” Her words dripped with melancholy and she fell into wistful thought.
“We’re not friends,” Ma’at objected. “We’re… coworkers.”
“We’re friends,” Sato confirmed, ignoring her colleague. She closed her eyes briefly and nodded as if to say it was common sense and couldn’t be refuted in any way, shape or form. “She just likes to be… difficult sometimes. But I know she loves me!” Sato reached out to pet Ma’at’s hair, but her hand was swatted away.
“The sooner we finish this job, the sooner I can get away from you.” She stared at Sato coldly, then glanced back at Reina. “Please, take us to your sister. I just want to ask her a few questions. If it’s true she had nothing to do with it, then as you said, we’ll be in and out, quick.”
Reina clasped her hands anxiously, but conceded with a deflating posture. Her shoulders relaxed as a tiny spark of hope reignited in her chest cavity. “Okay.”
Creak.
Reina’s hand pushed open the door to her dear sister’s bedroom, a deft gust of wind blowing back a dry tree branch. A glimmer of sunlight lit the otherwise shadowy room. Atop the bed, bundled beneath layers of covers and warm cloth, was the suspect. Her long, black hair rippled like waves of the Void Sea across her pillow. Her closed eyes were two small slits featuring wispy eyelashes that curved upward. A cute smile adorned her face. A pair of glasses similar to Reina’s sat cross-armed on her bedside table. A wilting rose was near it in a pot. A white-speckled one.
Identical. Identical to the ones at the crime scene, Ma’at pondered. She crept to the girl’s side and pulled over a pale oaken chair to sit on.
Sato stood near the doorway, behind Reina, examining what was to come next. An interrogation? An interview? It was unknown to her whether Ma’at truly suspected such a young, sickly girl to be the perpetrator. Perhaps she was missing something. Missing something that Ma’at had already noticed long ago. She clearly had a plan, and an idea of how such a sorry woman could possibly kill a healthy man in his twenties. Or… maybe she really suspects Reina. Maybe all of this is just to get her to confess.
“Rosaline,” Reina chimed. An almost motherly tone had overcome her previously solemn way of speaking. “Wake up, sis. You have guests. Two nice women from Vroque. They wish to speak with you.”
“Mmhm,” the girl croaked sleepily. “Reina…? Is it morning already?” Stirring from her half-dreaming fugue, Rosaline turned her head to where Ma’at and Reina sat waiting. Then, she finally opened her eyes.
A spine-entangling chill gripped Sato all at once as she met the raven-haired woman’s gaze. Her corneas were a deep, deep mixture of both vermilion and crimson colors. Black webs nearly invisible crawled across them, as if a nest had settled in the otherworldly scarlet hue. She felt as if she were standing on an ancient precipice, on the edge of a doorway leading to a realm unlike her own. She thought she heard a strange musical note ring in her mind, but no sound could be heard save for the mumblings of the waking lady.
“Did I tell you, Reina? Yesterday, I looked out this very window and out onto the street. I saw the most beautiful woman. A lady in blue. She seemed very sad. Like if sorrow were given a female form. I wanted to tell her that she would be alright. Even someone as sick as I am can keep her spirits up. She was much too beautiful to be as sad as she was. Her dress, too… what a beautiful make. I wonder if we could find the splendid seamstress who crafted that wonderful thing…”
Reina listened to her sister with a small, cheerful half-grin, but it was clear the words she heard were a sign Rosaline was not getting any better. She turned and whispered to Ma’at. “I’m sorry, detective. This is how she is. I hope she can answer your questions now.”
Ma’at pushed herself off the chair a bit to study the room and the dusky window hovering above Reina’s sister like a halo. “Do you often look outside from here?”
Rosaline nodded. “To see him every day.”
An eyebrow raised. “Him?”
“Mhm. My darling Drosen. He walks this way back from late nights at the factory every morning. It’s silly, the way he walks. He looks like a drunkard.” She gave a light giggle.
Ma’at’s upper lip scrunched. An uncomfortable feeling began to stir in her stomach. She stared daggers at Reina for a moment, then turned back to the sleepy girl. “You do know what happened to him, yeah? That’s why we’re here.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Rosaline blinked wildly as if escaping from her fatigue, but she still appeared dreamy as ever. As if reality was down the hall. Her eyes were detached, though the mention of her beloved tugged at her throat. “What? What do you mean? What happened?”
Ma’at narrowed her gaze, firmly crossed her arms, and sat back on the chair. “I think… you know already. I think you saw him last night. Or, should I say early this morning?”
“Saw him…?” Reina suddenly questioned, exasperated. “That’s not possible. He walked from that way, and his body hadn’t even reached-”
The mercenary shook her head assuredly. “Look out the window.” She pointed to it, then stood for a better angle. “Really look. This morning, there was rain. Puddles lined the streets, and the running water from the lake ran all throughout Valeigh. I know because I was out this morning as well.”
“You were?” Sato wore an expression of blissful ignorance.
Ma’at nodded. “I went to the cafe. I couldn’t sleep, as usual. But that doesn’t matter. What matters are the reflections.”
“The… reflections?” Reina replied.
“The window looks out onto the street. The street had many puddles. The puddles mirrored the lantern oil pooling in the lights. A complex string of reflections mirroring reflections mirroring reflections mirroring reflections. There must have been one string that led all the way down the street. Through the store windows, and finally, to the lantern light and mirror on that fateful post.”
“What are you talking about!? Don’t you realize how insane you sound? What does this all have to do with anything?”
Ma’at gazed downward, closed her eyes tightly, then looked at Rosaline again. “Your sister killed Drosen. But I don’t think she even realizes it. She must have-”
“...inherent magic,” Sato spoke up, eyeing the weary sisters sternly. “She must hold power even she wasn’t aware of. Only an Ocularis could be capable of something so… terrifying. So easily destructive.” The Maiden tightened the tie beneath her ornate, onyx raincoat. Her own beautifully shining violet eyes shimmered like neon rain dripping down window glass. She tightened the grip on her umbrella blade.
“I don’t… I don’t understand…”
“You really loved him, didn’t you?” Ma’at asked Rosaline. Her visage was full of lonesome knowing. “Emotions are volatile. You must have seen him and-”
“Stop. Stop it,” Reina interrupted. “Get out. Now.”
Ma’at sighed in frustration. “We’re doing our jobs. You called us here, now-”
“I called you here to ask her questions, not arrest her on the spot without any evidence! Who can say if she even has such a power? Anyone on the street could, with your logic! Leave! Leave us be. Never come back.”
“Miss-” Sato started, but another hurtful pang and solemn note rang across the apartment.
“Dead…? Drosen… is dead?” The world outside darkened. The window vanished from sight, and the room and all its furniture seemingly melted beneath her vision. Then, from underneath her bed, tendriling thorns and gnarled snares erupted outward. They scraped flesh, ripped her bedsheets, and carved gashes into the walls cradling them. “I… I killed him…? This morning…”
An eerie silence.
This morning… I woke and saw the love of my life.
“Reina… I saw an amazing illum outside today. He was… beautiful. Handsome. But more than that. He was stumbling, and so I left the house to help him. I couldn’t stop coughing. It was so embarrassing, but he just kept smiling.”
And the next. And the next. And the next.
Every morning, I’d see that blissful smile of his.
And I’d dream of a life together.
“Rosaline, you don’t even know him. Besides, you are much too sick to be going out every day. You know that. He’s a factory worker, too. Don’t get too close to him or he’ll ruin your lungs even more.”
“But he’s the kindest man I’ve ever known. I think… I love him.”
“He’s a drunk.”
“I showed him our art. He loves it. He wants to help us.”
“He wants to steal it and steal our money. Haven’t you learned anything from Mom and Dad? We can only trust each other. This city isn’t some utopia like the Union makes it out to be. We knew that as soon as we passed through those towering gates.”
When I see him next, I’ll confess my feelings.
When I see him next, I’ll wrap my arms around him.
When I see him next, I’ll kiss him and give him my favorite rose.
Giant, pungent roses flecked with stars manifested from the ends of the spiny brambles. Sinister, red thorns pointed out from the vines at every inch like gluttonous teeth. Rosaline’s eyes glowed with crimson radiance.
“Ma’at! Her Paracosm…!”
“I know.” She sighed deeply. “The room is already three times the size. She’s projecting a tiny portion of it onto the tenement.”
They were in a black expanse. The titanous flowers rose high above the ground in the distance, hovering near Rosaline’s muttering form. One of the snares wrapped around Reina’s throat, constricting her breathing.
“Rosa- ugh- Rosaline…! Stop…! It’s me! It’s Reina!” she pleaded.
Blind rage fueled the girl’s actions, unable to discern family. Rage pointed inward.
One of Ma’at’s twinkling noctite blades suddenly flew like a boomerang and cut the stem holding Reina in twine. She fell to the thorny ground, hundreds of what felt like miniature knives piercing her skin.
Sato called forth a torrent of rainwater. The magical wellspring seemed to tear open the fabric of reality itself, though there was a much simpler way of understanding it. It was simply as if two seams of cloth were stitched together and transplanted onto the world they perceived. Sato’s inner world and Rosaline’s; they clashed, yet Rosaline’s had the strongest hold on their surroundings. Still, the Maiden of the Rain sent the rapid stream down over the endless thorny branches and pushed them down. With two feet in her opened umbrella, she rode it along the water as if it were a motorboat. She pushed herself along with speeding waves, careening toward the wrathcursed Rosaline at a tremendous pace.
“It was an accident. I simply… woke up and looked out my bedroom window. That’s all I did. And in that fraction of a second, I saw him walking down that rainy, windy street again. I felt a flutter in my chest. Then… blood. Blood and petals. And then I slept. And I dreamed. And I thought it to be a dream. What else could it have been? All a dream. Nothing if not a dream. It was the only logical conclusion upon seeing something so cruel and nonsensical. It’s all… but a silly, stupid dream. I’ll cover it all in thorns! I’ll break out and ensnare any who dare harm me! I’m sorry, Reina! I know. I know I’m sickly,” the roseate sister coughed hoarsely. A bit of blood dripped down her pale lips. “I can’t love another like Drosen. I can’t sit stuck in this accursed room any longer. I have to leave!!!”
Sato slashed and hacked the bloody thorns at the base of the monstrous rose garden. She managed to cut down one, but more tendril snares came down and wrapped around Sato’s throat this time. They dragged her squirming body up and in front of Rosaline. Her eyes radiated ghostly red light. Her body had gone limp after her ranting.
“You must understand. Your mother. She didn’t love you either. Not near as much as she loved other things. I can sense it. She… abandoned you…”
A vicious black shadow cast over the Maiden’s face upon hearing those ugly words. Only the faint lights of her eyes gave form to her fury. “No. She. Didn’t. Mother DID NOT… abandon me! Never say those words again!” she screamed. A thorny tendril covered her mouth. The one choking her and cutting into her throat tightened even more so.
“Yes. You were like me once. Sickly and left at home. You only made the lives of others harder. You made your mother work like a slave. Even the doctor refused to help. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure no one can ever love again. No one can be loved again. And thus, no one can ever be hurt again. Bereft of love, we can stew in depression, remaining unfeeling for the rest of our days. It’s easier this way. Don’t you agree, Reina? Come. I can do the same for you.”
A tendril came for the painter, but Ma’at’s other blade swung forward and cleaved it in two just as it had with the other. Running through the jagged thorns wet with the flowing river, the mercenary called for her blades to return to her hands. And they did. She leapt and stabbed a blade into the side of the towering rose, then pushed off of it and threw her other blade at her ensnared colleague with deft precision. The noctite sword flew and slashed fervently at its mistress’s mental command. The thorns were cut once more, and Sato was freed.
Ma’at wondered how they would possibly put an end to the endlessly growing garden. The garden of numbness, of unloving pain, of loathing serenity. For every rose, the stem was its heart. The nutrient-rich throat of the world. Of the painful love garnered. This malicious, thorned rose that had planted itself in such an innocent young woman had to be ripped out from the roots. It was the only way.
With Sato’s agreement, the two hacked as hard as they could. They carved their way through the stalks and the thorns and the bloody earth until they found the roots at the very end. They pulsed.
Ma’at took hold of the rotten, jagged tendrils and ripped them up as hard as she could. Until the very ends were in plain sight, straining to hold onto the girl’s weary heart for dear life. The corruption wouldn’t give until fully severed. Clenching her teeth, the Sirithisian sent both floating blades at the roots in her hands and below them. The fibrous strands were obliterated in two clean swoops. The pain and malice had been separated, though the grief would linger forever, clinging to her innocence like a disgusting tumor. However, that same tumor also carried the memories the two had shared. The emotions she had felt. The love she couldn’t share.
Finally, the roseate, apocalyptic inner world dissipated and returned to Rosaline’s heart and mind and receded into the space between dreams and nightmares. It was over. Rosaline’s breakdown had been stopped.
***
“Thank you, Ma’at and Sato. Thank you so, so much. I can’t fully express how truly thankful I am.”
Back at the office, the two mercenaries spoke with Reina in front of the huge, wide window. The early light of evening licked the glass. The faint lights of stars had already begun to take off their blue masks and shine down from the darkening sky.
“No need,” Ma’at said. “The money is enough. It was just another job.”
Reina’s complex emotions showed on her face. She nodded, then gave them some more money.
“We can’t accept this,” Sato denied.
“Yes, you can.” She pushed the pouch back into Sato’s hand adamantly. “I know this was just another job for you, but it was a success. You saved my sister from falling too deep. Saved her from drowning. From falling to a depth that I couldn’t reach. I’ll always be in your debt. And…” She continued, slightly embarrassed. “I’m sorry for what I said, back home. You were right, in the end. And I berated you for nothing.”
Sato gave her a heartfelt hug, then pulled away slowly. “It’s understandable given what happened. I only wish we knew what the Union plans to do with her. But we told them everything we know. If they choose to have some mercy, perhaps Rosaline will return to you sooner than we thought.”
Reina gave her a sullen smile, but it was real this time. No creeping anxiety nor despair found its way into her heart. No miserable thorns nor constricting vines. “I can only hope. But I know she’s alive and well. And I know what you did saved her. After everything fell away and we were back in her room, she told me herself. To thank you two and offer anything. She even wanted you to take some of our artwork.”
“Hmph.” Ma’at studied the painter’s dour yet hopeful face with her fierce, hazel eyes. One of her hands rested on her right holstered blade. “Maybe… tell her to paint us something. When she gets back. We can invite her here, and she can hang it up. This place lacks personality, anyway.”
“True. It’d certainly give Vroque some character, especially if it came from our first case,” Tien agreed. She was sitting on the couch opposite of them, going over a mountain of color-coded documents.
Reina smiled, the dusk-brushed sky reflected in her spectacles. “O-Of course! I’ll remember and tell her when I see her. I’m sure she’ll paint something beautiful. You’ll see.”