Rumours (2)

Leonardo and I ducked down low against the castle wall to avoid being seen by Celestina. With a soft clatter, our shoulders bumped together, making a small noise. Unlike me, who was trapped between the wall and Leonardo with only his chin in view, he quietly peered outside and whispered.

「It seems like she has… no consciousness. Her eyes are open, but she looks like she's asleep at the same time.」

'What? So she's walking in her sleep?'

「Yeah. It seems like it. She's barefoot.」

Celestina was wandering around the castle in her nightclothes and barefoot in the dead of night. Hearing his words suddenly brought something to mind. On a night when I was struggling with insomnia, I had once searched for information about sleep disorders.

Hypersomnia, insomnia, sleepwalking… How many hidden dangers can lie within the simple act of sleeping? Most of them were caused by stress.

And they say sleepwalking often appears at a young age. How old is Celestina now? She's definitely older than Vittorio, but she doesn't seem like an adult, so she must be in her mid-teens.

At that moment, Leonardo moved a bit closer. He leaned his head slightly past my face, watching intently outside the castle wall, whispering softly.

「The young lady is mumbling something.」

'What is she saying?'

Then, he produced a calm and steady voice to form the words.

[Mother, it's cold. Please hold me tight. Just like before…]

Though Leonardo whispered, it felt as if Celestina's delicate tremors overlay those words. The cool autumn night air brushed against my back. I shivered slightly, and Leonardo wrapped his arm around me. I shook my head and whispered back.

'Let's go down.'

「Do you think that's okay?」

'We can't just leave her standing like that.'

Quietly, we descended the ladder to the ground below the castle wall. We approached the young girl standing dazed in the garden. In her dreamlike state, Celestina didn't seem to recognize me at all.

Attempting to wake her in this state isn't a good choice. Even in a half-asleep condition, human instincts are still active, and trying to wake her abruptly could be perceived as a threat, causing her to react aggressively. I took off my shoes and stepped onto the grass. The dew-soaked blades crunched softly beneath my feet.

"Please put them on, My Lady."

Celestina's bare feet slowly slipped into the shoes that had been left in front of her. The leather shoes, which were quite mismatched with her white, flowing nightgown, were too large for Celestina's feet, making her look like a little girl who had stolen her father's shoes.

I offered her the shoes, while Leonardo carefully draped the blanket he had wrapped around himself over Celestina's shoulders to dull the reflective sheen of his armour.

Though it appeared strange, like a child wrapped in thick blankets wearing her father's shoes, Celestina no longer shivered. Instead, she clutched the blanket in a daze, wriggling her toes and mumbling.

"It's warm. Mother…"

Then, with a smile, she added,

"Mother was a butterfly."

The meaning of her words was unclear. 

One of the common symptoms of sleepwalking, so responding to that would be foolish. We kept our distance and observed Celestina without disturbing her. Celestina muttered again, dazed.

"It's dark. I don't know the way back…"

At that moment, she looked even younger than Vittorio. A soothing tone instinctively escaped me as I spoke.

"Let's go. I know the way."

It was a line from the script, but what was meant to guide Leonardo was now Celestina's role. I led Celestina beneath the Rondine Tower. Since I was aware of the guards' patrol routes, there was no chance of encountering anyone. Celestina followed me obediently, her large shoes causing her to walk awkwardly, and the blanket dragged on the ground behind her.

"Alright. We've made it back safely, haven't we?"

Celestina gazed blankly at the tower before slowly entering inside. Only after watching her safely go in did I let out a deep sigh.

Should this be considered a success? In any case, the truth behind the ghost rumour had been confirmed. The ghost was not the late Countess who had died seven years ago, but rather Celestina, sleepwalking through the castle at night.

Not knowing what to say, I kept my mouth shut, and suddenly Leonardo reached out and lifted me up.

"What, what are you doing?"

"Well, now you're barefoot, aren't you?"

"I'm wearing socks, so it's fine to step on the ground… Hey!"

He subtly moved the hand that was supporting my knee and tickled the top of my foot. I tried to suppress my voice, but I couldn't stop a yelp from escaping. As my body jolted, I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck, fearing I would fall to the ground. Leonardo smiled slightly. It seemed he enjoyed seeing me flustered and embarrassed. Annoyed, I pinched his nose.

"Ouch," he muttered dryly, looking out toward the lakeside.

"Shall we head back now?"

"Yeah… It wasn't such a big deal after all."

For a brief moment, I had thought that in this fantasy world, ghosts might actually exist. But dead people truly do not come back. If they did, it wouldn't be a ghost; it would merely be a corrupted imitation of the deceased.

[Clear condition achieved!]

['Scenario Note #015′ has successfully concluded.]

After returning the armour, I boarded the coffin… or rather, the boat, and rowed back. The clear surface of the lake rippled, reflecting the sky above. As I absentmindedly watched the distorted shapes, the boat reached the small dock of the fortress.

I washed up and lay back in bed. Just before I closed my eyes, I offered a farewell.

"Good night."

Leonardo replied with something, but before I could even understand what he said, my eyes closed.

***

I'm dreaming.

After a very long time, Count Bermont has appeared. His body is melting like cheese stretched in the heat of midsummer, beginning to split open on both sides. The split flesh exposes bones and crimson tissue, writhing like the fins of a marine creature, yearning for something.

Humans.

It desires humans.

Was it the fourth reset? Yes, during the fourth attempt in the underground labyrinth of Sinistra—when Leonardo did not die, and Vittorio was also uninjured. However, just before we could escape, the exit was blocked, and we were overwhelmed at that moment.

At the brink of escape.

The appearance of Count Bermont, who had persistently chased us. 

Was it like a butterfly?

Like an insect tearing out of its cocoon, struggling to unfurl its wings, the creature hidden within wriggled in its tight shell, causing its back to bulge grotesquely. Then, like a ripe boil bursting, human skin popped open. Bones and organs spilled out from between the flesh, stretching outward like wings.

The act of creating gaps in his body to swallow humans. The movement of opening a kind of mouth before a meal. His back view. It looked very much like a grotesque butterfly.

[Mom was a butterfly.]

Celestina's dazed voice echoed in the dream. Soon, the figure of Count Bermont began to crunch and collapse, transforming into the unfamiliar visage of a middle-aged woman.

My imagination isn't that vivid, so it might have simply been an older version of Celestina's face, with a few more wrinkles added. The woman with brown hair and wall-like eyes split down her back, revealing the youthful and innocent face of Celestina peering through the gap.

With her eyes tightly shut, as if savouring her mother's embrace, Celestina resembled a small animal facing euthanasia—her expression ambiguous, caught between knowing and not knowing her impending fate. 

And at that moment, Count Ertinez noticed. With a thud, a bouquet of lilies fell to the ground, and then, and then…

I woke up.

***

"Shh."

Amidst my daze, I barely noticed someone gently patting my back. As I slowly became aware of the steady rhythm of their touch and the warmth of another body enveloping me, I began to recognize who it was.

Leonardo was quietly looking down, his hand rhythmically patting my back. I had unconsciously gripped his hand tightly, but he was now firmly holding onto mine in return, rendering my actions meaningless.

Surprised, I quickly released my grip, only for Leonardo to grasp my hand again. My voice came out rough and hoarse as I struggled to form words. 

"When did I—"

"It's all fine. Don't worry, Isaac."

What does he mean? Everything's fine? What is all this? Why does he seem so familiar? Though I occasionally felt a sense of restlessness while sleeping, could it be…?

"Is this not the first time?"

As I mumbled the question, Leonardo didn't answer right away; instead, he continued to massage my hand, bringing some colour back to it. After a brief pause, he finally added:

"Waking up in the middle is a first. Sorry, I think I left your side for a moment to use the bathroom."

"What…"

"It's okay. It's still dark outside, so you should try to sleep a bit more."

Leonardo's voice was laced with a hint of drowsiness. I watched him quietly, feeling a whirlwind of emotions that left me utterly speechless.

What on earth should I say?

'I don't feel well.'

I was embarrassed at revealing such a weak side of myself. I felt guilty for causing him to lose sleep, grateful for his care, and concerned about him all at once. Inside me, all those emotions melted and boiled together like something simmering in a cauldron, creating a nauseating churn that filled my stomach.

Resting my forehead against his shoulder, Leonardo continued to pat my back. He whispered that everything would be okay, that I'd be alright. So, I closed my eyes again.

Unlike the previous nightmares that I couldn't remember, this dream was vivid, firmly etched in my memory. It was a kind of realization gained through dreaming, making it hard to forget. The Count, who had ultimately killed what had become the Countess, had attempted to devour Celestina as well. Perhaps the Count had witnessed this act.

I couldn't quite guess how old Celestina had been seven years ago, but Ferdinand had mentioned she was at an age where she was just beginning to grasp the concept of 'death.' It seemed that at the time, she may not have understood the situation, only to later realize it or perhaps unconsciously retain the memory, which then triggered her sleepwalking.

As I realized how many people had been haunted by that nightmare, it struck me again that I was one of them, and I turned to look at the person by my side. Even when I lifted my heavy eyelids, I couldn't see Leonardo. As he said, morning had yet to arrive.

In a hushed voice, I barely managed to whisper, "Thank you."

"It'll be okay," he replied.

It truly felt as if it would be.