Return.

Akira: “A-Are you okay…? First your shoulder, now your arm…”

Snow: “Mere scratches, I assure you. …Do you have it? The Kirsche Persche?”

Shylock: “Right here, as you requested. Are you able to get White to open his mouth?”

Snow: “Of course.”

Snow: “…Forgive me, White.”

Snow then pulled White away from his arm, forcing White’s mouth open by pushing his fingers inside.

Red-Eyed Child: “Gh…!”

Shylock: “Now then… If you’ll excuse me.”

Shylock held the glass of Kirsche Persche to White’s lips, smoothly pouring the pale-coloured liquid into his mouth.

Snow then quickly pinched White’s little nose between his larger fingers.

Snow: “It’s Kirsche Persche, White…! You must drink it!”

Red-Eyed Child: “…Ngh…”

Riquet: “He’s drinking it…!”

Red-Eyed Child: “…Ah…”

Slowly, the red light faded from White’s eyes, revealing instead a pair of golden irises much like Snow’s own.

Golden-Eyed Child: “…Sn…ow…?”

After finally managing to croak Snow’s name, White’s pale eyelids fell shut as if in relief.

Shortly afterwards, his breathing evened out into that of peaceful slumber.

Akira: “Ah…!”

Mithra: “The Kirsche Persche, it…”

Cain: “It worked…?!”

Snow: “…White…”

A single tear overflowed from Snow’s eye, twinkling like a jewel as it fell onto White’s sleeping cheek.

Akira: (What a relief…)

Even though I still didn’t understand exactly what was going on, it was clear just how desperate Snow had been feeling all this time.

Black hair and golden eyes. I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of them existing so peacefully together — this pair who looked so similar to one another.

Akira: (…Still…)

Shylock & Riquet: “...”

Arthur & Heathcliff: “...”

Despite my relief, it was clear now that we all had more than enough to be suspicious about.

Riquet: “…Snow. May I ask you something?”

Snow: “What is it, young dart-wielder?”

Riquet: “This boy, White… Who is he, exactly?”

Snow: “Ohohoho… As expected, we’ve arrived at this most troublesome of questions.”

Snow’s laugh was saturated with resignation.

Snow: “I suppose I shall have to tell you everything, hm?”

Cain: “Hold on, boss…!”

Snow: “…”

Cain: “Are you really sure about this? I mean, it’s…”

Snow: “…Cain. You have been through a great deal of hardship on my behalf, and for this I am grateful.”

Snow: “But I now owe these people a great debt for everything they’ve done to help my precious other half. ‘Twould go against my own morals to refuse to answer a simple question.”

Lovingly, yearningly, Snow gently touched White’s soft cheek as he slept in his arms, saying in a quiet voice—

Snow: “In truth, he is known as what is called an ‘Alter-Ego’.” (1)

Akira: “Alter-Ego…?”

Snow: “An artificial life form, if you will. ‘Twas created using the crystalized sap of the Lunaset flower trees, combined with the remains of White’s body.”

Cain: “…”

Mithra: “What…?”

Riquet: “The remains…?”

Arthur: “So— that means…”

Heathcliff: “White is already dead…”

Akira & Shylock: “…”

I was speechless.

Because the White sleeping in Snow’s arms looked no different to any human being I’d ever known — no different to any of us standing here now.

Snow: “…I lost White when we were both still very young. From then on, I lived each of my days like a marionette might, listless and hollow inside.”

Snow: “It mattered not how dangerous our family’s skirmishes became. The thought that I might be able to join White someday made even death itself seem like a blessing in disguise.”

Snow: “I spent every waking second bitterly fighting my way into the upper echelons of our organisation, unwilling to think of anything else…”

Snow: “And before I knew it, I had turned into the fearsome Don Snow.”

Snow: “—’Twas around this time when that man introduced himself to me.”

Akira: “That man…?”

Snow: “He was a man who wore a silk hat dyed in black.”

Snow: “I remember how he was always accompanied by the puppet he carried with him everywhere, and this is what he told me— ‘Would you like to know of a way to bring the dead back to life?’”

Heathcliff: “…”

Snow: "’Though I too had once lost someone precious to me — my beloved wife — this technology has allowed the two of us to reunite’... I can clearly remember the genuine happiness on his face as he said this to me.”

Snow: “I all but begged him to teach me how it was done.”

Snow: “‘Tis impossible for the dead to return from their graves. Such is the way of the world.”

Snow: “…I knew this, but even so… Even if the chances were one in a million, ‘twas still a gamble I was entirely too willing to take.”

Snow: “Even if his intention had been to try and deceive me, it did not matter. I could suffer no greater misfortune than having already lost White.”

Cain: “…Boss…”

Snow: “He told me he would need the blood of whoever it was I wished to revive in order to create their “Alter-Ego”, but White had unfortunately long since become nothing but bones."

Snow: “Thus, I rather unreasonably demanded that he use whatever was left of White instead…”

Snow: “The end result is rather impressive despite such difficulties, wouldn’t you agree?”

Snow: “This young boy is truly none other than White himself.”

Akira: “…I’m starting to feel like the more I listen, the less I understand…”

Akira: (So Alter-Egos are made by taking things from the deceased and using this matter to give them an entirely new chance at life.)

Akira: (I don’t think there’s any doubt that this child is White. But can we really say that he and the White who has already passed away are entirely the same person…?)

Shylock: “…While I agree there’s nothing that appears to distinguish this boy from any other regular human being I know… I have no authority to speak on who White was before his death.”

Shylock: “How alike is the Alter-Ego to its predecessor, would you say?”

Snow: “Hrmm. Well, ‘tis true that Alter-Egos are born with most of the memories, personality traits, and physical attributes as the original, all according to how they were at the moment of their original’s death.”

Snow: “It does seem as though memories of the time immediately before and after death are always lost, and slight differences in attitude or appearance are usually unavoidable…”

Snow: “Nevertheless, these changes were trivial in comparison to the joy I felt at being reunited with White once more.”

Snow: “There could never be a person alive on this earth who will always remain exactly as they are in both body and soul, especially not when one considers how fleeting life truly is.”

Shylock: “…”

Silence filled the room once Snow had finished talking. What would be the right thing to say at this moment? What were we all supposed to think about the existence of these Alter-Egos?

Our eyes wandered around the circle we’d formed with each other, doubt filling everyone’s minds.

At the very least, there were some things we could all be absolutely certain about — one was that in this town, two different kinds of life forms existed: humans and Alter-Egos.

…And the other was that the mystery thugs who had been rampaging through town and causing disturbances were the same as the people who had been mysteriously disappearing, piles of Lunaset flower petals left in their wake. They had all been Alter-Egos.

Mithra: “…Why did you not tell us this beforehand?”

It was Mithra who finally broke the oppressive silence. His voice was accusatory as he questioned Snow.

Cain: “Don’t, Mithra.”

Cain: “It’s not like the boss could’ve just dropped this on us out of the blue one day. I just kinda happened to be in the wrong place at the right time— there’s nobody else in Ventisca who knows either…”

Mithra: “Please shut your mouth, Cain, before I shut it for you.”

Mithra: “Don Snow. If it is true that reviving the dead is possible, that means we could have brought her back too, yes?”

Mithra: “And yet, you deliberately hid this from us.”

Snow: “Are you referring to Tiletta…? I remember how you adored her so.”

Snow: “Alas, ‘twould be a difficult task at this stage. The deceased’s blood is a necessity in the process of creating Alter-Egos.”

Snow: “But we buried Tiletta long ago. Taking her blood now would be impossible, wouldn’t you agree?”

Mithra: “You recreated White from his bone matter, did you not? Blood or not, Tiletta’s bones will still be where they were laid.” 

Snow: “White is the exception, not the rule. I pushed for things to continue even knowing there was no guarantee that we would succeed.”

Snow: “As luck would have it, the only difference between White as he is now and who he was before death is a change in his favourite food…”

Snow’s voice fell silent suddenly, stroking White’s hair with one hand… A sorrowful, pain-filled smile on his face.

Snow: “Before long, however, White began to grow violent at night, screaming as though something frightened him.”

Snow: “In hindsight, it’s possible the cause of his suffering may have been that he was haunted by the memories of his own death.”

Snow: “You witnessed the effects just now, did you not? White with his eyes glowing red, screaming as if he were in agony…”

Mithra: “…”

Cain: “…We tried all sorts of things to try and keep White from rampaging, but nothing ever worked.”

Cain: “In the end, the only thing we could do was force him to take full-strength sleeping pills while the sun was still up and hope for a miracle to happen…”

Snow: “Mithra. You do not want to burden Tiletta with suffering in such a way.”

Mithra: “…You—”

Just as Mithra was about to say something, he stopped. Then he turned his back on us.

Snow: “Where are you going?”

Mithra: “Home. I have no use for this Alter-Ego business.”

Arthur: “I guess it’d be better not to accompany him…”

Snow: “Forgive me for troubling you all with this matter.”

Snow smiled at Arthur with his eyebrows furrowed, then looked down at the empty glass he was still holding in his hand.

Snow: “…Regardless, the effect Kirsche Persche had on White’s symptoms was quite impressive.”

Snow: “Compared to all that we tried to no avail, it cured White in a manner of seconds.”

Heathcliff: “…Mister Shylock. While it would pain me to cast doubt on you or your family, I…”

Heathcliff: “Is Kirsche Persche really just a drink?”

Akira & Riquet: “…”

Shylock: “…I apologise… I’m afraid I myself have no answer for your questions.”

Shylock: “Still, perhaps our boss…”

Shylock: “Perhaps Murr, the creator of Kirsche Persche, will know something about it that we do not.”

Snow & Heathcliff: “…”

Heathcliff: “…Where is he, anyway? Your boss.”

Shylock: “I have no idea, unfortunately. He has a tendency to disappear without returning for long periods of time…”

Shylock: “Nevertheless, there is one place I can think of we have yet to check.”

Shylock exhaled slowly as if readying himself for something, then turned his head to look forward.

Shylock: “I visited Murr’s home once, a long time ago.”

Shylock: “I believe there is where we should head.”