Suiming

  Suiming looked at the gray-haired Auderheimian girl. Her light blue, almost lavender, dress was covered in blood as she sobbed. The dark crimson painted her, staining the blemishless and dragging it down to the plane of dishonored violence. That stain looked similar to Suiming’s bloodstain on his suit, drying in the daylight. With the only difference being that Suiming had his blood on it

  Nobody looked in her direction, not a single person noticed or even had the slightest idea of what happened. Suiming hoped that there weren’t any officers nearby, but regardless, he could always show the memories with his Realm-art. She looked so similar. So similar to what? Existences forsaken! Why did I think that?!

  “Shh, it’s safe now, it’s safe now,” Suiming said in Auderheimian, grabbing a handkerchief and wiping her tears. The strange power of that man in yellow struck him while the train had just arrived after Seren dealt with the faustus. That was strange, and it was definitely granted by Existence, which seemed so eerily similar to the power of a Barricade warping the space itself, wrenching his gut, but that man couldn’t be one. It was also different from the power of his monocle; both of them could cast Realm-art as much as they wanted. Suiming could feel the distinct scent of that Existence.

  The Yellowcoat troupe, those unsacred by the strength of those things that I wouldn’t even dare to think about.

  The scent was not similar to any Existence humans worshiped, Unknown Existence. At first, he was skeptical of it, but there was no room for any other answer. It was something far more obscure than the colloquial grotesque beings mankind called gods. Extremely reminding him of Nameless, the similarity of Nameless’ creations straining the fabric of This World and the warping of that man. And the knowledge that man had…made him pray that it was only that man’s lucky guess. Suiming looked up at the sky as the noise of a city center came back alive, the dead, empty world reanimated as Suiming lost sense of that man in yellow. The troupe was merely two hundred years old, but Suiming never felt so threatened by a small organisation before…and what Josh told him seemed like even the titans of society agreed.

  People stomping the ground, talking and laughing, trains dragging their wheels on the track as birds flee from the trees.

  “Vogel Street… take me there,” the girl whispered as she stood up. Her blue eyes swayed as she wiped off her tears. She dusted her dress with her free hand. Her stance was that of a frightened cat, hair messy as if puffed up to make her look bigger, body stiff and unfree. This must be Sage; she does look like a student.

  “The flowers bloom extra colorful this year, don’t you reckon?” Suiming said, looking into the girl’s eyes. Hoping that he didn’t ask the wrong person the question.

  “Especially the herbs, I would love to have some sage for seasoning,” the girl answered without hesitation. She sorted her messy hair back into order, curls and waves of her hair went behind her shoulders, as she gave Suiming a polite smile, as if it was a stamp on a document.

  “But, mister, one must give their name to others before any further interaction, as it is the essential politeness,”

  “Suiming, don’t forget me, and your name?” Suiming asked, stretching his hand for a handshake. The girl answered with a gentle handshake. Her body loosened up a bit, stance natural and relaxed, but Suiming could still tell the aftertaste of fear in her.

  “Silvia Himmelazur, may wisdom and health be with you,” Silvia said as Suiming let her hand go.

  “Are you a good titrater by any chance?” he asked, adjusting his hat. Silvia chuckled.

  “My teacher said the same thing, but I’m more fascinated by qualitative analysis.”

  …

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  Neon

  She closed her eyes. The freshly implanted Realm-art and its strength flowed in her. It felt as if a second heart was in her, humming to the rhythm of her flesh heart. Sunshine warmed her skin as foreign tongues spoke around her. Neon was not sure how the Auderheimians enforced the rule, prohibiting public casting, but she wouldn’t want to find out.

  The troupe, the yellowcoat troupe, why are they after Suiming?

  Neon thought as she opened her eyes. She held her luggage as she waited for Seren to squeeze herself out of the train. The luggage was not particularly heavy; she only carried clothes, the journal, and other necessities. Yesterday’s incident bothered her. Though she was protected by Seren and could protect herself, after being able to sense the ebb and flow of Realm-art, Neon could feel the battle that went on. In the flashing of Suiming’s stars, she saw that man in yellow. That yellow coat that her father so desperately tried to hide from her. And she saw the pale white cosmetics. That haunting white was not as graceful and impressive as the ones she had seen in Siyuenese theaters, not the ones her father painted when she asked to see them. It was crooked, a humiliation on the art itself. And the wave of casting was something far more foul than she imagined. If Acryl’s casting was an ever-changing river, Suiming’s a fountain’s water, Seren’s a resting sea, then that Realm-art was the polluted still water of factories.

  “Neon?” Acryl said as he rubbed his eyes. The sleeves of his linen jacket were rolled down, his expression tired, even if he wasn’t involved in the battle.

  “Acryl, how’ya feeling now?” Neon asked, turning to Acryl.

  “Better than before…” Acryl answered, eyes looking past Neon. He was hiding something from her. Neon could tell that. He didn’t say what happened in that manor, didn’t say how he got away from that Auderheimian man…and why the Letter-Writer herself seemed to be owing him a favor. Despite that, it was not the time and place for asking him, if Acryl never asked a thing about the journal, then she wouldn’t ask what happened in the manor.

  “Aren’t you hot in that jacket?” Neon asked, lifting her bag with a water bottle stuffed on the side of it. Acryl smiled, that smile of telling people around him not to worry about him, that smile of an insomniac telling her that they got enough sleep last night. Acryl took the water bottle, holding it in his hand on the injured arm as he unscrewed the cork.

  “Neon, I think we might have a problem,”

  “Why?” Neon said as Acryl drank from the bottle.

  “Do you speak Auderheimian?” Acryl asked, screwing the bottle back.

  “Do you speak Auderheimian?”

  They both stood there before Neon started to gently laugh, almost like when she tried to copy what Acryl wrote on his test, only to find out that Acryl was trying to copy off her.

  “What are we gonna do after Suiming finishes his business here?” Neon asked.

  “…I think maybe we should visit Havel?” Acryl said, stretching his arm.

  Neon didn’t answer; she looked past Acryl at the city of Rinstadt. The famous river was not far away. Sunlight broke into strands in it, dazzling as the river flowed. By the river, people walked in pairs or in groups of laughing friends, or just walking their pets. Even if such life were so familiar to her, Neon felt that this mundanity was steering away, slowly drifting like the curtain call slowly coming.

  “What do I want?” Neon whispered. She bolted up and looked around, hoping that nobody had heard her question that she’d only asked when she felt lost. On the other side, Suiming and the girl in blue chattered; she couldn’t hear what they were chatting about, nor could she understand Auderheimian.

  “I ask that question, too,” Acryl said as he stepped next to Neon.

  “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to say you are mean or something…”

  “But what is that you want?” Neon asked as she stepped closer to Acryl, their shoulders next to each other, their paths the same.

  “I…don’t know…There are just so many things I can’t wrap my mind about, I can’t see a clear direction, it’s like I’m wanting something…but that thing is blurry…” Acryl said, his words slurring together, almost like a broken bracelet, beads of weighted memories and feelings falling out of the strings.

  “…And…I don’t even know if you should be here…” Acryl muttered.

  “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “It isn’t your fault that you’ve changed. And…I wanted to come with you. I-I knew that this wouldn’t be an easy trip, but…hey, it’s still interesting!”

  Acryl smiled. Suiming was waving at them as Neon looked into Acryl’s eyes. His gray iris seemed livelier than yesterday. In the reflection, she saw herself- her hair messy, expression exhausted. But there was something unchanged- her joy in her smile to see the world, to walk the road she had only read about.