Return.

After that, the evening seemed to pass by in a flash — possibly because of how relieving it was for me to see Shylock again.

Riquet: “This is a roulette table, isn’t it, Heathcliff?”

Heathcliff: “That’s correct. Have you ever played casino games before?”

Riquet: “No, but I am interested in trying.”

Arthur: “How about you make a few bets with me, then?”

Riquet: “Yay! Yes please!”

Shylock & Akira: “…”

Shylock and I watched Riquet’s eyes light up as we relaxed on the couch in the back together.

Akira: “Riquet looks like he’s having lots of fun, doesn’t he? Heathcliff’s subordinate — I think he said his name was Arthur — seems like someone kind, too.”

Shylock: “This will be the first time Riquet is truly exposed to the world we all inhabit here in Vollmond Town.”

Shylock: “Didn’t you say to me once that you’ve never been to a casino either? Why not go and enjoy yourself with him?”

Shylock: “I’ll even accompany you, if you so desire.”

Akira: “Really? If it’s not a problem, I’d like it if you could come with m—”

Everyone: “…!”

From the other side of the window came a sudden scream, accompanied by the sound of something breaking violently.

Immediately, we all turned to look outside. The street was just barely visible in the dim light of the moon — as was the fleeting glint of a pair of blades.

Riquet: “Has a brawl started, maybe?”

Shylock: “I’d be surprised if so, considering the lack of people. What in the world…?”

Heathcliff: “Could it be Ventisca’s already caught wind of Kirsche Persche’s whereabouts? Or perhaps it’s just the usual thugs…”

Arthur: “I’ll go make sure everything’s alright.”

Shylock: “Allow me to accompany you.”

Riquet: “Me too!”

Akira: “Oh, I’ll come as well…!”

So we all headed outside, Arthur in the lead. The wind blowing through the streets was strong this late at night, and I could see flower petals dancing through the air. I could also detect the faint smell of blood.

Red-Eyed Man: “Raahhhhhh!!”

Red-Eyed Child: “Kyahhhhhh!!”

A man was standing there, knife in hand, and he swung it down towards a smaller figure who caught the blow with his own tantō sword. They were the only two people out here.

Akira: “Is that man fighting with a child…?”

Shylock: “Their eyes are both glowing bright red…”

Heathcliff: “It’s just like when that man attacked me earlier…!”

Red-Eyed Child: “…I don’t… Want to…”

Red-Eyed Child: “No! No, no, no! I don’t want to die…!”

Shaking his dark hair, the child readied his blade.

Red-Eyed Man: “Ahhhhhh!! Dieeeee!!!”

Knife glinting, the man lept at the child.

Shylock, Heathcliff, Riquet and Arthur all reached for their weapons— but it was already too late.

Akira: (No…!)

Helpless, I covered my eyes with my hands. But just as I did—

???: “—White!”

With my eyes still covered, all I could hear was a voice that sounded familiar to me, as well as the sharp sound of blades clashing together.

Nervous, I looked up — and saw a man tightly embracing the child in his arms, protecting him from the other man’s blade.

Akira: “Don Snow…!”

It was Cain and Mithra who caught the strike with their swords, rather than Snow. They stood in front of their boss like a pair of guard dogs.

Snow: “Cain, Mithra.”

Snow said their names with his eyes as cold as a snowstorm.

He didn’t need to say anything else. It was an order in and of itself.

Cain: “Hah…!”

Mithra: “…Hmph.”

Without wasting even a second, Cain swung his sword at the man, sending his knife flying high into the sky and far into the distance.

And as if that were his cue, Mithra suddenly moved — beating the man to the ground in an instant, like an animal sent to finish off his master’s prey.

Red-Eyed Child: “Ahhhhh!!! Let go of me, let go…!!!”

Snow: “…Nh. It’s alright, White— you’re alright now…”

Snow: “You are alive. I will never let you die…”

The expression on Snow’s face as he held the child in his arms was not that of a mafia boss. It was an expression of desperation; of hopefulness; of a deep and tender love…

But the child only continued to writhe violently, his desperate cries akin to a rejection of Snow’s words.

Red-Eyed Child: “No, no…! I don’t… Want to… Die…!”

Red-Eyed Child: “Uuu… Uuaaahhhh!!!”

Riquet: “Ah…!”

Akira: “Snow, you’re bleeding…!”

I felt my eyes go wide with shock as a red stain slowly began to spread across the fabric covering Snow’s back.

The child he’d so affectionately called ‘White’ had swung his tantō down into the flesh of Snow’s shoulder.

Red-Eyed Child: “…Ah…”

The child’s glowing red eyes seemed to glint and waver with something in that moment, hand trembling where he was clutching so desperately to his blade.

Snow carried on smiling like a saint nevertheless, gently stroking his hand down White’s back again and again despite the pain probably being severe enough to make him want to scream.

Snow: “There, there, it’s alright… That was certainly rather painful, I must say. But of course, ‘tis nothing in comparison to what you’ve suffered through…”

Cain: “Boss…!”

Cain immediately ran to Snow’s side, his face pale.

Though Mithra went to follow, I saw him suddenly stop and turn around, as if something had caught his eye.

Mithra: “What…?”

Following Mithra’s gaze, I saw him looking at the man he’d just beaten, who should’ve still been lying motionless on the ground.

But instead, the very essence of his body seemed to be fluttering and crumbling away, and there was barely half of his body left in one piece.

Akira: “…No way…”

Shylock: “Is that man— turning into flower petals…?”

I watched as a gust of wind blew the petals up into the air, fluttering away into the night.

And then I noticed that where there had once been a man, now there was nothing — only a small mountain of light pink petals, and a pile of clothes that had lost the person who’d once worn them.

Cain: “…People disappearing, leaving behind nothing but their clothes and a pile of Lunaset flowers…”

Arthur: “That’s…”

Heathcliff: “Just like what happened to all the other people who have been disappearing in Vollmond recently…”

Heathcliff: “Is this really the answer to everything? All this time, those thugs were just— dying…?”

Akira: “I-If that’s the case, then…”

I turned around with a start, the realisation settling uncomfortably inside of me.

Red-Eyed Child: “…Nh… No…”

Snow: “…’Tis alright now, White. Good boy, good boy…”

I watched as Snow desperately cradled White to his chest — as if he was making sure there was still warmth to be found in White’s little body.

Akira: (…Will White disappear like that someday, too…?)

We all stood there in silence, time passing us by. The seconds turned into minutes.

As the petals of the Lunaset flower continued to flutter past us, carried away by the night breeze, Shylock opened his mouth to speak.

Shylock: “…Kirsche Persche.”

Akira: “Eh?”

Shylock: “That boy there, White — he needs to drink some.”

Heathcliff: “…Is that really alright?”

Shylock: “Yes. I’m choosing to give it to him, at my own discretion.”

Shylock: “So long as it isn’t taken from us by force, it cannot be considered a violation of our boss’s orders.”

Mithra & Cain: “…”

Snow: “Even still… Kirsche Persche isn’t some sort of elixir of life, correct?”

Snow: “‘Tis merely a drink, or so I have been told by your associates.”

Shylock: “That it is. Or so we’ve been made to believe, despite the extreme safekeeping measures…”

Shylock: “I assume your desperation to find Kirsche Persche for White’s sake was not founded entirely on myths and rumours?”

Snow: “…”

Shylock: “I’m sure you understand. You know what will befall that child if things continue the way they have thus far.”

Shylock: “If his fate truly is inescapable, then surely a single drink won’t hurt him — wouldn’t you agree?”

A faint light flickered within Snow’s eyes.

As Don Snow, owing anything to anyone would be agonising to him.

But as the person known simply as Snow, it was clear he wanted to help White however possible.

I watched as Snow clenched his jaw and looked down, these two thoughts conflicting bitterly inside of his head.

Red-Eyed Child: “Ah, ahhhhh!!!”

Everyone: “…!”

Snow: “…Ngh, White…”

As White began to thrash and struggle in his arms once more, Snow merely buried his face in the boy’s soft hair.

Snow: “…”

When Snow slowly lifted his head a second time, I saw the hesitation that had been there before was now gone.

Snow: “…Shylock.”

Snow: “I beg of you, please. Allow White to drink some Kirsche Persche…”

Shylock: “Your wish is my command. I shall prepare some for you as soon as I am able.”

And so, we ended up borrowing the Panthera Family kitchen in order to prepare White’s Kirsche Persche as fast as possible.

Having skipped the inclusion of alcohol, we hurried to the inner room where Snow’s broad back awaited us.

White was snarling like a dog, his teeth sunk deep into Snow’s arm.