Draping her arms over his shoulders, Jackie hugged Noir tightly, attempting to quell her tears as she wiped her eyes.
"It's really you, Noir," she said in complete disbelief. "I can't believe it's really you."
"Jackie? Are you–"
"Ah, ah, ah, Noir." She stopped him in his tracks. "Call me, Nénènn. Say it with me, Né-nènn."
Even in the thick of solemnity, Jackie couldn't help injecting a touch of humor to lighten the mood.
"N-Nénènn," he awkwardly repeated. "Wait, but I thought your name was Jackie?"
Unable to help herself, she began giggling, her tears drying up. Releasing Noir, she laughed, her warm chuckles filling the room. "It is, but in terms of family, I'm your Nénènn, silly. Your godmother."
"What's a godmother?"
Jackie smiled gently, her eyes reflecting memories. "Well, while your mother and I aren't related by blood, we were just as close as sisters. We practically grew up together. She trusted me more than anyone else, so she asked me to be your godmother. I never really liked the idea of raising kids or being responsible for someone else. I actually refused at first. But then when she—" Jackie hesitated, catching herself before revealing a past she hoped Noir would never have to know. "Let's just say, when you were born, I signed some papers. Those papers said that if anything ever happened to your parents, I'd be the one to raise you."
"So does that mean they're dead?" Noir asked, his tone flat and matter-of-fact.
Empathy wasn't something he'd had much chance to learn—growing up in a world where survival came first, and emotion came last.
Jackie flinched, her expression tightening as sorrow swept across her face. "They are."
"Oh. I see," Noir replied, placing the photographs he'd been holding back on the table.
"That's it?" Jackie asked softly. "It's okay to say more, Noir. To feel more."
She watched him carefully, concern edging into her voice. His face remained blank, his body still—like he didn't know how to process grief, or maybe he'd forgotten how entirely.
"Why would I do that?" Noir's words cut through the room.
Jackie felt a surge of frustration, momentarily contemplating a reaction more visceral than words. Yet, before she could act on that impulse, Noir pressed on.
"I don't have any memory of my parents. How could I feel for someone I don't know? In that place—Mille Dan, I think I heard someone call it—I saw many animals lay eggs, never to return for them. I figured that was what happened to me in one way or another. At the very least, I thought that we were the same. Someone left us behind to fight for ourselves. That it was only a natural part of life."
As much as it pained Jackie to hear, Noir made a valid point. He had no recollection of his parents, not even their names. However, there was one person from his old life he did know despite not remembering her, and that was the woman before him.
That's a pretty bleak interpretation of life, Jackie thought. But I guess in the land of a thousand teeth, there are no grays. Just plain old black-and-white decision-making to decide whether you'll be the predator or prey.
"Besides, if they died, that just means that they were—"
Without hesitation, Jackie slapped Noir.
"Don't you dare finish that sentence."
She was calm, though her voice was etched with anger and disappointment.
Noir had no idea about the many forms that strength came in, and Jackie wasn't going to simply stand by while he disrespected her loved ones—his own parents—by calling them weak.
A tense moment of silence passed between them. Noir could sense Jackie's hostility and knew from their fight aboard the boat that she wasn't one to be taken lightly.
But as her frustration subsided, she let it go.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have hit you. You're free to feel however you want, just… leave them out of it if it's nothing good, okay? Their memory is all I have left of them, and I won't allow it to be soiled. Not even by you."
"Jackie," Noir stopped himself, then switched up his phrasing. "Nénènn, I'm sorry too."
Despite Noir apologizing, he didn't have a true grasp on why he was doing so. He was merely following Jackie's lead in saying she was sorry. All he knew was that he had done something she didn't like.
Deep down, Jackie knew Noir's apology lacked sincerity.
"It's okay. But don't let it happen again," she replied, hoping that one day, he would genuinely mean it—not for her sake or his parents' memory, but for his own peace.
"Nénènn, can you tell me about myself? Who was I before I ended up in that swamp? What was I like?"
"Woah," she halted Noir in his tracks. "I'll answer all your questions, but let's step outside."
She gathered the bags she'd brought in from the store. "It's a little much for me to be in this apartment right now."
Stepping out onto the balcony, where a cool breeze whispered through the night, Jackie quietly closed the door behind them. With a soft click, she sealed away the past that lingered in the apartment.
"Oh yeah, here." Remembering the things she'd bought for him at the store, Jackie handed him a white T-shirt.
"I'm pretty sure this should fit you. The boy at the store who tried it on looked about your size…"
As Noir accepted the shirt and pulled it over his head, Jackie couldn't help but notice his physique. It was only then that she truly realized how muscular and well-toned he was.
This kid is unnaturally defined. Every day must've been hell for him just to survive. The wildlife in Mille Dan would eat a seasoned hunter alive, but he had what most would consider divine protection. But even if he's never been hurt, I'm sure there were days on end where he had to physically exhaust himself just to get by.
"It fits," Noir said, standing with his arms at his sides.
Setting the bags down once again, Jackie stepped closer to Noir.
"Let me just…" she elongated her words as she began tucking in his shirt. "There. A man should always tuck his shirt in, Noir. It makes him look presentable—and adds extra points in the looks department, if I say so myself."
Stepping back and leaning against the railing, Jackie gazed up at the fading sky. Though night had already fallen, traces of orange still lingered on the horizon—remnants of the setting sun.