"This isn't a game, children."
Felicity's voice was soft, but carried the weight of sorrow. Her expression was one of quiet mourning, as though she were gazing not at playful children, but at echoes of a past she had failed to protect. Surrounded by wide-eyed little ones, she drew in a long breath, like someone carefully sorting broken glass inside her chest.
"When the bones were boiled into soup," she said slowly, "the last glimmer of hope in the world vanished. If Officer Lauda hadn't turned her very body into flame and forced open that kitchen door… the world would've remained in darkness."
"Sister Felicity's stories are sooo cool!"
A little girl leaned against March 7th, her tiny head resting on her shoulder. One finger tapped against her lips as if trying to savor the story like candy. Her delicate face radiated unfiltered joy.
"Yeah! Way better than Sister Pela's stories~!"
Another child chimed in excitedly, her pigtails bouncing with every word.
"..."
Pela sat stiffly beside Felicity, her round cheeks slightly puffed as she clutched a book in both hands. Her brows twitched. The shadow of defeat hovered over her like a stubborn cloud.
She was, after all, a proper intelligence officer of the Silvermane Guards. She knew everything about Belobog's history, law, and military formations—but the art of storytelling? Child management? That was far beyond her jurisdiction. Her meticulously prepared history lesson had clearly bored the children to tears, and now they had clung to the two elder sisters like baby birds to warmer nests.
Why was Felicity here telling stories in the first place? Simple—because the destination they were headed to, the famed Mechanical House, had unexpectedly closed its doors.
"You're really good at this, Sister Felicity."
Pela couldn't just sit there and accept her loss. She gathered her breath and mimicked Felicity's earlier storytelling voice—clenched fists and all—projecting dramatically:
"Once upon a time—!"
She shot a sidelong glance at Felicity, hoping to spot even the slightest crack in that serene mask.
But Felicity only raised an eyebrow, her smile deepening as though nothing could shake her composure.
"What's wrong, little Pela? Is something bothering you?"
She teased with a lighthearted air, as though to fan the flames just enough to toast, not burn.
Caught off-guard, Pela's expression froze. A soft crimson hue crept up from her collar to her cheeks, then bloomed up her neck like a betrayed blush.
"Sister Pela, you're being super childish~"
The girl clinging to March 7th tilted her head with innocent mischief.
"…I have more important duties to attend to. I'll leave you to your games."
Pela turned on her heel, trying to maintain her dignity. Her voice was flat, but the urgency in her steps betrayed her. She vanished around the corner like a soldier retreating from emotional warfare.
She really is an adorable girl.
Felicity couldn't help but smile. She watched the little officer's back with affection and amusement.
Clapping her hands gently, she addressed the children once more.
"All right, little ones. The story hour ends here. It's time to return to the 'Belobog Historical Tour.' Remember to listen carefully to Sister Pela next time, okay?"
As fun as it was to tease the round-faced officer, it wouldn't be right to interfere with her job.
"Okay~!"
The children chorused sweetly, their guilt not deep but sincere. They understood they'd misbehaved—at least a little—and that was enough.
With Felicity's gentle urging, the group of children straightened into a surprisingly orderly line and trotted off in the direction Pela had disappeared.
"I didn't know you had such a talent for storytelling."
March 7th tilted her head, both impressed and amused.
"I didn't make it up," Felicity replied modestly. "It's based on a real event. Old stories passed down in my homeland."
Just then, a bright voice—crisp and confident—cut through the air behind them.
"Well, well! What's with all the excitement today?"
Everyone turned. A tall blonde woman approached, dressed boldly in cut-off shorts and an eye-catching top that exposed part of her waist—where a small pink lightning tattoo gleamed like a signature. She looked like someone who danced with thunder.
Felicity blinked, eyes flicking from the shorts to the smirk. Was this… a local non-mainstream?
"Whoa, what a cool big sister!"
March 7th blurted out her admiration with stars in her eyes.
"Hello! How are you?"
Stelle greeted her with practiced politeness.
"What are you all chatting about? I haven't seen this much noise outside my shop in ages—well, unless it's during a concert," the woman laughed. "Oh, right! I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Serval, owner of this fine Mechanical House."
"We heard there'd be a performance here, so we came to check it out!"
March 7th raised her hand like a student eager to answer.
"Performance? Oh dear, they're only held occasionally. Didn't anyone tell you that?"
Serval's brows lifted, clearly puzzled. Belobog was small. If they'd heard of her, they should know the schedule—or lack thereof.
"We're kind of new here…" March 7th admitted with a sheepish scratch of the head.
Dan Heng simply lowered his gaze, his silence a mask for exasperation.
"New, huh?" Serval narrowed her eyes briefly, then her face lit up with realization. "Ah, I heard something from a rather talkative Silvermane Guard… Outsiders who met with Cocolia—was that you all?"
A guard let that slip?
Felicity's interest sharpened. Was security that lax in Belobog? Even if their presence wasn't secret, it shouldn't be shouted through the streets.
Something's off. Very off.
But she didn't voice her thoughts. Instead, she simply observed Serval, curious.
"What a rare treat! Come, come. Whatever the reason, you're welcome to my shop. It's spacious enough for everyone~!"
Like a child excited to show off her toys, Serval waved them over and pushed open the mechanical house's door.
"Yay!"
March 7th darted forward, practically skipping.
"Yay!"
Stelle echoed her, marching right in after her.
Dan Heng: "…"
He sighed, then followed in silent resignation.
Felicity hesitated only a moment. Maybe she should make an effort to be more sociable.
"Good—"
Her words caught in her throat.
"Ms. Felicity!"
The sudden voice behind her was laced with surprise—and something deeper.
Felicity turned slowly.
There stood Bronya, her silver-gray eyes fixed on her, hesitation battling certainty in her gaze.
So, it had come to this.
Bronya remembered Felicity's words clearly—"We'll meet again when you find the answer." And now, just as she stepped out from Cocolia's office… here she was.
The timing was too precise. It almost proved that Felicity was never truly of this world.
But her mother had called the woman a fraud, warning her not to believe what her eyes alone could see.
Who should she trust?
Her reason told her to trust the woman who had raised her. Her instincts whispered another answer entirely.
There was a voice in her heart now.
It told her to open her eyes and see for herself what was real.
--+--
T/N: I was thinking I wished I could have puppets like Herta does, but I wonder if they would be as uninterested as i am in everything. If I cloned myself, my clone probably would be just as lazy than I am.