Sugar Apple Fairytale - Volume 5 - Chapter 1.2

Apparently, Challe had once again resorted to drastic measures. But sure enough, Anne had entirely forgotten her fear.

She felt embarrassed for taking him seriously and for blushing bright red. Not only that, but she also realized that a moment earlier, she had thrown her arms around him, clinging to him like a little monkey, crying and making a fuss. It must have been incredibly unbecoming.

“I’m sorry, Challe… I really lost my cool… It’s just this castle. It’s got a terribly bleak atmosphere, and it’s doing something to me.”

Mumbling an apology, Anne slid back on her knees over the smooth stone floor. Her dress was collecting dust, but she was so agitated that she didn’t even notice.

“You were simply frightened because you expected to be frightened,” said Challe. “There are sections of this castle that were intentionally destroyed by human hands. Because of that, the structure looks more ruined than it otherwise would.”

With a glance, Challe indicated one of the large arched windows that lined the corridor. When he stood up, he took Anne by the hand and helped pull her to her feet. Then he led her over to the window. His gallant, efficient movements entranced her. All it had taken was a casual tug at her hand.

There’s such a gap between us. Challe would never make a big fuss like me.

“You can see it from here—the relief on the arches,” Challe said, “the front windows, the ornaments on the outer wall. Some things aren’t visible from here, but we saw them on our way from the entry hall to our rooms, like the facade in the hall, parts of the walls and ceiling, the portraits. All these were deliberately destroyed.”

The window before them was impressive, taking up a huge section of the corridor and reaching almost to the ceiling. When Anne looked through its glass, filthy with dust and streaked with traces of wind and rain, she saw the garden and the arches over the entrance.

The things that Challe had pointed out were indeed broken. Now that he mentioned it, the fact that only those sections were damaged, and the areas around them remained intact, made it clear that they had been targeted intentionally.

“You’re right. But why?” she asked.

“I would bet that they were destroyed when the Millsland royal family seized this castle.”

“For what purpose?”

“The crest of a castle’s owner is usually carved into the center of its arches. And I’ve often seen windows with crests set in stained glass. The front wall of the entrance hall normally displays a crest as well. And the other places that were wrecked must have had some ornamentation on them that used the crest as a motif. The crest of the Chamber family, that is—the former owners of this castle. The Millslands erased every trace of it and stripped the castle of its crest.”

The reason the castle gave Anne such an eerie impression, above and beyond the fact that it had been left to decay, seemed perfectly obvious once it was explained to her.

It had been destroyed on purpose. The scars of that devastation tied into the creepy atmosphere, and that was all there was to it.

But she could hardly believe the cruelty of the Millsland royal family. They had gone so far as to exterminate even the crest of a family they had eradicated. It was a dreadful thought. They had wiped them out thoroughly and mercilessly. Powerful people probably became powerful precisely because they had it in them to do terrible things like that.

“How awful… It’s almost like they were trying to erase the very fact of those people’s existence from the world.”

“That’s probably what they intended,” said Challe. “To banish the crest of the Chamber family.”

Suddenly, Anne became aware that she had taken Challe’s hand again. Flustered, she let go.

“I was looking for Mithril Lid Pod. Let’s go check the east wing. We’ve got to hurry and get the workshop up and running, too.”

If she stayed there together with Challe, she feared the heat would never leave her cheeks. She quickly headed away down the corridor. Walking with brisk steps, she used her left hand to tightly squeeze her right, which had been holding Challe’s only a moment earlier.

She had touched a fairy’s cold hand, and yet her own was so warm that it tingled.

She proceeded down the corridor and emerged into a hall on the second floor, smaller than the one downstairs.

This lesser hall contained decaying couches and a low table that must have been part of the castle’s original decor. Candlesticks, flower vases, and other valuables had either been confiscated or looted after the fact. Nothing of the sort remained. The only thing left on the low table was a square slab of stone with a black and white grid on it, covered in dust.

It was the board for a game called fyffe, which used many pieces. There should have been kings and queens, bishops and knights, castles and fairies, all elaborately carved out of some hard material. The pieces were to be arranged on the board, across which two players would face each other. It was a game beloved by nobles; common people usually played cards instead.

But the pieces—essential to the game—were nowhere to be seen. They were usually made from stone or crystal and sometimes decorated with gems, so they must have been carried off long ago.

There were a number of life-sized portraits hanging on the walls of the room. Every one of them had the face torn out, and any images of necklaces or garments that must have been adorned with the family crest were shredded.

Anne came to a stop and looked up at the portraits.

The paintings made her uncomfortable, but now that she had heard Challe’s explanation, she found them more pitiful than unpleasant.

All of them were covered in dust, except for one portrait that was bizarrely clean. It depicted a man with black hair. He looked like a knight attending a ceremony. He was slender and dressed in a splendid, close-fitting costume. His face, too, had been torn out.

Why is this the only painting not covered in dust, I wonder?

Though she found it quite mysterious, Anne moved away from the portrait. When she did so, she felt a cold breeze on the back of her neck, but she convinced herself it was merely her imagination and didn’t turn around.

And since she didn’t turn around, she didn’t see the shadow of a person quietly stalking through the small, deserted hall.

Challe couldn’t help but find it amusing when Anne made such a fuss over seeing a ghost. But she seemed genuinely frightened, so he went ahead and embraced her. And yet she continued making a racket, so he asked if he should kiss her. Whenever he teased her like that, she always overreacted. He figured it would put any thoughts of ghosts out of her mind.

Sure enough, Anne was completely startled, and her fears appeared to vanish.

The question about the kiss was only a joke, of course. But as he watched Anne head off to meet up with the other candy crafters, he wondered absentmindedly: Supposing Anne had answered Challe’s question with a yes, what would he have done?

Anne was a human. Humans were happiest living among other humans, so he couldn’t take her for his own. But he knew such rationalizations would not have kept him from kissing her.

He couldn’t control himself. That was one big difference between the feelings he’d had for Liz and those he had for Anne.

Challe stared at Anne’s back.

He wondered whether she had noticed the changes herself. A year ago, she had been small and thin, and her only striking features had been her lanky arms and legs. Since then, she had matured somewhat.

She had grown just a bit taller, her chest and hips were filling out, and her proportions had become more balanced. She was still petite, but her figure was slender and elegant. The color of her hair had also lightened a bit, and illuminated by the sunlight streaming in through the corridor windows, it looked more lustrous than before.

In a single year, Anne had transformed from a little girl into a young woman. But she didn’t seem to have changed as much inside as she had on the outside. It might still be some time before she was able to formulate a response to his sweet teasing.

Once Anne had disappeared down the corridor, Challe chuckled.

From a fairy’s perspective, it was a curious thing to have a body that naturally changed over time. It was one of the many mysterious things about the creatures known as humans. But Challe found it charming. He’d felt the same way as he watched Liz transform from a child into an adult.

But he didn’t simply think Anne was cute. There was a peculiar, sweet sense of urgency mixed in with his other emotions.

Just then, Challe sensed someone’s eyes on him. The feeling was coming from the end of the corridor behind him. When he spun around, he saw a figure turn the corner there. It was soft and purple.

As if he had been fired from a bow, Challe was off. There was a thin layer of dust covering the smooth stone floor. His feet slipped as he ran, but he dropped lower and regained his balance. Clearing the corridor in an instant, he rounded the corner.

But after the turn, he hit a dead end. The hallway came to an abrupt stop.

Challe slowed to a standstill. Frowning, he walked up to the dead-end wall and touched the plaster.

I know I felt someone’s eyes on me.

Down on the first floor, there was a door in that same spot—an entrance for going up into the west tower. But here on the second floor, there was no way into the tower, just a plaster wall. Its rough texture seemed perfectly natural—nothing out of the ordinary.

Challe turned to look back at the corridor he had just dashed through. In the light shining through the window, the dust that had built up on the floor glowed white. Challe’s footprints stood out distinctly.

And there was another set of tracks beside his. They were much smaller and lighter than Challe’s, and they were all mixed up, as if the person who had left them had walked around the corridor many times, ultimately coming right back to the spot where Challe was standing. And their trail broke off right in front of the wall.

“A ghost that leaves behind footprints, huh?” Challe muttered to himself, then looked up at the plaster wall once more.

Doors to either side of the great entry hall led to the first floor corridors of the east and west wings of the castle.

The eastern doors opened into a straight corridor lined with large, arch-shaped windows. Four doors were set at regular intervals into the opposite wall. The second and third floors were constructed in the same way, with four rooms on each. Furthermore, the east and west wings of the castle were identical, as if they were mirror images of each other.

The candy crafters of the Paige Workshop set up the four rooms on the first floor of the east wing as their workspace.

The final finishing touch was the purification ceremony. For this, they used the powder of a special nut that had been named after Saint Ellis, one of the twelve patron saints of the state religion.

The hard, brown Saint Ellis Nut was dried and ground into a powder. The head of the workshop or their proxy scattered the powder, which had a spicy, invigorating aroma, at all four corners of the workshop while chanting passages from scripture.

By doing so, it was believed that that place was purified and became a sacred space. Similar purification rituals were performed in the workshops of blacksmiths and artisans and in the churches and sanctuaries of the state religion.

The sun had set completely by the time they were finished with the purification ceremony.

If they’d wanted to, they could have lit the room and started their work at night. But they had begun preparations for the move the moment the Selection concluded and completed it without rest, and as might be expected, all of them looked exhausted.

Elliott had realized as much, and at his suggestion, they decided to take a break for the evening.

Their work would begin early the next morning and would continue day in and day out. The crafters all knew this, and after eating dinner, they immediately withdrew to their own rooms.

Anne had no choice but to return to hers as well, so she clung to Mithril Lid Pod and pleaded with him to sleep by her side. He took pity on her and followed her back to her room.

“Anne, it’s not that I mind sharing your bed. Actually, I’m happy you asked. But…”

He sat on the bed and folded his arms, looking troubled.

It was just as Anne had anticipated. At night, her room was extremely unsettling. Because it was so big, the light from the candle atop her side table was not enough. The four corners of the room were pitch-black, with darkness lurking in every nook and cranny.

She had closed the curtain hanging over the window, but even the curtain itself was eerie.

Anne finished changing into her nightclothes behind that weird, dusty curtain. She breathed in the dust and sneezed two or three times. With a hand over her itching nose, she approached the bed.

“But what?” she asked.

“For this sort of thing,” Mithril replied, “I think you ought to ask Challe Fenn Challe.”

“You know how Challe is. If I asked him, he would be amused and probably agree, but sleeping together… It’s a step too far. I would be too embarrassed.”

“Anne, you dummy! With that attitude, your love will never bloom. Even that big idiot will come around with the proper mood and atmosphere. I said it once before, didn’t I? Sometimes, you have to get the ball rolling with a little action first! And what better way to do that than to invite Challe Fenn Challe to join you tonight? All right, it’s settled.”

Mithril jumped to his feet on top of the bed. “I’ll go ask him now!” he said.

He tried to leap down, but in a panic, Anne grabbed him with both hands. “Wh-wha—? Mithril Lid Pod! Wait! Please!”

Mithril wriggled and put up a mighty struggle. “Let me go, Anne! Are you trying to keep me from repaying your favor?!”

“This is your idea of repayment?! It feels more like harassment!!”

“What are you calling ‘harassment’?! Why, this is the very first step to returning the fa…”

Mithril wormed his way out of Anne’s grip and was about to hop away, when he suddenly froze.

“Anne…?” he said.

“What?”

“Did you open the window?”

“I didn’t.”

“But there’s…a breeze, isn’t there?”

Mithril’s eyes were fixed on the flame of the candle. Sure enough, it was leaning to one side, as if being fanned by a breeze. But Anne didn’t feel any wind.

It was as if someone was blowing out a long breath over the candle. But no sooner did that thought cross Anne’s mind than the flame suddenly stood up straight again, before flickering back to its previous position. Then it went back up. It kept repeating the same cycle.

“What is this?”

Anne widened her eyes at the bizarre phenomenon. Then the slanting flame abruptly went out.

Suddenly, they were plunged into darkness.

“It’s pitch-black!” Mithril exclaimed. “I can’t move!”

“Hold on, I’ll get some light.”

Anne fumbled around, trying to find the side table. While she was crawling across the bed on her hands and knees, she felt someone blowing puffs of air over her shoulder. She sensed no presence, and yet she heard the sound of someone’s breath near her shoulder.

Anne let out a shriek and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She curled up on the bed with her head in her hands.

“Anne?! What’s the matter?!”

For some reason, Mithril’s voice seemed far away. The noise of the breathing by her ears was much louder.

“Mithril Lid Pod!!”

She called out for his help. At that very same moment, like a burst of sparks, she saw a scene play out behind her closed eyelids.

A man with black hair and a black beard was riding on a horse. The sun was at his back as he raised a whip overhead.

“Laggard!”

She heard a scream. It was the voice of a young boy. She couldn’t see the boy’s figure, but something purple flickered at the edge of her field of vision.

“I’m sorry, Your Lordship! Please forgive me!”

The boy’s pleas, mixed with his screams, pierced her ears.

“Anne?!”

Then she heard Mithril’s voice loudly calling her. She raised her head in surprise and saw that the room was no longer dark. Mithril had just relit the candle. He immediately hopped nimbly over to Anne.

“What’s the matter, Anne?”

“Ah… Mithril Lid Pod…”

With a sigh of relief, she sat up. Her hands were still trembling slightly. But she felt significantly more secure now that it wasn’t pitch-black, even if the only light was the weak flame of a single candle.

“Just now, something… I don’t know. But it was scary…”

She was a little dizzy. She recalled the breathing noises that had sounded so close by and shuddered. But even more than that, the scene that had appeared behind her eyelids like a flash had been terribly frightening.

The brutality and ruthlessness of the man wielding the whip had been unbearably awful.

“What happened?”

Mithril hopped up onto her lap and patted Anne’s hand. Instinctively, she embraced him. She felt relief flood her as she hugged the small but energetic Mithril.

“I have no idea,” she said.

There had to be a reason for the flickering candle, the breathing she had heard close to her ear, and the draft and difference in air temperature. Even the scene that had flashed before her eyes might have been something like a daydream, brought on by her feelings of fear.

She knew this. Still, it had been terrifying.

“I don’t know, but…please, Mithril Lid Pod, just for tonight, will you sleep here with me?”

She felt like it might lessen her fear somewhat if she could hold on to Mithril as she slept.

The fairy flushed. “S-sure. I don’t mind.”

While they were having that exchange, there was a knock at the door. Before either of them could answer, it swung open.

“What’s going on?”

Challe Fenn Challe was looking in at them. Apparently, he had heard Anne’s screams and had come to check on her.

Finally, the trembling in Anne’s body subsided. She felt secure when she saw Challe. It was almost like a reflex—like it had been imprinted into her mind that everything would be all right as long as he was with her.

“Did something happen?” he asked.

Anne wasn’t sure what to say. In reality, the only thing that had happened was that the flame of her candle had wavered and gone out. She didn’t think she could say for certain that hearing breathing in her ear or seeing a scene behind her eyelids had actually “happened.”

“What perfect timing! Challe Fenn Challe! Come here and sleep with—”

Just as Mithril was about to say something outrageous, Anne panicked and covered his mouth.

“Everything’s fine,” she insisted. “Really, it was nothing. Good night.”

Challe didn’t look like he believed her, but he closed the door.

After taking some time to settle down, Anne blew out the candle and slipped under the blankets, holding Mithril tightly.

In Anne’s arms, Mithril grumbled, “What the heck? Wouldn’t you be better off sleeping with Challe Fenn Challe like this?”

“Sorry, but I get embarrassed just thinking about it…”

“That said, Anne…,” Mithril began suddenly, his voice anxious. “I wonder if there really is something here?”

As long as the two of them were under the warm blankets, they felt safe, and it helped them stay a little calmer.

“I really don’t know,” Anne said, squeezing Mithril even tighter.

I wonder what Father and the others will say about him?

Seated before a brightly burning hearth, Bridget was packing her bags.

There was no one in the main house of the Paige Workshop. Not her father—Glen Paige—or Elliott or Orlando, not Anne or Challe or Mithril. Not even Hal or Danna.

She was the one who had told Elliott to go on ahead when he came to pick her up, and yet she was filled with a hopeless sense of loneliness.

Just then, someone embraced her shoulders gently from behind.

“What’s the matter, Bridget? Are you cold?”

Bridget blushed at the man’s kind words and gesture, and she turned around to look at him bashfully.

“I’m all right,” she answered. “Thank you.”

Joy sprouted inside her for a moment, but then just as suddenly, she felt empty again.

I would probably be fine with anyone at all…

She was well aware that what she was doing was foolish. But she was in a hopeless, reckless mood.

The fire was burning vigorously in the hearth. It wasn’t even that cold, but for some reason, her body felt frigid.

“Should I bring you a coat?”

“No need,” she said, touching his hand. “I’m fine.”

“You’re so cute,” he whispered, then snuggled up to her. His words were sweet like the scent of flowers.

He was beautiful. Whenever she took him out walking around the town of Millsfield, people passing them on the street stopped and turned back to look at him in spite of themselves. She had him all to herself. She ought to have been prouder than she’d ever been. So why couldn’t she even manage a smile?

“I’ve arranged a carriage for us to go to Hollyleaf Castle tomorrow,” said Bridget. “But…why do I have to go at all? I wouldn’t mind waiting here alone with you.”

He answered her gently, like someone speaking to a child throwing a tantrum.

“Because it would be careless for the two of us to stay here together. Besides, you are the daughter of the Paige Workshop, aren’t you? It’s not good for you to be away from your family.”

Bridget already knew this, and she nodded with a sigh.

“Of course…you’re right.”