I took the fish tail with me as I walked the narrow, well-trodden path toward the mansion. The sky above had dipped into true night now—inky and calm, lit only by a waxing moon and the scattered glow of distant stars. Behind me, the warmth of the village bonfire flickered low against the black, the laughter fading into a soft murmur carried by the sea breeze.
At the mansion gate, the guards straightened as I approached. They were familiar faces by now—quiet men with good posture and better gossip. I gave them a nod. One of them raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the dark, then to me.
I pointed at the fish tail swinging over my shoulder, a long trail of silver-blue glinting faintly in the moonlight.
"Merry." I said simply.
That was all it took. One of them peeled off toward the main house without another word, and the other just chuckled, muttering.
The main gate creaked open.
Out came the butler—goat-headed, neatly dressed as always even in night, with his eyes half-lidded in his usual unimpressed expression.
Merry.
He took one look at me, then at the marlin tail.
He didn't speak, but I saw his line of sight.
I turned my head toward the village and the glow of the fire still lighting up the horizon behind us. For a moment, I stood there quietly, the cool night wrapping around my shoulders like an old jacket. Then I turned back to Merry.
"Gochisō."
A simple word. A feast.
Merry exhaled, the smallest sigh, and gave a resigned nod. The kind a man gives when he knows this isn't the weirdest thing that's going to happen tonight.
He turned without another word, motioning with a gloved hand for me to follow.
The mansion hadn't changed. It never really did.
The polished floors still caught the shine of lanterns hung neatly on the walls. Everything had a quiet to it—deep, respectful, like the house itself was used to secrets. We walked through the halls, my boots making a soft, deliberate rhythm on the stone tiles. The only light came from above, where the second floor stretched open around a grand stairwell.
One room—hers—was still lit.
She hadn't gone to sleep yet.
Typical.
She was still reading her medical books.
Such a sweet girl harmed by the world itself.
I could feel eyes on me. And I knew whose eyes it was.
Klahadore. Perched like a shadow at the top of the stairs, silhouette as sharp as the shine on his glasses. Even in the dim hallway, I could see the glint of light reflect across both lenses as he tilted his head ever so slightly.
He didn't say a word. He didn't have to.
I gave him a single nod.
He returned it, smooth and slow, like watching someone beneath him.
We kept moving.
The kitchen wasn't far. Tiled in clean white, every surface spotless, knives hung in perfect order above the sink. The kind of room you could live in your whole life and still feel like a guest.
Merry opened the freezer—a real freezer, humming quietly. One of the few in the entire village. An imported luxury, powered by something that probably cost more than I'd seen in the last year. At least here in this world.
I stepped inside, the chill brushing against my face like a slap wrapped in silk.
Inside, hooks lined one wall. Most were filled with varieties of meat and fishes that would have drained even the richest person I knew of.
I reached for an empty hook and latched the marlin tail onto it, checking the balance. The fish swung gently, the hook creaking just a little under the weight. It would hold.
And just before Merry turned to close the door, I reached over to one of the ice trays, popped a cube loose, and rolled it across my palm. The sharp cold hit instantly—painful, clean. I pressed it to my temple, dragging the melting edge down my cheek.
Merry gave me a long look. Not irritated. Not confused. Just... used to my sometime childish antics.
He rolled his eyes and shut the freezer.
Even in the cold night, the cube had already started to melt from my body heat. It dripped down between my fingers and onto my cheeks. I rubbed the cold water into my face, letting the sharpness of it pull me back to the now.
We exited the kitchen in silence. The mansion creaked faintly in the way old homes do—settling, breathing, listening.
I gave one last glance up the staircase.
The cat-shaped shadow was still there. Watching. Motionless.
I gave a small final nod and turned toward the door.
Then I stopped.
A voice. Soft. Feminine.
"Lovecraft-san."
It came from above, not loud, but with enough presence to still the air.
Standing just at the threshold of her doorway, lit from behind by warm golden light, was the young lady of the house. Slender. Pale. Eyes tired, but kind. Her nightdress fluttered gently in the open hallway breeze, a book held loosely at her side.
I turned slightly, eyes rising to meet hers.
"Kaya."
-----------
Three pairs of eyes fell on me.
One was sharp enough to cut.
The other was annoyed enough to scald.
And the last? Gentle enough to warm.
Klahadore stood still at the edge of the stone path, arms crossed behind his back in his usual contrived elegance, the moonlight glinting off the lenses of his too-clean glasses. His gaze landed on me with pinpoint precision—cold, calculating, utterly unimpressed. There was that slight twitch to his brow, barely there, but loud enough if you knew how to read him. I didn't need to. I could feel it. I could smell the irritation radiating off him. I had moved up quite high on his kill list. I just knew it.
Didn't matter.
I didn't even glance at him again.
Instead, I shifted my grip on the folded wheelchair I carried in one hand, and turned toward Merry.
He was supporting Kaya by the arm, walking beside her like a human safety net. She took each step carefully, deliberately. Her frail frame leaned slightly against him, but her eyes—those held a brightness that made you forget the rest. A childlike wonder lit her face. The village ahead, with its lanterns flickering and bonfire crackling, was pulling her in like gravity.
Merry's look said everything: frustration, concern, a quiet sense of 'you better not let anything happen to her.' I could read him too. The kind of man who cared so much it calcified into grumbling. He wanted her to have joy—just in a more controlled, afternoon-sunlight kind of way. Not here, not now, when the air was cold and the path uneven.
I smiled. He sighed.
I walked beside them, letting the silence stretch comfortably between us. Kaya's white shawl fluttered faintly with the wind. Her breath came in visible puffs, but her excitement wasn't dulled. Every few seconds, she glanced at me. Her expression wavered between gratitude and hope. Gratitude—for convincing the butler squad to let her out. Hope—for what the night might hold. Maybe a new friend. A story. A moment of life outside the walls of her quiet room.
Silly girl.
But sweet.
I reached over and gently ruffled her hair.
All three of them reacted instantly.
Kaya let out a startled little gasp, blinking up at me with the wide-eyed shock of someone unused to casual affection. Merry muttered something under his breath that I didn't need to understand to get the meaning: "What are you doing now?". Klahadore drew in a sharp breath through his nose that sounded like it physically pained him. I had once more moved a few spot in his list.
I just laughed.
Loudly. Unapologetically.
The sound startled Kaya again, but this time she covered her mouth and tried to hide a smile behind her hand.
Merry sighed again—this one deeper, like he was regretting every decision he'd made since letting me inside the gates.
Klahadore didn't speak. He just kept walking, silently furious. He was gazing more at me with anger on his face. A good roleplay for his position, no doubt.
Kaya murmured, cheeks red. "Hazukashīdesu ne."
My lips fought an another grin. I took my hand from her ruffled hair and brought it to my own.
Her expression softened, and I saw something in her eyes shift—she was starting to enjoy this.
By the time we reached the village square, the fire was roaring.
It wasn't huge—just a wide ring of stacked wood and dry kindling, but it burned bright and strong. The glow painted everyone in warm tones, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Lanterns hung from hooks and branches, lighting up the area like a festival.
And there in the middle of it all, was Usopp.
He was standing on a flat wooden crate like it was a stage. One hand held a fat piece of grilled fish. The other was raised in triumph as he shouted to the heavens: "Gochisō!"
Behind him, the trio—Ninjin, Piiman, and Tamanegi—were copying his every move like backup dancers in a one-man musical. They waved sticks like swords, danced in circles, and clapped to a rhythm only they seemed to know.
"Gochisō! Gochisō!" they echoed.
Villagers were gathered around, some already laughing, others shaking their heads in amusement. It wasn't a party anyone had planned. It just… became one. Like the fire had lit something more than just wood. Like joy was contagious tonight.
Kaya's eyes widened. Her pace slowed.
I caught the shift in her breathing—not fear, but overwhelm.
Merry tightened his grip on her arm, more protective now.
Klahadore, still a few steps behind, exhaled through his teeth like he was trying not to combust.
I stepped forward and unfolded the wheelchair, setting it down and locking the wheels in place. Then, without asking, I gently took Kaya's arm and helped her sit. She didn't resist. Just whispered a small 'Arigato.' and let her gaze wander across the scene.
I watched her face as she looked around—at the villagers laughing, the fire cracking, the kids running with sparklers someone had brought from the back of a shop. Usopp shouting nonsense about how he'd tamed the marlin with a look. The kids swearing they'd seen him punch it once. People clapping. Kids jumping over the smallest flames. A grandma handing out skewers with fish chunks and seaweed.
Kaya looked like someone who had lived behind glass her whole life—and now the window was open.
She smiled.
A real one.
And I… well, I sat down beside her, arms crossed, letting the firelight soak into my skin.
Usopp noticed us finally and leapt off his crate, running over with the kids in tow.
I unlocked the wheels and pushed the wheel chair towards the crowd and Usopp. Merry sighed. Klahadore gaze burned on my back. Kaya was just happy.
Usopp arrived in front of Kaya. Merry and Klahadore wanted to stop him from approaching. But I raised my hand stopping them.
I couldn't let the story that was unfolding be disturbed. Usopp boasted about his help to catch the fish to Kaya—loud, friendly, theatrical.
She blinked. Then nodded. Then laughed.
The kids were already pointing at the fish I'd dropped off earlier, claiming it had been "this big" with outstretched arms that got wider with every retelling.
Kaya clapped her hands to her cheeks and gasped at their performance like they were telling the greatest story ever told.
And maybe, in this little village, on this quiet night, surrounded by too many stars and too much firewood, it was.