A few minutes went by as Maybelle remained unconscious.
At one point, I could have sworn that she lightly whispered "Mama" and "Papa" in her sleep, but I didn't really think anything of it.
I allowed Maybelle to lay her head against my lap, the same way Amber permitted when I was unconscious.
From my pocket, I retrieved a clean napkin that Mel had given me as a parting gift. It had the Melanargia family crest embedded on it, which was a pair of butterfly wings she referred to as the "Scale Wings".
I folded it and lightly rubbed the edge of soft cloth against her face, allowing it to soak up the saliva that dribbled from the corner of her mouth.
My actions, however, inadvertently caused her to wake up, as her face twitched and her eyes rapidly blinked.
"Where…? W-W-W-W-W-W-WHAT!!?" Her head jolted out of my lap and she quickly stood up in a state of panic. "Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-YOUR LAP! WHY WAS I ON YOUR LAP!"
I was confused by her reaction, as I thought it was customary to allow someone to rest against you, or even a requirement of some sort if nothing soft was accessible.
"I thought you would be more comfortable lying against it."
I explained that I would've had to leave her on the cold wooden floor otherwise.
"O-oh…" she began to calm down. "I can get quite overwhelmed at times, so uh… thank you, a-and I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble."
She spoke in a timid voice, unable to meet my eyes.
"It's no problem, except… you do drool quite a lot in your sleep."
"R-REALLY!?" She sounded devastated. "I'M SO SO SORRY! IT'S A TERRIBLE HABIT I HAVE! AHH, THAT'S SO EMBARASSING!" She hid her face behind her hands in shame.
I couldn't help but display my fascination, especially toward her prosthetic hand.
"Could I feel it?"
"HUH!?" She pulled her hands from her flushed face.
"Your hand, it's really interesting. I'd like to know how it feels, if that's okay with you."
She hesitantly gave a monosyllabic reply as she stretched her prosthetic hand out toward me.
I also hesitated for a moment to see if she would change her mind as I could tell she was feeling quite uneasy.
"If I'm making you uncomfortable at any moment, please let me know."
She gave a single nod of understanding, keeping her hand positioned in front of me.
I slowly grabbed the base of it with my own and placed my other hand on top of hers.
The prosthetic had the same structure of a normal hand–the only difference was the feeling.
The skin was replaced with a smooth alloy that absorbed the humidity of the air, allowing the temperature to feel normal and naturalistic. I could tell that the maker was an undeniably skilled craftsman.
That's enough, I thought, as I quickly retracted my hands after clarifying the bold statement she made about her father.
"Umm… where did your friends go?" Maybelle asked, trying to steer away from the awkwardness of the situation.
"Amber and Snapper? They left after you passed out. They said they were going to the Steel Grove Armory."
"I see... so I couldn't convince them, huh?" Maybelle's expression became crestfallen as her left hand sought her right arm for comfort.
She hung her head low in defeat.
"No. But your words were able to convince me."
"R-really?" She lifted her head in astonishment, but I could sense a hint of doubt within her voice.
"I told Snapper that he and Amber should go on without me, but that was because I was more interested in the Armory that you recommended," I confessed.
However, the real truth was that I felt somewhat responsible for Maybelle fainting, so I stayed with her out of obligation until she woke up.
Also, once I became a Collector I realized that I had to forge my own path.
I had been letting Amber and Snapper guide me up until this point, but I chose to become a Collector of my own will. I knew it was wrong to constantly rely on others, so I saw this as an opportunity to start making my own decisions.
"Seriously!? You don't understand how grateful I am!" Maybelle exclaimed while grabbing me in excitement.
She then calmed herself, freeing my hand from her soft grasp.
"I-I'm so sorry–I don't know what came over me. I hope I didn't just make you rethink your decision."
"No," I confirmed honestly.
"Phew," she sighed with relief. "Oh, I just realized that I didn't get your name. If you don't mind—"
"Wolf," I quickly announced.
"Wolf? That's such a wonderful name… Wolf. I'll make sure not to forget it since I'll forever be indebted to you." She smiled with gratitude. "My father's Armory isn't too far from here. I'll lead the way."
I affirmed with a nod.
My initial impression of Maybelle was that she was a shy young woman, who seemed quite timid and reserved.
But throughout our interaction, she was able to evolve into a fairly tentative individual, who even confronted her insecurities in order to protect the image of her father.
That made me very eager to meet the kind of man who's worth all that trouble.
I wonder what he's like…
...
On the way to her father's Armory, Maybelle and I began to bond over a conversation that would soon become a deep recollection of the past.
"... Although we aren't related by blood, he's the only family that I have."
"So, he adopted you?" I asked.
"Yeah, pretty much. He took me in when I was about three years old... He practically saved my life." As she said that, I watched her expression change into something dark, like she was beginning to dwell on a bad memory she had been trying so hard to suppress.
"Is everything alright?"
"Y-yeah, I'm fine." I could tell she didn't lie often since she wasn't very good at it.
As we continued walking through the streets, the setting transitioned to a small market district, where a confluence of various aromas were rippling through the air.
There was a tingling in my nostrils, which caused me to salivate profusely.
I turned my head in the direction of the sweetest smell, and I longingly stared at the bakery window that caught my attention.
"What is that?" I asked, failing to tame my urges.
"Hmm?" Maybelle looked at me with confusion just before noticing the building that caused my hyper-fixation. "Eh? Have you never seen a cake before?"
I rapidly shook my head as thin streams of drool began to fall from my lips.
She chuckled at me wondrously, as though I were some kind of exotic creature she found fascinating.
"I'm sorry for laughing. It's just… you're quite adorable. I could buy you one if you'd like."
Are you sure?Do you really want to? I would've asked her these questions, but I feared that she would have second thoughts, so my hunger pulled them to the side.
After purchasing a box of "vanilla lemon cake" from the old baker named Mr. Bonbon, we finally exited the bakery, which almost suffocated me to death due to the thick cluster of flavors that scented the air.
"Are you alright, Wolf? Was the air making you uncomfortable?" Maybelle looked worried as I started panting, slightly crouched down.
"Yeah, I think I just needed a little fresh air," I replied while slowly recovering.
"This should make you feel better." She opened the box in front of my face, revealing a vibrant display of the treats she purchased from Bonbon's bakery.
Although I felt somewhat ashamed by how I was acting, it was nearly impossible for me to control myself since I'd never seen anything like this before.
It was like soft bread, covered in smooth white frosting–a creamy dessert with an overwhelmingly sweet scent that wafted its way into my nostrils, and melted my insides.
I reached for a slice of vanilla lemon cake and felt its soft texture cushion my hand before I took a large bite out of it.
Within my mouth, a burst of joy broke out in the form of abundant salivation, which caused tiny bits of cake to swim across my tongue as I chewed.
The sourness of the lemon tickled my nerves as the sweetness of the vanilla massaged them simultaneously. I was experiencing what could only be described as...
HEAVEN!
"So, do you like it?" Maybelle asked, eager to hear my opinion.
"You shed dish ish called cake, right?" I tried to confirm while stuffing my face full of slices.
"Mhm," she nodded.
"This cake is delicious… in a very dangerous way."
I gulped it all down the last of the five slices, handing the responsibility over to my stomach.
"Hehe, I'm glad you like it… but, umm… I'm not sure if it was a good idea to eat all of that so quickly." Her face showed signs of concern, causing me to tilt my head slowly.
"What do you mean?"
"It's my fault, I should've warned you beforehand. You see, eating all of that at once is probably going to affect your stomach in a bad way."
"Really?" I said before concentrating all my focus toward my stomach.
I didn't really notice anything out of the ordinary though.
"I think it's fine. There doesn't seem to be anything wrong."
"Huh, really?" Maybelle's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, are you even human?"
"Umm, I'm actually a Beastren."
"Seriously!?" she said in shock. "But you don't exactly look like one."
"It's because I'm only half Beastren: half Axiell, to be specific."
I thought it was rather obvious, considering how quickly it was identified by everyone else.
"That would explain it then. I heard that most of the wolf races possess a strong stomach and an equally strong appetite."
"Oh, I wasn't aware of that. I don't know much about my race or what other half I belong to."
"Huh, how is that possible? Wouldn't you be able to tell by how your parents look?"
"... I'm not entirely sure who my parents are."
"Oh... I-I didn't know. I'm so sorry." Her expression, dull for a moment, brightened as though she had just realized something.
"If that's the case, then we're quite alike, Wolf. I was too young to remember what my parents were like before they..."
She pointed her face toward the ground as though she were asking the earth whether or not it was a good idea to continue her sentence.
"Did something happen to them?" I prodded.
"... They died."
Or more specifically, they had been killed.
Maybelle's eyes turned cold like she was somehow staring at an image of their corpses.
"It's quite funny actually–I can't seem to remember what my parents looked like when they were alive, but I can perfectly picture their dead faces."
Every time she closed her eyes, she could see lifeless ones staring back at her.
"I remember the blood pouring out of these holes in their heads… so much blood..."
Behind the round lenses of her glasses were the eyes of a horrified child that witnessed the tragedy occur right in front of her.
Holes in their heads? I quoted her words internally.
"You saw it, didn't you?" I asked.
"Huh?" she said, slowly waking up from her trance.
"You watched your parents get murdered right in front of you as a child. I'm guessing you saw who did it too, right?"
"How—"
"I didn't think anything of it before, but when you fell asleep at the station, I heard you crying out to them–your parents."
"Ah..." She looked visibly disturbed by this revelation. "You're surprisingly smart, Wolf. Whoever your parents are, I'm sure they're very wise people."
"I wouldn't know," I said bluntly. "If you don't mind me asking, were your parents–by any chance–Collectors?"
"H-how did you know that?!" She seemed even more surprised this time.
"I heard about it from a member of my party: a giant named Larg." I began to explain. "Before I obtained my license, he warned me about a rogue Soul Stealer, who was known for killing Collectors with a weapon that left holes in their heads."
There was a rumor that he used to be a Voltaire who never spoke or took his mask off–not even once.
Larg informed me that he lurks around in the Garmen region, yet no one has ever seen him and lived to tell the story.
But, from what I now understood, that wasn't exactly the case.
I looked at Maybelle, who was staring back at me nervously.
"You're right," she confessed. "My father and I are the only two that have ever crossed paths with him and survived."
"So, what's your story?"
Once I asked her this, she sighed heavily and sat down on a curb.
I followed and sat beside her, while carriage horses trotted past on the road, and a few pedestrians strolled discreetly across the pavement.
Maybelle's real mother and father, who belonged to a small village in the Garmen region, were strong collectors. They were close friends with her adoptive father, and even formed a party together.
Maybelle's parents had her at a young age, causing her mother to retire early from being a Collector.
However, her father wanted to continue his profession, while in search of someone.
"During that time was when the terror of 'the Voiceless Viper' had begun…"