Sugar Apple Fairytale - Volume 2 - Chapter 6

Chapter 6

THE FAIRY IN MY MEMORIES

“I would like to request an audience with the duke.”

After releasing Mithril Lid Pod from the castle, Anne petitioned Dale.

“For what purpose? The duke will be displeased if he is troubled without good reason.”

Now that Anne was the only remaining candy crafter, Dale’s treatment of her had grown harsh. His tone was obviously different from when he was treating her as one crafter among many. Anne could sense that he was determined to see her complete a candy sculpture for Duke Alburn by any means possible.

“This is necessary. Please, grant me an audience. And I’d like to be alone with the duke if possible.”

Dale seemed to understand that Anne was serious. He made the arrangements for the meeting.

Once the sun set completely, the temperature dropped even further. Looking out the window, Anne could see snow blowing in the fierce wind.

She was shown to Duke Alburn’s heated private chambers.

Duke Alburn was lying in the same spot and in the same posture as that morning. She wondered if he had been like this all day. And if perhaps this was how he spent most of his time.

He looked lethargic and hollow. Anne wondered why a man like him was so fixated on a piece of sugar candy.

No, Duke Alburn’s not fixated on the candy. It’s the fairy in that portrait.

I want to ask him the reason for his obsession. Then I can give form to his desires.

That was Anne’s job as a candy crafter.

“Thank you very much for allowing me this meeting,” she said, kneeling before the duke.

Duke Alburn didn’t so much as look in her direction. “What is the purpose of this meeting?” he asked.

“There are things that I would like to ask you in order to make the candy sculpture. Would that be all right?”

“If it’s for the sake of the sculpture, you may.”

“All right…”

After quietly catching her breath, Anne asked, “Please tell me the name of the person in those portraits.”

It must have been a very unexpected question, because Duke Alburn turned to look at her. It was as if he were seeing her for the first time.

“Why do you need her name?”

“So that I can sculpt her. I think I must know it. And know more than what is depicted in the portrait.”

“And then you can make her?”

“I’m not sure.”

Suddenly, Duke Alburn grabbed the sword that was leaning against the couch nearby. He smoothly unsheathed it then rose, holding the exposed blade.

Anne resisted her instinctual urge to back away. She forced herself to stifle her fear, but her knees began trembling slightly.

Duke Alburn stood in front of Anne, the sword dangling from his hand. “The question that you just asked treads on my memories. Did you prepare yourself before asking it? If you trespass and disturb my memories, and then still fail to make what I want, I shall make you pay with your life. Have you readied yourself for that?”

“I cannot resign myself to death. I will not die. I’ve made a promise to a friend. And there’s something I want to say to someone. So I will not die. I’m resolved not to, and I swear I will make your sculpture. So please tell me. Tell me her name.”

They glared at each other. Duke Alburn placed the blade upon Anne’s shoulder.

She flinched slightly at the feeling of the heavy, cold steel.

“…Christina,” Duke Alburn whispered.

“That’s her name?”

“Correct.”

“But if she’s a fairy, she ought to have an original name. Do you know it?”

“Lealis Cil Eril.”

When the fairy’s name came out of Duke Alburn’s mouth, Anne was convinced.

I knew it. She’s someone special.

Humans who enslave fairies do not care about their original names. The only ones who do are the humans who see fairies as their equals. And those who see their fairies as precious.

Anne understood that very well. She felt the same way.

“Why don’t you call her by her original name?”

“That was what she desired. She asked me to give her a name because she wanted me to call her by a human name.”

At that point, Duke Alburn withdrew the sword from Anne’s shoulder and slumped down in a nearby chair. He looked too exhausted to keep standing.

“Where did you meet her? Lady Christina, I mean.”

Anne deliberately called the fairy by her human name. Once she heard that the fairy herself had preferred that, she figured she ought to do so.

“On the seashore. At a beach below the cliffs of this castle.”

“What was Lady Christina doing there?”

“She had just been born. She was sitting there vacantly, staring at the cresting waves from which she had come.”

“If she had stayed there like that, Lady Christina would have been discovered by fairy hunters, wouldn’t she?”

“That’s why I brought her back to the castle.”

“What made you do that?”

“The thought of her being captured and hurt by human hands was too terrible.”

“Were you together for a long time?”

“Three years.”

“Where is Lady Christina now?”

“One year ago…she vanished. She said it was the end of her life span.”

Duke Alburn stared at a single point on the floor as he mumbled his answer.

He loved her.

Anne projected her own feelings onto what she saw in Duke Alburn. Like him, she was also calling out the name of a particular fairy in her heart. He must have been calling out his fairy’s name in the same way.

“She always told me that water fairies cannot predict their own life spans. Some live hundreds of years, while others disappear after only a few.”

Is that why he had so many portraits painted?

That explained the numerous pictures that decorated the reception hall and the tower.

They were his attempt to hold on to someone, even though he wasn’t sure when she would disappear. He must have had dozens and dozens of portraits painted. He had been afraid that she would vanish.

The fairy smiling in the portrait looked somewhat anxious. She had probably been worried about what would happen to her lover once she was gone.

At last, Anne could see the shape of their emotions.

She wondered why she hadn’t thought to ask about those feelings from the start.

I feel like I really took a roundabout way to get here. I realize now how inexperienced I am. If Hugh were doing this job, I’m sure he would have asked Duke Alburn why he wanted the sculpture right at the start.

Anne had only been thinking of making a beautiful sugar candy that she could be satisfied with.

She hadn’t understood what her client truly wanted.

Duke Alburn wasn’t looking for a splendid work of art. He just wanted a likeness of Christina, a memento that reproduced her looks exactly as they had been.

Even using the most realistic techniques, making sugar candy sculptures always involved adjusting the balance of color, shape, and contour in order to achieve an attractive result when turning something into candy art. But Anne couldn’t do that; rather, she wasn’t allowed to. A lifelike sculpture would not be a very good piece of art, but that was what Duke Alburn wanted.

She was brimming with the desire to create it. She wanted to show Duke Alburn a statue of the fairy who lived in his heart, the fairy he yearned for just as she yearned for Challe.

“Do you mind if I bring my silver sugar here?”

“What?”

“I’m bringing my silver sugar to your room. I’m going to take the liberty of working right in front of you, Duke. And I’ll sculpt her as I listen to you tell me about her. I want to hear about the colors of Lady Christina’s hair, skin, and eyes. Tell me about her expressions and her movements. I will make the sugar candy while listening to everything.”

“This is bad.”

When he returned from Philax Castle, Hugh threw his jacket down on the table as soon as he got back to his room in the inn. Then he flopped down into a chair. Challe stood by the wall, leaning against it and looking out the window.

It was already pitch-dark outside. Snow was dancing around furiously in the strong wind.

“There have been rumors of his bizarre behavior, but to think it has become that bad… And it worries me that Christina is not with him.”

“His lover?”

At Challe’s question, Hugh pushed his bangs back as he let out a heavy sigh and looked up at the ceiling. “I guess she is,” he replied. “She’s a fairy, though.”

Challe frowned at the word fairy.

“A fairy with blue hair?”

“That’s right. Did you see her at the castle?”

“I saw a portrait of her. The man was ordering the candy crafters to make sugar sculptures using it as a model.”

“Using a picture as a model instead of the woman herself? Why…?” Then as if he had suddenly realized something, Hugh turned to look at the obsidian fairy. “Challe. Do you know the life span of fairies born from the sea?”

“It varies. Fairies born from the sea are water sprites. Some of them live for hundreds of years, while others vanish after a few.”

Even water sprites themselves do not know their own life spans. They live with that uncertainty from the moment they are born.

Mithril was also a water sprite. Surely he, too, was aware of the unpredictability. His bossy attitude was likely an effort to cope with that anxiety. He had never discussed the issue of his life span with Anne, and even if he had, he probably would have made some baseless claim that he would outlive Challe or something.

“What about sugar candy?” Hugh asked. “I thought fairies could live longer if they kept eating it.”

“It’s rare to come across sugar candy that has the power to extend your life span. Your candy might just do it, but even so, it would be just for a few extra weeks or months. And if you don’t keep eating it, it doesn’t do anything.”

“I see… If that’s the case, she must have vanished. And the duke is…”

Challe snorted when he heard those words. “You mean that man is acting like that because his fairy lover passed? Humans care that much about the disappearance of a single pet fairy? Surely, he can buy a replacement and be satisfied with that?”

“She wasn’t a pet. No one can ever replace her…” Hugh clenched his fist on top of the table.

“House Alburn has never rebelled against House Millsland. Not only that, but during the Chamber Rebellion, they fought on the side of His Majesty. And what did they get for it? Did the duke you just saw look like a noble descended from the bloodline of King Cedric, or a descendant of the heroes who fought to build the peaceful reign of the present monarch? All the taxes that come from trade are eaten up by the royal family, and he only receives a stipend from that. And he’s obligated to pay his respects once a month. That’s the poor treatment his family received after the civil war, when they ought to have received a commendation for their contributions. The duke would have been twelve or thirteen years old at the time. How he must resent the way his family was unjustly punished just as he was on the verge of becoming a man. The shock must have been especially strong for a child. But he and his father obeyed. They kept their anger in check, prioritized the stability of the kingdom, and resigned themselves to their duties. There was no one who could alleviate his anger and his bitter feelings. No one except for her.”

Challe smirked, as if to throw Hugh’s pointed look right back at him. “A partner to absorb all his resentment? I’m sure that fairy must have been very happy.”

“Yes, I think she was happy.” Hugh glared at Challe, challenging his sarcastic statement, before continuing. “Before I became the Silver Sugar Viscount, I made many sugar candies for the duke. I heard that they were all for her, actually; she told me so herself. She said she wanted to extend her life span, even just a little bit. For the duke’s sake.”

Extend her life? For the duke?

In her portraits, the fairy had always been wearing a smile tinged with worry. What had she been concerned about? The question welled up inside Challe.

“She was probably worried that something like this would happen.”

After he said that, Hugh fell silent. The windows rattled in the strong wind.

As they were sitting there, Salim entered the room. “Viscount, a message has come through from the guard stationed along the highway,” he anxiously announced. “The Earl of Downing has entered Philax in the company of over three hundred mounted troops. It seems he will arrive at Philax Castle shortly.”

Hugh clicked his tongue and stood up. “That old man. I wish he would relax and act his age.” He glanced at Challe. “Let’s go back. The earl is quick tempered. He’ll launch an attack if the duke doesn’t surrender. There should be two or three hundred of the Alburn house guards stationed throughout Philax Castle. Anne will be in danger if a brawl breaks out.”

Challe felt conflicted over whether he should save Anne when he thought about how she had rejected him.

But he also couldn’t stand there and do nothing. So he went with Hugh to the castle.

A strong wind blew across the stormy sea, and the echo of breaking waves was loud. The snow that fell on their cheeks stung like tiny pebbles bouncing off their skin.

In the raging evening storm, the huge silhouette of Philax Castle was illuminated by flickering lights. Three hundred horsemen holding torches were on the cape. In the light of their flames, fanned by the wind, the shape of the castle seemed to sway right and left.

“Earl of Downing!”

The army had pitched its tents along the hilly road to the cape from the highway. While not completely blown away by the strong wind, the tents were nevertheless bent and greatly warped.

Hugh barged into one of them, and the Earl of Downing looked shocked to see him.

“Mercury?”

“Has Philax Castle surrendered?” Hugh asked, catching his breath.

The Earl of Downing gave a cynical smile.

“They closed the gates and barricaded themselves inside. We demanded they surrender, but a messenger came to ask us to wait a little while. It’s not clear how long that’ll be, though. Mercury, it looks like your attempts at persuasion have failed.”

“You knew about that?”

Hugh forced an awkward smile.

“We made you Silver Sugar Viscount knowing full well that there was a connection between you and House Alburn, after all. I speculated you would at least go try to talk sense into him.”

At that point, the Earl of Downing turned a strict eye on Hugh. “But I won’t let you do anything further. Don’t interfere. I must extinguish the last smoldering ember of conflict in the kingdom.”

“I won’t interfere. But Anne Halford is inside the castle.”

“Halford?”

“The girl who competed for the royal medal at the last Royal Candy Fair.”

“Oh…um…”

For a moment, the Earl of Downing’s eyes widened. But then he shook his head. “That is unfortunate. All we can do is pray that she is well hidden if this leads to an engagement.”

Even the Earl of Downing had no desire to allow an innocent girl to die. But he had a sense of duty. He concluded that in the fulfillment of that duty, the death of a single girl might be unavoidable. He was an old retainer who had lived through the civil war and worked to build stability in the kingdom. He didn’t need to weigh one girl’s life against his sense of obligation.

“But—”

Hugh leaned over the table, ready to argue his case to the earl again.

Challe let out a puff of breath and turned his back to Hugh. He left the tent. No matter how much Hugh insisted, Challe could tell it was impossible. Nothing the Viscount could say would change the old aristocrat’s mind.

The wind blew fiercely. Challe could see the dim outline of the castle through a curtain of snow.

Challe balled both hands into fists as he looked up at the citadel.

“She’s in there…”

He knew he had to go to the castle immediately and retrieve her.

But he thought she would probably refuse a helping hand if it came from him. He could not be the one to go.

He wondered whether he ought to bow his head to Salim and ask him to enter the castle and get her out before the battle began.

While Hugh was thinking it over, Salim walked over from a group of the earl’s soldiers with perfect timing. A small can with a handle was dangling from his hand.

When he saw Challe outside the tent, Salim went straight toward him. “One of the soldiers apparently caught him earlier this evening,” he said abruptly, without even a greeting. Then he held the can out toward Challe. It was a personal canteen—the type that could have been hung from any soldier’s belt—useful for holding beans, stew, and other foods that might be dished out.

Challe frowned. He obviously did not understand.

“I’ve seen this one before. I think he’s an acquaintance of yours. Open it up,” Salim urged him.

Challe didn’t understand what was going on, but thus encouraged, he took it and opened the lid.

A small fairy was snugly sealed inside. He couldn’t believe his own eyes.

“Mithril Lid Pod?”

“Challe Fenn Challe?”

They stared at each other for a while, dumbfounded by their surprise reunion.

“Apparently, he ate all the soup that was inside. They said the soldier who found him shut him inside, out of revenge for his empty stomach. He was trying to sell him off to anyone who would take him. I was approached and asked if I was interested in buying him as I passed by,” Salim explained matter-of-factly.

“What are you doing? You left the castle and ate a soldier’s dinner?”

Mithril crawled out of the can looking the worse for wear and protested Challe’s deeply disgusted words. “No, that’s not it! Well it is, but that’s not all of it! I was trying to fulfill my task. But I got hungry, and I thought I would nourish myself with a meal first. I don’t know what’s going on, but there are lots of soldiers here, so I figured no one would be able to tell if I just ate a little something.”

“You left the castle on your own and stole a soldier’s soup to eat? What about her?”

“Oh yeah, Anne!”

Mithril flapped his one wing and sprung up nimbly to sit on Challe’s shoulder.

“Anne is still in the castle. The duke doesn’t plan to let her out until she makes a candy sculpture that pleases him. So Anne asked me to wait for her out here.”

“So you did as you were told and left on your own?”

“Listen, I thought I would have to go hunting for you.” Tears steadily welled up in Mithril’s eyes. “Anne is calling for you. She wants you to come back to her.”

Those words sounded hollow to Challe, and his mood soured.

“Are you stupid? What are you saying? She’s the one who told me to scram. There’s no way she’s calling for me now.”

“You’re the stupid one!”

“I will not stand to be called that by the likes of you!”

“In that case, let me say it a few more times!! Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!!”

Mithril tugged roughly on a section of Challe’s hair.

“Do you think Anne was serious when she told you to leave?! Our Anne?! She was forced to say it after that bastard Jonas took my wing and threatened her. Jonas separated you from Anne, then offered her up to the Duke of Philax. All so he could escape!”

“…What?”

Challe was stunned. He couldn’t believe it.

Jonas threatened her?

“I’m telling you! Anne only drove you away because of that!”

She did it after she had been crying. So…

Challe was uncharacteristically dumbfounded.

To think, he had been so upset, but the reality was that she had only sent him away under duress.

“So then…what is she doing right now?”

“I told you, didn’t I?! She’s making sugar candy! Anne said herself that she won’t leave until she creates a piece of candy that pleases the Duke of Philax. She wants to make that sculpture, no matter the cost.”

Challe remained stunned only for a moment. Mithril’s words awoke a terrible urgency inside him.

That fool! She stayed put after all that? She’s making sugar candy even now?!

Challe grabbed hold of Mithril, who was sitting on his shoulder making a squawking racket and yanking at his hair.

“Wh-what’s this?! Hey, Challe Fenn Challe! Let me go!”

He shoved Mithril straight back into the can and forced it into Salim’s hands.

“Wait here! I’ll come get him later!”

Then he broke into a run.

Salim shrugged and looked down disinterestedly at the can containing the fairy.

“Why should I have to hold on to this?”

“What do you mean?! I am the great Mithril Lid Pod! Now let me out of here at once—!”

Mithril shouted from inside the can.

One barrel of silver sugar. Fully kneaded and ready to be worked. From that emerged a rough human figure, a little taller than Anne.

Duke Alburn looked at it and muttered, “Crafter. What do you intend to do?”

Anne turned around to look at Duke Alburn with a serious expression.

“About how tall was Lady Christina?” she asked.

“How tall?” After thinking about it for a moment, Alburn stood. He stood in front of the vaguely human-shaped mass of silver sugar and pointed to his own chin. “About this high.”

“All right. That’s what we’ll go with.”

Stretching up tall, Anne took another lump of silver sugar in her hand. Sugar candy sculptures weren’t usually that large. But she believed that this one needed to be.

“I asked you what your intentions are, crafter.”

“I’m making the sculpture look identical to her. In every way. Her height, her face, her expression, everything’s going to be spot-on. When you call up memories of Lady Christina, what image of her comes to mind the most? In my case, when I think of a certain someone…I remember him looking down at me, in somewhat of a bad mood, for example.”

After thinking it over briefly, Duke Alburn cast his eyes downward and softly answered, “She’s relaxed, standing and leaning against a wall. She’s looking at me with a smile on her face.”

“Got it.”

If Anne were trying to make an attractive sculpture, she would never use such a pose. But her goal was to create the image of Christina that Duke Alburn wanted. Whether it would be an eye-catching work of art was irrelevant.

Once Anne had determined the fairy’s pose, she set about adding the details. Five barrels of silver sugar were carried to Duke Alburn’s private chambers. Besides the sugar, one barrel full of cold water and one workbench had been brought in. Additionally, over one hundred vials of colored powder had been carried down from Anne’s room and were lined up on the floor.

Anne was kneading more silver sugar on top of a stone slab that had been placed on the floor. It was absolutely not something one did in the private chambers of an aristocrat. But Duke Alburn had approved it.

Anne could already envision the colors and mood of the piece.

When he’d looked at the first sculpture that Anne had made, Duke Alburn had said, “The overall feel of it is just right.” Christina’s presence, which Anne had picked up on from her portraits, was the one thing she hadn’t gotten wrong. She kept that in mind as she worked. She had also managed to sculpt Christina’s features perfectly once before.

But she did have to be careful not to add any of her own embellishments that would make the candy stand out.

Holding a wooden spatula that had the end split into fine sections like a brush, Anne stood tiptoe. She used it to sculpt Christina’s flowing hair.

With just the same amount of force as if she were brushing real hair, she quickly etched long, smooth lines from the top of the head down to the waist. Over and over, she carved the finest of lines, repeating the movement hundreds, if not thousands of times.

She etched it again and again to give the observer the impression that the hair was soft to the touch.

Alburn watched with great interest as Anne continued her work, and he looked at the fairy that was being produced from her fingertips.

Anne had no idea how much time passed. She was certain that the hour had grown late.

Even so, she kept on working. Duke Alburn did not go to sleep, either.

The sound of the wind grew frightfully loud, and she’d paused her work when suddenly—

“Duke.”

The door opened, and Dale appeared. His face was tense.

“More than three hundred mounted soldiers have the castle surrounded. They are the Earl of Downing’s troops.”

Anne was startled by the news.

Why would the Earl of Downing be here?

Duke Alburn urged her to continue. He did not show any strong emotional reaction to Dale’s words.

“And so?”

“They are demanding our surrender. And your arrest, Your Grace.”

“I thought he would show up eventually, but he’s later than I expected.”

Duke Alburn was a strange sight. He was speaking as if the situation was perfectly unremarkable.

“What shall we do?”

“Make them wait. I want to see this.”

As Duke Alburn said that, his eyes returned to the sugar candy fairy that was still taking shape. He stared fixedly at the candy, as if someone were there inside the still-vague silhouette.

“I understand,” Dale replied. It sounded like he had resigned himself to the worst. He left the room.

“Why is the Earl of Downing calling for your arrest?”

Anne couldn’t hold back, and the question left her mouth against her better judgment.

But Duke Alburn smiled. “I haven’t gone to Lewiston for a year and a half. The earl probably sees my failure to demonstrate obedience as a great pretense for destroying me.”

“You haven’t been going to Lewiston? Why? You put yourself in danger by doing something like that.”

Duke Alburn scowled and sat down in a chair. Then he pointed the tip of his sword toward Anne, as if to threaten her.

“You talk too much, candy crafter. You work on making that.”

“But why?”

“I said shut up!!”

Anne flinched at his angry shouting.

“As if you could ever understand! As if you could know how it feels to have all your dignity stripped away, to be forced to grovel and beg. The only one who could ever understand was her…!!”

Duke Alburn had flown into a sudden rage, but he shut his mouth just as abruptly. He seemed to have realized he had allowed his true feelings to spill forth in the heat of the moment.

Anne timidly raised her head and looked at Duke Alburn. He hung his head, laid his sword on the floor, and sighed deeply. He looked exhausted by the weight of his obsessions.

The room was immaculately tidy. But there wasn’t much besides the simple stone walls, the woolen carpets, and the melancholy rumble of the sea outside the window. This did not seem like a castle of a descendant of King Cedric. Silver Westol Castle, where Hugh lived, was much more luxurious.

A proud family had been relegated to nothing. Yet to protect the order of the kingdom, they had steadfastly endured the humiliation.

Christina must have soothed the duke’s turbulent feelings.

But that fairy had vanished.

In the year and a half since, Duke Alburn had not gone to Lewiston. There was no way he didn’t understand the meaning and the result of that decision. And still he had not gone.

He had chosen a slow path to self-destruction.

Losing Christina had driven Duke Alburn into despair. It must have been unbearable, enduring the humiliation without her.

Anne also understood the sorrow of losing a loved one. After her mother passed away, she’d felt that sadness deeply in her heart, and when she felt all alone, she hadn’t been able to take even one step.

This man also feels that he’s all by himself.

Overwhelming emotion, contained only after much difficulty. Gnawing loneliness giving rise to obsessions that filled the void where that emotion once churned. Delusions eating away at the very mind that had produced them.

If someone going through all that wanted a piece of sugar candy, then Anne intended to make it. She would exactly reproduce her client’s memories.

Anne set about her work again. With no time to rest, she mixed in colored powders and kneaded. The only sounds that Anne could hear were those of the wind and the firewood popping in the hearth.

The interior of the room was kept at a comfortable temperature. Anne was dripping with sweat, and she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She knelt down on the floor and repeatedly kneaded the sugar that she would use to make the fairy’s wings on top of the stone slab. She needed it to be much, much glossier. Then she needed to stretch it thin like silk.

Suddenly, she felt a cold breeze on her flushed cheeks.

There hadn’t been a knock at the door, but she could tell that someone had entered the room. Anne figured it was probably Dale and didn’t look up from her work. Duke Alburn seemed to assume the same and continued staring intently at Anne’s hands.

Suddenly, there was a voice above Anne’s head.

“I’ve come to get her back.”

Anne looked up in surprise at the familiar voice.

“…Challe?”

She couldn’t believe it. Her mind was in a bit of a daze because she had been so immersed in her work. She wondered whether she might be looking at a hallucination. Challe Fenn Challe was standing right beside her with his sword in his hand. He had the tip of it pointed at Duke Alburn. The blade was shining, reflecting the flames in the fireplace.

Duke Alburn raised his head and frowned.

“You are…the fairy who was with this crafter? Though I’ve also heard that you are Mercury’s warrior fairy. What did you come here for?”

“I came to get you to give her back. This one.”

“I won’t let this candy crafter leave. I’m keeping her here until she makes what I want.”

“In that case, I’ll kill you right here and now. I’m sure the Earl of Downing will be thrilled when I bring him your head.”

Anne was still gaping at him. “Challe…is that really you?” she mumbled.

Challe glanced over at Anne. Then he said bluntly, “I’m surprised you could be so foolish.”

Sure enough, he had Challe’s sharp tongue. But when Anne heard his frank comment, her eyes grew hot.

“Challe? Why did you come for me? Challe…,” she mumbled. She covered her mouth as her tears threatened to overflow.

“I heard about Jonas from Mithril Lid Pod.”

“Mithril. He really did tell you… Challe, I’m so sorry. Back then, I—”

Her chest was swelling with remorse and with joy.

“You don’t need to apologize. Get up. It’s dangerous here. Once their preparations are in order, the Earl of Downing’s soldiers are going to break through the gate and storm in. You have to get out of this castle before that happens.”

“Ah…but, I… The candy—”

I can’t leave right away, she thought.

Duke Alburn stood up slowly. In his hand, he held his unsheathed sword.

“I won’t allow that crafter to go. She must continue her work.”

“I’m taking her with me. If you plan to fight, come on.”

Challe held his sword at the ready. In his eyes was a sharpness like polished obsidian.

“Wait!”

Anne leaped at Challe’s back.

“Wait, Challe! You too, Duke, please wait. I’m going to stay here and continue to do my job. So please, put away your swords!”

This time it was Challe who turned to look at Anne with surprise.

“Are you insane?”

“I’m serious.”

She looked up at Challe and pleaded with him, “I want to give this project form. I want to make a candy sculpture of this fairy.”

“What are you—?”

“I accepted the job. I promised that I could make it! And I want to. I think I’m capable. So let me. Please.”

Even Duke Alburn was stunned by her words.

Anne wanted to continue her work. She felt confident that she could complete it shortly. She couldn’t possibly run away and leave it there as it was. The sculpture was her responsibility.

“Please, let me continue my work!”

“This castle is surrounded by soldiers. If they storm in here, there will be a brawl.”

“I know that.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“I also know that it’s dangerous. But I can’t abandon a job partway through. Please. This is something that only I can do—it’s a matter of pride.”

“…Unbelievable…”

The bloodlust suddenly receded from Challe’s body, and he relaxed. The sword in his hand turned into light and dissolved.

Challe let out a deep sigh. “Finish it, then. But I’m staying here with you.”

Anne turned to Duke Alburn and asked nervously, “Would it be all right if he stays here? If you’ll permit it, he’ll agree to stand down. I’ll be able to continue my work.”

“…Very well.”

Duke Alburn sat back down in his chair, still holding his sword.

Challe moved alongside the wall to watch over Anne as she worked.

Even as she began to make progress in her work again, Anne marveled that Challe was there with her.

Challe came back for me. The misunderstanding was cleared up. He came here to get me. He forgave me.

Her heart was overflowing with joy.

At every important point, Anne paused to confirm things about Christina’s appearance with Duke Alburn.

The shape of her hands and the slenderness of her fingers. The way she’d smiled. How she’d tilted her head. Anne paid attention to every detail. Especially to the colors. In order to faithfully reproduce the light blue of Christina’s hair, Anne made repeated adjustments with tiny amounts of colored powder.

Once the shape of the fairy became clear, Duke Alburn’s expression began to change. Having looked unimpressed earlier, his green eyes now housed the enthusiasm of someone getting what he wished for.

“It looks a lot like her,” Duke Alburn said once her facial features emerged. “It looks like her. But…the eyes are wrong. Her eyes weren’t such a cloudy white.”

“What color were they?”

“Silver. A glassy silver that reflected the light.”

“Silver, huh?”

Anne pondered the problem.

I can’t make silver with my normal techniques. Plus, it needs to be glassy. What should I do here?

Challe regarded Duke Alburn’s enthusiasm coldly.

“If she’s got those eyes, she will…be Christina,” Alburn mumbled.

Challe snickered. It was a scornful laugh.

Alburn noticed Challe’s derisive laugh and glared at him.

“What’s so funny?” the duke demanded.

“That’s a piece of candy.”

“It’s Christina.”

“It’s a candy sculpture, made by this girl’s hands. What’s the point of having her make such a thing?”

When Challe asked that, a self-deprecating smile spread across Duke Alburn’s face. “Fairies are born when the energy of an object condenses under the gaze of a living being.”

“So?”

“So I requested this form.”

“…Huh?”

Anne tilted her head in puzzlement at these unexpected words.

“What do you mean by that?”

“This is Christina’s ‘essence.’ What’s more, it’s a candy sculpture made of silver sugar, which extends the lives of fairies. Fairies are born from objects. So if I stare at this, what do you think will be born from it? Don’t you think there’s a possibility, crafter?”

What do I think will be born from this sculpture of Christina made of silver sugar?

Anne was confused. At first, she didn’t understand what Duke Alburn intended. But she quickly figured it out with a start.

“No way… You think Lady Christina will be born again…from this?”

That was impossible.

Christina had been born from the energy of the ocean waves. Even if something was born from the sugar candy, chances were exceedingly slim that it would be Christina herself.

They were practically zero.

“Have you witnessed the moment when a fairy vanishes? They turn into beads of light and disperse into the air. The material that made up Christina’s body dissolved and disappeared. So I’m hoping that I can once again give form to that which disintegrated. Fairies can extend their life spans with sugar candy that has a beautiful essence. The better it is, the more it extends their lives. There is some kind of energy in it. The lives of fairies have a connection to that essence. The essence is vital.”

Duke Alburn was obviously deeply delusional. His hopes had no basis in reality.

But Anne couldn’t bring herself to argue. Although it was an impossible wish, she didn’t have the heart to destroy the man’s last hope with the truth.

But Challe was different.

“Ridiculous.”

He mercilessly spurned the idea.

“You can’t get back what you lost. No matter how much you cry, or how hard you wish, she’s not coming back. No matter how much you stare, any fairy born from something like that will be warped and twisted, for sure.”

“I won’t allow you to say another word!” Duke Alburn replied furiously. He stood up, brandishing his sword.

Challe continued leaning against the wall. With contempt, he said bluntly to Duke Alburn, “Whether I say it or not, that’s the truth.”

“Stop it, Challe!” Anne tugged at his arm. “Don’t say things like that!”

She couldn’t stay quiet and watch Challe drive Duke Alburn into a corner with the harshness of reality.

That’s when it happened. The whole castle shook.

The three of them gasped in surprise, and at the same time, the door to the room slammed open and Dale burst in.

“They’ve used explosives. The gate has been breached. The soldiers are coming.”

“…So we didn’t make it, huh?” Duke Alburn muttered. “I thought it’d be fine if they came anytime, but…I can’t believe it. Just when the thing I had given up hope on was nearly completed…”

I want to give this man the fairy he desires.

Anne heard Duke Alburn speak in a weak, human-sounding voice for the first time. That only made her want to complete his candy sculpture more. She had only a little left to do to finish the thing he wanted so much.

The feelings of urgency came with a flash of inspiration.

“Ah…!”

Anne suddenly let go of Challe’s arm and picked up a stone bowl that contained silver sugar. She had thought of a way to make the silver color she needed.

“Duke! It’s the eyes, right? If I can make the eyes, she’ll be perfect, yes? I’m doing it, all right, so watch me.”

As she checked with the duke, she searched for a handy pot.

Challe tugged at her arm. He looked worried. “You’re still making it when the castle’s about to be attacked?!”

“I can’t stop when I’m so close to finishing. I’m going to work until the soldiers come into this room.”

“There’s no need for you to go along with this man’s ridiculous fantasy!”

“I’m not just going along with it! This is my job! I accepted it, so I want to see it through. I’m not pretty, and I’m not smart, and I don’t even have any money. But I’d like to think that in this one way, I’m not inferior to anyone. This is my job, so…so I can’t quit and leave it unfinished.”

Challe stared at Anne. He looked shocked at her words. After a brief silence, he asked, “Is that what you want?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You are a fool.”

“I think I must be. But I want to finish this.”

“If that’s what you want… As you wish.”

Challe placed his hand gently against Anne’s cheek.

“I’ll hold off the soldiers as long as I can. You keep crafting until you are satisfied.”

That was all he said before he turned on his heel and left the room.