Sugar Apple Fairytale - Volume 3 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

THE LEGEND OF THE ANCESTOR KING AND THE FAIRY KING

The next day was the only day of the whole week that Anne could relax. More than anything, she was happy to finally be able to rest her tired body.

She was exhausted, but she returned to her room with dinner in a slightly elevated mood. However, Challe had already finished his dinner and gone to answer Keith’s summons.

Anne and Mithril ate their meal together.

There were exactly four barrels of the silver sugar sitting in her room—the four that she had refined by herself. She had completed all the necessary preparation for making a candy sculpture. But even after dinner, she didn’t feel inspired to touch the silver sugar.

I wonder what I should make?

She started feeling impatient.

What I want to make is Challe…but Keith is already sculpting him. And besides, Challe is…

Even as she tried to think about her work, the image of Challe and Bridget came back to her, unbidden, and she felt like she was suffocating.

She shook her head slightly, trying to drive the image out of her mind.

“Say, Mithril Lid Pod,” she asked, “want to go for a walk?”

Mithril broke into a grin.

“Sure. How nice, when that Challe Fenn Challe guy isn’t around, the two of us can go for a stroll.”

Mithril cheerfully hopped up onto her shoulder, and Anne stepped out into the rear courtyard.

The moon was hanging in the sky. It looked like it had been broken exactly in half. For some reason, the sight of the waning moon was heartrending. A cold wind blew, and the dry branches of the deciduous trees that encircled the rear courtyard scrapped against one another loudly.

Anne felt a little chilly. She hugged herself and rubbed both arms.

“Anne, has anything good happened between you and Challe Fenn Challe lately?” Mithril asked optimistically.

She was staring up at the moon in a melancholic mood. “…Not a single thing,” she answered gloomily.

Mithril looked surprised. “Huh? Really?”

“I mean, I’ve been busy. I’ve hardly been able to speak to him.”

“But I was half-awake the other night…,” Mithril mumbled to himself. “That Challe Fenn Challe, he… Maybe my eyes tricked me? It was dark. Well, I guess I was wrong. It seems doubtful that he would do something like that, after all. But maybe…he might have been acting lecherous in his own way…”

Anne was starting to wonder what Mithril was talking about, when he suddenly clapped his hands together.

“I’ve got it! Anne, you should try to corner him!”

“Corner him?!”

Before she could question him about why she should do that, Mithril clenched his fists, brimming with confidence, and insisted, “I’ll casually leave the room and stay out for the whole night. While I’m gone, you corner him. Tell him you like him or whatever and beg him for just one kiss. Even he should be moved by that, and there you go, your love will bloom! Right, there’s no doubt about it. Why didn’t this occur to me until just now?!”

Mithril’s quest to pay back the favor he owed Anne had led him to give her some strange advice.

Anne held her head in her hands. “Uhhh, hmm…I’m happy you want to help, but I don’t think that will happen. Challe being moved and all.”

“But my heart would beat out of my chest if a girl told me she loved me, no matter how much of a scarecrow she was!”

“So you’re saying…I am a scarecrow after all…”

Just then, someone came out of one of the other dormitory buildings. They could see it was Jonas, illuminated by the faint moonlight. Cathy was riding on his shoulder. Jonas hesitantly approached Anne and Mithril.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked.

“Nothing. Just taking a walk.”

Jonas was carrying several spatulas of various thicknesses. He was probably on his way to the sugar candy workshop.

If a candy crafter wished to enter the Royal Candy Fair but had not been provided with a private room, they had to work on their candy sculpture in a corner of the studio’s workshop.

Jonas didn’t have a private room, so he needed to do his crafting there.

“A walk?” Cathy said with her usual contempt. “Unlike you, wandering around and taking it easy, Master Jonas is on his way to work on his sculpture. Have you already given up on making anything of your own?”

“You’re so annoying. Shut up, ugly!”

Mithril stuck out his tongue, and Cathy glared back at him.

“You’re one to talk, shrimp!”

“Cathy. That’s enough already. Be quiet,” Jonas chided her weakly. Then he hung his head and mumbled, “I’m going to work on my sculpture now. This year, I’m going to do it properly. Though I’m sure you’re making something, too. You look at me like I’m not worth worrying about. But if I was as big of a fool as you are…”

Anne had expected him to boast like always, but what he said was spineless and weak.

“Jonas?”

“…I sure do hate you,” he muttered. With a lonesome look on his face, Jonas kept his eyes averted from Anne as he walked off toward the workshop.

Mithril cocked his head as he watched him leave. “What’s the matter with him? I wonder if he ate something bad, maybe?”

Jonas’s standing within the Radcliffe Workshop was uncertain. He was the nephew of Marcus Radcliffe, and he did have a fair amount of skill. Despite that, he was sleeping in the large common room. Keith, on the other hand, was in a private room. Jonas was probably under a lot of pressure as he was Radcliffe’s nephew. Everyone around him likely expected more from the nephew of the faction maestro.

The crafters of the Radcliffe Workshop treated Keith with deference but showed none to Jonas. There were even rumors going around that Jonas, the maestro’s nephew, would be disregarded and that Keith would become the next maestro.

If Keith were to be chosen, Jonas’s position would disappear.

“I’m sure he also has all sorts of things to deal with. Probably.”

He was most likely also burdened with the feeling of impatience.

Burdened by a panic that told him he had to polish his skills more, that he had to make better sculptures.

Everyone is desperate. I bet we’re all suffering. I’m sure that even cool, calm Keith feels anxious about the candy he’s making. If not, he wouldn’t have asked me to take a look at it. I know in my case, when I’m worried, that’s when I want someone else to check my work.

Anne looked up at the moon once more and closed her eyes.

She could still see the moonlight shining faintly through her eyelids.

Let’s think this through. Slowly.

She recalled the color of Bridget’s cheeks, steeped in what looked like happiness as she embraced Challe.

Sugar candy. I’m making it. I’m going to make what I want, something incredible.

Anne shook off her idle thoughts and pondered the dilemma at hand.

The Royal Candy Fair is sponsored by the royal family. So I’m making candy for them. Keith said they liked candy sculptures of fairies. I like fairies, too. I especially like Challe and Mithril. So I want to sculpt them. But…

She suddenly opened her eyes. The moon was still glowing.

…why does the royal family like candy sculptures of fairies?

She recalled what happened with Lord Alburn, the former Duke of Philax.

In the beginning, she hadn’t stopped to ask herself why he’d wanted Anne to make a sugar candy of the fairy in all his paintings. Because of that, she had taken a monumental detour in the process.

“I need the reason,” Anne mumbled.

Mithril cocked his head. “Huh? What reason?”

“Why the royal family likes sugar candy sculptures of fairies. I’ve got to investigate that.”

“What are you talking about?

“I’m talking about sugar candy. If nothing else, now I know what I have to do tomorrow.”

Anne smiled at Mithril, who was tilting his head in puzzlement. “Shall we go back to the room?” she asked. “We have a lot to do tomorrow. Let’s go to sleep early tonight.”

When they returned to the room, Challe had already returned from Keith’s.

He was sitting by the window, apparently lost in thought. When Anne opened the door, he looked in her direction, seeming a little startled.

“Challe. You’re back? You finished early today.”

When she looked at him, she vividly remembered the scene with him and Bridget that afternoon. Somehow or other, Anne endured the suffocating feeling and feigned calm as she sat on the bed.

“It seems like even that boy is exhausted. He stopped early today so he could rest.”

For some reason, Challe also appeared to have no spirit. Moreover, he was subtly trying to avoid looking at Anne.

An unpleasant silence fell, as if there were an invisible wall between the two of them.

Unable to stand it, Anne spoke in the most cheerful voice she could muster. “Oh, right. Listen, both of you. Tomorrow, I was thinking of going to the Church of Saint Lewiston Bell.”

When she said that, Mithril, who had alighted from Anne’s shoulders and was busily burying himself underneath the bedcovers, suddenly sprang back up.

“Whaaa—?! But why? Tomorrow’s the one time when the three of us can finally get together and relax all day!” Mithril hopped up on Anne’s lap and looked up at her with tearful eyes. “I wanted to drink mulled wine at the Weather Vane and take it easy!”

“I’m sorry,” Anne replied. “But I need to do this so I can make my sculpture for the Royal Candy Fair. I don’t have much time before the fair, so… Ah, I know. If you want to go to the Weather Vane, how about the two of you go together? The innkeeper over there knows you both.”

“It would be torture going anywhere alone with Challe Fenn Challe! I hate the idea. I’d rather die—!”

Challe looked down at Mithril, who had fallen prostrate on Anne’s lap, and made a face of utter displeasure.

“Rest assured, there is absolutely no way I’m going, either.”

“Mithril Lid Pod, don’t cry, okay? Once the Royal Candy Fair is over, the three of us will definitely go to the Weather Vane. I promise.”

Anne stroked Mithril’s cheek with the tip of her finger. When she did, Mithril raised his head, sniffling. He grasped her finger tightly with both hands and implored her, “We absolutely have to. That’s a promise.”

“Mm, I promise. Okay? You too, Challe.”

Challe was grimacing at the noise.

“If it’ll get him to stop crying, I’ll go anywhere.”

When he heard Challe’s offhand comment, Mithril rubbed his eyes and dried his tears. “I can live with that promise to sustain me. Anne, you can go to the Church of Saint Lewiston Bell.”

“Then we’ll go tomorrow, together?”

“No. I’m not going. Anne, you go with Challe Fenn Challe.”

“Why? It’s our one day off, so let’s all go.”

“You dummy! Anne!”

Mithril jumped nimbly up on Anne’s shoulder and whispered in her ear.

“You go alone with Challe Fenn Challe! This is your chance!”

“Chance to do what?” she asked quietly.

Mithril gave her a firm thumbs-up. “Corner Challe Fenn Challe. Even if you’re a scarecrow, there’s no doubt that you’re a girl, too.”

“Uhhh…I thought I told you my opinion about that earlier, though.”

“Go for it.”

“Not happening.”

Without hearing a word Anne said, Mithril leaped back down onto the bed.

“Ah, ahem, ahem. Challe Fenn Challe. Tomorrow, I think I will spend the whole day in Kat’s room, trying to deepen my friendship with Benjamin. Yeah.”

The next day just so happened to be Kat and Benjamin’s day off as well.

Challe made a puzzled face. “With that guy?”

But Mithril didn’t pay him any mind and suddenly threw one hand up in the air. “Challe Fenn Challe, you’ll go to the Church of Saint Lewiston Bell with Anne, won’t you?! I’d worry about her going by herself. Which means both of you better work hard tomorrow!”

That was all Mithril said before snuggling into the bed again.

“…Work hard at what?” Challe muttered after a minute.

I can’t tell him…

Cold sweat ran down Anne’s back.

“W-well. I’ll be fine, won’t I?” she mumbled. “I’m going to the Church of Saint Lewiston Bell tomorrow, but…what will you do, Challe? You can stay in the room and rest.”

“I’ll go. Something bothersome is bound to happen if you go wandering about on your own.”

“You talk like I’m some kind of walking disaster…”

Despite her reply, Anne was indeed happy that he was going to accompany her.

But suddenly, she remembered Bridget again.

“But, Challe, what about Bridget? If you’re going to go anyway, don’t you want to go with her?”

“Bridget? Who’s that?”

“Huh? Bridget… Do you mean to tell me that you two were hugging each other and you don’t even know her name? I had a feeling that might be the case, but don’t tell me, Challe, that you’re extremely…”

“Extremely what? First of all, I don’t even remember embracing anyone.”

Anne was growing irritated. She stood, pressing closer to Challe. “Liar. I saw the two of you together from the window of the dorm this afternoon!”

Challe wearily replied, “So Bridget was that woman, huh? She was talking about buying me or whether not to buy me. She was confused and annoying, so I told her that if she wanted me, she’d have to steal my wing. I’ve encountered those sorts of humans my whole life; they show up from time to time.”

“I-is that so?”

Anne felt foolish for being so worried.

She was relieved, but Challe sullenly turned to gaze out the window.

“You seem a little out of sorts; is that why?” she asked.

“If I have to give a reason, it’s you.”

“Huh? What?”

She asked him to repeat himself because she hadn’t been able to hear him very well, but Challe turned his face away even more.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Hurry up and get to sleep, scarecrow.”

Challe’s abusive language was the same as usual, but Anne had long since given up trying to do anything about it. Recently, however, he had been making a better effort when it came to Anne. He had more or less stopped calling her a scarecrow.

And yet he had just deliberately called her “scarecrow.”

Is he bullying me or something?

She had absolutely no idea what would cause him to be so mean. She tilted her head in puzzlement.

The following morning, as soon as Mithril opened his eyes, he announced, “I’m off to deepen my friendship with Benjamin!” and left the room with an arrogant snort.

The sun had just risen. Anne could only imagine what a nuisance it would be for Kat and Benjamin to receive a visit from Mithril at that hour. She felt sorry for them.

The Church of Saint Lewiston Bell was on the southern end of Lewiston.

From the suburbs in the south of the capital, it looked as if the church was built to protect the royal castle, which loomed in the background behind the church’s bell tower.

The tall, slender spire of the main bell tower stood in the middle of two rows of smaller bell towers to either side. Below that was the sanctuary, built of white stone.

The official religion of the Kingdom of Highland is simply called the “state religion.” It is monotheistic, but the sole supreme deity has neither a form nor name. It is said that God is god, and anything else is unthinkable. There are no images of God, either. This is because they are an entity that cannot be imagined by the human mind.

The state church exists to spread and safeguard the state religion.

The headquarters, the Church of Saint Lewiston Bell, was also known as a place for academic studies. Centered around the sanctuary, there were many buildings. They included a library, a school for educating clergy, and places to study.

Only the clergy were allowed to enter the library or the school. But the sanctuary was open to the public, and anyone could worship there freely.

Anne stood in the doorway of the sanctuary, staring up at the ceiling, gaping.

“It’s huge!”

The entrance had already been open when they had arrived. It had to be, because the doors were made of stone and opened outward from the middle, and they were about three times Anne’s height. She wouldn’t have been able to move them even the slightest bit. It took ten clergymen to open and close them every morning and night.

Like an enormous umbrella, the ceiling curved out from the center, and it was even higher than the doors. The sound of footsteps and people’s voices echoed throughout the space.

“Ah…that’s…”

Anne started walking down the central aisle that led to the altar, passing the rows of pews used for worship.

She was still staring at the ceiling. When she made it halfway down the aisle, she came to a stop again.

On the main altar was a white stone relief of the symbol that represented the god, a circle combined with a cross.

Along the walls to either side stood enormous statues of the past saints, protecting the state religion.

But Anne’s attention never deviated from the ceiling.

Above, there were paintings. Scenes of miracles being performed by saints enshrouded in light were stretched across the domed ceiling. But the one that drew Anne’s eye was at the highest point of the ceiling. It was painted in the very center.

A burly young man with blond hair and blue eyes was crossing swords with a fairy who had red hair and red eyes.

She knew the blond youth must be the Ancestor King Cedric. He looked just as he had been described by the church leader at religious school long ago. Blond-haired and blue-eyed, wearing a helmet decorated with wings, a sword in one hand, and a bow on his back. His right eye had a distinctive wound over it.

This was the legendary Ancestor King, who’d fought against the Fairy King for the future of the human world. He had the divine protection of God, and it was said he owed his victory to that.

The opponent he was fighting against was the Fairy King.

He was a beautiful fairy. Anne felt that in some ways, his presence resembled Challe’s, but they definitely differed in their energies. Challe’s bewitching dark aura was striking, but the Fairy King’s gallant red aura projected overwhelming strength, as if the humans would be driven back by its fiery intensity.

The battle between the Ancestor King and the Fairy King was frequently depicted in state churches. The two of them heroically crossed swords in every church in Highland. But their expressions were always painted to look very sorrowful, something that had always made Anne uncomfortable.

In the towns and villages that she’d visited with Emma, Anne had attended religious schools sponsored by the local churches.

She had frequently been asked by pastors for her impressions of this picture.

The other children always gave answers like “The figure of the Ancestor King is divine” and “You can sense the strength of the Ancestor King.”

But Anne had said, “If they both look so miserable about it, maybe they shouldn’t fight.” She remembered getting scolded harshly for it.

“The Fairy King sure is beautiful. Come to think of it, I…I don’t know the Fairy King’s name…,” she mumbled.

Behind her back, Challe said quietly, “Of course you don’t know it. The state church has kept the name a secret. They probably think that fairies don’t need to be named, but even if they hide it, his name won’t disappear. The name of the Fairy King is Riselva Cyril Sash.”

Anne turned to look at Challe.

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve always known ever since I was born. Probably, the piece of obsidian from which I was born knew it.”

“I wonder why it knew something like that?”

“It was an obsidian inlay in the hilt of a sword. The sword itself was already rusted and had decayed, though. It probably saw something when it was with its owner.”

Challe looked up at the painting of the Fairy King on the ceiling.

He seemed suddenly mysterious—he was someone who knew the name of the Fairy King, which the church kept secret.

“Riselva Cyril Sash…”

There were no other signs of human presence inside the sanctuary. It was because worship normally took place in the early morning or before noon on the weekend. As she said the name out loud to make sure she had it right, Anne’s voice echoed faintly through the quiet space.

That’s when it happened.

“You there.”

A clergyman approached them from the direction of the altar. His hair was completely white, and the deep wrinkles around his eyes made him look kind. He wore the black clothes of the clergy. Anne reasoned that he must be the sanctuary’s caretaker.

The man stopped before them and made a troubled face. “You should know, sounds echo here. I have a feeling that I just heard a strange name come from your mouth.”

“The name of the Fairy King?”

The clergyman frowned, looking even more upset.

“I suppose you must have done domestic work or something for the church? Where did you learn it, I wonder? That name—you mustn’t speak it aloud too often. As far as the state church is concerned, we have sealed away that name.”

The man didn’t seem to be accusing her of anything, just informing her. Anne meekly bowed. “I am a candy crafter. I’m sorry about just now. For saying the Fairy King’s name out loud. I didn’t know it was forbidden. It’s just, he knew the name of the Fairy King, that’s all.”

The clergyman looked intrigued. “We do see them sometimes, fairies who possess knowledge of the past. This is my first time laying eyes on one of them. And an extremely beautiful one, at that.”

The clergyman gazed at Challe with envy, with an expression just like he had found a rare book he had been searching for.

“Um, sir, there’s something that I’d like you to tell me,” Anne implored.

“Hmm, what is it?”

As one would expect of a member of the clergy, the man was unfazed by Challe’s presence and turned back to face Anne with a smile.

“I am planning to make a sugar candy sculpture for the Royal Candy Fair. I heard from someone that the royal family favors ones that use fairies as a motif. Do you know the reason for that?”

“Certainly. The royal family does tend to prefer sugar candy sculptures that depict fairies. Now, I believe the reason that the members of the current royal family favor them is because of the ancient superstition that says, for some reason, fairy sculptures bring greater fortune than any other kind. I expect that His Majesty is familiar with it.”

“I’d like to hear more about that superstition.”

“It originates from a legend about the Ancestor King Cedric and the Fairy King.”

“What legend would that be?”

“It is one of the stories that we church leaders must not tell. Just like the name of the Fairy King.”

“I couldn’t get you to tell me?”

“Uh, hmm. I can’t, but…I can let you read it.”

“Huh?”

“Come this way.”

The clergyman beckoned to them and led Anne and Challe up to the front of the altar. Then he looked up at the ceiling and pointed to the painting of the Ancestor King Cedric and the Fairy King.

“If you view it from here, I’m sure you can see that there are words engraved around the mural. If you read them, you’ll find that the legend is written up there.”

“Oh, so there are. But—”

Anne was confused.

“—I’ve never seen words like that. What are they?”

“That is ancient Highlandia script. If you can read it, you’re welcome to do so.”

“No way…”

Anne already had a hard time with reading and writing. There was no way she could do something like that.

“There certainly are legends about the Ancestor King and the Fairy King. But there are also ones that are best kept hidden from the masses, considering the current relationship between humans and fairies. If you really want to know, study the script of ancient Highlandia and read them after learning and preparing yourself. That is what you must do.”

“And how many years will that take…?”

Anne let out a dry chuckle, and the clergyman smiled impishly.

“Well, do your best,” he said, before stepping into the back through a door to the side of the altar.

Challe had been staring up at the ceiling the whole time.

“I don’t think I could read it even if I spent a year trying…,” Anne lamented. “I’ve heard that there are very few people, even in the church, who can read this language.”

When she said that, Challe finally lowered his gaze from the ceiling and looked down at Anne.

“I’ll tell you,” he said.

“Huh? Tell me what?”

“What’s written up there.”

Anne was flabbergasted.

“You can read that, Challe?”

“It appears so.”

“No way!” Anne exclaimed in shock.

Challe placed his index finger against her lips.

“Your voice echoes. Sit there.”

Challe sat beside Anne on one of the pews before the altar. He looked above once more and then slowly brought his lips close to Anne’s ear.

“The Ancestor King Cedric was a slave of the Fairy King.”

His words tickled as he spoke next to her ear. Anne’s body stiffened from nervousness. Her ears grew hot.

“But due to Cedric’s bravery and sincerity, the Fairy King regarded him as a friend and set him free. Cedric, too, respected the Fairy King’s nobility and strength and considered him a friend.”

Reflexively, Anne looked Challe in the face to confirm what he had just said.

“Huh…? Friends?”

“That’s what it says.”

After looking up at the ceiling again, Challe brought his lips close to Anne’s ear once more.

“Most humans did not approve of the fairies’ rule. They gathered at Cedric’s side. Most fairies wanted to continue exercising dominion over the humans. The Fairy King could not ignore them. Still, Cedric and the king tried to find a path that fairies and humans could walk together. But trivial disagreements kept them from seeing eye to eye. Then the two of them, each following the will of their people, fought the other.”

Challe’s voice as he read the ancient script and the pictures painted on the ceiling of the Fairy King and the Ancestor King seemed to meld together into an illusory experience. Anne listened attentively to Challe as she looked up at the ceiling. Multicolored light streamed in through the stained glass windows.

“The Fairy King was defeated, and Cedric was victorious. Cedric was triumphant, but at the same time, he deeply mourned the death of his friend. The ideals that he had dreamed with the Fairy King lived on in Cedric for the rest of his days. He prayed that someday, fairies and humans could coexist together. He prayed that the strengths of the fairies might someday help humankind, and vice versa. Cedric had a sugar candy sculpture made in the image of the Fairy King for his funeral, and he offered up many prayers. That sugar candy had the power to invite great fortune…and that’s the whole story.”

Anne stared at the mural. She was curious about something.

The Ancestor King Cedric wanted to coexist with the fairies?

The enslavement of fairies was treated as the natural state of things in the Kingdom of Highland. Yet the Ancestor King, who had built the foundations of the country, had originally hoped to coexist with the fairies.

After five hundred years, treating fairies as slaves had been ingrained into their society. Even if the legend was circulated far and wide, it was doubtful that people would be deeply impressed by the wishes of the Ancestor King Cedric and release their fairies.

Despite that, the state church had been keeping the legend a secret.

The present-day kingdom was different from the world that the Ancestor King had wished to create. The church obviously didn’t want to go public with a tale that would make people feel guilty about it.

After all, they didn’t want to acknowledge their sins.

This was the cunningness of humans.

Anne realized the reason why the royal family favored candy sculptures of fairies may have been due to a dying wish of the Ancestor King Cedric. He must have made a prayer of some sort, wishing that the powers of fairies and humans would someday be joined together.

And the sugar candy sculpture of a fairy that inherited such sentiments, in comparison to sugar candies of other shapes, would be able to bring great fortune. That may have been because it inherited the power of the Fairy King, who had also hoped for peace.

If those two great dying wishes had taken shape, they would have been very powerful.

“But why did the Ancestor King Cedric make a world like ours if he desired coexistence?”

“It’s not what he made. It’s what he couldn’t make,” Challe answered while staring at the ceiling mural. “The Fairy King and your Ancestor King searched for a way to coexist. But ultimately, they ended up fighting. The victorious Ancestor King probably tried again to find a path for fairies and humans to live together peacefully. But he was unable to create that world. So we wound up with the one we currently have. That may be all there is to it. There are great differences between the two races.”

It was clear from Challe’s expression that he had given up on something. It was painful for Anne to see. To Challe, the distance between himself and Anne probably felt vast.

“Don’t say such things. There’s no difference between us,” Anne mumbled without thinking.

Challe turned his gaze back to her.

“There certainly is.”

“Not in my mind. I mean, I like you…a lot…”

Anne was surprised at herself for saying even that much. Then the very next moment, she felt a surge of embarrassment. She cast her eyes downward and couldn’t move. She wondered what was wrong with her, running her mouth like that. Her heart was pounding just from thinking about it, and she broke out in a cold sweat.

Challe peered at Anne’s face. He looked concerned, but Anne couldn’t bring herself to look up at him. She was terrified of saying something she couldn’t take back.

She wondered what had come over her. It was as if the combination of Challe’s voice reading the ancient text, the atmosphere of the church, and the multicolored light shining in through the stained glass had conspired to unsettle Anne’s mind.

Anne felt her own intense heartbeat as she stared at Challe’s wing, which lay smoothly across the pew.

Challe’s wing was light blue, light purple, and light green. It shone with a complex yet gentle combination of colors, as if a rainbow had melted. Her love for him grew as she looked at his beautiful wing.

When was it, she wondered, that she had touched it last? She recalled the wing’s texture and warmth from that time. Wings are the very essence of a fairy’s life. That was probably why it seemed so precious. Because it was Challe’s essence.

So very precious.

She couldn’t stop the feelings that were brimming over from inside her.

I wish I could turn this sensation into a sugar candy sculpture. If I could do that, then even these foolish feelings of mine wouldn’t be for nothing.

The moment she had that thought, it startled her. A certain desire of hers had crystallized in her heart.

“Ah…Challe.”

Still holding her throbbing chest, Anne lifted her head.

“I…can make it. I want to make a sugar candy sculpture.”

Anne hurried back to the dorms. Before returning to her own room, she stopped by Kat’s to see Mithril. She knocked on the door.

“Kat, are you there? It’s Anne. I think Mithril Lid Pod is visiting your room, and, um, I came to…”

She broke off midsentence as the door swung open.

Kat was swaying in the door frame with a fierce, murderous glare. He looked somewhat haggard.

“Kat?”

“What kind of harassment is this…?”

He pointed inside. His finger trembled with barely contained fury.

“Hey, you. Benjamin! No sleeping, no sleeping! It’s your turn next. More importantly, Kat! If you don’t hold the cards out, I can’t take one, can I?! I’m in the middle of a six-game winning streak—there’s no way I’m quitting! I won’t stop until I’ve recovered from the eighty-four times I lost!!”

Camped out in the center of the room, cheerfully directing the card game, was Mithril Lid Pod.

“He came here as soon as the sun was up. Since dawn, it’s been nonstop card games. It’s like some kind of torture program. I’ll give you a wallop if this was your idea!”

Anne went pale at his bitter tone.

“I-it wasn’t me. Mithril said that he wanted to get to know Benjamin better.”

“That little jerk Benjamin spent the whole day half asleep, so I’m the one who suffered the most!”

“Hey, Kat. Hurry back to your seat and hold the cards…”

Mithril was in the middle of complaining when he turned around to look at the doorway. When he noticed Anne was standing there, he tossed aside his cards and jumped over to her.

“Anne! You’re back?! How’d it go?!”

“Great! I’m going to start making my sugar candy now.”

“Not that, the thing with Challe Fenn Challe. Did you appeal to his lascivious side…?”

“My what?”

Challe was standing behind Anne with his arms crossed. He gave Mithril a piercing look.

Mithril choked on his words.

“Ah…you’re here? Challe Fenn Challe.”

“I don’t care about any of this, so you all go back to your own room right this minute!!”

Kat seemed to have reached the limits of his patience. He threw Mithril out into the hallway and slammed the door in Anne’s face.

“…Sorry,” Anne said dejectedly to the door.

When they got back to the room, Anne flung the window open and lined up the tools she used to sculpt sugar candy on top of the table. She pulled out a large box that was packed with vials of colored powder, took them all out of the box, and lined them up neatly on the table as well.

As he watched her work, Mithril asked, “You’re starting now?”

“Yep. Mithril Lid Pod, if you don’t mind, can you help me?”

Mithril rolled his sleeves up delightedly.

“You can count on me!”

He hopped up to stand on the rim of one of the barrels of silver sugar. Then he nimbly slid the heavy lid aside and peered inside.

“Your silver sugar is so pretty, Anne… It’s totally different from the stuff they’re making in the workshop right now. It’s super, super, super white. And smooth.”

The silver sugar filled the barrel all the way up to the top. Mithril briefly poked at it with his index finger. Where his tiny finger touched, the sugar quickly dissolved and disappeared. Mithril nodded in satisfaction and smiled.

“It tastes different, too.”

“So it does taste different, huh? You can tell?”

“Fairies are a hundred times more sensitive to the flavor of silver sugar than humans are, you know,” Mithril replied, throwing out his chest with pride. “They’re like two different substances. Your sugar is clean, sweet, and delicious. Any fairy can distinguish the slight differences in the flavor of silver sugar based on who makes it.”

“Wow, that’s amazing! I’m so happy to have the great Mithril Lid Pod, an expert judge of flavor, say that my sugar is tasty!”

Anne picked up a stone bowl and scooped up some silver sugar from inside the barrel.

When Challe saw what she was doing, he got up from the bed where he had lain down. He probably meant to tactfully leave so that he did not distract Anne. He always did that for her. However—

“Challe. If you don’t mind, I’d like you here as well.”

—Anne stopped him.

Challe made a surprised expression.

“I won’t be a distraction?” he asked.

“I’d prefer it if you were here. I want you here. Will you stay?”

“If you say it’s okay,” he answered bluntly, then lay back down.

Challe’s wing, which flowed across the top of the bed, reflected warm colors in the afternoon light shining in through the window. It had a gentle gradation from light blue to pink.

Fairies’ wings change color depending on their emotions and environment.

Anne stared intently at the vivid colored powders lined up in a row on the table.

I’ll go in order, starting from this end. I should be able to work each one into a gradation of about five different shades.

The process arose spontaneously in her mind.

Anne poured the silver sugar out on top of her stone slab, added cold water, and began to knead.

Over and over again, she kneaded the silver sugar. She kneaded it until it had the smooth texture that had given her a chill when she had touched Challe’s wing.

She wanted to make a fairy’s wing.

They carried their life force and emotions, and they were more mysterious and beautiful than anything else in the world.

Both Challe’s elegant, veillike wing and Mithril’s adorable, taut little wing were incredibly lovely. Anne’s heart overflowed with happiness at the thought of making sugar candy with the two of them.

My wish and the wishes of the Ancestor King and the Fairy King are the same. I want to give shape to our ideals.

Once a silky luster had emerged in the silver sugar, Anne separated it into five lumps. She picked up the vial of red-colored powder that was sitting on the far end of the table and sprinkled it on each one, varying the amount of powder slightly. She gradually increased the amount as she worked her way down the line in order to create a five-step gradation, from light pink to deep crimson.

She kneaded each of the five lumps of sugar again.

She had over a hundred vials of colored powder. She was planning to make five different shades out of each of them. Anne expected to wind up with five hundred colors. She knew it would take at least that many to really capture the colors of a fairy’s wing.