1
Cleo stood in the house of Joseph, a man once employed as the gardener of the Grant House. For some reason, he could immediately tell, oh, this is a dream.
It was surely the final dream he'd seen in his life. The dream he would see in his final sleep.
In reality, Cleo had only ever been to Joseph's house once. With his disease worsening, Joseph had said he wanted to see Cleo's face before he died. His disciple desperately negotiated with the butler Marcus, and Cleo's outing w as permitted.
At this very moment, just as before, Cleo stood before a bedridden Joseph.
It looked as of his sturdy body had shrunken a size or two. Many lines raced up and down his now-slender neck. His complexion was pale, his cheeks were sunken, his skin was so transparent he might see his skull.
Even so, the look in his eyes didn't change. Letting off a strong light, he gazed kindly at Cleo.
"Young master, I'm glad you can come. It's just a cramped run-down hut, but let me get you a chair–"
As he eagerly attempted to lift his body, Cleo hurriedly reined him in.
"… I'm sorry for showing you such a state."
Don't mind it, Cleo shook his head. More than that, Cleo was the one who wanted to apologize.
"I'm sorry, I thought I'd be able to see the cactus flower bloom in your place, but… it was no good."
"That so? That's a shame…"
Joseph looked desolately up at the ceiling.
"But you know, I'm relatively satisfied. Though it wasn't a long life."
"Oh what's this, did something good happen?"
Even if it was a dream, he met his long-lost dear friend. He wanted him to hear. The fact that right now, he was definitely not facing misfortune.
"I found a girl I like."
"My, my!"
Joseph's eyes formed perfect circles, from there he grinned, and at the end, Wahhahaha, he laughed. While his voice was cracked, a portion of his once-grand laugh still remained.
"That's good to hear! What sort of girl is she?"
"Yeah, let's see, she looks like a normal girl. Well, she's got a few parts that aren't so normal, so I'm sure if you met her, you'd be in for a surprise."
"I see, I see! She sounds like someone I'd love to meet. But young master, this old man is seldom startled you know."
"Oh, I wonder about that. Do you have any paint supplies around? I really must show you."
There, Joseph grinned with his teen yellowed by the smoke of tobacco, lightly shaking his head to the side.
"No, how about you save it for next time."
"Eh?"
"Next time, I'll pray we can meet again someday. Oh, there's no need to hurry. We humans, the time comes for all of us someday. But it's still too soon for you. How about you spend a bit more time taking it easy? I'll be going a step ahead, kicking back with the wife."
Suddenly, Joseph's form grew faint like the haze. But the time he noticed it, everything in the area was a blurry white. The walls, the writing desk, the lamp lighting the room, even the ceiling.
"Joseph!? What is…!"
To a flustered Cleo, Joseph grinned again.
"Young master, I hope you find happiness with her. One warning. You can't make a girl cry."
At the end of those words, the world melted into white and disappeared.
When he came to, the scene had changed. The world went from white to black. His field of vision grew distinct, he understood it was a scene he knew very well. The hollow of the tree Cleo used when he lived in the forest, The ceiling portion wrapped up in this shadows. Cleo's sleeping bag was laid out as he stretched out face up.
He sprung up.
(Is this another dream?)
In his confusion, the first blow from reality was a violent sense of hunger and thirst. That tempest of stimuli from his internal organs drew on him so vividly, he couldn't even imagine this as a dream. Just what was going on?
The outside of the crevice was dim. Just before daybreak, or perhaps the twilight.
When he stuck his face out the crevice, a gentle breeze stroked his cheek. The soft, fluttering sensation was surprisingly fresh.
(This isn't a dream? But I…)
He reeled in his memories. If he wasn't mistaken, he had confronted those two hunters, the adamantite sword shattered, and by the time he noticed it, he was collapsed on the ground. Unable to put any power in his body, his eyes and ears were blurry, his mind was steadily growing distant. Ah, so this is death—Cleo had resolved himself.
(But I'm still alive…)
He took a step outside. Roselyne was nowhere around. A call gave way to no response. In her place, he found abundant traces of blood on the ground. And the sticky blood-stained adamantite sword.
Cleo was driven by anxiety. He raced off towards the Cliff with Pretty Sunrise. Something felt off about his legs. Something was strange. Something was different. For example, his legs felt strangely light. Was he ever so fast, was he ever able to run so nimbly? He stood and looked.
Cleo's legs weren't Cleo's legs.
The skin color was clearly different. Right below the upper leg joint, a scar that was painful to even look at did a round around his thighs, and below that, the skin became a transparent white. He recalled them. These were—Roselyne's legs!
He burst off again. Hs spotted the trees whose trunks were burnt black. Countless broken branches were strewn about. While it was a bit late, he noticed he was barefoot. Paying that no mind, he crushed them underfoot as he ran forward. It didn't hurt in the slightest. He passed through the shrubbery and leapt out onto the cliff.
Ah! Cleo cried. Not because of the changed terrain, the scorched earth, with here and there cruelly gouged out. Cleo's head simply picked that up as occipital information. The reason for his surprise lay elsewhere. In the center of the protruding cliff, he spotted Roselyne.
Her back was as it was when she greeted the rising morning sun. And yet her body was strangely low. The hem of the raincoat spread out wide over the ground
That was almost as if she had been buried from the waist down—
"Roselyne! What happened to you! Roselyne!!"
Cleo cried out her name and raced over.
At that moment, vines grew from her back, from the burnt holes in her raincoat, a number of vines thrust out to attack Cleo. Cleo was entangled without an idea of what was going on. A vine wrapped around his neck, strangling him to the very limit. He was hung in the air.
"Roselyne… why…?"
He couldn't tell why Roselyne would attack him. Just what could have happened unbeknownst to him? Cleo scratched at the vine wrapped around his neck, desperately writhing. Gasping for breath, he diligently cried out. Roselyne, please stop, why are you… Roselyne…!
And at that time, his noose gently loosened. Cleo's body was lifted high up by her vines. The bottom of the cliff leapt into his overturned vision. Did she plan to toss him off? A brief moment of unease—before Cleo was quietly lowered in front of Roselyn. The vines around his body easily came loose.
"You suddenly rushed at me, so I thought some beast was attacking. Can't you be more careful?"
A displeased crease was carved into Roselyne's brow.
She irksomely glared at Cleo.
2
"Roselyne…?"
Pierced through by that sharp glare, Cleo felt as if he was frozen to the spot. Rosely let out an overly painstaking sigh.
"I'm not Roselyne."
"Eh…?"
He couldn't understand what that meant. The way she addressed herself only engendered greater unease.
"I can see why you wouldn't understand… that girl's often talking to someone in her head, right? I'm that someone. That kid calls me Insteen, so if the need arises, you may call me that as well."
"Ms… Insteen?"
Like his old home tutors, her voice was cold, dignified and steadfast, Cleo found himself tacking on a Ms. As she nodded a yes, he timidly asked.
"Umm, then what about Roselyne…?"
Insteen stuck his glare on him again. It rose a quiver in Cleo, who sitting on his bottom, found himself shuffling back. Roselyne was scary when she was angry, but this girl now was scary on a completely different tangent. She truly was a separate person. Insteen irritantly scoffed before explaining the details of the matter.
"You may have already noticed, but those legs of yours belong to Roselyne."
The injuries to Cleo's legs were severe, and if let be, he would certainly lose his life. That's why Roselyne gave him her own. While it came with pains that didn't fall short of the tortures of hell, Roselyne made it through to the end. When a tree's trunk was damaged, the sap would flow to seal op that wound, and similarly, Roselyne's blood sealed the severed portions of their body in a short span of time. But between flesh and flesh, bone and bone, the joining took far longer.
"Setting it with tree branches, Roselyne fixed it in place with her vines and waited."
A moment's distraction wasn't permitted. Three days and three nights, without a wink of sleep, without food or drink she waited. While Cleo was weakened by massive blood loss. Thinking it might be helpful in the slightest, she cut her own body and fed him her blood. Again and again.
"In this girl's case, give it three days, and a broken bone will heal up. That's why I told her it was fine. But, let's wait a bit more just in case, she said—"
And another two nights, Roselyne held out.
And just a few hours ago, the sleeping Cleo's leg had twitched. That was proof that the nerves had connected. Upon seeing that, the power finally flowed from Roselyne's body.
"But you see, in order to save you, this kid shaved away too much of her life. Her body and spirit were in tatters. That's why she's asleep for now."
Apparently, her lost legs would restore with times. It was unknown how many years that would take. She said Roselyne would asleep until then.
The tears welled from Cleo's eyes. One after another, they overflowed without end.
(It's my fault… for the likes of someone like me… why…)
Roselyne's raincoat was scattered with burns, but its pocket was largely swelled out.
They were all the paintings Cleo had given them. She preciously kept them on her person. That was the answer.
A while later, Insteen was talking again.
"It's something she decided for herself, I have no intent to chastise you. But you see, and I mean this with no ill intent, this child cannot protect you anymore. You know that river you two washed your face in every morning? If you walk along it, it will eventually connect to the main river, then if you follow that downstream—I do think you'll be walking for days, but eventually, you'll make it out of the forest."
That voice felt just a little warmer than before.
Cleo could tell she was thinking of him as she said it. But with a shake of his head, he answered.
"I'm… going to stay here. I want to stay with Roselyne to the end."
Winter was soon to come. In search of scarce prey, the starved carnivorous beasts would soon wander the forest. If he met them, it was over. In that case, he wanted to be by Roselyne to his final moment.
"This kid risked her life to save you. You plan on wasting that?"
He was aware.
If there was even the slightest possibility he could escape the forest alive, then failing to do so would mean betraying Roselyne's thoughts. But, even so…
Cleo's heart violently shook.
If he walked along the river, there was no guarantee he would return safely. There was one thing he could say with barely any mistake. If he left this place, whether he became feed for the beasts, or reached the Grant House, he would quite likely never meet Roselyne again. Not ever, for all eternity.
(I don't… want that…)
He felt his heart might tear in two.
I want to stay here. I have to leave.
Good grief, Insteen gave a sign.
"What's a boy to do. Well, as you are no, it might be possible to live in this forest."
Eh? Cleo opened his eyes.
"You may not have noticed, but your hair and eyes have turned green."
Try plucking one and look at it, she told him.
The hail he pulled—was the same green as Roselyne's.
"This is…!?"
At that moment, the morning sun peeked its face from over the mountains, enveloping Cleo's body in a honey-gold light. His hair restlessly stirred. As if under some order, he took a deep breath, for a peculiar power to well in his body.
Roselyne's life had taken root within Cleo.
"Once you grow fully accustomed to those legs, I'm sure you'll be able to run around as fast as this kid. When that happens, I think you could at least run from the dangerous beasts."
Cleo gently touched both feet.
What Roselyne had given him, the greatest gift in the word.
"Thank you, Roselyne…"
His welling feelings turned to tears, running down his cheeks again.
"But that also means it won't be difficult for you to safely leave the forest. And still you plan to stay here?"
"… Yes. There's something I've got to do."
Insteen gave a small tilt of her head.
Cleo stood and walked his way to the blue roses. While the buds still hadn't come out, they were steadily growing day by day. Someday, the blue flowers would vividly bloom.
"I need to maintain the blue roses so they don't wilt. When the buds grow in number, I'll graft them again. I'll fill this area with blue roses."
For someday, when Roselyne opens her eyes.
"I see," Insteen turned, looking at the roses and Cleo in turn. "To be blunt, your existence is not something I should welcome. If you're around, this child might do something crazy again. No, I'm sure she will."
Insteen's eyes let off a cold glimmer.
But right after that, she offhandedly shrugged her shoulders.
"But if you're there when she opens her eyes, I'm sure she'll be happy. So, well, there's nothing we can do about it. In exchange, you'd better not die. If your corpse is the first thing she sees when she wakes from her slumber, there's no telling what this kid will do."
"I know. I'll promise."
I'll definitely not die.
For a moment, Insteen made a face as if she was giving the faintest trace of a smile.
"Then I'll be holing up. It's quite taxing to come to the surface like this. Hope we get along. Ah, there's one thing I should say, but don't approach this kid's body so carelessly. I'll mistake you as a beast and attack. If you really must approach, do it calmly, gently okay."
She reacted to and attacked intense emotions like bloodlust, apparently. With a bitter smile, Cleo promised that as well.
Splendid, she said. Insteen turned forward. She said nothing further. Just as he had just promised, Cleo took a deep breath and calmed his heart before slowly, slowly walked out before her. With her eyes quietly closed, that peaceful sleeping face belonged to Roselyne.
He gently lowered himself down. There was dirt on her cheek, he softly wiped it away with his thumb. A while later, once the morning sun had fully revealed itself, Cleo whispered into her ear.
"Roselyne, once you wake up, I'll tell you first thing."
I'll tell you with a bouquet of blue roses.
"I'm in love with you."
Was Roselyne seeing a fun dream?
In a small, small voice, Ukukuh, she laughed.
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