12 O'Clock Marionette-Chapter 46

My words seemed to provoke Minuet—she clenched her teeth.

"Help? Help with what? What could you possibly do to help me?"

"Just listen."

"Oh, so now that things have come to this, you think I’m a joke? Save your nonsense and get lost. I don’t care why you’re acting like this—I won’t tolerate it anymore."

"I’m not spouting nonsense because I trust Cruello."

"You—"

"Sister."

The sudden call stopped Minuet in her tracks.

"You owe me a favor, don’t you? From when I summoned Gavotte’s Byopseeds for him."

"That debt is with Gavotte, not me."

I would have liked to just knock her out too, but she needed to stay awake.

So I had to rely on her sense of responsibility instead.

I smiled.

"Then…"

"I’m collecting on that debt now."

"Everything that happens from now on—keep it a secret."

Whispering those words, I turned away and walked toward the waterspout, with Presto following me.

It was ridiculous how obedient the spirit was, as if it had forgotten its own master.

And yet, strangely, it looked natural.

"What the hell is she doing?" Minuet muttered to herself.

As she watched Siora’s golden hair, soaked and disheveled by the storm, an inexplicable feeling crept up on her.

A sense that something was about to happen.

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"What a stupid idea."

Standing around wouldn’t solve anything.

Shaking off her thoughts, Minuet reached out to grab Siora—

But the Duke, who had been silent until now, stepped in her way, blocking her with an illusion that obscured the surroundings.

"Just watch. There’s nothing you can do."

"You don’t actually want Siora to die, do you?"

"Would you rather I order you to stay put?"

"Now—!"

Minuet had been about to shout, but her voice caught in her throat.

Not because she realized she had been too agitated.

Excitement was the farthest thing from Minuet Bonetti’s nature, and at a moment like this, it didn’t matter anyway.

She stopped speaking for a different reason.

Her gaze had been stolen.

The storm still raged, howling like a wild beast, but—

A path had formed in the air.

Siora’s hair lifted, swirling in a spiral, as her entire body began to glow pure white.

There were no words to define it, but the energy radiating from her was utterly divine.

"What… is that?"

Minuet unknowingly whispered.

Presto, as if entranced, flapped its wings slowly in front of Siora.

Siora reached out her hand toward the bird.

The blinding radiance that had enveloped her flowed to her fingertips, wrapping around the spirit.

The waterspout grew even closer, its winds turning even more violent—

But they did not waver.

One after another, both Siora and the spirit glowed.

At first, it was faint.

Then, Presto’s form grew so bright that even its feathers were no longer visible.

And then—

It grew.

Bigger and bigger—until after a few blinks, it was no longer something that could be called an ordinary creature.

It looked almost—

"Ah."

Like a god.

Minuet suddenly recalled a phrase from the archives.

She had never intended to memorize it, yet it had been written at the end of every record—burned into her mind.

"There is a god in Bonetti."

The bird, wrapped in divine light, ceased its growth—and then, with a single beat of its wings, soared toward the waterspout.

The wind, which should have been deep green, shimmered with a long, elegant tail of light.

"She forged our beginning."

Even though the spirit had grown several times its original size, it was still dwarfed by the storm.

Yet, with each flap of its wings, it engulfed the disaster—

And turned it the same color as itself.

Until finally—

"She walks with us and will guard our end."

With a shattering explosion, white light consumed everything.

Minuet reflexively shut her eyes.

A torrential downpour followed, but—

Not rain.

The water fell in thick droplets, a flood more like a waterfall than a storm.

"And so, even amidst the most treacherous storms—"

When Minuet finally managed to open her eyes—

The rain had ceased.

"We shall not lose our way, but move ever forward."

The sea was calm.

A single ray of sunlight pierced through the dense storm clouds, casting a glow across Minuet’s face.

The sacred bird, which had been engulfed in radiance, had now dimmed—but that only made its beauty stand out even more.

Minuet stared at her changed spirit.

She watched Presto slowly dissolve, its form fading, returning to her embrace.

"There is a god in Bonetti…"

She spoke the words aloud—

And then, she laughed.

What a ridiculous story.

Her legs felt weak, but she refused to collapse.

Keeping her head held high, she turned her gaze to the one who had just made that scene possible.

As if feeling her stare, Siora turned to look at her.

The moment their eyes met—

Siora grinned, smugly and shamelessly.

And then—

"You… what the hell are you—Siora!"

Her body tilted, collapsing forward.

Minuet lunged, but—

Someone had already moved first.

Cruello effortlessly caught her.

Unlike Minuet, he didn’t look the slightest bit surprised.

"We agreed to keep this a secret."

"Your Grace."

"Then don’t say things like 'what the hell are you'."

His expression wavered somewhere between mockery and amusement.

Minuet bit her lip before finally speaking.

"I’m not going to question you. Is Siora alright?"

"Probably?"

"…The fact that I’m only now asking that means my head must be messed up."

Minuet ran a hand through her soaked hair.

Water dripped from the heavy, rain-soaked strands.

That unpleasant sensation helped her regain her composure.

"Then—why, exactly, are you here, Your Grace?"

***

The waterspout loomed so large, and Presto looked so small.

If I stepped in and failed, that would be humiliating beyond belief.

I kept pushing divine power into it, but eventually, I overdid it. My vision went completely black.

Damn it.

Collapsing like this wasn’t really my style—so why was this already the third time?

As I felt myself slipping away, one thought crossed my mind:

How many hours would pass before I woke up this time?

But when my sight returned—

What I saw was nothing like what I expected.

"…Huh?"

Towering white pillars with intricate vertical carvings.

Spotless, immaculately clean stone buildings, gleaming in pristine white.

At the center, a colossal statue of a woman stood tall.

And in front of her—an altar.

I swept my gaze across the familiar yet strangely distant scene, completely at a loss for words.

It had been so long since I last saw this place, yet it felt foreign.

Even my own voice sounded strange.

"Mm. Mm."

It wasn’t Amy’s, or Viga’s, or Siora’s voice.

It was mine.

How many years had it been?

Feeling a bit unsettled, I touched my throat.

"Baby!"

"Ack!"

A sudden shout made me flinch. My shoulders jerked up as I turned my head.

And then—I saw a dead woman.

Uh.

Was I still inside the mist?

Had everything that just happened been a dream within a dream, a hallucination within a hallucination?

Standing frozen in confusion, I barely had time to react before the priestess reached out and grabbed my cheek, stretching it.

It didn’t hurt.

Oh.

This was the dream.

"Why are you standing there looking dazed? Do you know how long I’ve been searching for you?"

The priestess frowned down at me.

From this angle, she looked ridiculously tall—so I looked down at my own hands.

Small fingers wiggled.

My body was young again.

That was my second confirmation that this was a dream.

"Baby!"

"Why were you looking for me?"

"Oh, you’re still sulking? You’re ten years old now, and you still hold grudges like a child?"

"…Wait. So I’m supposed to be mad?"

"There you go again, saying weird things. I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you. I was only going to tell Chase anyway."

"Wait, this conversation—"

"Well, I probably shouldn’t be talking about it so openly, but…"

I already knew what she was about to say.

"Baby, you might not be the youngest anymore."

Yep.

I recognized these words.

I’d heard this story before.

She placed a hand over her stomach, cradling it gently, then gave a slightly awkward smile.

And then—

"I’m preg—"

Without thinking, I slapped a hand over her mouth.

She blinked in confusion, but I refused to let go.

I was sweating down my back.

"Don’t. Say. It. Got it?"

It wasn’t real.

There had been no pregnancy.

A phantom pregnancy, or a misunderstanding—I didn’t remember exactly what it was, but I knew for a fact there had been no baby.

And sure, this was just a dream, and it shouldn’t matter—but I couldn’t handle it rationally.

She hesitated but then nodded slowly.

And at that moment—

"What are you doing here? You don’t have time to be fooling around."

My mother’s voice.

I turned around.

She looked down at me with obvious disapproval, but I simply smiled.

"Today's studies—"

"I finished them. I was just taking a break, Mother."

"If you have extra time, I told you to go to the library."

"I’m going now."

I answered obediently, then waved to the priestess who still thought she was carrying a child.

Of course, I didn’t forget to warn her.

"Don’t tell anyone about that. Pebula said so."

"Uh, wh-what?"

"You wouldn’t dare defy a god, would you?"

I gave a pointed look, and she hesitantly nodded.

Then I entered the enormous, ridiculously vast library, filled with more books than should be humanly possible.

Inside—

My father was there.

Of course. He had been in charge of the library.

"Remember this—reading every book in this library is your final duty as a last-generation disciple."

He snapped at me before leaving, locking the door behind him.

With a loud click.

I stared at the shut door, then sighed.

"…Sigh."

Why was I dreaming about old memories?

And why was it so vivid—almost as if my god was interfering?

What was Pebula thinking?

I pulled out a book at random and flipped it open.

Blank.

Not a single letter on the page.

Right. Dreams weren’t usually this detailed.

I tried a few more books, but it was the same—just empty pages.

So I gave up on killing time with reading.

Not that I had time to be bored anyway.

Because—

A commotion broke out outside.