The Pain Of No Memories

[Iris Lefay]

"Ew."

A small drop of the creature's blood had splattered on me.

With a sigh, I pulled out a handkerchief, carefully dabbing away the offending stain before slipping it into my storage ring

That's going straight to the laundry. 

"Well. That was fun." I tried to joke, but the thought of what happened to those innocent women pressed heavily in my mind.

A mechanical squawk echoed through the alley, followed by the rhythmic flapping of metal wings.

Perry descended gracefully from the railing, his silver feathers gleaming under the twin moons.

I smiled as my faithful mechanima perched lightly on my shoulder. "You were amazing, Perry."

My fingers ran along his metallic feathers—surprisingly soft despite their composition.

He responded by pecking at my ear piercings, and I let out a quiet chuckle.

"Yes, yes. You're a good boy."

I gently nudged his beak away. "Why don't you take a well-earned flight?"

Perry tilted his head, his jeweled blue eyes glowing faintly—eerily lifelike as they studied me.

I could almost feel the question behind them.

I stroked his mechanical neck. "You earned it. Thank you for finding Francis."

A soft whir filled the air as his actuators adjusted, wings extending in a flawless, calculated motion.

Perry launched skyward with a single, powerful beat—a silver blur against the darkened sky.

I watched as he climbed higher and higher until he was nothing more than a faint glimmer against the vastness above.

It would be some time before he returned to the ground.

I let out a slow breath. "Whisper."

The shadows stirred, and seamlessly, she stepped forward.

My Phantom Knight.

We're the same age, but she is a bit taller than me.

Dressed in an all-black ensemble—a sleeveless turtleneck, fitted combat pants, reinforced boots, and sleek gauntlets hugging her hands—Whisper was every bit the perfect shadow.

A black mask concealed the lower half of her face, but it did little to obscure her striking beauty.

Her golden eyes, glowing with an amber sheen, flickered toward the remains of Tumblety before settling on me.

Her long silver hair, tied back in a ponytail, swayed slightly as she shifted.

Oh, and she looks absolutely stunning in her maid's uniform.

Whisper is an S-ranker like me and is one of the finest Phantom Knights. Although they were only assigned to members of the Royal Family, the High Queen made an exception for me. 

Along with the task of protecting me, she also walks the halls of Winchester Manor, helping my aunt manage the estate with the same grace she wielded a blade.

I met her gaze. The question left my lips before I could stop it.

"...Did I do the right thing?"

Whisper said nothing at first. Her golden eyes flickered once more to Tumblety's bloodied remains.

Then she spoke, her voice soft yet devoid of any emotion.

"Considering what he had done, execution was inevitable," she said, voice even. "Had the police arrested him, he would have met the same fate."

Her gaze remained on me. "However, your method of execution was far more fitting, in my opinion."

I couldn't help but crack a smile at her answer in her signature monotonous tone.

"You really know how to butter me up."

Whisper tilted her head. "I am just pointing out the obvious, Miss Iris."

"Although I'm afraid Detective Abberline won't be happy," she added as if reading my thoughts.

A sigh escaped my mouth. "Oh, trust me, he will be livid."

I glanced around. "I bet he's watching us right now. The poor guy is going to pop a vein."

"Perhaps we could provide him with free meals and beverages the next time he visits the cafe?" Whisper suggested.

My lips curled into a grin. "Precisely my idea."

Then I noticed Whisper shifting slightly, as if there is something else she wished to say.

"What is it?" I asked after an awkward pause.

"The High Queen has asked if you would like to join her for lunch tomorrow," Whisper said.

I was quite puzzled. "She didn't go with His Majesty to the Banquet of Crowns?"

Whisper shook her head. "High Princess Morgan and Lady Merlin accompanied the High King."

After a pause, she said. "Her Majesty remained because… tomorrow is the anniversary."

Ah.

I almost forgot.

Tomorrow marks exactly one year since High Prince Mordred Pendragon fell into the Tear.

Mordred…

Even just thinking about his name, I felt that strange sensation again, a fluttering in my heart and a tingling on my lips.

They were immediately followed by an indescribable pain and loss that I couldn't control. It was as if my body was reacting every time I thought about him.

Even now, I can feel my soul crying for him.

Why?

Why am I experiencing this? What was my relationship with Mordred Pendragon? What happened between us in my lost past?

At first, I thought we were just good friends, but now, I'm not so sure.

I took a deep breath, shoving those thoughts aside before they could spiral.

I calmed myself down and looked at the night sky peeking between the towering walls of the alley.

Why the fuck can't I remember anything?

For two years, I've tried to uncover my past. I've asked so many people, including High Queen Guinevere herself.

But I always got the same carefully crafted answers. As if parts of my life had been… censored.

There are many questions.

Why was I sent to the Shield? 

What happened to me in the Shield? Why is my body covered in these horrible scars?

Why did my father hate me… and yet leave me his entire fortune?

Why is my name Iris Lefay and not Iris Karsus?

Why do suck at brewing tea and coffee?

So many questions, and not even an inkling of an answer.

I cleared my mind and refocused on Whisper. "It's been a year, huh?"

She nodded awkwardly. I tried to read her expression, but she remained as impassive as ever.

I once heard that Whisper was supposed to be Mordred's Phantom Knight, but due to his unique circumstances, that never came to pass.

I still don't understand why Queen Guinevere assigned her to me. 

Perhaps it's because I am kind of part of the Royal Family since I am the adopted daughter of Sir Kay, and he is the adoptive brother of the High King.

This is very confusing.

Regardless, High Queen Guinevere had always treated me like her own daughter. 

And I even got the opportunity to engage in sparring with her, which greatly helped me in my growth as a warlock.

The same could be said for High Prince Gawain. We're great friends, and he's like an awesome brother.

Sometimes, I envied Mordred Pendragon for having such an amazing brother.

And High Princess Morgan is starting to open up to me. Who knew the Ice Princess was not only cold but socially awkward as well?

But whenever we interact, I sense a crushing guilt cleverly hidden behind her smiles. I don't know why.

As for High Princess Elaine, we never really interacted since she spends all of her time in her room.

And then… There was little Trinity.

She always brought a smile to my face. That little girl was just the most adorable thing in the entire world.

And finally, the High King.

Truly a man of mystery. A man of contradictions. cold yet fair, distant, yet devoted. A man who calculates every single thing he does, every action meticulously thought out. 

A true enigma.

He clearly adores his family, but in his own way. He wasn't one for warm and affectionate words, but he ensured their safety, wellbeing, and futures.

But love? It is there, hidden behind his cold and ruthless mask.

Despite rumors branding him a terrible father, I've seen a glimpse of something more. 

The support and admiration he gives to Morgan and Gawain, the subtle queries about Elaine's condition, and the adoration he gives to Trinity

Even with me, he never acted dismissively. Every time we crossed paths in the Royal Palace, he acknowledged me, spoke with patience, and on the rarest of occasions, even gave me a small smile.

And yet…

How could such a person neglect his son for thirteen years and then send him to the deadliest battlefield on the planet? 

Was it because Mordred was weak? Or was it because of the death of High Queen Morgause?

I just can't wrap my head around it.

I shook my head again. No use stewing about it. It was the same as wondering about my lost memories.

A big fucking headache.

I turned to Whisper, who stood by silently, waiting patiently for me to finish my inner monologue.

Goodness. This girl is bloody dedicated.

With a small smile, I gave her a nod. "Tell Her Majesty I'd be delighted to come over. Also, it's been some time since I had seen little Trinity."

Whisper closed her golden eyes in acknowledgment. "Very well. I will convey it to her Majesty and arrange your clothing with Miss Adeline."

She regarded me quietly for a moment, then tilted her head slightly. "Is there anything else?"

Damn. She is sharp.

I hesitated, shuffling my feet—carefully avoiding Tumblety's blood, mind you.

Suddenly, I felt... nervous.

Why the hell am I nervous?

"Um…" I exhaled, trying to steady my voice. "Can you tell Her Majesty I wish to visit his grave?" I asked, feeling the ache whenever any thought of him entered my mind.

Whisper held my gaze for a moment before giving a slight nod. "Of course, Miss Iris. Though I doubt you need permission from the High Queen for that."

I forced a small chuckle. "Still. It is good courtesy to do so."

"Very well. I'll inform Her Majesty," she stepped back, and the shadows rippled, coalescing around her slim figure.

"Oh. Detective Abberline is here," she added before stepping into the shadows.

I let out a quiet laugh. "Oh, I already know, Whisper.".

"Lefay!" 

An extremely annoyed voice yelled at me from the entrance of the alley.

I let out a sigh. Here we go again.

"You're a bit late, Freddie!" I called out.

"I know that, damnit!"

Frederick Abberline stormed toward me, his disheveled maroon hair whipping in the wind, the hem of his trench coat fluttering behind him.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and fit, yet despite being the same age as the Crown Princess, he looked like he was in his thirties.

The Londonix Butcher case had clearly taken its toll on him.

No wonder he's cranky.

His tired emerald green eyes landed first on the remains of Tumblety and then settled on me, making me flinch unconsciously.

Though he is an A ranker, Frederick is a formidable and talented warlock, a genius just like the Crown Princess.

"I saw everything," he said flatly.

I stuck out my tongue. "Oops."

He just exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Oh, he's definitely going to pop a vein.

His stigma, Wandering Ghost, enables him to project his consciousness outside of his body, essentially making him a kind of nonexistent ghost that cannot be detected by anything.

Perfect for surveillance and gathering information.

Of course, like every powerful stigma, it had its drawbacks.

The moment Freddie left his body, it was completely defenseless.

If someone stabbed him while he was in ghost form? Too bad.

And the longer he stayed out, the harder it was to return.

Oh, and the best part?

Anything that happened to his spirit form would be reflected on his body the moment he reentered it.

For example, if a bus hit him while he was in his ghost form, he'd be totally fine at first. It would just phase through him.

But the moment he returned to his body?

He'd experience the full force of getting hit by a fucking bus.

Also, he couldn't interact with anything. At all.

Yep. A weird stigma, indeed.

Frederick's eyes went back to Tumblety's remains; he stepped past me and crouched beside the mutilated corpse, examining the damage.

"Incarni! You are bloody brutal!" he remarked, picking up Tumblety's blood-soaked watch and holding it up with a grimace.

I arched an eyebrow and teased. "Contaminating the evidence, are we?"

"I'm in charge of this case, so it's fine," he said, dismissing it, putting the watch back in its original position.

He let out a low growl. "All that tireless investigation, all those sleepless nights… and the slimy wanker ends up getting killed by you."

I shrugged. "You were the one who gave me the contract."

He stood up. "Actually, Duke Londonix drafted the contract," he sighed. "Well. It did state dead or alive."

Frederick rubbed his temples, exhaling sharply before shaking his head. "The moment the Duke requested assistance from the Royal Police—and you—this bastard was already a dead man."

"Although," his gaze locked onto mine. "How did you even catch him with your atrocious sense of direction?"

"Ah," I grinned. "Tumblety left behind some kind of bright, smoky trail, which was quite easy for me to follow."

I rubbed the back of my head sheepishly. "Even with that, I… may have taken some wrong turns. Thankfully, Perry was able to track him."

Frederick's expression flatlined. "Even with a bright glowing trail. You managed to get lost?"

I stuck out my tongue. "Hehe."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, HEHE?" he threw his arms up in frustration.

I just grinned wider.

He groaned, muttering under his breath before letting out a long, exhaustive sigh.

His gaze lingered on Tumblety's decapitated and dismembered body, and for a brief second, I noticed a faint regret in his face.

I frowned. "Why did you want him alive?"

Why does he want a depraved serial killer alive?

Frederick let out a sigh. "I wanted to question him. I wanted to know why he killed those women."

I shook my head. "He was a mad man, Freddie."

"Even mad men have their stories, Lefay," he replied, his emerald gaze met mine, sharp and unwavering.

I held my gaze with his and sighed. "I bet they do."

Turning away, I muttered. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you the chance."

"If it's any consolation, the next time you visit the cafe, drinks and food are on the house," I added in a brighter tone.

Frederick chuckled. "I'll be sure to visit. As long as you're not the one making the drinks. I don't want to die of poisoning."

I scowled. "Oh, fuck you."

I waved lazily over my shoulder. "See you later, Freddie. Tell the Duke to send in my compensation."

His voice followed me. "You're the youngest billionaire in the Kingdom. Why are you even taking commissions like this?"

I looked back with a smirk. "I'm not just a billionaire. I'm a genius, philanthropist, and a friendly neighborhood warlock."

"You mean a murderous vigilante?" Frederick scoffed.

I laughed, turning on my heel.

"You know… That sounds quite accurate."