The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere

Inner Sanctum Kitchen | 7:39 PM | First Day

The first thought in my mind was: Is he dead?

But no, that was silly. I could see him breathing, if I squinted, his chest subtly rising and falling from its prone position.

He didn't look exactly well, though. Despite having a darker complexion, I could tell that he was paler than he should've been, a little sickly. And the position he was lying in didn't look exactly comfortable.

Before I could assess his condition in any deeper regard or take action myself, Neferuaten was already stepping forward, flicking her scepter upwards and reaching over to touch the side of his neck.

A n a t o m y - M o t i o n - N e u r o l o g y - B e g u i l i n g

"...𒊬𒃶𒋾𒄴𒄠/𒂔𒄴𒋤𒅆𒍣𒃶𒄖𒐊𒐊,𒄀𒈣𒊑𒅘..."

The words for the beguilements flew out of her mouth far swifter than they had earlier, and she weaved them all into a single, lengthy incantation - a tactic that was bad for duels, since it gave your opponent time to interrupt you and render the whole effort meaningless, but good for when you needed to be swift in other contexts.

After that, she digressed right into the Vitality-Perceiving Arcana, commonly used for field diagnosis.

"Is he hurt...?" Theodoros asked, following in her wake.

"Doesn't seem so," she said, her tone a little more focused. "No substantial wounds, breathing and heart rate is normal." She leaned over, bringing her face close to his head.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Checking to see if he's drunk." She sniffed, then lowered her eyebrows. "It would seem not. I suppose I ought to have more faith in our staff."

She pushed him a little bit, trying to rouse him. He groaned subtly, and twitched, but was otherwise unresponsive.

"Worrying," she said. She turned her head towards us. "Would you young men mind lifting him up onto the table? And Utsushikome, if you could turn off the oven, please. Would be rather unpleasant if a fire started while we were dealing with this."

"Uh, right away," I said. She's going to try and resuscitate him. That was a procedure so standard that you learned it in basic first aid. If someone is unconscious, they have to be put in a safe position before you try anything that might rouse them, just in case they react badly and hurt themselves.

While I inspected the dials on the cooker to determine how to disable it - to my surprise, it wasn't gas-based, but used the Power, presumably from the sanctuary's central supply - Bardiya and Theodoros stepped forward, carefully hoisting the man up from his seat and onto his back on the table before him, shoving some kitchenware to the side as they did so. I could get a better look at him, now, Stepping back over. Like Sacnicte, he looked Lluateci, and was short and somewhat feminine for a man, with a round face and short, roughly cut black hair, and large eyebrows. His resting face had something of a somber look; mournful, regretful.

"I know a little Neuromancy," Neferuaten went on, "so I should be able to rouse him. Be prepared to restrain him if it comes to that."

She rose her scepter, and spoke an incantation I didn't recognize - something to do with creating something, and then moving it in a complex fashion. The three of us watched, our expressions tense.

After a few moments, he stirred, a heavy breath coming from deep within his lungs. His eyes flickered open, and he glanced around him, confused.

Neferuaten smiled a bit, some relief showing on her face. "Ah, good. I was worried for a moment." She looked towards him directly. "Are you alright, Yantho?"

The man turned to regard her, seeming still only half-aware of his surroundings, then opened his mouth silently for a moment. He glanced left and right, seeming to be looking for something.

"Oh, tch." Neferuaten said, tapping her head. "Foolish of me." She started glancing around herself, inspecting the nearby counters and tables.

"Um," Theodoros hesitated. "What are you doing?"

"Yantho here is one of our staff," Neferuaten explained, as she moved some plates. "Regrettably, he suffers from an ailment that makes it difficult for him to speak. There's a artifice that he uses to communicate with others. I assume it should be around here."

He frowned. "The Power can't do anything about it?"

Neferuaten shook her head. "It's an affliction of the mind rather than the body, as I understand it, so no."

"You are being somewhat insensitive, Theodoros," Bardiya said. "He can still hear us, after all."

"Oh." His face flushed. "Right... Sorry..."

"Ah, here we are," Neferuaten said, with relief.

From the area around the oven opposite to us, she retrieved what looked like a circular slab of glass with a logic bridge attached to the rim, then returned, holding it out for him to grasp. The moment ended up lingering on in a way that was a little awkward, since at first, he still seemed too uncertain of his surroundings to understand what she was expecting him to do.

Eventually, however, he seemed to pull himself together, and sat up with a slightly embarrassed expression, taking the object from her hand. He tapped the side of the logic bridge, and some black sand shot out of a recess within the glass. It spun around as he gathered his thoughts.

"How are you feeling?" Neferuaten asked, with a kind expression.

He frowned for a moment, then held up the glass sheet. The sand formed words in Ysaran. I'm alright, director. Why am I here? What happened?

I assumed 'director' was the proper title for members of the inner circle, though I actually knew very little about the ranking structure of the organization. For a variety of reasons, I'd never felt like prying too deeply into it.

"We were hoping you could tell us," she said. "We found you collapsed in your seat on the table."

Hearing this seemed to make him uncomfortable, and a few moments passed before the sand moved again, forming a new set of words. I have no idea. The last thing I remember was checking the oven, then sitting down for a moment.

Checking the oven. Was he the chef, then? I remembered the order was supposed to have their own private one.

The words reassembled once more. Is it possible I simply fell asleep? I have been feeling a little strung out.

"I doubt it," Neferuaten said. "You were difficult to rouse." She pressed her tongue against the inside of her cheek, looking thoughtful for a moment, then spoke another incantation quickly.

A n o m a l y - D i v i n i n g

"...𒈣𒄀𒌈𒀭𒊍. (𒌍𒍣𒍥𒊒𒊬𒉌𒌫𒐼). 𒄭𒌋𒌋𒌋𒌋, 𒊹."

"Hm... I don't detect any arcana that could have been used to disable you," she said, furrowing her brow. "And there was nothing on your body to suggest signs of assault."

"He might've been drugged," I suggested.

Yantho turned a little sharply in my direction art the words, as if he'd only been vaguely aware there were other people in the room before that point. The sand swirled a bit, then reformed once more. Are these the guests from the academy?

"Hm, I should do a proper introduction." She gestured between him and the three of us respectively. "Yantho, this is Bardiya of Tuon, Theodoros of Melanthos, and Utsushikome of Fusai. The latter is one of my former disciples." She looked towards our group. "Inversely, this is Yantho'Ic'Tal. He serves as an aid for our group, for whatever tasks the golems are not sophisticated enough to assist with by themselves."

"Good to meet you," Bardiya said. He moved to shake his hand, while I also mumbled some generic greeting. Theodoros seemed to be trying to disappear into the background outright, presumably still feeling awkward from earlier.

Yantho didn't seem fond of the attention, his shoulders tightening a bit. The sand stirred. It's a pleasure to meet you all. I am sorry that it had to be in such circumstances. It scattered and reformed. I don't know how I could have been drugged. I don't remember having anything to drink for at least the past hour.

"Concerning," Neferuaten said, her eyes narrowing.

"P-putting that aside," Theodoros said, his voice uneasy. "You think someone did this deliberately, Su?"

"Uh, I didn't mean to imply that," I said, scratching my head. "I was just going along with what the grandmaster said, since she was checking for incantations..."

"It's not inconceivable," Neferuaten stated, nodding. "But neither did I mean to insinuate definitively. After all, myriad are the manners in which the mind can simply stop working for a while with no need for outside help."

I didn't say anything, but it wasn't difficult to see why she might suspect some manner of foul play. After all, the sanctuary had just had its biggest single influx of guests in its entire history. For an incident to occur right after that...

But of course, she couldn't say as much. Implying our group was potentially responsible would be rude, and on the off chance the guess was correct, tip her hand.

"Yantho," Neferuaten continued. "Was the chef not with you, before you fell unconscious?"

No. She said she was leaving the sanctuary earlier today, so I was preparing it alone. A pause. I had assumed you would have known.

Not the cook, then.

Suddenly, a moment after uttering those words, a realization seemed to enter into the young man's eyes, and he set down the artifice, hopping off the table and rushing over to the oven. He pulled it open.

It would be hyperbole to say that the meal inside was ruined. Some smoke did escape, and the smell of overcooked, somewhat charred meat was much more clear than it had been when the door was closed, but the contents still looked technically edible. The roast lamb appeared dry as a bone and quite shrivelled, and the potatoes looked like they probably had a texture somewhere in the range of a softer-than-average piece of wood, but if I were at home, I'd have been tempted to just cover the thing in spices and sauce and try to make it work.

For a formal dinner for a group of guests at a function like this, though...

"The food..." Theodoros said, with some distress.

"Oh dear," Neferuaten said. "That's not good, is it?"

Yantho scrambled back to the table for a moment, retrieving his transliterator, upon which a message quickly appeared. Director, I am so sorry about this. I can prepare something else at once.

She smiled sadly. "That's very diligent of you, but you need to be examined properly at once so we can determine what happened, and if there's any danger to your health. ...and there's no need to apologize. It's hardly your fault."

He wrinkled his face with embarrassment. I must accept some responsibility. If I had been aware of myself and my surroundings instead of idling, this might not have happened.

"Come now," she said. "There's no need to self-flagellate. Let's leave it at that, hm?"

He looked downward silently, fiddling his hands together. He didn't look happy about this resolution, despite her kindness.

"But," Theodoros said, "What will we do for dinner?"

"Not hard to tell what's at the forefront of your mind, master Melanthos," Neferuaten said, in a sly tone. "We'll manage something, I'm sure. This is one of the most sophisticated arcane research facilities in the Remaining World, It would be rather bleak if we had no mechanism to conjure a serviceable meal in a half hour, though it might end up being a little more slapdash than we'd planned." She sighed, putting a hand to her head. "Honestly. Our chef apparently deserts us, then someone or something sabotages the meal on top of that... If I didn't know better, I would swear someone was trying to ruin the whole affair. It certainly isn't making it look like we're running a particularly tight ship."

"We're probably going to have to stop the tour here," I said. "Right?"

"I'm afraid that might be for the best," Neferuaten said, with a nod. "I ought to take Yantho to our biomancer myself, just in case there's any funny business. I'd tell you to feel free to look around on your own, but... On the off chance that there's an intruder about, it might be better to simply head back to the guest house as a group. I'll pay a visit to our security center in regard to that on my way, and then see if I can't sort something out in regards to dinner."

"Rather a pity," Bardiya said. "I was looking forward to finding out what that key you picked up was for."

"I'd forgotten about that." She clicked her tongue, pursing her lips for a moment. "Tell you what: Why don't we finish this tomorrow morning? There is something interesting I'd like some of you to see."

Something interesting...?

"Though, do me a favor, and don't mention it to my collegues. If they found out, they'd probably get a little fussy about it." She chuckled quietly to herself, then flicked her gaze towards Theo. "Ah, not to put you in an awkward position with your father, Theodoros. I'm only being half-serious."

"Oh, it's fine," he said. He sounded uncomfortable, but then, he always sounded uncomfortable.. "I'm sure I can keep a secret for one night."

It was strange that she'd request that when we didn't even know what she was planning to show us. I wondered if it was a joke I was failing to understand, somehow.

"Er." Theodoros coughed into his fist. "By the way, is it still alright if I raid the cupboards?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Seems a little redundant if we're stopping here, but by all means, be my guest." She gestured in their direction.

Oh, something in my brain said. It's about to happen.

What? I blinked, trying to process the thought. What do you mean, 'it's about to happen'?

Don't worry about it, it said. You'll see.

It was that same feeling again. Like I'd somehow seen this before, or... That I'd seen the pieces, but broken up and scrambled, all out of order...

Theodoros headed over to the door to the pantry at the rear of the room, sliding it open with an eager expression. Meanwhile, I found myself shivering a bit. It was oddly cool in here, for a room where the stove had just been on.

"So, young man," Neferuaten said to Bardiya idly, as they waited. "What's your impression of our little group, now that you're seeing it first hand?"

"I'm not sure I've witnessed enough yet to judge," he said, with a measured expression. "The building is very nice."

I heard Theodoros slide the door open.

"Very tactful," Neferuaten said, with a sly little chuckle. "I have to confess that I haven't quite been able to get a read on you, so I'm a little curious. That, and I can't exactly ask anyone else here for an unbiased perspective." She glanced in my direction. "No impoliteness intended, Utsushikome."

"It's fine," I said, scratching the side of my head. "I mean... I do have ties, even considering everything, so..."

Bardiya's expression stiffened a bit. "Well, I don't know if I should--"

"Um." Theodoros interjected suddenly, his head in the doorway. "Sorry, could you take a look at this? Something's... Not right."

Neferuaten raised an eyebrow. "What is it? Is there something in there?"

"No, that's not it..."

Curiously, she stepped forward to where he was standing, and I followed in tow, along with Bardiya and Yantho. I peered in through the doorway to the chamber, which was half in shadow.

The pantry looked a lot more advanced than I'd expected - judging by some of the rune-inscribed metal structures, it had stasis fields for most of the raw ingredients, which were only really used for food storage at high-end resturaunts. It was larger, too, almost a small room in its own right, with even a little window up in the corner.

At first, my eyes didn't process anything wrong. There were shelves, there were barrels; everything you'd quantify as 'pantry stuff'. It was only when they adjusted to the diminished light, and I saw the details of the room rather than simply the general shape, that I noticed.

Calling the contents of that room 'rotten' feels wrong. The word conjures up a bad smell, images of flies and mold and decay, and this did not match that description. No, what I was seeing was far stranger than just that.

Everything inside looked ancient. Like the pantry had abandoned a decades ago, with everything within simply left to decay into nothingness. The fruit had shriveled to the point it was barely even recognizable in shape, and the meat looked as though it would practically turn to dust at a touch. Even preserved stuff in jars and bottles had taken on strange colours, or the moisture had somehow escaped, leaving the contents clearly inedible.

But it wasn't just the food, either. The shelves, too, showed signs of extensive aging. The wood in some places had bent out of shape, or even started to crumble, and there was an accumulation of dust all over the place. The color had drained from the blue-painted walls.

"Hm," Neferuaten said, as she peered in, with a subtly more focused expression than normal. "That's curious."

She stepped forward into the room slowly, her eyes narrowed.

"W...What happened, here?" Theodoros said, bemused.

"I don't know," she said, the words coming carefully. "The logical explanation is that something went wrong with the stasis arcana. It's not unheard of for a Chronomancy incantation to cause something like this, when the mathematics fail. But that should have been detected at our administrative center elsewhere in the sanctuary." She glanced behind her. "Yantho. Was it like this earlier? When you retrieved the ingredients for dinner."

He held up his artifice, anxiety creeping into his expression. I don't know. I asked the golems to assemble them for me while I was looking for miss Vijana. I didn't see if they brought them from here or a different pantry.

"I see," she said, frowning. "Interesting."

"Miss Vijana...?" I asked.

"That would be our absent chef," Neferuaten said, clearly preoccupied. She had begun inspecting every nook and cranny of the room carefully, wearing a discerning look. She withdrew her scepter and begun mumbling some analytical incantations.

I started looking around, too. Something about this development felt very unsettling, and my natural response when faced with something that made me uncomfortable or I didn't understand was to search for a logical explanation. Theodoros and Bardiya waited by the door. The former looked a little afraid - he kept glancing towards the exit.

"Do... failures, with the arcana maintaining this place, happen often?" I asked, as I opened a cabinet, scanning the contents. I touched something that must've once been a piece of beef; it was brlttle and hard, like the oldest leather.

"Not usually, but we've recently restructured our eris bank, which has been causing some anomalies," she said, her voice still unfocused. "Though only for peripheral systems. The essential ones have several failsafes, as well as a reserve supply in the event of an emergency."

"So there's no chance of the oxygen failing and us all suffocating to death, or anything like that," I said, my tone dry. Theodoros winced.

"Hah, well. Never say never," she said.

Not very comforting.

"Utsushikome," she said, her tone suddenly more serious. "Come and take a look at this."

I turned, and walked over to where she was currently standing. At the far corner of the room, beneath the little window. Her gaze was fixated at the wall. My eyes followed.

There was markings. Little vertical lines, scraped in the paint, no more than half a finger in length. Groups of four that were then struck through; a tally.

They covered the wall, their carving awkward and uneven. From almost the base of the floor, right to just under the window, each row having ten groups of five at least, while some went as long as twenty, or even thirty. I wasn't as good at counting visually than I was with mathematics in the abstract, If you added it all together, then the total number would have easily been in the thousands. Well into the thousands.

But the question was... What were they counting?

Another subtle shiver ran through me. My jaw clenched instinctively, like I was touching a block of ice.

𒊹

In the end, the grandmaster concluded it probably had happened on account of some malfunction with the stasis fields - there was one where the runework had been disrupted - but wasn't able to discern the exact cause, and said that the sanctuary's arcane engineer would inspect it later. After that, with a lingering sense of disquiet hanging over us, everyone had headed back to the guesthouse.

...everyone save for myself, that is. I felt even more like I needed to clear my head than when I'd set out with Theo to begin with. Maybe I'd been a mistake to bring him along. Maybe I ought to have stayed in my room...

I'd ended up making some excuse and breaking off from the other two, wandering around the grounds. I'd circled the building while trying to clear my head, and eventually made my way to the graveyard that both Linos and Neferuaten had mentioned. True to what he had said back then, there was obviously no one buried here; the gravestones were too small and close together to be anything but memorials.

Compared to everything else in the absurd facility, it was a very modest affair. A few simple headstones, smaller then a proper cemetary, with only names, numbers, and some with a few words. There weren't even any flowers. Just through what knowledge I had of the organization, I quickly realized that they were supposed to represent members of the order who had passed away.

It felt like a funny contrast with the belltower. One with faces but no names, this one with names but no faces. The dead needed no secrets, not even from the oathguard.

Though the idea somehow hadn't occured to me on the approach, I pretty quickly stumbled upon the one belonging to my grandfather. It was newer than the others, the stone still having a bit of a sheen to it, and on the periphery. Like all the others, the words upon it were succinct.

█ █ █ █ █ of Fusai

929 - 1397

Faithful Comrade

Funny choice of words, considering he'd been practically kicked out of the organization. Even beginning to see the name was enough to make me feel a spike of unease. My eyes flickered to the side, instinctively avoiding it.

I lingered there, for a while, just staring and thinking. Eventually, I heard slow footsteps behind me on the grass. I glanced behind me, and saw Neferuaten approaching again. Her expression appeared a little more weary than earlier, a subtle exasperation in her eyes.

"Oh, grandmaster..."

"I had a feeling you might be somewhere out here," she said. "You never were one to worry too much about your own well-being."

I frowned, a little embarasshed. "I'm sorry."

"No, no," she said, shaking her head. She moved up to stand behind me. "I'm the one who ought to be apologizing. I'd hoped the tour might help you calm down, but the result was the opposite of what I'd expected."

"It's not your fault. You didn't know that all that would happen..." I said, with a frail attempt at sounding more cheerful than I was. I glanced towards her. "Did you find anything out?"

She shook her head. "Very little, beyond what we already talked about. We've ruled out an intruder, but the rest is still a mystery."

I nodded. "Do you have any theories?"

She snorted. "None that aren't embarrassing. I'd love there to be a connection between the pantry and what happened to Yantho so that we could wrap a pretty bow around the whole thing, but..." She glanced back in the direction of the building. "Well, in any event, Anna herself decided to take a look at it, so the situation is in good hands."

Amtu-hedu-anna. The oldest publicly-known member of the Order, and an almost unrivaled runecrafter. She'd come up a few times in passing already. In her public life, she had a fearsome reputation for diligence, and an infamous intolerance for any who lacked it. If she was looking into what had happened, I didn't doubt there'd soon be an answer, even I wouldn't be privy to it.

"It must be hard for you to be here," she said, her voice a little softer.

I frowned, confused. "What do you..."

She gestured forward, towards the gravestone.

"Oh, right." I said, turning back towards it. "I... yeah."

We were silent, for a few moments. I lowered my gaze a bit, turning towards the ground.

"For whatever it's worth," she said,her tone taking on a certain grimness. "I'm sorry that you were put in this position. In my opinion, it's all grotesque." She clasped her hands together, and the pace of her words slowed, became more deliberate. "One of the ugliest concepts that human beings have invented is forgiveness. Not the act itself, but the idea, the notion that people have some obligation to pardon even those who hurt us terribly, so that some nebulous healing can take place for the benefit of the community. And that those who won't, or even just aren't ready to forgive, are the ones lacking in some essential maturity." Her lip curled downwards. "It's a blunt and nasty thing, wrapped up in pretty silks."

"But I wanted to come," I said, though the words felt wrong as they left my mouth. I had to come. But it didn't make me happy to be here.

"I know," she said. "But it's worse for you than it could be. And will probably get worse yet."

Oh, that's right.

I was quiet for a moment, clasping my hands together.

"I heard..." I hesitated over my phrasing. "I heard that you - uh, the order - were going to offer me some sort of ceremonial position...? Because of my grandfather."

She nodded, still frowning. "I thought you might've."

"It's true, then."

She sighed, and her posture slumped a bit. She looked her age, for a moment, the weight on her face seeming to hang heavier. "There have been so many occasions recently when I have considered abandoning my membership of this misbegotten organization. It's a grim thing you notice in scholarship, that the accumulation of knowledge and resources goes in tandem with stupidity and pigheadedness."

"Why don't you...?" I asked. "Quit, I mean. It seems as though you have a lot of disagreements."

"Because I am too old," she said, with a defeated smile. "And more importantly, too important. If I leave, it will sabotage the work, and I will never again be as useful as I am now."

I thought about these words. "It must mean a lot to you," I said. "...trying to stop people from dying, I mean."

I felt a little stupid, as the words left my mouth. I had plenty of basis for theories on why Neferuaten was invested in this particular field of academic research, from little bits of context I'd learned while studying under her. While I'd often talked to her about my personal circumstances, we'd only spoken in general terms about her own.

That was the nature of a relationship between a teacher and a student, in spite of everything else. Asymmetrical.

She let out a few tired-sounding chuckles, then said nothing more. We fell into silence for another few moments.

"It will be quick," she said, "and uncomplicated. We - myself and Linos, to his credit - did manage that concession. You will be summoned before the presentation and offered the position of an Esteemed Associate, the highest rank we have for those who haven't contributed research themselves. It's generally given to donors. You'll also be offered the chance to be named as your grandfathers apprentice and heir to his arcane practice on our register, which would grant you right of attendance to some of our meetings, as well as his personal research. Not that there's much of that left here, since we ejected him."

"And if I refuse it...?"

"Nothing will happen, most likely," she said. "At worst, a handful of people will be upset. If you're feeling conflict averse, though, I would suggest accepting for now, and then amending your answer by letter after the meeting is over. The whole process should only take a few minutes." She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Sadly, there will probably be some very charitable things said about him during the process. For that, I can only apologize. I would suggest simply not coming, only it would likely be sprung on you during your presentation instead."

"It's alright," I said. "It'll be alright."

But as I said those words, my voice cracked a little bit. Something about Neferuaten's kindness in everything she said, and how little I deserved it, struck something in me. My eyes started to well up a bit. I looked away, hoping she wouldn't see.

She saw anyway. "Utsushikome..." she said, reaching out a hand hesitantly, before placing it gently around the side of my shoulder.

The tears dripped down my face quickly, and then seemed to dry up as quickly as they'd come, replaced instead by two familar feelings. A terrible sense of shame and loss that seemed to well up from the deepest part of my heart, and a fanatical desire to allay it, no matter what it took.

"Uh... S-Sorry," I said stiffly, rubbing my eyes. "I, uh..."

"There's no need for that," she said, her tone warm. She took the other arm, and placed around my back, forming a loose embrace. "Once again. I'm the one who ought to be apologizing."

I wish that were true, I thought to myself.

I stayed like that for another few moments.

When I finally pulled myself together and she lowered her arms, I turned back to the gravestone. "If it's alright for me to ask... What did you think of him?" I asked. "It never felt right to ask you, back in Tem-Aphat."

She seemed taken off guard by a question for a moment, but then made a gentle smile. "You don't want me to answer that."

"Why not?" I asked. I was taking a tone I normally wouldn't with her, in this strange moment. The gulf of time that had seemed to exist when I'd first met her again an hour or two ago seemed to have evaporated outright.

"Because the only truthful answers I could give you would be either a gross simplification, which would only hurt you to hear, or something incredibly long-winded and complicated, which would probably bore you to even more tears." She hesitated, and shook her head. "Forgive me. My sense of humor always starts to come out crudely, in moments like these."

"But... I do want to know," I said. "Even if you say nice things. What he was like, before his mind started to change. Before-- Well, before everything happened."

She looked as if she was about to shut down the request again, but then stopped herself, closing her eyes. She looked away from me, but didn't turn to the headstone, either, instead simply looking into the dark waters.

"Do you know the difference between grieving and mourning, Utsushikome?"

I looked puzzled. "They're synonyms."

"Not quite," she said. "Grief is the pain we feel from loss. Mourning, on the other hand, refers to the rituals we undertake in response to it. The agony that one feels upon learning that someone has died, versus the act of bringing significance to that agony." Her gaze grew more distant. "One does not imply, nor resolve, the other. One can grieve for someone for years and never begin to mourn them, or mourn them despite never having felt grief at all. Or continue to mourn, when grief has long since faded..."

I blinked, trying to discern the context of the words. "This is how you feel about my grandfather."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "This is something he said to me on our first meeting, when I first told him about what had happened to my family. He said that he had spent his whole life grieving without beginning to mourn, and that I had spent my whole life mourning without beginning to grieve." She chuckled. "He was perceptive."

"You cared for him,"

"More than that," she said.

"You loved him?"

"No," she said. The word came out very quietly. "But he was an inspiration to me. The brilliance of his mind, the majesty of his innovations. The depth of his passion and compassion, and the degree to which he felt the pain of others as if it were his own - and acted in accord. And how he seemed to turn that grief in his heart, the pain of his own loss, into miracles. Like an alchemist of old, transmuting lead into gold. Over and over again."

I winced a little bit, even though I'd told myself I'd wanted to suppress any feelings I had until she was finished talking, since I'd wanted the truth, even if I didn't want to hear it.

I don't know if she noticed, or if it simply happened naturally. But regardless, she stopped, and turned to me, her expression more somber.

"But none of that changes the fact that, in the end... Whether I blame the dementia or not... You were a victim of that same grief," she said. "And that was unforgivable."

I didn't know what to say. I looked into her eyes for a few moments, vivid and dark. Gentle and manic.

If she knew the truth, the voice said, the whole truth, instead of the one you've curated so carefully, she would never pity you like this. No one would. Not her, not Autonoe, not even Ran. No one.

They'd all loathe you, if they knew what you really were.

I swallowed my breath.

"That's fair," I said. "I know, intellectually, he must've been a good person, before I knew him. People always say so."

"If I could give you another word of counsel, Utsushikome," she said. "Never feel that you are obligated to consider the very personal 'intellectually'. We are human beings. Every so often, it is alright to hate something that has hurt you, and think no more of it."

I thought about this for a moment, then nodded, my motions stiff.

She exhaled, stepping back a bit. "I won't say you have to, but we probably ought to be getting along. It's been decided to hold a dinner in the abbey tonight, with the main building being investigated, so there might be other people coming this way, soon."

"It's alright," I said, rubbing my eyes. "It's stupid of me to be acting this way, anyway."

"You're far from stupid, Utsushikome." She said sympathetically, and gestured towards the exit of the bioenclosure. "Shall we, then?"

"Right. Uh-- Thank you, by the way," I said, the words coming out strange. "For this."

She looked at me sympathetically, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as she smiled.

Then she leaned over and, in an impulsive, almost casual gesture, kissed me on the lips. Before turning, heading to the exit.