Let's rewind four months. Two weeks after the Hero's departure.
We are four months and three weeks before the destruction of October.
The Fairy stared blankly through the window at the "garden" of Java-Aleim, hoping to catch sight of him, returning from his bloody journey, to tell her whether he had failed or succeeded in getting his revenge.
But either way, the most important thing was that he would have come back.
Her friends came by to congratulate her with gifts and offerings, but aside from a few short moments of celebration, she would always end up sighing and politely sending them away.
The Fairy had hoped he'd return within those two weeks—hoping Nalo-vace would come back for her own birthday. He had told her he'd return so they could celebrate it together, but the third of Jusiair had passed, and he still hadn't come back.
It might have seemed selfish, but she truly wanted him to stay because she needed him. Of course, she enjoyed his company and longed for his return, but his presence brought her much more than simple joy: his blunt honesty, his principles, his willingness to help others, his cheerfulness once he shook off the grogginess, their games, his advice… All of it helped her more than ever to move forward and surpass herself—more than before his explosive arrival.
Maybe he would return the same way he had arrived? In an explosive whirlwind of trouble?
She could phrase it that way, but the presence of the one the outsiders mockingly called the "Faceless Demon" had been nothing short of a blessing to her.
So, perched on the windowsill, she waited for the miraculous return of her gallant knight to help her close the final gap separating her from royalty—and from earning her wings.
"It's no doubt a selfish dream, but it's his dream, so I'll help him realize it as long as I'm here!" he had said.
At least, she remembered him saying that, though she couldn't recall when. She just remembered that one morning she woke up and heard that sentence that had warmed her heart.
But weren't they right?
The Fairy had seen, during the Hero's victory against that Grave princess of the Slums, the sadness on his face when he came to her and asked her to make this kingdom a better place than it was now. The Hero too had realized—or perhaps had always known—how foolish the Fairy's goal was: to rule an entire kingdom just to earn wings. Nevertheless, hadn't she toiled day and night to justify her place on the throne when the time came? She had shed blood and sweat to avoid being a brainless puppet controlled by the sons of power-hungry ministers.
Perhaps that's why he had suggested she team up with the fairy from the Slums?
Since his departure, she had gained some public sympathy throughout the kingdom—especially after the Hero's remarks and the fierce determination she had shown in trying to surpass him, forcing him to break his restriction seal and fight her with increasing strength without backing down. There was no reason this wouldn't happen, especially in a kingdom where power and beauty meant everything. Thanks to this, she could now roam freely in the High Town and even speak to the queen without hiding—she imagined she was the second wingless fairy the queen secretly tolerated.
With all this in mind, the Fairy understood why the Hero found her admirable: she possessed tremendous strength, magical mastery that far exceeded his, and unmatched courage and resolve. Everyone had witnessed this fantastic determination—not only had she faced a champion as a princess to defend her "brother" who had been defeated by the Hero, but she had also, alongside the Hero and his friends, confronted the fanatics who sought to assassinate the Grave princess, her young citizens, and herself. Moreover, she had fought the legendary Hero in a titanic duel, pushing him to his very limits!
Could she say the same of herself?
"So she was my substitute because she has what I lack, isn't that right?" said the Fairy aloud, her voice trembling. "I understand now why you admired her so much..."
The Fairy was interrupted by the arrival of her mother Méa, who announced the visit of an emissary.
"An emissary?" she said with excitement.
But her expression darkened as she thought it over.
If it were him, she would have said so directly..., she thought.
The Fairy dressed decently enough to receive a guest—but not enough to show her status as a princess. No desire to make an effort, the rascal. She went to the lounge to meet the so-called emissary and discovered the same man who had announced the beginning of hostilities at the start of the tournament: the saintly noble from the Gen siblinghood, Coquigen.
"Good day, nameless princess—as your friends call you."
"Good day, Mister Coquigen," she replied.
Coquigen was a graceful man, very effeminate yet unmistakably masculine. His attire reflected the care he took with his body—not lacking in muscle, but more refined than warriors of his caliber. Dressed in a long pied-de-poule suit with silver buttons and maple loafers, he was the most stylish of nobles—hence his title. He was in charge of royal messages to noble orders, and more importantly, was the ambassador of the Kingdom of Sylvania. Unfortunately, that role had been "stripped" from him once the queen took matters into her own hands—not surprising, given his reputation for not keeping secrets. In his spare time, he was the fashion designer for nobles and royalty—he was, in fact, the one who had refused to properly dress the Hero for the parade.
"I assume you're here to announce the resumption of the race for the throne," said the Fairy.
"Exactly. But not only that."
Coquigen searched inside his vest, pulled out a letter from his pocket, and handed it to her.
"Is this from the queen?" asked the Fairy.
"Absolutely not. It's from a mysterious person who claims to possess certain secrets concerning you and the queen—especially the curse tied to your resemblance with the Wicked One."
"You've got to be kidding me…" muttered the Fairy before correcting herself, "I mean, I don't believe it."
Once again, the boy's bad influence.
"Who is this person?"
"They prefer to remain anonymous for now," the courier replied. "You should read the letter."
The Fairy took the letter and examined it thoroughly: clean, spotless, made of excellent paper, magically sealed with wax. It was undeniable that the sender belonged to the high nobility. Few people still upheld the manners and customs of the Sanctuary's noble class—even the queen paid little attention to such appearances, focusing instead on what mattered.
Like her peers, the Fairy knew how to proceed when receiving such letters—though Queen Audisélia had never asked her to follow these rules. Receiving such a letter was, in a way, reassuring. Since the queen herself ignored such traditions, it was likely the sender was not part of the royal administration—or at least, there was a slim chance they were.
She broke the two seals and unrolled the letter. Reading it was a bit difficult: the formal style suggested the writer would have neat penmanship, but the writing was sloppy, and the red ink used was nauseating and had bled across the page.
Under what conditions had it been written?
However, as she read further, the expression of the wingless fairy from Java-Aleim changed drastically—her eyes narrowing, then widening in shock—until she cried out in a trembling voice:
"Is what's written here true?!"
"Why ask me? I didn't open it," replied the noble with a sly smile. "Only you and your correspondent know what it says."
"That's impossible…" said the Fairy, distraught. "I don't believe a word of it!"
She furiously tore the letter and stomped on it with all the rage she could muster. It was the first time she had lost her temper like that. Only with her brother had she ever shown such emotion.
"Don't tell anyone I received a sealed letter," she ordered Coquigen. "Not the queen, not my parents, not anyone! Is that clear?"
"Crystal clear," nodded the official. "I'll take my leave, and remind you that the competition resumes in five days."
Coquigen stood, bowed before the Fairy with a flutter of his wings, and departed.
The Fairy stood there, on edge, teeth clenched, eyes murderous.
"You... Queen..."
Strangely, I don't know what was in that letter, but it clearly affected her deeply.
Outside, Coquigen returned home quickly, greeted the guards at his apartment door, hung up his coat and hat, washed his hands, looked for something sweet to snack on, stepped over the corpse of the real Coquigen, lit a few candles, grabbed a cookbook, closed the curtains, and sat in what appeared to be the favorite chair of the man whose form he had taken. He wobbled his head from side to side while reading the cookbook and resumed his true appearance—that of Lucello Ficas Milkas.
Licking his fangs, he wondered:
"Should I have taken this opportunity to make a move? It wouldn't have seemed suspicious since everyone's already seen us together."
He shook his head at the thought.
"No need to rush. I have all the time in the world, especially now that the successor will have plenty to deal with. I wonder what face he'll make when he sees her again. Rah, Second will surely send me images," he rejoiced.
He rested his feet on Coquigen's corpse, whose body he had drained of all substance, leaving only skin on bones. Then he calmly flipped through the book, looking for a recipe to adapt to cook that pile of skin. His tastes had refined over time.