The old Little Garden was destroyed, and the new one had been rebuilt by those people. But the only land the White Night King loved was that old soil—everything she'd once poured herself into.
"Not exactly a surprising answer."
Haramura Makoto laughed, and the sound was bright and unrestrained.
"In that case, you'll be giving me the help I need, won't you?"
"Of course, kid."
"Enjoy your last moments of leisure while you can."
Her tone sounded like a final notice, and with a downward flick of her folding fan, his vision went black—just like before. When he opened his eyes again, the guest room had returned to his sight.
He didn't hurry to rise. Instead, he slowly lifted his left hand from where it hung at his side and looked at the ring shaped like a stylized sun. The curve of his lips grew wider and wider.
"This…"
"This really does make the blood sing."
Knock, knock, knock—
A brisk, rhythmic knock came at the door.
"Haramura-kun, did you finish sorting out your issue? Hate to interrupt, but there's something that needs handling."
That light, lively voice—no one but Shokuhou Misaki.
"Come in."
"I've rested enough."
Drawing his thoughts back, Makoto sat up on the bed as the door slid open.
Shokuhou Misaki held keys to all the rooms. With his permission, she didn't need him to open from inside.
"Mm-hmm—"
Wearing a knit top and pleated skirt, she stepped in and immediately glanced around as if searching for something, her eyes darting everywhere.
"Hey!"
"This is your guest room, isn't it? Even if I stayed here, it would have been four or five hours at most. What's the point of being so curious?"
"Who could possibly leave a personal mark in a strange room within three or four hours?"
Makoto sighed and shook his head, looking too tired to complain.
"Hmph."
"You just don't get it."
Not finding whatever she had in mind, Misaki let it go and stopped surveying the room.
"Boys your age have a very robust… spirit, you know."
"Even in two or three hours, perhaps Haramura-kun would, well, vent a little restless energy."
"..."
"Who would do that?"
Makoto quickly stood, used his height advantage, and pressed a palm to the top of Misaki's head.
"And stop saying such scandalous things, young lady. Not a good fit for you, you know?"
He finished with a flick to her forehead—not too hard, not too soft—that made her take a step back with a perfect finger-shaped mark in place.
"Alright, what is it? Did Freyja wake up?"
"Hmph, maybe someone got flustered because I hit the mark?"
Rubbing her slightly reddened forehead, Misaki pursed her lips, acting exactly like a girlfriend teasing her boyfriend. But she judged the tone perfectly, keeping it just right.
She seized on his question to change the subject at once.
"Freyja-chan's awake. Someone needs to give her a proper explanation."
"I could do it, of course—but since Haramura-kun cares about this little sister, this one's best left to you."
Calming Freyja—if Misaki did it herself, it would be the simplest thing in the world. One press of a button, and she could change the girl's mind. But there was no question—that was the worst approach. No matter how one prettied it up, altering someone else's memories at will was wrong. Even a self-styled paragon like Shokuhou Misaki admitted that. Against enemies, she would never hesitate; when necessary, she wouldn't avoid using it. But for Freyja, there was no need. She knew Makoto cared deeply for the child. If she took it on herself now, he probably wouldn't mind—but there was that chance it would displease him. So why interfere?
"Mm. Is Flanda awake too?"
"Woke up ages ago."
"But she's been surprisingly well-behaved—staying in her room and not making a fuss."
Misaki was a little surprised at how quickly Flanda accepted reality. Or perhaps "spineless" was more accurate than she'd expected.
"Also, that Junko Hanakaze accepted things quickly, too."
"What is this, some dark side tradition?"
Misaki, who had never employed those people before, found it a little funny.
"Don't know. Didn't you control the two of them earlier?"
Makoto was curious—he'd assumed that while he fought Mugino Shizuri, Misaki had already completed a thorough rewrite of the two girls' thoughts.
"Completely rewriting someone's mindset isn't easy."
"Changing means replacing—and if you're replacing, you need a plausible replacement narrative."
"With things as rushed as they were, when would I have had time to craft one?"
"It's not like deleting a file on a computer with one keystroke."
Misaki rolled her eyes, mildly exasperated.
"I see."
"So, you've finished replacing Mugino Shizuri's thought patterns?"
Catching the implication in Misaki's tone, Makoto asked directly.
"Hmph."
"That's right. She's the biggest asset coming out of this operation, so of course she takes priority."
"Let her barrier recover, and she'll be a real headache."
She wagged a finger, blinked, and smiled mysteriously.
"When you see that woman in a bit, you are absolutely going to be shocked."