Two nights later. The second victim.
A younger noble found himself sacked up and thrown into the makeshift raft.
"Well, young master, the good news is that our friend from the other night seems to have no recollection of our little late-night rendezvous," the bandit exclaimed through a wide grin. "The girls did some investigating, and he doesn't remember a siiiingle thing! So, as you wished, we took care in lowering the dosage tonight!" The bandit's cheerful voice sent a chill down Mel's spine as the two prepared the raft.
"And, the bad news?"
"Weeeeell, it's just my opinion, buuut I think, probably, this one's another dud, hehe," he said, scratching the back of his head.
"Stop throwing my focus off with your negativity," Mel responded. "If he has the power within him, I'm going to draw it out."
"If you say soooo…"
However, it was another failure. This time, the victim was more aware, but still didn't seem to grasp the idea of pulling the sword like his life depended on it. Mel chose to believe it was simply another case of the subject not having the will of an Heir, as the bandit had foretold.
Two nights later. The third victim.
This time it was a spunky villager whom Mel had only heard about. The dosage had, as planned, been lowered once more. As a result, the subject seemed to understand his mission, and tried of his own accord to pull the sword.
And yet it was another failure.
Four nights later. The fifth victim—and the fifth failure.
Eight nights later. The ninth victim. Once more, a failure.
The bandit maintained his grin. Selmy stayed positive, and supported Mel with her radiant smile. Even the twins grew friendlier with them. However, Mel only grew more frustrated. By this ninth attempt, his level of coercion of the victim gradually grew, once he felt he'd channeled enough of his own will into them. Even though he stayed quiet, just in case this victim retained his memories despite the drugs, he found himself throwing dirt and water at the man, while the bandit verbally spurred him on.
Two nights later. The tenth victim.
Edward Hanon: a well-regarded noble soldier who was quickly moving through the ranks, currently a Lieutenant commanding 1,000 men under General Hydrick.
Mel and Selmy both knew him as a family friend from childhood and had always treated him as an older brother. Therefore, on this night Mel and Selmy bore a solemn demeanor. The bandit, who had been briefed on their relation, was abnormally quiet.
This was a last resort for Mel among potential targets. From what he'd learned through the previous nine, he'd come to realize someone like this was the best he could hope for. Not only had he come from a noble family, Edward was also a sworn soldier who had the ambition of becoming a Knight-General, and he had the skill and knowledge to back it up. But most importantly, he had a certain sense of righteousness when it came to the Teuton's group will. His caring, helpful attitude had aided Mel throughout his childhood, and helped instill in him the will he held dear.
"What does the Teuton Will mean to you, Mel?"
His words from long ago reverberated through Mel's memory as he and the bandit rowed toward the small patch of land.
"How should I answer? I cherish the place I have here, so it's my will to protect it, right?"
"Then, don't ever forget about that. Even when you're older and you learn more about Takanova and the world, always make sure to cherish that place you're thinking of."
"O—okay…"
"And, if that place should ever change, cherish it for what it once was, but even more for what it has become. And do everything in your power to protect it. Can you remember that?"
"Yeah! I can! I'll remember that, Ed!"
…I'm sorry, Ed. It's because of that will…
Because of the place that I cherish…
That I must do this to you.
Despite his confusion, Edward understood his instructions, and tried to pull the sword—to no avail. With some incitement, he tried harder a second and third time. Mel placed more focus into channeling his will than ever before, to no avail. Begrudgingly, he continued his coercion with the bandit, ramping up the intensity with each failed attempt.
When Edward still failed despite having water thrown violently in his face, Mel finally snapped. After slapping Edward's drenched face, he grasped his shoulders.
"PULL THIS DAMN THING UP RIGHT NOW, OR WE'LL KILL EACH AND EVERY PERSON YOU LOVE! RALHP, MAIER, SAYA, MEL, SELMY, EVERYONE YOU HOLD DEAR!"
The bandit seemed to forget his job, as he could only stare in genuine shock at the screaming Mel. Selmy looked on with tearful eyes from the other side of the lake, while the twins stared, dumbfounded. Mel continued shouting furiously at the blindfolded man, even grasping his arms and neck as he urged him on.
"Oy, oy, if you're that loud then someone might actually be drawn out here!"
The bandit's words fell on deaf ears, Mel's vision going white with desperate rage. As he began to tug at the sword along with the struggling Edward, his mind went blank before being submerged by memories of a rainy day.
The pounding rain assaulted the eleven-year-old boy, who did his best to keep his shaggy blond hair out of his face as his planted feet bore deep grooves into the new mud.
"With all your might, Mel! You can do it!"
His father's muffled words hardly reached him, yet they conveyed his expectations thoroughly.
Despite the pouring rain, and the battle that was being fought on the eastern shore that threatened the lives of many of his friends, his father expected him to wrench the daunting red blade up from its resting place.
Because his father expected it, Mel expected it of himself, and therefore gave his all, ignoring the cold rain that felt like it was soaking through his thin bones.
Maybe it was because of the battle, he thought, that his father had become so desperate now. He realized the weight this battle carried and understood the sense of desperation. Remembering Edward's words to him just days before, he felt the sense of desperation grow within him.
Therefore, he threw every ounce of strength his small frame could expend into his tensed arms, pulling upward as if his life depended on it.
However—
Regaining himself, Mel opened his eyes. He was laying in the dead grass, just feet away from Edward, who had also collapsed and lost consciousness. The sight of his limp, bloodied hands reminded him where he was.
Too exhausted to get off his back, he brought his palms before his eyes. A drop of blood fell from his trembling hands, cascading like a lone tear down his cheek.
Ha… it's just like that time. That time too, I failed to take it.
I laid just like this, too exhausted to shield my face from the rain.
Unable to squeeze my worn hands in the slightest.
Too ashamed to show him my face.
Ah—that's right, Selmy was watching from the trees, wasn't she?
Father stood there… waiting for me to get back up.
When I didn't, he took me back home, never showing me his face.
Ever since then… it's like he hasn't shown me his face, even once.
He completely gave up on me.
Well, I am this pathetic, after all.
I still can't pull it no matter how strong my will is.
Maybe I'll never be able to? If I can't do it by tomorrow…
"MEL! Are you okay?"
He returned from his childhood once more to find Selmy's small figure crouched over him, dripping water onto his head.
"Your hands! I'll wrap them, so stay still!"
Fighting tears that fell onto Mel's cheek along with the dripping water, Selmy retrieved a roll of bandages from her soaked brown cloak.
Ignoring her order, he sat up and offered her his hands. "Rather bold of you to swim over here," he said blankly.
"Shut up!" she cried, her façade nowhere to be found.
"Sorry… that you had to see me like—"
"Shh!" She placed a finger over his mouth, before gently wiping his blood and tears from his cheek. Trying her best to stop the tears that were running down her own quivering cheeks, she gave him a messy smile, her facial features unable to relax through her sobs.
As she continued to wrap his hands despite her anguish, he leaned his forehead into hers with a sigh. "Can you really still put up with this?" he asked in a whisper.
"Of course," she replied softly.
"I couldn't bring it up earlier, but you know that people have died because of other criminals performing copy-cat abductions, right? Even then?"
"Even then."
"Look at what I've done to Edward. Can you really still smile at me?"
"Mm, yes… because I still believe in you." Her smile lit up before him, as if warming his cold soul. "That won't change, and it's time you understood it."
He could only chuckle lightly in response, his gaze still aimed downward.
"Oy, let's get this show on the road, lovebirds." The bandit spoke in his usual relaxed tone. Mel looked up to see that he'd already stowed the unconscious Edward away and prepared the raft.
"Thanks to you, we need to drug him a bit more to blot out any impression he got out of this… and we should probably treat his hands before exchanging him…"
"Yeah, you're right. Anything that could lead someone's attention here at this crucial time needs to be taken care of."
"Yep, yep… ah, by the way," he turned back to face the two.
"The name's Hastor. Now you can stop looking into it, yeah? I'm no one special, after all, hehe."
Mel's eyes widened, and he looked away from the bandit called Hastor.
Ah, man…
Shouldn't you both be scolding me for doing something like that?
At this rate, my character is going to turn into something irredeemable…
"Hah, didn't I tell you before? I don't need the trust of a filthy bandit. Besides, I'm too busy to bother looking into you criminals right now."
"Ohh, is that so?" Hastor responded to Mel's scoff with his most sarcastic tone, before ushering the two into the raft.
After cleaning up, the groups prepared to separate.
"Take care of him, please," Mel requested sincerely.
"Aye aye, pal. Say, will we still plan strategy tomorrow? I'm not sure where you're looking to go from here, after all."
"Yeah, tomorrow will be the last, and most important one," Mel responded. "After all, the deadline my father gave me was two nights from now."