ELIZABETH POV

Elizabeth Eve Thornfield.

From a very young age, I was taught the meaning of my name.

The meaning of my Middle name, Eve, represents the breath of life to the dawn of a new beginning. One that searches for the ever-expanding truth and attempts to leave their mark in those colorful vistas. To accomplish that, one must possess a flexible mind with virtues that stand rooted to the ground.

Unbending, unyielding, yet gentle and all accepting. As we grow bigger so does our branch of beliefs, but if you look back at the historical achievements that our ancestor accomplished, their values can always be traced back to the root.

The meaning of my Last name, Thornfield, represents the never-ending pursuit of justice. Like a thorn, beautiful but deadly. The thorn itself is born out of necessities, because the good, without means to fight back, punishes not. It only ferments evil. So, in the face of it all, where many values and beliefs clash, it is ever more important to know your justice.

Do you enforce it? Do you let it simmer? Or, do you let it go in the face of tyranny?

Before I could even answer such an obvious question, my mom put her finger on my lips with that gentle expression on hers. It is not my time to answer yet she says, and another question immediately pops out of my head.

Why not? To foster our justice, shouldn’t we enforce it? If we ever want to leave our mark in this rapidly ever-changing world, isn’t it more important to let our brand of Justice be known?

In the face of my bombarding questions, she simply said two words while rubbing my head.

“Study hard.”

Then what about my first name? Elizabeth. What does it mean? What went through my mother’s mind when she decided to name me Elizabeth?

She just pinched my cheek and told me that one day, I would know. Because I have to be the one who gives meaning to Elizabeth. The path that I need to take and the destination that I need to go to. No one but I can tell where those things are. So, again. Study hard.

Years passed and the questions still stuck inside my head. The meaning of Justice, and what does one do with it when the time comes. It wasn’t like I was clueless when my mother said that it was yet my time to answer those questions.

Right now, I know next to nothing. About the world, about different cultures to the West. About the oppression in the East. About the mysteries to the south. About the vast emptiness to the north.

The world is full of unknowns. How can I proclaim that my justice is true when I haven’t even stepped out and experienced things from a wider perspective? So, I studied hard. I know that somewhere out there in those parts of the world, there is a meaning to my name.

All I need to do is travel far and see it with my own eyes. I do not know what I will do when the time comes or when I find it. So I prepared myself the best I could.

I begged my father to teach me martial arts. I secretly saw him rolling on the floor with worry right in front of my mom that night. I won’t back down from it. It is something that I have decided. I’m sorry for worrying you, father.

To further my graceful tact and mannerism, I took ballet lessons. I hear the East looks favorably on such athletic activities, but it was hard. Countless times I felt like crying and giving up because of how tough the regime is. Yet, despite my clumsiness, I persisted.

I want to see further and prepare myself the best I can. I am sure there are things I can do, that no one else can. That way, I can solidify my brand of justice and establish my roots when the time comes.

Fortunately, the time came faster than I had anticipated, and I didn’t need to travel far and wide to search for it.

It was the beginning of an important celebration day that marked the beginning of Nexus’s founding day.

I was there along with Dad, at Hell’s Kitchen, the 5-star restaurant where my mother worked. The kitchen window was open in front of hundreds of people with hotlines in full view for the customer’s complete dining experience. We were able to see everything from how the ingredients were prepared, cooked, and sent to expeditor Station.

My mom was there, at the final station, overlooking everything that transpired as she organized the final dishes before they were sent into the dining area.

Other people may see it as a normal restaurant kitchen, but I saw it differently. It was a battlefield, one in which my mother acted as a general of an army.

That day, I saw the stern side of her emerge in clear sight as she took command of 50 or so chefs.

The precision in her movements as she traversed that narrow pathway amongst other workers. The gracefulness she displayed during the final touch-up of the prepared dishes and plating. The foresight she demonstrated to calculate every second needed for the ingredients to finish preparing and cooking.

All That was not counting the unknown incidents that may happen, and throw a wrench in that seemingly tight working engines.

She accounted for the mayor’s daughter’s birthday. She predicted and acted accordingly when the wine aperitifs couldn’t come to a certain customer on time. She considered every customer’s preference in their dishes down to minute customization and details

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It is as if she had the whole kitchen side and customer side resting on her palm at all times.

However, despite how omnipotent she may seem, unfortunately, unaccounted-for mistakes still happen. My mother is but one person, and she couldn’t be in two places at once. Yet, she never looked back, because the other head chef had had her covered.

The trust, the camaraderie, the execution.

My heart was captured that day. Her visage shone so brightly like a sun in the sky and I could only watch the minutes of magic pass by like a shooting star as the peak hour died down to a calm stillness.

Toward the end, the dessert was prepared, it was her special Midnight Milky Way. She delivered a serving to me and gave me a tired smile, but behind that smile, I could see the satisfaction she emanated from knowing that today’s battle was a well-fought one.

Back in the kitchen side, I could see the same smile made its way to every chef who worked there.

I decided then and there, I wanted to be like her. Someone whom they can count on while being counted on in return.

I want to stand there on the stage and be their north star, just like my mom does.

So, all I had to study was how to cook and how to manage people, right?

If only it were that simple.

Alas, things never go according to plan from then onwards.

I tried my hardest at cooking. I really did. However, so far I have destroyed 3 stoves, 4 ovens, 2 blenders, 5 mixers, and a grill in the span of my brief 2 hours of cooking in the house kitchen. One time the kitchen triggered a fire alarm with purple smoke bellowing around what’s supposed to be a hamburger.

With Ballet at least I have my physical training to rely on and power through, but in the end, I had to reconcile with the fact that I have zero talent in cooking. My mother soothed me to sleep that night. The one thing I wanted felt so near within an arm’s reach, and yet so far at the same time.

The meaning of my name, and my brand of justice, what’s the point of it all if I couldn’t be what I had always desired to be?

I never wanted to give up, but I couldn’t just keep on making my servants clean up after me every time I make a mess out of the kitchen. They said to leave it to them and it’s alright to keep on trying, but I couldn’t bear to trouble them any more than this.

So I put cooking on hold for a while and practiced on my elegance hoping that it will help with my cooking process. My mom is an expert at tea ceremony, her steadfast and collected manner works nicely in the kitchen. I thought if I mimicked everything she did, I would eventually arrive beside her.

People follow those with a high level of charisma. So I should build my eloquence yes? I said that as the tea cup cracked due to my stirring. Why!? I was just stirring it normally.

Vexing. This is vexing indeed.

Is this what the easterner called bad luck? Are things simply not meant to be? It felt like I was standing in front of a great chasm. One that’s so wide you will need dozens upon dozens of years to build a bridge and pass through.

Yet, I couldn’t stop. My aspiration might have dimmed down, but my sense of justice persists. As long as I keep on moving forward, I’m sure one day I can reach that stage too, and shine as brightly as my mother.

That’s why when two thugs announced that they were selling their brand of justice through violence, I couldn’t tolerate it. How can they enforce a viewpoint upon others through wealth and physical might? Is that not tyranny?

“No, that’s what we call capitalism.”

“Oi Kuro, tone it down a bit.”

“Well, I am not wrong.”

“Yes, but lunchtime should be about a more cheerful topic.”

“Yep yep, that, and how do we convince Kon to join the theater club, and play as Cinderella.”

“Hey! I’m calling it first! He will play Juliet with Gerald as Romeo.”

“Are you guys crazy!? James should be the Romeo!”

“Weak! You filthy casuals still cling on to vanilla, heed my words-”

I didn’t understand half the talk we were having during lunchtime, but capitalism you say? The power of money? I was born rich so I know not the significance of something that I never lacked. Can money truly shape such a person to the degree of violence?

This is unacceptable! It goes against every value that our house embodied.

So I chased them to the rooftop, but I didn’t forget to unpack my spare lunchbox and share it amongst the girls beforehand.

Little did I know, that day marks as the beginning of my second turning point.

I was introduced to the knowledge of SpeedGear. Footwear with installed gears that can grant one the capability to travel faster, show off tricks that can be incorporated into dance techniques, and most notably, the capabilities to inflict pain onto others.

I should have been repulsed at the notion of entertaining such an idea, and yet, the caged fight that Venti showed me reveals the exact opposite of what I had assumed. Two SpeedGear users are locked in a battle where each one of them unleashes their martial prowess to emerge victorious.

Amidst all the cheering audience and the intoxicating fame, I saw the money that the winner won. It’s a meager amount compared to what I am used to, but the victor held the money board high above his head along with a golden belt as he roared his victory cries.

Is this capitalism? It doesn’t feel wrong somehow, but it’s hard to deny that money doesn’t play an important role in it. I understood that once I heard the winner give his closing speech about how the money would be used to better the life of his family.

So, the man used his thorn to invoke justice upon others, not because the other party had wronged him. It’s because he has something that he needs to protect. His family’s well-being. That and also the fame that followed.

I felt like I understood it a little better now. Violence can be enforced without personal feelings attached, like a duel between two gentlemen as they say. So, his justice protects his family and his happiness?

So where does my happiness lie?

When Kon showed me another video of a rondo between three people, I was reminded once again about my goal. It was not so much about the fast-paced duel that captured my heart.

It was how the magician and the catkin trusted one another with their entire being. They moved as though they were one unit. To rely on one another, like that day when a head chef covered mother’s blind spot.

Both of them shone brightly too as they fought against an unsurmountable being that is Aika Stormhunt. Even though they were losing, I found myself cheering for them. Hoping for them to overcome that barrier and emerge victorious.

In the end, they lost, but I didn’t feel disappointed. Both parties shook their hand together while saying good game.

That day, it felt like I was being shown to the gate to another world. I realized that there are different stages. Different battlefields, different beliefs, and different sets of justice.

I was tempted to step into that world, but I held back.

The image of my mother’s visage still imprinted brightly on me.

Isn’t becoming a head chef something I have always dreamt of? To stand in front of those 50 workers who count on you to lead them. Shouldn’t I be more charismatic like my mother?

All the things I have studied and learned did not prepare me for this dilemma and question that I am currently facing. I have prepared so much and studied so many topics, yet never once I could ever reach her or even stand beside her.

All because I have zero talent in cooking.

But is that true? Was my heart in the right place when I picked up and prepared those ingredients?

I……I don’t understand my heart anymore.

……

“Elizabeth, are you all right?”