Chương 45: Puppet

Drizella lay in her bed. She could see through her eyes, and she heard through her ears. She could even smell the familiar scents of her room through her nose. But she didn't feel things. There were no emotions. There was only a deep, abiding sense of wrongness. This was a Drizella puppet. The real Drizella didn't belong here. The real her was in hell. Still, she felt a little curiosity — not much, just a tiny bit. But it was just enough to let her think about what had happened to her.

She knew what it all was, of course. Juliette had told her about it more than once. When a time looper dies inside a loop, their body recovers, but their soul belongs in hell — so it gets caught somewhere in between the two worlds. Or split. Was it split? What else had Juliette said? Something about how they become a hollow husk. They see both worlds, they feel nothing, and they barely move. And when they do move, some of them try to… end themselves. A hollow husk, barely move. Yes, that seemed about right.

She lay there until the door opened and Cinderella rushed in. Cinderella hugged her. She shook her. She talked to her. If Drizella had expected to be happy to see her most precious friend, well, it wasn't so. Even though Drizella could touch her, talk to her, smell her, she couldn't feel a thing. She couldn't laugh with her. She couldn't feel warmth in her touch, or feel loved by it. It all felt distant, like she was a bystander watching Cinderella embrace a Drizella-shaped doll from somewhere far away.

And that, really, was nothing at all. But Cinderella went on regardless, even with Drizella just lying there, eyes open like a dead fish.

"I know you're still in there," Cinderella pleaded, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I know you can hear me. I read the journal. But I don't understand it, so… oh, please, say something." It seemed Cinderella really wanted her to talk back. Could Drizella speak? Probably. But should she? Well, it would be the polite thing to do — even if there wasn't any point to it. Drizella willed the puppet's mouth to make a sound, and it worked.

"I can speak," she said, her voice entirely flat.

"Oh god — I… I read about all of it, but I..." Cinderella's words tumbled out fast, stammering, tears slipping down her cheeks.

"I mean, you're here, not in hell, and…" she touched Drizella's cheek, "you seem fine. You're not hurt. You're talking, even. Is there something wrong with your soul? Are you in pain right now?"

"…" It seemed Cinderella wanted her to say more. The truth was, as little as Drizella felt anything now, she could still remember perfectly well how very much Cinderella had mattered to her before. So it made sense to at least tell her what had happened.

"I died and went to hell," Drizella said flatly.

"In hell, two demons wanted to kidnap me, and so did a tentacle monster called Mimic-Many-Tongue. I let the monster take me. It turned out well. The monster is kind, and it lives underground with good people who can take care of me.

"When the cycle ended, my body recovered, and it seems a small part of my soul returned to it. But this body isn't the real me. I don't feel things. It's more like a puppet.

"I just need to wait until the loop is over, destroy this body, and continue my life in hell."

"That… this is too much…" Cinderella's face was a mask of sorrow.

"A tentacle monster? A puppet, with your soul split in two? Oh, please — there must be some way to help you." What, didn't she listen at all? Drizella had just said things turned out fine! But Cinderella only sat beside her, crying a little, looking miserable. Oh well. Drizella had tried.

"Oh, Drizella. I wanted to know you — with my own memories, my own experience, after the loop. After what I read, I wanted it so badly. And I can't believe that… that it will never happen." Yes. That did sound like the sort of thing a person ought to find sad. I opened my eyes. I was in the cave, in a small stone room, lying on a bed of straw, dimly lit by a faint red glow. Beside the bed sat a girl I didn't know; she was young, barely into her teens.

She wrung a cloth out over a bucket of water and laid it across my forehead. And I… had feelings now. I had far too many of them. I felt pain — something was very wrong with my real body. And with my soul. Something was missing. My chest seized, and I screamed. Then everything went fuzzy, and I drifted back to sleep.

"Drizella — Drizella!" Cinderella called, her eyes red from crying.

"Drizella is… I mean, I'm here," Drizella said flatly.

"To see you like this…" Cinderella said.

"I know. I should summon the Fairy Godmother. Somehow, I'll make her come. Maybe she can help. Get your soul back, she—""No," Drizella said.

"She can't. She barely managed to heal me before." Cinderella looked at her, miserable, and Drizella decided she'd have to fake a little more feeling to make Cinderella stop.

"Listen," Drizella said.

"It isn't so bad. In hell, I mean. Really. It's a quiet cave, with kind people, and food, and everything I need." Cinderella nodded slowly, wiping her tears.

"If that's true…" Drizella didn't feel much, but she did feel a flicker of annoyance at having to talk — it required some bare minimum of emotion, and that made the whole process hard for her. She was a puppet now. An object, really. She ought to just lie there like a good object until the cursed loop ended this miserable excuse for an existence. Suddenly, the bedroom door swung open. Mother swept into the room, followed closely by Anastasia, who was yawning and glaring at the walls.

"What is all this racket, this early in the morning?" Mother demanded, then turned an accusing eye on Cinderella.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be? Something to do? The animals to feed, our breakfast to make? Have you even fed Lucifer yet?"

"Yes, lazybones!" chimed in Anastasia.

"Get to it already. We haven't got all day, you know!" One look at Cinderella's red, swollen eyes was enough to see she'd been crying. Yet it made little difference to mother and sister, who ordered her about as viciously as ever. A new, tiny emotion surfaced from Drizella's fragment of a soul. It wanted, apparently, to put a pistol to Mother's face and order her gone.

"It's just…" Cinderella mumbled.

"Drizella is sick, I only…"

"And what are you," Mother cut in, "a physician now? Back to your duties, chop chop!"

"I'm her friend!" Cinderella shot back without budging, looking Mother straight in the eye.

"Her friend?" Mother laughed.

"You're the servant girl. Don't go confusing yourself. Out, now — before I have to teach you a lesson."

"O U T O F T H E R O O M, B O T H O F Y O U. N O W." The shout tore out of Drizella, and the voice was booming and wrong, resonant in a way no human throat should manage. It was unexpected. Even Drizella was surprised by it. In a second, Mother and sister scrambled out of the room. Cinderella had gone pale too.

"You have the journal," Drizella said, holding Cinderella's eyes.

"You're powerful now. You can take gold, even weapons, from Thomas Thomas's safehouse, and do whatever you want in the loop. I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I'm not the type to give up." Drizella paused, and looked into Cinderella's eyes.

"In the last cycle, I'll help you. You'll go to the ball. You'll get the prince. I'll make sure no time looper tries to interfere. You'll get your happy ending. I promised.

"Thank you…" Cinderella murmured.

"But… I wanted you, too." This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"I'm sorry." Cinderella was quiet for a long moment. Then she said, "Fine. I'll do as you say. But I have one condition."

"…"

"In the last cycle, before the ball, we're going to get fruit tarts together," she said.

"Even when you're… like this."

"Okay," Drizella said. Cinderella wanted the real memory of it — an afternoon she'd only ever read about in the journal until now. It was something Drizella could manage. Probably. Then they heard a knock on the door, down in the parlor, and a moment later, shouting from Anastasia.

"Who are you people?" they heard her screech.

"Mother — oh, Mother!"

"You have no right!" Mother shouted.

"I'll call the guard! I'll have you arrested!" Then — "How dare you! This is — oh!" Silence. A few moments later, Juliette and Victor came through the bedroom door.

"It's you," said Cinderella.

"The time loopers."

"Hello, Cinderella," Juliette said, and Victor gave a stiff, respectful nod. Drizella noticed neither of them looked surprised to see Cinderella there. Juliette stepped toward the bed. Because Drizella was still lying flat on her back, staring at the ceiling, Juliette awkwardly sat on the edge of the mattress, looking down at her"I'm sorry," she said, after a long silence.

"I… really didn't think it would end like this." Drizella didn't speak.

"I don't know what it's really like," Juliette said, looking into her eyes.

"It's… honestly, it's my greatest fear. I hope that after the loop, you'll find peace." Drizella stayed quiet, and Juliette drew a long breath.

"We've learned a lot about what happened," she went on.

"We know Napoleon betrayed us — betrayed you. He was bought off by the Julian Group. He's no better than a common thug. Worse, even. You were set upon by a whole company of English mercenaries. It wasn't your fault you fell, Drizella. It really wasn't." None of it was news to her.

"We also know the Julian group was working with a high demon — Malakarthor. But why the demon wanted you, that's still a mystery. We did hear from Azearothiel, though, that whatever his reason was, Malakarthor plan failed. Nothing went the way he'd intended." Juliette looked at her strangely.

"Apparently you escaped somehow — with the help of a monster. Honestly, I didn't follow it. I really want to know what happened. Can you tell me? Can you speak?" Drizella understood. Again, she was expected to talk. Juliette wasn't Cinderella. She didn't matter to Drizella the way Cinderella did. But still… Drizella needed things from her. She needed her help securing Cinderella's happy ending in the last cycle, when the other loop factions might try to cause trouble.

So Drizella ought to make the puppet look a little more like a normal person. She decided to try sitting up on the bed. It shouldn't be any harder than talking — it was just that the very idea of moving felt strange to her. But it was simple, really. Once she willed it, like speech, the puppet sat up — bolting upright all at once, as though it had been mounted on a spring. Easy, even. Juliette flinched back at the sudden movement.

"There was a tentacle monster's lair nearby," Drizella said flatly.

"I jumped in to let it take me, to escape Malakarthor. It worked. Now I'm in a cave in hell. Safe."

"You… jumped in?" Juliette repeated.

"Incredible," said Victor.

"You outmaneuvered a powerful demon. Even in hell, you keep surprising everyone."

"Yes… that is disturbingly incredible," Juliette agreed. Then, after a pause, she added, "The thing is… Azearothiel wants to tell you something. We actually have a message for you from him. Will you hear it?" It surprised her, but Drizella did want to hear it. The thing was, Azearothiel was from hell, where the real her was. So, unlike everything else, this message actually meant something.

"I'll hear the message," Drizella said. Juliette pulled out a crumpled paper and cleared her throat.

"'Drizella. I commend you,'" she read.

"'Your death, and my imprisonment, were all part of a plan Malakarthor laid out with meticulous care to capture you. But it seems he miscalculated your resolve, and so he has lost. I cannot know for certain, but the odds are that you are relatively safe in a Mimic-Many-Tongue lair, and perhaps among other humans. When you are able, seek out knowledge of your location — any landmark will do. I will send capable warriors to find you and bring you to me."' Do not fret about a life in my service.

It will be a good life for you. You will not be a slave, but an important servant. You will enjoy great comfort, with every resource at your disposal, and important work you may even find to your liking. And together, we will discover what makes you special, and such a prize to Malakarthor.'"" That's it," said Juliette.

"That's the message. Take it as you will. If you'd like to respond, we'll deliver your words exactly." She paused, looking uncertain.

"Would you like to… respond?" Drizella considered it for a moment.

"Yes. I would." Juliette's face turned serious. She took out another sheet of paper and a pen, and waited.

"Nah. I'm good," Drizella said flatly.

"You mean…" Juliette said.

"That's it? That's your response?" Drizella nodded. Juliette laughed.

"Cheeky as ever — even dead." She smiled despite herself.

"We'll pass it along. Though I don't imagine Azearothiel will like it." Then she added, in a quieter tone, "I don't know the first thing about hell or demons. But for what it's worth, I think you've got the right idea. I wouldn't trust a high demon either." Drizella didn't respond.

"Is there… anything else you need?" Juliette asked hesitantly. Was there… anything else? Drizella tried to concentrate. It was hard — everything seemed so unimportant, so uninteresting, like watching a dull play from the very back row. But something was important to her. She needed something from Juliette.

"The last cycle," Drizella said, turning her head toward Cinderella.

"That, of course," said Juliette.

"We'll make sure no one interferes with the prince's seduction event. I told you we'd do it before, and your being dead doesn't change that."

"The prince's seduc—" Cinderella started.

"Oh, must you phrase it like that?" Juliette looked Drizella in the eye.

"You can count on us. Is there anything else we can do for you right now?" Was there something she wanted? Kill Napoleon? Yes, that. But that was probably too much to ask. Oh. There was one thing. Drizella willed the body to stand. It jumped up at once, quick and unnatural, then took a few sharp steps to stand very close to Juliette, who took a small step back, visibly unsettled.

"W-what?" she asked. Drizella whispered, her voice barely audible, so only Juliette could hear.

"Destroy this body for me. If you do, I'll have normal time in hell, two days of it. I don't think I'll be able to do it myself."

"What? No," Juliette said quickly.

"Listen, after you died, I talked it over with James a lot. He told me all sorts of things I didn't know. There's no time loop in hell, but time runs differently there too. Faster, somehow."

"Time is… faster?" Drizella didn't understand.

"I didn't really get it either. But the way James put it, if you die here, you'd wake up again shortly after, and then the part of your soul that tore away from your body in hell would tear away all over again. And that… it hurt, didn't it?"

"It did." Drizella understood. Dying again was a bad idea. She would simply have to wait out the rest of the cycles to leave this puppet of a body. How many were left? Forty, maybe?

"Thirty-nine cycles left," Juliette said.

"Then comes the last one. And then, if you'd like, I'll help you… cross over. But until then, you'll have to stay like this." Drizella nodded. Staying like this wasn't hard, exactly. She didn't suffer. Inconvenient was probably the better word. Then Juliette laid a hand on her shoulder.

"You'll pull through this," she said.

"If anyone can make the best of a thing like this, it's you."

"You're a soldier," Victor added with a nod.

"I've known plenty of them. You'll hold the line long after the rest of us have folded." How incredibly touching, Drizella thought sarcastically. Apparently, a fragmented soul was still capable of sarcasm. But then it was Cinderella's turn to try to comfort her. She came and wrapped Drizella in a hug, strong and close — and Drizella felt something. By gosh, she felt it. It was longing, and it burned like acid. With nothing left to say to an unresponsive puppet, they left her, one by one.

Cinderella was the last to go, those large, pretty, sorrowful eyes lingering on her. Drizella willed the body to lie back down. Now she could truly be herself again, which was to say, an object, and let the time drift past in a haze, the way it was meant to. I woke up in the cavern again. My chest still throbbed with a dull ache, but the blinding agony had subsided, and I no longer felt the overwhelming urge to scream. The same young girl from before was still sitting faithfully beside my bed.

So if it felt like an hour had passed in the real world, with all that talking, it had been only a few minutes here in hell? I couldn't really know. The girl might have left and come back. Or sat here the whole time. But why would a girl I didn't know do that for me? Why would anyone bother?

"You're… awake?" the girl asked. I nod slowly. I was awake, I think. The truth was, it was a damn hard question to answer these days.

"My name's Henriette." The girl smiled hesitantly and pulled her chair closer to the bed.

"How… how do you feel?" I opened my mouth to answer, but I didn't know what to say. My vision kept slipping out of focus, and the pain and wrongness still sat heavy in my chest. So I gave a small shake of my head instead. Henriette nodded, her expression softening with genuine pity.

"You were a time looper," she said.

"Armand said so. And when your kind dies inside a loop, your soul is supposed to split… or something. That's what I heard." I nodded slowly. Henriette was chatty, but I didn't mind.

"You'll get better!" Henriette said, resolute.

"Every time I visit, you look a little better. So even before the loop's done, you'll be much better soon — you'll see!" I nodded. I hoped so. I really did.

"And when you are better, I'm going to show you around the whole cavern!" she went on, talking faster now, "There's so much more than the stupid mushroom farm and the kitchen. We've even got a music room! And there's the waterfall, and the shipwreck with all the treasure, which we're really not supposed to go to, but I go all the time. Oh — don't tell Armand about that part." I was very tired, and my eyes slid slowly shut, but I still tried to follow her chatter. There was something cheerful about it that I liked.

"But the things I find down there…" she went on.

"Jewels, pearls, real diamonds! When I bring some back for Marguerite, she gets so happy she does this silly little dance. It's hilarious. And… well, we still don't know why Marguerite brought you here. She hardly ever does that, and never from the surface. There must be some special reason. I was thinking—" But Henriette's chatter had already gone hazy, blending into the fog of silhouettes and lights that passed for my dreams. In the real world, Drizella lay in her bed.

She lay there like an object — like a puppet, but a discarded one, that no one had any use for. And that was right. There wasn't any use for her. Nothing important for her to do. So lying in bed was the most fitting occupation she could think of. A few cycles went on like that. At the start of each cycle, Cinderella would come. She'd cry a little, talk a little — but it wasn't like the first time.

She'd read about Drizella's condition in her journal by now, so she wasn't surprised anymore, and didn't need things explained to her. She would just tell Drizella what she'd read about her, and how sad it made her that she'd never get to know the real her — and yet she managed to smile through all of it, and somehow even sounded hopeful. Then she'd give her a kiss, and go off.

Before the end of each cycle, Cinderella would come again, sit beside her on the bed, stroke her hair, and tell her about everything she'd done that cycle. She really did use the journal, and lived a little bit like a time looper. Every cycle she went riding, or visited other towns, or stopped in at this shop or that, befriending the townsfolk and getting to know them.

Once she talked her way into a baron's garden party and danced until dawn; another time she spent a day learning to fence from a retired duelist, just because she could. It didn't mean much to Drizella. But it warmed her a little, all the same. Mother and the sisters looked in from time to time, but never seemed especially concerned — dismissing it as a touch of the vapors, or perhaps a sudden onset of female melancholia—and left her to rot in peace.. And from time to time, she was in the cave.

Less pain now, but always tired, and still unable to focus or even speak properly. There was almost always someone at her bedside. Sometimes Armand, or Estelle. But most often Henriette, who seemed to find a mute companion the perfect audience for her endless chatter. And sometimes she woke alone, and that was fine too. She found the cave soothing — the cool, mineral smell of wet stone and old earth, the steady drip of water somewhere in the dark. Now was one of those times. I felt relaxed, I really did.

And for the first time, the wrongness was gone. With weak, shaking arms, I pushed myself up. My legs trembled under me as I eased off the bed, and slowly, one unsteady step at a time, I made my way toward the door.