CHAPTER 2.1

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* * *

"Good morning, our dear motherland, welcome to the ABC news, and today we're experiencing…"

Words resonated faintly, awakening me with an ache behind my eyes. I opened an eyelid, assuming my day-to-day view, but was surprised with a strange scene. Two pellucid creatures motioned and spoke, their voices echoing throughout the room but appearing inscribed onto the walls like the writ of tidings. Strange symbols and glowing outlines danced beyond them, painting a scene both captivating and utterly unfamiliar. My stomach lurched—this was not my world, not even a thing I could know. Yet, my eyes could not tear away from this unfolding future, forcing me to rely solely on sight as a disorienting dream clung to the edges of my mind.

Looking around, I rose from a divan and softly massaged my eyes. The place remained unchanged, save for the windows around the walls, which now gleamed with the blossoming light of the early sun.

"On this second day of December, we're now approaching the most delicate cold season to end this year…"

"Second day of December," the phrase felt oddly amiss. December, a month name entirely alien to my ears, as was the 'November'—a time perhaps equivalent to Mittel-Winter, should memory serve me well. And this time, December seemingly held the same sense as Letst-Winter.

Did I count it right?

My gaze drifted down to my empty hands, mirroring the hollowness inside. A rumble arose from depths, only a thin air was there from within. Hunger, there it was again, crept back with surprising promptness.

"So how's your sweet dreams?" a familiar stern voice asked me.

The voice drew my gaze like a homing pigeon. Ayako appeared across the room, her familiar black coat like a raven against the pale backdrop. In her hands, she cradled a delicate bowl, its contents swirling with the creamy promise of berry-topped soup, or something smooth and pale.

"Sweet dreams?" I repeated her point, rubbing my brow across. "Just what on earth had I spent my time on?"

"Lemme guess, you've been staring at the same paintings."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh," chuckled Ayako, seemingly gaped in awe, then smiled. "Well, the moment you feel that time has skipped in the blink of an eye… it makes you forget yesterday's intrigue."

"Huh?"

"Can't make sense?" she then handed a bowl over to me, then drew a smirk in front of my eyes. "Here, have a bowl of oats coated with yoghurt and a pinch of apple juice… and topped with blueberries."

"Thanks..."

"No worries, it's for you to get some bit of brain power. Surely, you wouldn't want to start your day being hapless and helpless all day while stumbling around in this lost time."

The spoon dipped, brushing the cool surface of the soup before bringing a silky smooth embrace to my tongue. A tango of sweet and sour aromas pirouetted across my palate, counterpointed by the earthy grit of oats. Each satisfying swallow, a laborious yet pleasurable journey, wheedled a gentle hum from deep within, echoing the rhythm of the soup's delicate dance.

"Feeling fresh?" asked Ayako. "I'm sure you'd like the very first breakfast of your life in this era."

"Indeed," I nodded. "It's naturally important for us to discover a new flavour. Makes it more intriguing."

"Good good. Looks like you'll be in good shape."

Strange, I pondered as Ayako tended to me with a care reserved for the ailing. There was no mistake; skipping myself until the second day of this so-called December did hold quite a doubt upon me, but what really was behind it?

"Well, I gotta go now," said Ayako, heading towards the door. "Got some important business to do on this day, so I hope Ana will do her duties to… let you explore more."

As soon as Ayako went out of the room and closed the door, a tiny gasp rippled across the air from behind the divan. Curious, I approached the spring of the sound, ultimately locating the redhead—now dressed in a wool-woven blouse that covered her arms, compact trousers, and a flat cap perched jauntily atop her head—rising from her hiding position. Timidity flickered across her face in a fleeting frown, yet her clasped hands whispered a different story.

"Umm," I waved my hand, then stuttered. "G-Good morning."

Though, her anqueath was naught, for I stirred some resentment within her. An air of unease encircled her thoughts, almost as if she realised my adrift cognizance. Now, she seemed busked to speak out of her lips.

"U-U-Uhhh," her lips and tongue trembled, angst seemingly filled within her mind. "A-About that…"

"About… what?"

"Y-Yesterday… uhhh…. Last night," she shook her head, her cheeks faintly crimsoned. "Y' know, when I try to s-screw you over, as if I treat you like…. uhh… stranger… stranger with a threat."

"Stranger with a threat?" I repeated her words, which my tone beghasted upon her face. "Just what on earth were you thinking? Last time I heard from you, you were crying over the so-called 'shampoo', fuming over that you're going to rip my bloody twat off, aye?"

"Pfft." she suddenly spat an air out, seemingly conceding after holding back her laughter, then chuckled. "Well, looks like I got you worried over yourself for a sec."

"What do you mean?"

"Gal, have you ever heard of dark humour before?"

"Dark humour? Like hell, I have only heard of dark tales since the time of my youth."

"Bummer," she sighed and rolled her eyes. "No wonder I've slept in classic literature class."

"Classic literature… how dare you have such an abhorrent taste?"

"Well well well, look who's talking, geek. You think you're so obsessed with literature without knowing what humour is?"

"Dear, I know what it is," I smiled. "Besides, I acknowledge that your ability has surpassed the greatest among your ancestors."

"Ability? W-What is it?"

"Ability to be an utter dunce."

"Grrr."

Figures, I pondered, then said. "Now now, that was merely my poor attempt."

"Oh."

"My attempt to grasp your excuse called 'dark humour' for spouting such filth."

"H-How dare you?"

"Got a pang in your arse?"

"He he he," she giggled for a moment and slowly laid her fundament onto the divan, then smiled. "Well, how about a seat, if we may?"

The warmth of her hand lingered on the cushion, an unspoken invitation. I met her gaze, a soft curiosity glittering in its depths, and felt a strange pull to join her. It was not an order, but a silent respect that humbled me, urging me to settle beside her.

And she asked, "Do you wanna finish your breakfast first?"

"Well, it will be a shame if I leave this meal to rot."

"Then I shall wait."

And so, I devoured the remnants of my oat porridge, savouring each spoonful, my gaze perpetually flickered towards her. At first, her radiant smile warmed my heart, but its afearing air began to whisper. Her mood shifted slowly, resembling an eerie, dead statue, and an awful aura appeared to emanate from her. I could not help but wonder…. What thoughts could be churning in her mind?

After emptying the bowl, I carefully laid it down on the table and gazed at the redhead once more, only to see her lunge at me like an angered cat.

"Gyaah!"

Outright, she firmly pressed me down onto the squab, gripping both of my wrists in a vice-like hold, leaving me with little room to resist except for the futile attempt of my legs booting against her cheeks. Yet, her knees pressed my waists, and her feet weighted against my knee.

Damned, I pondered whilst clicking my tongue. She's rather strong… for a Lithplia.

"Ag-gh," I tried to struggle, yet her strength still stunned my joints. "W-What on earth are you doing?"

"So…you say that I got a pain in my arse, eh?"

"W-What?"

"Heh, don't act like you're some amnesic granny," she scoffed. "You can't just joke your way out of this."

"G-Get off me, please! For goodness sake!"

"Actually, yeah… I totally got a pain in my arse," she broadened her smirk. "But… I also know how to relieve it."

Relieve? I pondered. Wait, don't tell me….

Whilst keeping my wrist clutched, she then crawled and hauled her rear before my face, slowly descending onto my face.

Dear Lady, I know what is to come. Pray, have mercy on my soul.

And, there it was… my face ultimately came to concede, encased in these accursed squabs called breeches.

Foreboding.

Suffocating.

Crushing.

Gut-wrenching.

Disgusting.

Bloody turd!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

"How'd you like that? Bet it starts to feel quite a relief here."

Just breathe…. Breathe, that is all.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

But even the simple act felt like a struggle, choked and haunted by the echo of something unspeakable—and even something putrid.

"That's much better," she sighed in relief, then finally raised her rear and stood up. "Now, that pain's finally gone, thanks to your great home service."

"Cursed," I finally hemmed out of my torment, yet its stench of fart still stuck on my nose. "By the bloody heavens, why can't you just… wash your own bloody arse off!?"

"Oh, pardon me," she giggled. "I was just a little bit feisty."

"Damn you," I gasped and cried. "Do you really have to take it so literally?!"

"To pay my credit to you, of course."

"Huh?"

"You know, whenever someone asks me whether I have a pain in the arse or not, truth be told, I always accept the fact they stated… and then do them where the credit is due… with free service."

"You filthy wench!"

"He he he, thanks for the compliment," she smirked. "I'm always as dirty as those frisky brats."

"Frisky brats? You sound like you are proud of that. No wonder when time has gone far, people slowly lose sight of the values that their predecessors once kept."

"And weren't they wise enough that those same values were also major causes that drove countless disputes that made them kill each other throughout history?"

"T-That is… uhhh… another matter that I am not yet subjected to know."

"Then you've lost a rebuttal," she chuckled and turned her head behind. "Seems I just give you… a pain in your arse."

"T-Tsk."

Her utter brilliance in teasing me enraged me, and her mind and ego pierced my heart. Never again should I underestimate her based solely on her appeal. Yet, no matter how furious I was, my eyes could not help, but fancy her as Drea to me.

"Come now, you don't have to overthink like that," she glanced behind and winked at me. "Why not just come for a trip instead, shall we?"