12 O'Clock Marionette-Chapter 63

“Suddenly?”

“The cult’s hidden robes from last time—Minuet found them without much effort. She had no reason to take the key, but just thinking that anyone could stumble upon it makes me uneasy.”

If I had anywhere to hide things, it would only be the Bonetti estate. That was risky.

I had worked hard to gather all the keys, and if they were stolen, getting them back would be uncertain at best.

Cruello seemed to understand, nodding as he reached for the key in my hand.

And then—

“Darling, you have to let go for me to take it.”

“……”

“You wouldn’t want me to take it by force, would you?”

I couldn’t loosen my grip on the key.

Logically, this was the right thing to do. But was it really? Was this truly okay?

Pebula, a word of advice, please.

Could you stop being a bystander for once?

Even demons in the house next door grant revelations! Are you really going to treat your one and only follower like this?

No matter how much I pleaded inwardly, there was no answer. As always, I had to decide for myself.

I should convert to magic worship.

“Cruello, I can trust you, right? You’re not doing something I’ll regret later?”

“Of course.”

“There won’t be a moment in the future where I’m narrating, ‘That day, I should never have trusted Cruello,’ right?”

“Unlikely.”

“I—”

“Trust me.”

Cruello’s voice was playful yet serious.

Only then did I relax my grip.

I stared at him for a moment before letting out a sigh.

Hah, fine. I hate saying this, but—

“I’ll trust you. Don’t make me regret it.”

***

When Cruello turned eleven—

The boy burst out of his room and ran without stopping.

Even though he had trained his body through swordsmanship, in that short moment, his heart felt like it was going to explode.

At last, he reached his destination and, forgetting all decorum, threw open the parlor door.

Bang!

A girl, wide-eyed in surprise, looked his way.

Cruello, in a choked voice, murmured her name.

“Amy.”

“You’re going to break the door, Roy. Be gentle when opening things.”

Amy quickly erased her surprise and smiled.

It was such a bright smile that small wrinkles formed on her nose. But Cruello couldn’t smile back.

His face was as pale as paper, drained of all color. His lips were dry and cracked.

Another cold.

Cruello pressed his lips tightly together before slowly approaching Amy.

And then, the first words that came out were unexpected, even to him.

“I had a dream.”

“Huh?”

“Amy, you collapsed and never got up again. It was my birthday… and then a funeral was held. It rained… so much… but you weren’t there, so no one held an umbrella over me…”

It was terrifying.

More than the sadness of Amy dying, the idea of never seeing her again for the rest of his life was unbearably frightening.

That feeling had been so overwhelming that even after waking from the nightmare, Cruello had cried for a long time.

His own pain had been far greater than Amy’s suffering.

Even as he tried to convince himself it was just a dream, he knew.

If it had been real—if Amy had actually died—he would have felt the exact same way.

He would have pitied himself more than the girl who had died.

He felt unbearably guilty about that. But even that feeling only came after he saw that Amy was alive and well.

“I’m sorry, Amy.”

“For what?”

“…I can’t say.”

He couldn’t bring himself to reveal his ugly thoughts.

If she knew, even Amy would be disgusted with him.

The girl tilted her head in confusion but, kindly, did not press him for an answer.

“Well, that happens. They say you should respect a teenager’s secrets.”

Normally, he would’ve scolded her for reading another parenting book. But this time, he couldn’t say anything.

His nose stung.

Standing there frozen, Cruello lowered his head, struggling to hold back his tears.

With a sigh, Amy stretched her arms wide.

“Come here.”

He should have been angry, thinking she was teasing him. But instead, he let himself be drawn into her embrace.

A loud sniff echoed through the room as he swallowed back his sobs.

Since this wasn’t the first time, Amy naturally patted his back.

Even after a long while, Cruello couldn’t calm down.

With no other choice, Amy pulled away.

“Geez, I wanted to keep it a secret, but I guess I have no choice. Take a look at this.”

Dazed, Cruello took the paper she handed him.

It was filled with detailed explanations and a drawing of a sword.

What is this?

“Awesome, right?”

At her proud question, Cruello, still clueless, nodded automatically.

“It’ll be finished the day before your birthday.”

“Finished? What do you mean?”

“I drained half of Lord Royalsand’s meager social connections and the rest of his barely existent wallet. When I asked if he should get on your good side, he couldn’t refuse.”

Even though the subject was her own father, Amy looked pleased as she laughed.

“You wanted a real sword, right? But your uncle refused to even listen.”

“Oh.”

“If I give it to you as a gift, he wouldn’t dare take it away. Though he won’t let you swing it around, of course.”

Amy straightened her back triumphantly.

“I’ve put too much money and effort into this, so I can’t die before then. Just wait, I’ll present it to you on your birthday with a grand ‘ta-da!’”

“Amy…”

“So don’t worry about me. Just look forward to it, like a normal kid would.”

A feeling he couldn’t quite describe made Cruello chew on his lip.

Somewhere deep inside, he felt ticklish, inexplicably sorrowful, and overwhelmingly happy all at once.

But now that he was a little older, he found it embarrassing to express those feelings honestly.

“My birthday is still a month away.”

“What? I only just placed the order, and it was almost too late! Precious items always take a long time to prepare, you idiot!”

“…Amy.”

"H-Hey. You're not crying because I called you an idiot, right? You're not an idiot, you're my treasure. My precious Roy. Be good, okay?"

"Don't… treat me… like a kid…"

I can't take this anymore.

Unable to hold back any longer, Cruello clung to Amy.

Having been pulled away earlier had been so unbearable that his fingertips trembled with desperation.

Amy, momentarily flustered, patted his back once again.

"I'm sorry, Amy. I'm so selfish and terrible. I'm sorry."

"What nonsense is that? Those words are way too grand for you. You need to wallow in society's filth a bit more before you earn them."

"You… even while sick, you prepared a gift for me, and I… in my dream, I…"

"What, did you curse me out at my funeral? Well, so what if you did? It's fine. Even good people make mistakes."

"I'm not good. Not even a little. That's why I've been living under punishment."

"Ugh, which mutt has been filling your head with nonsense this time?"

Amy let out an exaggerated sigh, like a weary adult.

Then, still holding Cruello’s hand, she pulled away from the hug and walked toward the sofa.

Seated side by side, she wiped the tears from his eyes.

"Believe me, Roy."

At her gentle voice, his tears threatened to spill over again.

"At the very least, I'm smarter, more rational, and more reasonable than you. More mature, too. Out of everyone in this mansion, I'm the best."

"Huh…?"

"Think about it. If there's a professor and a first-year student at the academy, whose word is more reliable?"

"The… professor?"

"Exactly! So my words are more credible!"

Was that even a valid argument?

Cruello blinked.

"I know how kind and caring you are. I believe in that. So that makes it real."

"But…"

"So what if you're not perfect? You're going to grow into a better person as time goes on."

"…"

"You'll become a good and admirable adult. Believe in that, Cruello."

"Ah…"

"So trust yourself, too."

Faced with her sunshine-like smile, Cruello swallowed the lump in his throat and barely managed to nod.

Seeing this, Amy deliberately lightened the mood.

"Ugh, the atmosphere’s gotten weird. Let's have some tea—it must be cold by now."

With that, she reached for the teapot.

Cruello absentmindedly lifted his gaze to his cup.

The deep red liquid. Darker than any other black tea…

"Baedus?"

The moment he recognized it, an unexplainable tightness gripped his chest.

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Thump, thump—his heart, which had finally calmed, pounded violently once more.

Without realizing it, his entire focus narrowed onto Amy's fingertips.

She had been reaching for her own cup, but then—

"Roy, your tea looks tastier. I'll drink yours instead."

"What?"

She reached for the cup in front of him.

And in that instant, it hit him—like thousands of shards of glass shattering inside his mind.

A deafening headache.

Dread.

Fear.

Terror.

"No!"

"Roy?"

The memories of an adult and those of a child collided in chaos.

Cruello grabbed Amy’s hand, shaking his head wildly.

"No! You can't drink this. Don’t! Amy, don’t!"

Even as he physically held her back, the sense of foreboding surged stronger.

"I have to get rid of that tea!"

Consumed by irrational compulsion, the boy seized the cup in Amy’s place.

Yet, even he could not bring himself to drink it.

Amy’s hand stopped him.

"Let go, Amy! I—"

As Cruello, growing desperate, was about to shout, the girl smiled at him—sadly.

Ah.

A strange sense of unease crawled over him.

Amy's body was too small.

Even though there hadn't been such a drastic height difference before, now it was as if an adult was looking down at a child.

Ah, this… is a dream.

The moment he realized it, Cruello understood.

He had grown up.

And Amy… Amy had remained the same.

He had outgrown her.

Her tiny hand could barely wrap around just one of his fingers now.

The difference in size choked him.

"It's not your fault."

The kind girl comforted him, even now.

"You didn’t cause my death, so I don’t resent you. I still believe in you, Roy."

In her clear, round eyes, Cruello saw his own reflection.

Just as she said—there was not even a trace of blame in them.

Only sorrow, regret, and longing—layered over deep affection.

Everything he had believed to be romanticized through memory remained untainted, untouched by time.

"I never got to give you your birthday present in the end. Sorry."

Why.

"Sorry for dying first. I knew you were blaming yourself because of me, but I didn’t appear in your dreams on purpose. I thought it would help you forget me more easily."

Why are you…

"But I guess I was wrong. Yeah, I was too young, so I made mistakes too."

"…"

"You told me to believe in you, so I decided to believe in myself, too. And actually, there's something I wanted to say."

Amy released Cruello’s hand and stepped in front of him.

Since he was sitting and she was standing, their eyes met despite the vast difference in height.

"I don't know if this is too late or too early."

Muttering as if contemplating, she then shook her head.

And carefully, she pulled Cruello's head down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Happy eleventh birthday, Cruello."