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wayward-hums · 3 years

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Backscratcher Solved

The things you believed in will stay like the needle in the eye of your son, forever, while violet lights on Christmas windows tell their young to count the stars above for the tow trucks to come.

One snap of both fingers on both hands is that quick to forget the loss of the eye for the storm. Bjork and her son on some island are editing magazines, as the newspapers cut their font accordingly.

Believe in Weimar - all the dogs that make you happy today are the cats with burnt tails at night, and that weeps you out.

Tell Eno about the sign, as present continuous couldn't be if not for being alive. Forget the Judge, he knows.

My fire is despairing in Chernobyl while the elephant's leg is laughing inside one snake turned into a wrong god.

My orange later is the new blue and black depending on the dalton in the snow.

Cilla approves of my literature beyond the thistles of the pale lilac rainbow.

Roma follow lithium when Kurt knows how right Reznor could have been if he still believed in self destruction from Lucas.

There's too much actor geometry in my systems. I think this is stolen from Ballard. Ballard who did you steal it from? Jews probably... Then I feel shameless to steal it from you once more.

If you want to find my twisted sister, my anchor has made a pact in Panjeea not to look in the eye when the Celtic ring is breaking on the middle finger.

The man hammering the anvil still sits on the fence before the oval, surrounded by coal and covered by the trees.

Pigeons not only develop a coop, they wait before the docks positioning themselves in the manner of your being and everything turns against Gira machine because his Polaroids don't match the patterns on Andy's chest.

My murder of crows never Rows M for H anymore, as the P is at composed consolidation with the Mac and cheese.

Is your purple super handed man still escaping through your husband's elbow while you stick your eye in it to see how close you are from reaching your own screw? He says quietly that they always come and so they do. They really do. I see them wandering around me in Jung and its shadows. I see stars. Little openings, usually of green glow.

My hook aura can do a cucumber before 9pm.

***

Keep all lose ends, you never know whether the mercurial son won't end up trashing background music.

Your belt in hypercube can do prime numbers showing the tree that cut its own head and turned into a stone from which Pegasus took young self into nowhere.

Gabo Othala Gabo Othala Gabo Othala.

The silver lining is on your apricot.

Remember that babies are on the mint trolley so the smoke is showing you Odin from the blood to the excrement in the river.

Mondays are manic and ratty, Tuesday is for the eternal love of Thom. On Wednesdays the leprechaun is flexing the muscles, while Thursday belongs to David... and it is so low, Lou needs to cut himself in the reeds for Iggy to pop alive on television. Running around the beach with a yoggi.

Jessica's Fridays are doing shrimps in the green mile jar for a doormouse.

Weekends don't come around. Or they do when Moz is unable to look me in the eye, cursing the father.

No-one really sells the world exactly, not even my self, my voided body.

Saturday could be the moment for Nick Cave's split with Blixa if not for the fact I'm on Jupiter and she is on Pluto.

No matter how much your raisin shows, the towel will sweep the others for you on a snow creamed Marilyn kiss from three Irelands visiting to and fro and then back to young Erin again.

This is not the time for the b&w, but for the 'S' that goes onto 'M' for the demon that doesn't breathe (it lives in the idea in the hallway-room that wasn't reversed to the time before the great break)

So count to nine (hee-haw) because 13 is the number reserved for jumping Heather / feather of the church of Brigid.

Silvans blow their Peruvian pipes for Oliver to replace Stuart, like a fiver killed through my barking girl hidden within an exhibitionist gym for when we were young animal girls.

Sometimes things feel like faceless beauty looking cardinal purple for Art to go turquoise and celeste on a mean lean green sunflower pact with a-cordian Jon.

There's too much carnelian on the Fubar for the floss of Leviathan and red weather drums hiding Indian eggs on mount I donated a paper plane to cover the moon of wolves in my polar bear lying on the floor.

A misogynist chef that cooks awesome hospital food without much attitude for love sings "wo' y'all yall".

"Keep it snappy for suffragette equalizers on central Deadpool Rock Resistance", said Edith in Glasgow while singing bread melody of the morning frost in pure mist.

David lynch knows not to pull 7 for a very long time in this factory.

Sunglasses at night might help, but children of the plague have begun their surreal journey with abacus to give a three - fingered hand shakes.

Bolt the doctor in the eye of your chin.

Apples don't talk of piety when they're unafraid of the mirror iris. Ewe and Grace won't ever do the thin daughter's water scale channel in the open.

There is a teal in Argos for the Chinese salmon and eels.

We won't scratch Hungarians to bring turkey to the bridge for the anti-heroes hidden in literature's fantastic eyelashes.

Please remember the terrifying future of the freeze. Why your brother is so full of angst about spiders and machines from war of the worlds. You love him and you understand how step-ladders work now.

Although you're still around the difficulty to forgive, regardless of the amount of Tzur's Ho and purple Sign O' the Times, she must have your name.

Gather self around the time you crunched and went back to say Carlin was not just right, he was essential.

You don't want to die holding an Artaud shoe but pancreatic cancer doesn't feel appealing either. Why is it always cancer or suicide by society?

Don't slice the ear, keep the slave in the black tulip for scientists to wonder.

Japan is saving the moment of air / water release for the grainy deserted field of barley, Roxy Boney.

Yoko Ono never meant to tell me until this December that I am Pepe Pewing lasers for Hong Kong.

I am forgiven.

There is sorrow for Libby in my dust bunnies, I crumble my rib and lung.

The right side of the body hailing to the man is the realm of the dead. Live your hands separately, I told them enough.

Raspberry slipper hill on Francis the magpie turn leopard once for the Tinkerbell to off herself for Disney-Pasta with a sample of Finland for the birds on your assessment notes.

At first you may think that the weirded masked nympho is having a pact with a hoover man and denotes the conversations to the red lion man blackmailed by the pen handling yellow, 9"11 causing peckers, over and over.

I said I won't Sanchez you that white frame for Chris and John, but I allowed my blue trousers to go full circle and come back as I don't feel much like creating portals in 2005, so don't dare stealing my love.

Time and morality are so relative it feels it was me who has always been giving to the eternity; I have given flowers for the red crown that brought cracks on the crocodile pavement for ankh girl go sandman.

I have awakened you and nursed Joe in his dream on the 01/12 by spitting on my totem.

If they are looking through my right eye, my left fountain keeps flowing gum that will come back in style, since the owls have left the ward with marlboro and lassoes, Dennis Jordan won't buffalo buffalo even for the ear.

***

Birds see my floaters and I don't catch black snow. One tiny spoon of Italian ice-cream wounded by an old relative (that is not with me anymore) is enough to convince Vienna of waiters.

FedEx kid told Tom who lately broke a lot of wall not to look me in the Wilson this time, one neighbour on covid19 is enough, we reckon. His son did some Buckley a while back. Who else looks like dope?

I learned that my cairn was a farmer. The one legged Alan tossed the coin to me. The deor collects no dandylion.

The tin with the stag in four A reflected the same pattern as the Rudolf before the || hallway, just like my radiator - dried bobble today.

They tried to recount me by removing my magnetic field of mice away, while adding heavier than life gravity onto my atlas that still reminds me of clear bag in Hungarian.

***

When I spoke to you the first time your blonde hair and pale skin were set on fire. I love every time you move your head towards a cat caress.

Phil Spector is still reincarnating outside the window. Swayze's wife must be furious about the theft of patsy Cline into the crazy vein of my middle finger.

The teared rose on Mexican palms have led me to a higher wisdom of Armenia.

Now that I listened to you I understand the highs of organic artists better and I'm disappointed it is leaving me while the gravity of rock and roll becomes too heavy to relate to my foetus on the leash the way I could relate before.

You have to be that tall to pass my headge-row with a lion tattoo on the armpit, when you drive over the body of that girl and get away with it, buddy.

Tear for Eddie.

Who is off the nut today? I'm only playing poker cards on my brown paladium. The ancient black cat knows no Asian bullshit

Hyenas are laughing about their shimmering initiation. Bird laughs with droplets falling on my right elbow. It serves me not (back when I got scared in the restaurant chain) until I'm served Jasmine knot.

I'm that girl everyone keeps selling and that man you can't look in the eye on your right. Stop using my raspberry rabbit, it is mine!

Why do You insist on using language as if it couldn't harm you? I'm least likely to, anyway.

***

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trinity-blood-translations · 6 years

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ROM 6 - Chapter 1 Part III (english translation)

Translator: Roven, Editing: Lamy

Trinity Blood (by Sunao Yoshida)

ROM 6 Link for Part I Chapter 1 Link for Part II Part III

—Ah, ah, ah, ah, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Between the sound of the sirens, there was a cry of pain. Looking at the priest’s headless body Esther thought it was a very annoying loud noise.

A girl screamed as if a piece of her soul was taken and been crushed. Esther didn’t realize that the scream came from her own throat until she saw a hand rising as if it was a puppet. The nun raised the shotgun without hesitating pointing at the young blond man and pulled the trigger.

—Watch out, mein Herr. Esther is... —said Butler...

Or was it Kämpfer? Or whatever...

The muzzle of the shotgun, thick as a thigh, launched a deadly discharge. The bullets were hurled into the air as if they were a steel net. Their target was the handsome young man called Cain, the angel who was looking sadly at the decapitated body of the devil. The rain of bullets hit his body and made him bend.

—Aaaaah, aaaah, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Esther didn’t stop moving while she was screaming. She fired and reloaded the shotgun almost at the same time.

White.

Trigger.

The nun observed expressionless how the young man's body flew away, and she reloaded again...

She felt like a veil of blood was spreading through her mind. She wasn’t able to think. Rather, her heart forbade her to think. Her body moved as if it were someone else's. She fired mechanically again and again. It was like watching an endless movie. A terror movie.

When would that nightmare end? Esther realized that she couldn’t even hear the shots anymore. With her left hand she continued to reloading, but she felt no longer the effect of the bullets entering the barrel. Did she run out of ammo? Or was it that the gun had been locked...?

The room was filled with smoke thicker than the mist of the city. The air conditioning system, which had survived the centuries, made the mist swirl.

—Ah ... ah!

Esther stared with empty eyes at the two bloody figures —one white, the other black— lying on the floor. The nun stepped forward without realizing that she stepped at the remains of the round glasses, until she reached the side of the headless black corpse.

—Father..? She asked with a trembling voice.

No one answered.

—Father? —she repeated with more force.

But there was no answer at all.

The remain of the bloody neck were to see at the end of the habit like a chopped trunk.

The head that should have been there was disappeared. Some gray stains were visible among the reddish liquid spread across the floor, probably parts of the cerebral fluid. Some shining small white masses were also to see which must have been the teeth. The eyes with the color of a winter lake with nerves still hanging on it were covered with a whitish veil.

—No...

Esther stared at the decapitated body as if it were of someone she saw for the first time. With eyes fixed on the still bleeding cut, she repeated incessantly the same word:

—No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...

That was impossible. There had to be a mistake. He couldn’t die. Even if he was poor and clumsy, he couldn’t die in that terrible way. She was certain that at any moment he would appear calling her with his carefree voice: <<Esther!>>. She would turn to scold him, as he deserved...

—"Esther!" — A clueless voice addressed the girl.

It was a quiet voice showing no sign of worry. While turning toward the voice the nun was turning pale as if she had the same hell before the eyes.

—Eh!?

—Eh? What's the matter? Is something wrong with my face?

The young man dressed in white had appeared before the stupefied girl. He didn’t have any scratch on his face, but when he noticed that Esther’s gaze was fixed on the gap that had open in his stomach, he annoyed snapped his tongue:

—Oh well, what a hole I have in the suit!… Esther, doing this to a friend... You've gone a bit too far with this joke.

—Ah...! Ah ...! Bu..,. but... how? How is it possible...!?

The hole that pierced the young man was so large that Esther almost could have put her head in it.

It wasn’t unusual, considering that he had received a discharge in a close-range. However, there was neither a drop of blood nor a piece of entrails. There was only a white interior just like a perforated puppet.

—Ah, this? It's because a long time ago I had a pretty big fight with my brother and he threw me from a very high place, —explained the young man laughing and embarrassed to the girl stupefied in horror—. How many year have passed since then...? The burns from then still haven’t healed well yet. When it rains they itch awfully. That’s why I came here to look for our genetic map to fix me... What Isaak? Did you found it?

—My lord, the truth is that... —explained Panzer Magier, with an expressionless face, running his fingers over the console. —….the wrath of your brother has been a bit disproportionate. The files are completely useless. And not just the ones here. It seems that there were security copies in the system, but even though I tried to recover them, it was impossible.

—Well, that is a problem indeed... And can’t you connect to the net? Aren’t the blueprints kept in any database out there?

—It is not possible to connect. This electronic system is disabled. I am very sorry, but it seems that your brother and his anger have erased everything.

—All right. It's just that Abel has always had a bad temper. What are we going to do? It is indeed a problem..., a big problem... What can we...? Oh, sure!

The young man clapped with his hands as if he had just realized something, and he looked at the bloody corpse lying next to Esther.

—Thinking about it, we don’t have the blueprints but we have a sample... My brother and I are completely identical. Let's use his body... I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.

—Use his body? —Esther repeated mechanically. She didn’t quite understand the meaning of those words, but she had a baleful presentiment. It seemed difficult to imagine that anything worse could happen but Esther drew back frightened. Embracing the corpse of Abel she was about to escape running from the room..., when the young man dressed in white stepped quietly to her side.

—Where are you going, Esther? —he asked with the same expression as the priest who was no longer in this world.

Cain's voice was sweet but the nun couldn’t help but chatter her teeth.

—Excuse me if I frighten you... but we will be okay soon. Afterwards we will go back upstairs and eat some delicious food. What do you desire? Meat? Fish? I love pasta...

—Ah!

When the young man reached out Esther pulled away instinctively. Rather, she tried to do it but her body didn’t answer. Though Cain smiled at her with affability she stood petrified like a frog in front of a snake.

The young man extended his hand toward the corpse the nun was embracing.

—Come on, let's not lose no more... Huh!?

—What is it, my lord? —asked Panzer Magier surprised manipulating the mummies in front of the console.

When he turned around he saw that the young man in white had withdrawn his hand with which he was just about to touch the corpse. The fingers twisted in pain and showed a few black burns.

—What...? What happened? —Esther murmured in astonishment.

Upon coming into contact with the body a bluish light forced Cain to withdraw his hand immediately. It was the energy produced by the priest turned into Krusnik. But why? If Abel had already died...

—Take it easy, Isaak. I just got a little scared. Or maybe...Do you want to make things difficult for me, 02? —said Cain serenely, as if he wanted to reassure his subordinate, although in his gaze a metallic light appeared. —These melodramatic show of fighting to the end isn’t your style. Or do you just want to annoy me? Even if this makes you angry, this is not...Huhh?

Cain stopped abruptly talking to the corpse or to the person who had lived in it and glanced with a strange look at his own hand. The flesh until then of an almost transparent white was darkening periodically as if the burns from before were about to spread through it. The blackened skin oozed a yellowish and foamy liquid which gave off a putrid stench. And it wasn't only the hand changing. The edges of the gap that Esther had opened in his stomach were also turning into another color. What was happening?

—Eh? My body is... decomposing? —moaned Cain moving away from the nun who was staring at him with wide eyes. —What does this mean? Isaak, what is happening to me?

— My lord, unfortunately it means that we are running out of time.

The young man replied politely but in his voice was a shadow of disgust. Watching his superior falling apart Panzer Magier shook his head annoyed.

—It was supposed to last longer but the fight with your brother must had costed you more energy than we thought... Anyway, we have to go back before your body fall apart completely.

—Well, well, this is indeed a nuisance... I can’t walk around with this body, —Cain replied with a childish tone as if he was told to go home but he wanted to keep playing. —Anyway, what could we do? There’s no choice but return. It's a shame since we've come this far... Oh, by the way, Esther?

Cain turned to the young woman, who looked at them as if she would see visions. He didn’t approached her physically but his voice had the closeness of an old friend.

—Hard days are waiting for you. Cheer up! Promise me you will neither cry nor fall into despair, okay?

—Lord, please hurry. The body will not last much longer.

—Got it. I will go right now... Well, see you later, Esther.

The young man blinked his eyes at her and winked her a goodbye kiss before he disappeared from the room together with Panzer Magier. Literally, they disappeared. Esther was alone, with no other company than the decapitated corpse in her arms and Vanessa who was lying dead on the floor her stomach destroyed by the jellyfish. The four mummies had also disappeared and with them the documents they were hugging, so the room seemed even larger.

The sirens were still ringing. Sitting in the middle of the room, Esther had lost all sense of time...

—Sister Esther!? —screamed somebody suddenly. —Did you come here, Saint!? Doctor Wordsworth, it's sister Esther! We have found the Saint of István!

Some figures appeared in the room and were screaming to each other. They were men dressed in black, probably members of the Secretary of Vatican Papal State. The gentleman who was leading them had a face that the girl was familiar with. But who is he? She couldn’t remember. The truth was that she didn’t want to think about anything...

—Are you alright, Sister Esther? Good luck, I have put a transmitter on you for the case something like would happen. Let us return to the surface immediately. This area will be blocked very soon... Eh, who is this...?

While trying in vain to get the nun out of her stupor the gentleman looked at the body she was holding. Since his head was missing at first sight he wasn’t able to recognize it, but seeing the habit and the rosary he was looking like he suspected it already. Without realizing that the pipe had fallen from his mouth, he groaned:

—But this habit... It can’t be...

Esther couldn’t hear the gentleman's voice. Her mind was fixed on the corpse in her arms. The nun was stupefied shaking the body in her arms, repeating his name as if she were expecting an answer:

—Father Nightroad... Father...

But obviously her call got no answer. However, Esther kept shaking the corpse.

—Father, wake up... Father..., wake... wa... wa... Ah, ah, ah...! Nooooooooooo!!!

—Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

A scream of despair made Esther to come out of her nightmare in order to fall into an even more terrible reality.

When she opened her eyes and rose from the chair the scream had disappeared, but instead she heard monstrously violent gasps. As she instinctively moved her hand toward the place where she would have her shotgun, the nun realized that it was her own breathing. Her cheeks were soaked.

—Oh oh!

The girl lifted her face, letting the tears run freely.

Several portraits of saints decorated the walls of the room and on the altar was a large silver crucifix.

The shadows dominated in the chapel of St. George's Cathedral, located on the grounds of Windsor Palace. Only the weak light of the winter night shone through the stained glass windows. How many hours had she been there? How much time had passed since that?

The Professor had rescued her from the underground levels and carried her back to the surface. Then she thought to remember to be examined by several doctors, but she wasn’t quite sure how everything went. The only thing she clearly remembered was the pool of blood stretching out on the floor. And the corpse dressed in habit, but without a head...

—I…, I've killed him... I...

Esther repeated over and over again the same meaningless words in front of the coffin that lay next to the altar. It was a simple coffin of cedar without decoration and aperture. However, Esther was painfully aware of who was in there.

—If I hadn’t said that... If I had shot him before...

—Sis..., Sister Esther? —asked a hesitant voice.

When did he entered? Esther looked back, full of tears, towards the teenager who had appeared in the chapel.

—Holiness?

—E..., E..., Esther..., are you okay?

Instinctively, Alessandro stepped back when the nun lifted her face towards him in a mechanical way, like a puppet. There was no doubt that he had impressed the girl's emaciated face. After hesitating a moment, with a fearful look, the teenager said:

—I've... been told… that... you haven’t left... this… place in a… while.

Are you... you ... are you okay? You haven’t..., eaten anything and... I’m sorry..., I’m really sorry… the Fa... Father Nightroad... I don’t have... I don’t have words for...

—...

Esther dropped her face again while the Pope tried to comfort her clumsily. She decided to remain silent, because she knew that if she would say something it would be terrible things. Despite of how exhausted she was, she still kept sufficient lucidity to know it.

Thinking that the nun was just tired, Alessandro said, looking towards the coffin:

—Sorry... I'm sorry to bother you now, but... I wanted to talk about something. Is it… okay? It's..., about Virgil and Angelica... Pe..., Petros is hurt and..., they don’t let me see him... Paula wouldn’t hear… she wouldn’t hear me, and... Esth... Esther, would you mind if...?

—I'm very sorry, Your Holiness, but I don’t think I can be useful to you. <<Don’t talk to me anymore!>>

Esther barely controlled the scream that raged in her chest and she replied in a measured voice:

—I am sorry. I'm no good… I’m useless...

—You a…, you are u…, useless?

—No use... I'm no use! For nothing at all!

The emotion then gushed out of the girl. She herself was surprised at the strength of her voice, but once she started she couldn’t control herself. The teenager drew back, terrified by the shrieks of the nun, who tore off her hair and threw them towards the altar. From her clenched fists dripped blood and stained the floor.

—I can’t do anything! The father has died because of me... And I wasn’t able to shoot… I was too scared!

In that dark underground she hadn’t lost only Father Nightroad. She had lost everything she had. A feeling of emptiness more violent than hunger made her voice break. She wasn’t yet considered as a mature woman, but she had overcome many difficulties that had helped her to gain self-confidence. She had just begun to feel within herself the strength that encouraged her to move on.

But it seemed that everything had suddenly evaporated. Instead, there was only remorse, fear and self-hatred…Such violent emotions that it seemed they were about to tear her chest.

She felt a huge emptiness in her heart, a void that couldn’t be filled. She had lost him forever. He would never come back...

—I'm no use! I'm no good!

—E..., E..., Esther...

Alessandro watched horrified as the nun scratched her face and bit on her lips until they started to bleed. Not knowing what to do he just stayed there watching her, terrified, as blood and pieces of skin dropped on him...

—Enough, Esther!

A calm voice but full of authority made the young woman to stop. When Alessandro turned toward the voice, the person who just spoke had already passed his side with a martial rhythm and grabbed Esther’s wrists.

—Stop! A lady shouldn’t damage her face like this…

—Colonel Spencer?" —she said, looking at the newcomer with empty eyes.

Ignoring the teenage Pope who was looking at them with horror, the nun repeated to the orange-haired officer:

—Colonel... I killed him…, I..., I…, I killed…, I…,

—Now enough!

Something made a dry sound on Esther 's cheeks. As the slapped nun looked up with an expression like a demon just had been fallen of her face, she met with her gaze the sky-blue eyes of Bloody Mary.

—Sister Esther Blanchett! Have you forgotten that you are the Saint!? You have been chosen to fight against the evil in the world, to be the voice of the Lord and the admiration of the people... How can the Saint fall apart like this!? I won’t let you!

—The Saint... I...

She was no saint!

The scream almost came from her lips, but something stopped her. <<Where have I been wrong?>>, said the revenger in her hometown. <<Can I trust you, Esther?>>, asked the young man she met in the desert city. <<You are not my subject. You are my friend.>>, said the girl who ruled the city of non-humans. <<You will be the Saint.>>, said the friend she lost in the winter city. <<I am on your side>>, said the one who had always been by her side and now he was silent forever.

Esther buried her nails tightly in her fists, to avoid taking them back to the face.

She didn’t want to have anything to do with this name. She could only be saved when she erased that agname. But in doing so, she would also erase all those people who she kept inside. It would be like eliminate everyone who live thinking about her and those who don’t live anymore, except in her memories...

—Ah! —cried the girl and covered her face. <<What an ugly voice...>>

As a Saint she should cry a little more beautiful —thought Esther without realizing that she was burst into tears at the same time. Her shoulders trembled violently and felt as if she were going to vomit all the blood that ran through her chest.

<<I am not a saint!>>

The girl cried with all her might just in order to stifle that scream. Her face was soaked with tears and snot, as if there wasn't left a drop of liquid in her body.

Mary waited patiently for the nun to finish crying. With her gaze fixed on her, she didn’t even realize that the Pope had left the room. When she saw that the tears abate a little, she whispered:

—You really loved him, isn’t that so?

—Did... love him...?1 Esther raised her head with a confused look, full of tears, as if she just heard the voice of an incomprehensible oracle.

Mary hugged her murmuring: —All right. You can still cry. But then you must get up again, Saint... Now cry all you want.

—Colonel?

—Yes?

—Why? Why are you worrying about me...?

—Maybe it's because we're sisters. Yes, you are... my only sister. And soon my only relative.

<<the only relative>>... Those words made Esther's eyes light up. Didn't she had someone else in the palace? As if Mary had guessed what she thought, she shook her head.

—Our grandmother... The queen is doing very badly. The representatives of the aristocracy have been called to her side. That's why I came to pick you up… When you are calmer, get ready. We'll go to the palace together.

—To ... together? But I...

—It's all right, Esther... —Mary said, offering the nun a handkerchief to wipe away the tears.— I'll take care of everything. I will protect you... I will not let that bunch of scavenging vultures to do anything to my sister.

—Sister, —Esther repeated.

The emptiness in her chest made her feel a deaf pain which would never cease. But, at the same time, the hand that the Colonel was giving her was warm and soft.

—Thank you sister...

—Don’t worry... Are you calmer now? Calm down a little and we will go. The car is waiting outside. The palace is not so far from here...

Mary was hugging her sister and talking gentle but some shouts outside interrupted their conversation. When she turned to see what was it about, someone violently opened the door without knocking.

—Jane!? —Mary yelled in surprise.

The colonel was so shocked by the sudden appearance that she exclaimed, forgetting all manners:

—But what are you doing here?! Hadn’t you gone to the palace!?

—I've deviated halfway.

Jane Judith Jocelyn Albion's most notorious nobleman was pale as ever. With a stiff expression, free of all irony, Calamity Jane pointed outward.

—It's a terrible thing, Mary... Look.

The aristocrat pointed toward the castle gate. By following her directions with the eyes, Mary and Esther were shocked.

—But…, but, what is that?!

The first who broke the silence was Mary, still hugging Esther andlooking towards the entrance of the castle.

—What happened!? How could...!?

—What is that!?

Before her eyes stretched a sea of people and people and more people... The crowd filled the field of vision of the two girls, who were looking in astonishment.

The road leading to the castle was full of people and cars. And not just at ground level. Above the cars, on the roofs, and even on the streetlamps there were people looking curiously into the palace. Many of them carried sheets of newspapers in their hands. In addition, there were groups of men with the appearance of journalists arguing with the soldiers who protected the enclosure. What was happening!?

—Look at this... It's the Times special edition that has been out ten minutes ago.

Jane showed them a newspaper identical to the ones that the crowd was carrying. On the cheap paper it was printed a photo of Esther and Mary, taken the day before at the airport, but it wasn’t the fact what attracted the attention of the sisters. Their eyes were fixed on the letters that danced around it: <<Sister Esther is the lost princess>>.

—<<Sister Esther is the lost princess>>?....It can not be!

Why did they published this!? —cried the older of the two sisters, and turned to her friend, who was drawing the curtains—. Jane, what does this mean?! Why has this story been leaked out to the media!? Who is responsible!?

—How should I know it!? All the newspapers have published the story at the same time and also the radios have announced... —explained Calamity Jane, pulling out more and more newspapers from her coat.

The aristocrat took out more than ten balls of papers, which soon filled the floor.

—Who has spread the news especially now? The Vatican? It can’t be, they don’t have such strong ties with Albion’s media. The Duke of Argyll... he isn’t skilled enough to do such a thing. Letting all the newspapers take the same story in the evening edition... nobody is able to do this. I don’t know who it was, but it’is someone very skilled.

—Eh? So...

Esther began to speak in a hesitant voice, and the perplexity in her eyes showed that she still didn’t fully understand what had happened.

—Then, what are we going to do? We have to go to the palace to see your majesty... but with all those people...

—There's a car ready at the back exit, —Jane quickly replied, crossing the newspapers on the floor with her needle-like high heels. —We'll catch the attention of the people outside with a decoy and you can escape… Mary, are you alright?

—...

Jane's question went unanswered. Seeing her sister absorbed by her thoughts, Esther asked fearfully:

—Colonel Spencer?

—It will be a fight to death...

—Eh?

The colonel had spoken in such a low voice that the nun hadn’t understood what she had said. Tilting her head Esther asked:

—Colonel? What did...? What did you say, Mary?

—Eh? Oh, nothing, it's nothing... — the officer replied as if she just woke up from a dream.

As she turned her gaze to the nun her eyes had lost their hardness of before. Shaking her head, Mary said softly to her sister:

—It's nothing, Esther. Don’t worry...

1 The japanese original version uses 愛 (love) which very uncommon. Usually they use for “to love somebody” 好きです (literally: I like you). The use of 愛 implies very strong emotions here - that’s why Esther is surprised by the use of this word. It seems like she realizes in this moment that she was really in love with him. (Compare with the conversation between Mary and Jane about her before.)

Illustrations by Thores shibamoto and Kiyo Kyujyo.

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