I am in a forest. A forest in the silent night. A forest with tree friends spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning until they return to the sky. A forest where I can feel the taste of moonlight with every footstep—it has a dry metallic taste, the scent of gunpowder, the fragrance of the wind, and the flavor of the 7 remarkable algebraic identities. What my heel senses first is the square of a sum, followed by the square of a difference, embellished by the difference of two squares; finally, the aftertaste lingering on my heel is the cube of a sum, the cube of a difference, the sum of two cubes, and the difference of two cubes. 3.1415926535897932384626433 8327950288419716939937510. A forest where morning birds illuminate the entire dark sky. A forest where a boy follows the glowing feathers of the birds. A forest where the destination of the birds is a transparent lake shore where white camellias grow. A forest where, when looking up at the sky, it is narcissus flowers.
I gradually approach the lake, gazing at my face in the water. There is nothing at all, nothing but the still surface, nothing but flowers, nothing but the chemical bond between the most common isotope of hydrogen—with a structure consisting of just 1 proton and 1 electron—and the chalcogen with atomic number 8. Yet, absolutely no sign of my own face.
I try to get closer to the lake to see my face clearly. Closer, closer, closer closer, closer, closer closer, closer, closer until I realize I am in the middle of the lake. And I'm flying.
I fall upward into the sky with the stars, with the birds, with pianos playing the impromptu in C-sharp minor by F. Chopin, with the apples.
When I fly high enough, I touch the absolute edge of the sky; it creates ripples just like the surface of a lake. Soft, gentle, warm, and incredibly cold.
"Akusha-chan"
The voice of a woman appearing to be around 20 to 25 years old rings out, and Akusha gradually comes to. Looking around, the surroundings are familiar, no longer that forest.
"Mommy. The forest, flying, morning birds, spinning."
Still smiling gently, the woman says
"Akusha-chan has relapsed into her oneiric delusion again. Now, it's time to take your medicine."
She carries him into the house. It is a very tall house with a vast garden where hundreds of peonies, sunflowers, vibrant carnations, and stella flowers bloom—the latter being flowers shaped like a four-pointed star. All of them, all these flowers, all this beauty and poetry crystallize into a garden filled with sunshine and verse. The window frames glisten, for they are made of hundreds of stained-glass shards arranged into a flower blooming within a flame; etched inside the bud is a small inscription: "Prometheus A". Those window frames emit a light that is both wondrous and terrifying—terrifying not because of its beauty, but because of the master of this mansion.
Opening the door, there is nothing but a dense, foul-smelling darkness all around. But when she raises one hand high into the air and snaps her fingers, everything suddenly brightens.
She gently places Akusha on a chair while she goes to look for the medicine. She rummages through the medicine cabinet, but the medicine has already run out.
"Akusha-chan, wait for Mommy a moment while I go buy some."
She hurriedly opens the door and departs, leaving him behind in this house.
She walks to the pharmacy; though the distance is short, the road is filled with whispers. Houses hurriedly slam their doors shut, people keep their heads bowed low toward the ground, children sob uncontrollably, and even the flowers wither away.
"Welcome to the pharmacy under NACAM, short for the National Agency for Chemical-Alchemical Management. You must have proper documentation to conduct a transaction; please present your papers."
As she stands before the counter, the greeting is delivered in a clear and professional manner.
"Here are my papers, just like always."
The girl looks at it for a moment, then says,
"Name: Endsilver. 53 years old. Gender: Female. Date of birth: April 1, 1267. Your transaction request is approved."
"Don't you get tired of reading this every single day?"
"I'm sorry, this is a mandatory procedure."
Endsilver didn't have to wait long before the girl brought her two bottles of medicine.
"Benzodiazepines, to be used for 2 to 4 weeks. Take before bedtime and do not perform activities that require concentration. Do not consume with alcohol. Do not abruptly stop or increase the dosage without consulting a certified medical professional."
Endsilver gently bid her goodbye and departed to the clicking sound of her high heels, leaving the girl behind to talk to a wildflower by the roadside.
"Venlafaxine, to be used for 2 to 4 weeks, though usage should still be continued if symptoms do not disappear. Do not increase or decrease the dosage on your own. Take in the evening, and it must absolutely be at a fixed hour in the evening to maintain a stable concentration of the drug. Do not stop abruptly; avoid alcohol and stimulants. Furthermore, if you wish to use any other medication besides Benzodiazepines and Venlafaxine, you must inform a certified medical professional. Please follow the instructions. Thank you."
She bowed 90 degrees to bid farewell to the lazily drifting clouds.
Inside Endsilver's mansion.
"Akusha looks out through the glistening window frame. He sees humans—or rather, the heretics. They are terrified, disgusted, blasphemous, and blind before his white-haired goddess Aphrodite.
HERETICS! SENTENCED TO THE FIERY TOMB IN THE INFERNAL CAPITAL!"
You shall be condemned to a land choked with a chaotic expanse of sarcophagi stretching into infinity. The fires of hell will encircle and scorch these stone ramparts for billions upon billions of millennia, glowing as crimson as the brutal sins you have inflicted upon that poor, wretched lily. There is no wind, no morning sun, and absolutely no tenderness. Only a thick, acrid cloud of poisonous smoke billowing from the depths of the tombs, alongside the endless, agonizing wails echoing without cease. The blistering heat sears your flesh, yet you cannot die a second time—unworthy of death, and even less deserving of life!
Go ahead, drag your burn-scarred upper bodies out from the mouths of your tombs, strain your eyes to peer through the toxic smoke! Your eyes will only glint with the ultimate agony that you so richly deserve, laying bare the profound melancholy of those who strayed onto the wrong path. And then, when the Day of Final Judgment arrives, those stone lids will slam shut. Imprisoning the horde of heretics for 13,787 billion years, exiling you to the very end of the river of time, until the flowers bloom. From that moment on, you will be buried completely alive in the dense darkness and solitary flames, never again to see a single ray of light or hear the footsteps of anyone passing by. NEVER. You must...
"I've returned, my dear!"
Interrupting his train of thought, Akusha runs to embrace his mother tightly, just like the way Endsilver embraces her flowers: passionately and intensely.
In that mansion, there are only three people: Endsilver, Akusha, and the ticking of the clock. Akusha sits drinking the rest of tonight's medicine while Endsilver stays by his side, gazing at him with affectionate eyes.
At 9:00 PM on June 12, 1320:
'Akusha-chan! Time to go to sleep.'
Akusha lies on that bed with Endsilver. While resting in her warm embrace, he suddenly feels that something is missing—something he has every night.
'Mommy, a fairy tale.'
'Oh, I forgot. Wait for me a moment.'
Endsilver springs up and walks over to the bookshelf. Her hand glides over each book, such as B-612, Sublime Comedy, Sun and Iron, Twenty Thousand Leagues Over the Sky… and finally, her hand rests upon The Little Princess Stella Flower.
Endsilver sat in the chair; the golden light from the bedside lamp seemed to envelop and warm the room, highlighting her platinum hair that cascaded down to her heels.
''Once upon a time, there was a princess on a planet of giant baobabs. Every day, her life revolved solely around watching the stars.
Then, one day, she opened up the baobab tree to search for an answer to a question that did not exist. She journeyed across hills where the wind howled incessantly, where she encountered a man consumed by hatred because the one he loved had married a wealthy nobleman. She asked him:
''What is your answer?''
''Crush and move forward.''
Disappointed, she traveled through a field where a young man kept charging at a windmill. She asked him:
''What is your answer?''
''Knight and move forward.''
Disappointed, she traveled to a place where a young man crossed hell guided by a girl who was surely more fortunate. She asked him:
"What is your answer?"
"Beatrice and move forward."
Disappointed once more, she traveled through the pyramids where a shepherd boy turned into the wind. But the answer regarding the special thing remained an indefinite shape. She asked him:
"What is your answer?"
"Fatima and move forward."
Then, as she passed through a forest of flowers, there was an old man who made his living cutting bamboo. While walking in the bamboo grove, he saw a glowing flower as large as a full-grown adult. He approached, and it bloomed to reveal a little princess. The old man and his wife had no children, so they decided to adopt her and named her "Hana Hime." The princess, now known as Hana Hime, wanted to continue her journey, but why would she need to go any further when she had already found it—the answer meant solely for herself?
The old man continuously found gold inside other bamboo stalks, helping the family become incredibly wealthy. Hana Hime lived in luxury and grew into a beautiful young maiden, highly skilled in music and song. Many princes and nobles came to propose to her. Even the Emperor, having heard of her renown, came to invite her into the palace as an imperial consort. To reject these offers, she demanded that they find the most extraordinary sunflower in the world.
No one could fulfill her demand, so she lived on with the old man and his wife. She lived alongside the wind, the flowers, the songs, the laughter, and the gentle dawn. That rose kept blooming, its fragrance drifting endlessly without a single trace of withering; but the couple—now her parents—were not like that. Until the day they died of old age, she remained a young maiden.
She slowly withered away beside their grave because she refused to leave them, forever longing for those cherished years.
Until a shepherd came and asked to marry her. Hana Hime made the same demand as before: to find the most extraordinary sunflower in the world.
"I do not have one."
He spoke briefly, then sat down beside her and said:
"But I have the most extraordinary rose in the world."
Upon understanding his implication, her heart lingered on the image of the shepherd. And he had succeeded—he had pulled her out of the darkness, and he had brought back her smile.
They married, and Hana Hime had done it too; she could walk on her own now. Though she still loved and remembered, those feelings did not turn into shackles to bind her down.
"What will you do if I die?"
Hana Hime smiled and said:
"Hope and move forward."
Around their home, pure white flowers shaped like four-pointed stars began to bloom, even covering the grave of Hana Hime's parents. From then on, people called those blossoms Stella flowers. They signified both filial piety and gratitude, while also representing grown children who must now leave their parents' embrace, yet still move forward with unwavering faith.''
By the time Endsilver finished reading the story, Akusha had already fallen asleep. She walked over and gently pulled the blanket up to keep him from catching a chill, then went down to the living room.
Endsilver brought two small cups from the kitchen. Setting them on the large table in the living room, she placed one cup in front of her seat and the other in front of the empty chair opposite. Each cup was filled two-thirds full, leaving the remaining third empty.
Endsilver kept waiting. She held the white pendant hanging around her neck; it emitted a cold, silvery gleam, her eyes glinting within the mystical light on its surface. Its border shone with a brilliant, shimmering gold and was adorned with crystal beads holding enchanting shades of blue. It was attached to a chain crafted from the rare gems of the sea, and most notably, it was engraved with the two letters "GD".
"E n d s i l v e r."
A woman's low voice rang out. Endsilver snapped her fingers.
"Come in."
The door shook violently, as if she wanted to tear it apart, yet the space remained dead silent. Ultimately, the woman relented and opened it the conventional way.
"This door is as troublesome as ever. Stop imbuing it with alchemy—wouldn't it be faster if I just kicked it down?"
"If you keep that up, you'll wake Akusha-chan."
"You know what I am about to say."
"Of course."
8:00, June 13, 1320
Akusha woke up, but his mother was nowhere to be seen. He left to look for her.
"Mother?"
As Akusha walked, he kept calling for his mother, but no matter how loudly he tried to call out, the only response was silence and nothingness. Not in the living room, not in the kitchen, not in the bathroom, not in the library, not under the bed, not on the crystal chandelier... outside the window... there she was.
Akusha opened the door, running swiftly to Endsilver's side at the front gate. She stroked his head and pulled out a very thick book, upon which the words "The Flower Diary" were written. She said softly,
"Sayounara, Akusha-chan." (Goodbye, Akusha-chan.) "Ki wo tsukete itterasshai. Hayaku kaette kite ne." (Take care on your way. Come back soon.)
WAKE UP
Akusha woke up, still clutching that book to his chest, but his mother was gone. He ran back to that gate; it was still there, it was just that the reason that made it beautiful was no longer there.
Akusha stepped inside and sat in the room, telling himself that his mother would return. IT WAS CERTAINLY SO, IT COULD NOT BE OTHERWISE.
Akusha kept waiting—waiting in the morning sun, waiting before the distant shore, waiting for the boat to dock, waiting for flowers to bloom, waiting for flowers to wither, waiting for... mother.
The longer he waited, the more time felt as if it were being stretched out. He looked at the clock; only... 0.87617 milliseconds had passed.
Then from afar, down a long, stretching corridor, a sound both devout and chaotic rang out, sounding like a woman's low voice.
Akusha followed the sound. The closer he drew, the more familiar it felt. The source of the sound was the bedroom he shared with his mother. Opening that door, he found a blanket on the bed covering something that looked remarkably like a human form. Atop that blanket were the strange shapes of numerous talismans.
Akusha stepped forward slowly, carefully pulling back the blanket out of curiosity. He saw... countless tulips.
And that sound was right behind him.
Akusha turned around. Before him stood the figure of a woman with black hair streaked with white. She was incredibly tall—around three meters—and was kneeling in the middle of a blood-red circle. She slowly stood up, fixed her deep, dark eyes on him, and lunged toward him.
She choked him and began to laugh, laughing so hard that blood began to ooze from her throat.
"There's no alchemist as kind as me. Want to test that theory?"
Then, she dragged Akusha down to the basement—a place he never even knew existed in the house. The door was locked, but with a single swing of her arm, it shattered into pieces.
The interior of the basement resembled a laboratory. Akusha found it bizarre that the room was decorated with a deep red paint—so much crimson paint. There were numerous pinkish things he typically saw inside the bodies of the dead, as well as many round, ball-like objects that looked vividly alive, just like eyes.
In addition, there were plenty of "kitchen utensils" inside, such as knives, an operating table, chopsticks, a Desert Eagle chambered in .50 Action Express with nine rounds, spoons, anesthetics, bowls, saws, pots, a guillotine, a dining table, chairs, chains... and many other things he couldn't name. Their only common trait was that they were all razor-sharp.
She placed him on an operating table and snapped her fingers. Following that snap, a flame erupted beneath his skin, rotting it from the inside out. Akusha screamed in agony, but she snapped her fingers once more. Invisible chains wrapped tightly around his throat, choking back his screams. His skin withered into gray ash. One by one, his senses abandoned him, leaving him with nothingness, with silence.
Mingling with Akusha's tears was a piercing laugh. She watched with delight as he suffered—in agony but unable to scream, in agony but unable to struggle, in agony but with no way out. But then, as if responding to an invisible voice, she pressed her hand to her ear, talking and nodding along in agreement.
She snapped her fingers again, but this time, it wasn't to inflict more pain upon Akusha—it was to undo it. His body gently broke free from the shackles of agony. And she... ripped his heart out. His tiny, crimson heart lay nestled in her palm—still warm, still beating.
"Blessing: Alchemical Eye Technique"
Only moments ago she had been laughing maniacally, but now she was pouting like a child.
"Sensei-chan is so mean! You won't even let me play for just a little longer."
She shoved the heart back into the gaping hole in Akusha's abdomen, where it "re-integrated" with his body with unbelievable speed.
"Mata ashita." (See you tomorrow)
Akusha felt utterly exhausted, and he wanted to sleep. Gradually, he drifted into dreams, leaving behind the lingering pain inside his body.
Sleep. He's sleeping. He's asleep.
Akusha opened his eyes to find his warm bedroom around him. He was lying among the tulips. Slowly, he sat up.
"Come here, Akusha-chan."
A voice echoed from the Void Abyss. It was one of the deepest abysses humanity had ever discovered—at least, that was all he knew. Looking out the window, he saw a crowd of people standing around the mouth of the abyss; some were cheering, while others celebrated as if a momentous event were taking place. And he, too, wanted to go see it.
Akusha ran along paths covered with green grass, over slopes covered with the morning light, and stepped past ancient houses covered with the traces of time.
And then, upon reaching the mouth of the abyss, the crowd was so dense that Akusha had to squeeze his way past one person after another just to see clearly. Bit by bit, he could now see the entire scene above the mouth of the abyss—a path made of marble leading to a chamber, the very place where explorers could descend into the depths. And there, right at the center, was her. With a figure as unnaturally tall as that, he could absolutely never mistake her for anyone else. He backed away step by step, as the pain from yesterday seemed to return to tear through his chest. And in his ears, he heard it.
"Manifest: Lullaby"