Chương 105: CHAPTER 103 – What Does A Grain Hear?

"Did you stop looking for me because you were fed up?" Lance smiled, only to immediately get a fistful of sand in his eyes and mouth. Monica glared at him, snorting. She wore a long-sleeved shirt with glowing frills bearing the NOIR logo. She had sandals on, though most of her feet were buried in the strangely warm sand.

"You're not funny! You were much nicer before you met Clerc!" Monica settled into the hammock, swaying slightly. Lance coughed, wiping his mouth and eyes.

"Sorry…" Monica pointed at a chair near her, a little buried in the sand but strangely clean. Silently, Lance went and sat down, his face turned to the pale moon. He glanced toward her, noticing the glass in her hands, lit by the light and with a faint amber colour.

"Lucas warned us Albert was nearby. So I simply ordered a retreat." She smiled, lightly shifting the sand. The waves struck the sand rhythmically, cradling the night.

"What a relief! But I think she got confused, since she beat me badly. Can you see what I look like?" Monica covered her mouth, giggling. Lance was completely soaked, shirtless, and covered in dark scars.

"That's Albert for you. She won't tell you, but she's a bit scatterbrained." She took a sip, letting drops fall from her lips.

"The pot calling the kettle black…" He gazed at the shore, chuckling, before being hit right in the middle of the head.

"You thought something rude, didn't you?" She looked at him, clenching her fist, her eyes luminous under the moon. He shook his head, lowering it. She calmed down, laughing again. Only now did he notice the slight redness of her eyes and cheeks.

"Lance… You've been through a lot, haven't you?" Suddenly, that tone shook him deeply. He turned and saw a tear slide down her face as she looked at him.

"What do you mean?" He felt a jolt in his chest, a stab between the ribs.

"You're suffering so much. It shows in so many ways. The way you talk, your smile…" Her breathing grew heavier and more tangible.

"Life at NOIR is hard, but I'm getting used to it…" Lance smiled, feeling his heart beat faster. With every beat of what was now a drum of flesh, the pain grew, now pounding against his head. Her gaze, kind and courteous but dim, made him feel wrong, improper in his ways.

"Monica, I…" One last failed attempt stopped in his throat. He held his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. For some strange reason, those words had pierced him, made him feel guilty, slimy.

"You know, when I ended up here, I was a bit like you too. Despite everything, I felt like you. So many arms pushing me, helping me move forward, and yet I kept facing my problems alone. I ignored that support even though I knew where it was, even though I knew how painful it was for them. You're not bad, Lance. Everyone has a boulder on the back of their neck." She smiled, dragging the tip of her finger along the rim of the glass.

"Before ending up in that military camp… I lived in a nice house in Sector II. It wasn't big. Actually, it was quite run down. But every time I feel sad, I remember how happy I was inside those walls with my brother and my mother." Her tear-streaked face was smiling, almost blissfully.

"After an eternity lived without those names, I began to forget them. I only remember my surname now. I can't even say what my brother looked like. They both died in the bombings. I've already surpassed a human lifespan, and now even my mind wavers. Every attempt to remember is only an echo, something that dissipates before I can even grasp it. Time truly is a tyrant." She took a sip, reducing the contents to a handful of drops. Lance was mute, unable even to look at her directly.

"Tell me why I have to live such an unhappy life? Why was I gifted a power that doesn't even let me cry? That extinguishes what humanity I have left…" Her voice began to falter, breaking with every syllable. From her throat came a strange sound that shattered the words.

"Am I not allowed to rest? To live happily after losing everything?" This time their gazes met. His pale face met hers, streaked with tears and flushed from alcohol and from the heart. The silence was broken now and then by the breaking of waves and by sea swallows splitting the water to take flight toward the pale moon. Lance squeezed her hand, lowering his head.

"I can't console you, Monica. I'm sorry. But I can share this pain with you." Monica let go of his hand, tilting her head with a smile.

"The first time you found me, I was unconscious, but I still remembered the pain. I still remember flesh tearing from bone. I repeated to myself that I wanted to die, I wanted to kill myself, I begged anything to make it stop, but no one heard me cry, not even my body." Monica hid her head in her arms as Lance spoke.

"On every mission, I forced myself to be strong despite the pain. I wanted no one to suffer, yet in that noble goal I was never included. With every regeneration, I was afraid. At every moment, I wanted to die to stop being so terrified. Against Grayson, I thought several times of killing him, of ending him to help Maliard and Jeanne, but it was only a thought. In his eyes I saw myself, a frightened boy." Lance tried to tap the ground, but the sand muffled the blows, only managing to raise a few grains.

"I'm not capable of keeping promises for this ideal. I'm only capable of going straight ahead, tearing out my nails when I meet an obstacle rather than changing course. What makes my skin crawl the most? It's that I don't think I can change. For you, for Jeanne, for Maliard, for… Jude." A tear slid from his face, crashing into the sand and clumping.

"The world I want is a photograph. A photo where everyone smiles because they are able to live. In that photo, I'm behind the lens. I want to be the one to take it. From the depths of my selfishness, I want to be the one who made that scene possible." Another tear stained the sand. He began to sob, inhaling more and more air.

"But I know it's impossible! Those smiles aren't real! They're dedicated to me! Who would want to smile when the photographer is reduced to a bloody pulp?!" He turned toward her, finding himself wrapped in her arms. Her tears wet his shoulder.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry, Lance… This world has betrayed you, but please don't betray it. Don't be like me." The boy crying stopped, feeling an almost carnal need to console her. He began to stroke her head, while her grip tightened.

"Don't be like someone who wears a coffin." Her voice was broken, burned by the flames of the heart. Monica slowly pulled away, lowering her head, his hand still tangled in her golden hair. She stared at the moon, her eyes red from tears.

"I hate this world. I loathe it so much I'd want it to go extinct. I'd want to spend my life on Dielmon, without responsibilities, with what remains of my family…" Monica spun on the sand and then turned to him, drying her tears.

"But I can't do that, can I?" She smiled, tilting her head toward her shoulder. Her face was shiny, clumsily dried with the skin of her wrist. Lance stared at her, now beginning to smile slowly. The sadness persisted in his heart, but he wanted to make her happy in that moment of confession. He steeled himself and shook his head.

"No, you can't. Who would smile then?" Lance replied, mimicking her gesture. Monica sat back down, looking with disappointment at the glass. She turned and took a heavy black bottle and a second glass, both pulled from the sand.

"If you're not tired… Why don't we talk a while tonight?" She smiled, pouring the sweet amber liquid into both glasses.

"With pleasure." Lance smiled, reaching his fingers toward the drink. He brought it to his nose, immediately sensing the burn of the alcohol. A second waft and the aroma became sweeter and velvety. Without thinking, he placed his lips on it, generously consuming what was offered. He smiled, looking at the empty glass. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

"It's good." Monica nodded, finishing hers in one sip as well.

"It was my sister's favourite." Lance relaxed, staring at the sea before him. The horizon was pale under the night sun.

"What kind of person was the old commander?" Monica smiled, licking her lip and relaxing her shoulders as well. The sand still kept a soft warmth, acquired in the morning.

"One who always thought she could be a hero. She never stopped smiling. She always fought. I know little of her past, only that she developed her abilities before the war. Wrapped in those bluish flames, she threw herself at anyone. No matter how brightly that mane burned, to me it was only warmth. I believe she faced one of Termìe's Angels and Wibke where Arden Ring now stands…" Monica chuckled as she spoke, puffing her chest with pride.

Just telling of that woman, whom she proudly called sister, filled her with confidence. Lance didn't dare to interrupt her.

"She was also beautiful! Tall, athletic, hair of a blue as deep as the sea with little white tufts like the foam of the waves. Her eyes, though, were dark but always tender. She took us around when she helped rebuild the capital. She and Noir were inseparable, always together helping…" Monica turned toward him, looking at him attentively. She lowered her head, mournful and slow.

"They too had strange marks. Bluette's, though, were more like claw marks, and sometimes she complained of a strange voice. I always thought it was because of Lachesi, so when I learned no relic was resonating with Jeanne, I was overjoyed… Then you arrived. You didn't shatter my joy, but I felt remorse. I didn't want that weapon to have more flesh to butcher." He could feel her disdain and hatred, but it wasn't directed at him. Rather, it was directed at the black mass bound to his arm.

"Lance, please… Don't abandon me too." Those words were nothing but a whisper in the unusual sea breeze, but to Lance they were as painful as a scream.

"Monica… Can you keep a secret?" He smiled, lacing their fingers together, twisting them again and again. She didn't say a word, looking at him with eyes full of resolve. Lance sighed, relaxing his hands again.

"The creature during the operation at Machinamentum was me, but at the same time it wasn't. A creature I call Eve, an exact copy of my older sister Eva, controlled my body. I don't remember my mother, and I remember little of Eva, but I know they existed together with Jude and me. That entity deeply despises me, hurling names at me that I don't know or that I… don't remember." He smiled between one word and the next, slowing his breathing." Lachesi resonates with her too, and I don't quite understand why.

Something happened to my body when she appeared…" Without warning, he bit his finger, opening a thin cut. Monica watched him, shaken, but remained frozen at the sight of the clot of blood floating before his face. It was a reddish mass, with peculiar pitch-black blotches.

"I read in the manual that Stärken can control the Frequency inside their own bodies, but only as long as its product remains nearby. I was capable of that, but with Eve it seems that blood no longer flows in my body." The drop vanished in an instant, returning into the wound without leaving a trace. He showed her his palm, so unblemished it looked freshly washed.

"So now you too have become part of the same curse that struck NOIR and August, huh?" Monica smiled, ignoring the tears that kept running down her cheeks. Lance nodded, his shoulders going slack. A few minutes of silence passed before a glimmer of courage appeared in his heart.

"I saw my mother… The client of Changeant looks just like her." Monica stared at him, pale, as the clouds of night obscured the moon.

"Lance…" The boy raised his hand, shaking his head.

"It wasn't her, I'm sure. That woman and my mother have no connection. I don't think she even has a beating heart. She was too cold, and her eyes weren't the ones that shine in my dark mind. And yet, when I think of her, I feel like crying. I'd like to embrace her even if it isn't her, to apologise for all the mistakes I've made." Lance smiled at the sky, now slightly cloudy. The clouds mingled in the wind, heralding a grey dawn.

"Is that what you want, Lance?" Monica asked, now offering a smile. Lance stood up from the chair, stretching his arms first to one side and then the other.

"No, I know it's a lie. I want to find my sister and apologise, but maybe I have other wishes too." He turned, pointing his right thumb at himself. A black light radiated from him, passing beyond the veil of clouds. Lachesi and the scars shone together with his golden eyes.

"I wish to use my curse to help Jeanne and the archipelago! To make NOIR's victory over Changeant a reality, even at the cost of my life. That's what I think I can achieve here and now!" The end of his speech was crowned by the crash of black waves. Monica looked at him, first glancing behind him before focusing on his face.

"I wonder how it would look on him…" Monica shook her head, driving away that image inspired by the moonlight mantle wrapping his shoulders. She raised her fingers, smiling. Lance stared at her, confused, mimicking the gesture.

"First of all, stop saying 'at the cost of my life' or 'until I die.' Really, no one here has to die, and you need to stop making these horrible promises!" She lowered her finger, and he did the same, dismayed and red-faced.

"And secondly, no less vital than the first…" She lowered her middle finger, immediately followed by him, now with a confused expression.

"You should give more importance to your emotions! You have feelings for Jeanne! I'm surprised she hasn't noticed." Lance stared at her, crimson, silent as the waves mimicked thunderous stammering behind him. He raised both arms, shaking his head furiously.

"I expected that reaction. But you're failing to deny it, and that's enough." Monica smiled, sitting back down. Lance kept staring at her with his bright eyes, lifted from exhaustion.

"There's nothing wrong with it. It's natural to love someone, to want to be recognised at least by those we care for." Monica rested her cheek on her shoulder, keeping that smile. Lance sat in the sand, crossing his legs.

"Monica… But is that truly love? Can a selfish person like me truly love?" A gust of wind erased the tracks on the beach, shaking the crowns of the island's plants, previously silent.

"Maybe yes, or maybe no? I don't know what love is, whether it's an emotion or a need. Perhaps it's a lament or an accessory to an already complete life. If you already have desires, what use is love to you? But if you don't love your own desires, then what value do they have? And if you happen to be unable to love yourself, what value would those goals have?" Lance raised his chin to the cloudy night, listening silently.

"For me, it's care. Loving someone means wanting to share our health with them, wanting them to be well until they leave our side. Sharing even the most insignificant things, with a smile, is love." For a moment, he saw her radiant under the single thread of moonlight beyond the clouds. The mocking night watched them laugh and talk, far from their responsibilities, happy in that small, ever-drifting instant.

"You must love someone too, Monica!" Lance laughed, the empty bottle at his feet. She wiped a drop of alcohol from her warm lips, giggling. She blushed, perhaps from the drink or perhaps from embarrassment, as she gave a nod of affirmation.

"I'd really like to confess to Lucas." Lance fell silent for a few moments, immediately tilting his head. Monica sized him up, blushing more and more. The crimson veins began to eat at her face, contrasting with her blonde hair.

"Do you find it so strange that I'm in love with that man?" Monica smiled, almost seeking approval with that syrupy tone. Lance smiled, shrugging before relaxing his legs and speaking.

"Honestly, no. I think you two have supported each other well over the years." Lance smiled warmly, raising his thumb in front of his chin. Monica made a face, immediately massaging her cheeks. So the night minutes passed, with her busy washing away the shame.

"But maybe he still can't see me as a woman, only as Commander. It makes me so angry!" Monica clenched her fist, raising it while cursing the moon.

"You'll have time to win over science." He smiled, standing up as well with renewed support. Monica gave him a pat on the shoulder, squeezing her fingers around his skin.

"Let's meet again!" She exclaimed, looking at him with blazing eyes. Lance mimicked the gesture, silent.

"Let's talk again when we've won our battles!" Lance laughed, nodding along with her. The moon brightened, and the two were wrapped in clear light. In the night, a pale veil accompanied Monica as she marked the beach with her footprints.

"Treat Jeanne well." She smiled before silently vanishing inside the house. Lance blushed, walking away as a violent icy wave submerged his ankles and cut away her footprints.