Side:Oliver
It was about noon. The bustling streets of the capital were in full swing with hundreds of people and carts moving back and forth between the two-story buildings. No wonder, Arai – the main city of the kingdom of the same name – has always been full of humans... and non-humans too. If it wasn't enough, there was a big fair right now, in the height of summer, so the streets were very crowded. A stream of people, like a tsunami, walked into the center of the capital. More and more merchants arrived from the sea, to which more than half of the streets faced. White brick houses with red roofs surrounded people scurrying here and there.
One teenager stood out in the crowd, looking to be about fourteen. He stood out not because of his dark palette – black short hair and a cloak and cape of that color – but because he was walking in the opposite direction from the majority. Probably not even walking, but running as fast as he could, trying not to run into anyone on the way. If it was absolutely impossible to pass between the densely standing townspeople, the boy suddenly disappeared and immediately appeared behind them, continuing on his way. No one was surprised – in such a world, simple teleportation wouldn't take anyone by surprise. As the boy ran past one of the city's smithies, the owner waved at him and shouted:
–Happy Birthday, Oliver!
The black-clad teenager, whose name was obviously Oliver, smiled and waved back. The boy knew this blacksmith very well – after all, Oliver was working here despite his age. Though given the era, there was nothing odd about working at the age of fourteen.
"Hello, Oliver!" "Happy holidays, Oliver!" "Have a drink with us, buddy!" Invitations, greetings and congratulations were heard almost everywhere the boy went. However, he just waved and ran on. At best, he would reply with something along the lines of "Sorry, I'm in a hurry!" Sometimes, to make sure he wasn't late, Oliver would glance at the watch on his wrist... or rather, just his wrist, because there was no watch on it. He still knew what time it was, though.
Finally, he saw his house. Oliver ran to the front door and, as if he had slid across the sidewalk, barely stopped. With a big smile on his face, he unlocked and opened the door. To his surprise, darkness caught him inside. However, when the teenager took just a couple steps forward into the darkness, all the candles of the spacious house lit up at once, and Oliver himself heard the voices of his three friends saying, "Happy Birthday!" Actually, the word "friends" was only used by the boy himself in relation to them. You see, Oliver was offspring of Clain family, and the Clains were an ancient, noble, and wealthy family, so the three who greeted the young man were not his friends in the usual sense of the word. They were servants of the Clain mansion. Of course, Oliver rejoiced at the congratulations and greeted the "friends" cheerfully. However, the main thing for him was far from his birthday, but the fact that today his father, the duke, who was in the war...
–Olly, Daddy's coming back today! – Oliver's mother said cheerfully as she came down the stairs from the second floor, holding onto the ornate banister.
Oliver, his mother, and their "friends" celebrated for a long time that day. Then, toward evening, there was a loud knock at the door. "Dad," Oliver thought. His mother went to open the door, and...
–Oliver! Are you reminiscing again?
The words of the girl standing in the doorway seemed to wake the young man up. He had been standing in front of the front door for about ten minutes, staring at one point. From behind the girl, or rather from behind her lush snow-white hair and similar in color white wings, a man looked out. The winged lady herself looked displeased that Oliver had been standing in front of her for some time now and would not enter the house.
–Oh, I'm sorry, Cirael. It's just like that day 162 years ago. The fair, the birthday party, me running home, nothing but darkness outside the door... It was just identical, – Oliver replied, shaking his head and wiping a hand across his sweaty forehead.
–And I told you we shouldn't do the prank with the lights. It was a terrible idea, Sean, – someone said from the back of the house.
–Hey, don't put all the blame on me again! Yeah, it was dumb, but it turned out okay in the end – said the one who looked out from behind the winged girl Oliver called Cirael.
–Now, now, don't quarrel. Just let me come in. Besides, that was really funny.
Oliver, with a slight and slightly strained smile, stepped inside, stepping around the girl. Cirael gave him a slight hug, and he responded by putting his arm around her shoulders. The gloomy atmosphere that had prevailed in the room for a few seconds before dissipated as if it had never existed. In the middle of the living room, the birthday boy noticed a large table on which a young girl with closed eyes, green hair, and servant's clothes was setting plates of food. Sean was approaching the same table, wearing his usual not-medieval-at-all lab coat and fixing his short brown hair. Behind him, letting go of Oliver, Cirael sat down at the table, carefully holding the hem of her white veil. Finally, the heir to the Clain family joined them last, breathing a sigh of relief.
–Won't you sit down with us today, Ciel? It's your master's birthday, – Sean asked the maid.
The last one, who hadn't yet sat down at the table, replied:
–You already know that even if I sat down with you, I couldn't eat with you – ordinary food is like poison to me. Also, it is not proper for a servant share at the same table with their employer.
–Oh, you're a pain in the ass. Why am I the only one here whom you address as "you"? – said the man in the doctor's coat with feigned irritation.
–Oliver is a Clain, and Cirael is his wife, which makes her a Clain, too. I served the Clain family before Oliver was born. And you? You met the master about five years ago. You're nothing to me, and neither is your name...
"Both of you, enough," the birthday boy interrupted them sharply, without shouting. "Seriously, you're just looking for a reason to fight. Your dis-cussion is going to dis-locate the table, for God's sake!" After these clever words and cheesy joke, an awkward silence hung in the air.
–I beg your pardon, sir. I've done my job, let me go, – Ciel said.
–Now, now, Elise, there's no need to apologize. You both are equally to blame, – Oliver replied, gradually taking on a more serious tone. – But no, you're not going anywhere. You're going to sit with us.
This time, Mrs. Clain joined in the fray:
–Darling, first of all, don't twist Ciel's name. Secondly, if you get so angry, Ciel will just eat that emotion and get what she wants. So it's best if she really goes and gets some rest.
–Yeah. you're right. I'm sorry, – the birthday boy nodded.
The maid Ciel bit her lip at the fact that she wouldn't be able to feast on Oliver's feelings today, but she didn't interrupt and left for the second floor.
–Does this happen often? – Sean asked, a little stunned.
Oliver, having already calmed down, replied:
–Well, Ciel knows that I feel emotions very sharply because of.... that day. And as you know, she feeds on the strong emotions of those around her. That's why she was my grandfather's servant, because, as we know...
–...as we know, when an old man gets a young maid, some very... "interesting" emotions start cropping up. That's what I read in 'Shades', – Cirael interrupted him.
While Oliver covered his eyes and looked at his spouse with an obvious "got the joke, not funny" look, Sean was laughing like a hyena. The birthday boy continued:
–Because, as we know, the Clain family was known for their abilities being tied to strong emotions. And after that night, my emotions became even more of a target for "energy vampires" like Ciel. So every once in a while, she'd accidentally cause an incident like this... no, not the kind of incidents that Cirael was talking about. I mean stressful situations. Normally, any other employer would have fired her for that, but who else would agree to work as a maid for free? Not that we have money problems... but why not get the free cheese out of the mousetrap? Okay, – Oliver clapped his hands together, – enough of the bad stuff!"
Oliver snapped his fingers and the knives, which looked more like daggers, appeared in front of everyone at the table. "Happy 176th birthday!" Cirael and Sean said in unison, and then the three of them began to eat the many dishes Ciel had masterfully prepared. They began to have pleasant conversations around the table, with Oliver making puns and other unfunny jokes every now and then. Time passed. The banquet table was almost empty and all the words had been said. Which means...
–If you don't mind, I'm going to get cleaned up for the hike.
With those words, the birthday boy rose from the table to the sympathetic nods of the others. He went upstairs.
–Does he often get like this? He's high, – Sean asked.
–Let's dispense with that future slang of yours. And no, it's rare enough that he "is high". Usually once every 10 to 15 years, regardless of the situation. I think it's an emotional thing that overwhelms him. But today, you know, it's the fault of your prank! – Cirael replied.
Meanwhile, Oliver, who was already on the second floor, went into the washroom. Of course, there was no running water – it was the Middle Ages, after all – but there was a bucket of water and a "sink" with a "drain", as well as a magic mirror that was never steamed. The 176-year-old "young man" looked into the mirror. From the mirror, a crying 14-year-old boy, exactly the same as 162 years ago, looked at him reproachfully and contemptuously with his green eyes. Oliver shook his head and wiped his eyes. The hallucination had faded – now there was a slightly smiling young man in his late nineteens or early twenties in the mirror. Other than his height and face, not much had changed – the same black cloak, fastened with an emerald brooch in the front, and a dark sweater with gold lines underneath. Perhaps the other major difference was that Oliver had grown his hair absurdly long, braiding it into a ponytail that reached down to his ankles. "That's better," Oliver said and exhaled.
–I take it you can barely keep a strained smile on your face again?
It was Ciel, whose reflection entering the room was seen by a young man who had hardly aged in 162 years.
–Elise, don't start. It's just a day like any other. I'm fine, really.
–First of all, I'm Ciel. Second of all, you're not "fine". You haven't been this close to a mental breakdown since that very incident, even though "days identical to that" have happened before. I'm an empath, you can't hide that from me. I suggest you don't go to the graveyard today.
Oliver turned around, looked away with a slight smile, and replied:
–I knew you were going to say that. But no. I have to honor their memory. You know I've been doing this once a year, consistently, unchanged, for 162 years. So get the flowers ready, please. At least this time, obey my orders, even if you don't like them.
Ciel sighed and said, "I obey," and left the room. Finally, Oliver washed his face and went downstairs where Sean, Cirael and Ciel were waiting for him. The latter holding 2 funeral wreaths.
–What were you doing there for half an hour?
–You won't believe it, Ciri, I was washing my face, – Oliver replied.
–He was hallucinating events of days gone by. He was also... – Ciel began speaking calmly, but the birthday boy interrupted her.
–Ciel, such details are unnecessary. Say no more about it. I'm fine. Let's go.
It was probably the busiest "holiday" the Clains had had in a long time. The four of them visited the graves of Oliver's parents every birthday. So in the late afternoon, Oliver, Sean, Ciel, and Cirael, whom the birthday boy affectionately called "Ciri," left the estate and headed mournfully toward one of the Arai cemeteries.
While the rest of the town was enjoying the festivities and merriment of the fair, this foursome made their way through the crowd with a somber look on their faces. It was as if they weren't just memorializing the Clain family, they were about to bury someone very dear to them. When they arrived at the cemetery, they walked past dozens of gravestones. In 162 years, they had memorized almost every grave along the way. Finally, they stopped at two large hexagonal onyx pillars, about a meter high – these were the graves of Oliver's father and mother, as evidenced by the first and last names carved into them. The Clain heir was about to make a speech, but suddenly hesitated – his gaze was drawn to the two tomb crosses, far away from the others, on a hill under a tree at the edge of the cemetery. Cirael said:
–Darling? Is something wrong?
–Erm... who's buried there?
–Oh, come on, Oliver, as if not many people die in capital in last year, – Sean replied.
–No... these two graves have been here forever, I can feel it. Though... have you ever seen cross-shaped gravestones? – Oliver said as if in a trance.
Indeed, there were only hexagonal pillars surrounding them. That was the custom of funerals in this world. But these two were different. As if hypnotized, the young man separated from the rest of the procession and went to that hill. He didn't respond to the cries of his friends, so the others had to follow him. Coming to two unknown crosses, Oliver crouched down on one knee and ran his hand over them.
–Well, who is it, sir? – Ciel asked in an anxious voice.
She was anxious because she felt absolutely no emotion from Oliver, which was even stranger than overabundance of emotions. In response to that, he said:
–There's no text. None at all. It's like it never existed. But...
–Well, there you go. You shouldn't have come here in the first place, just a waste of time
Sean shrugged and smiled after saying that. But Clain continued:
–...but this is where Ludwig and Martha are buried. I can feel it.
–Ludwig? Martha...? Who are they? – asked the winged girl.
But her husband did not answer. Instead, he slowly stood up and put his hands on his head. All emotion left his face, and ospreys of black energy surrounded him, rising from the bottom up.
–Ciel, hurry, prevent a mental breakdown!
The angel embraced her husband, Ciel raised her hand to him, and black energy began to flow from Oliver to Ciel, causing her great pain. It was an energy of emotion, but so strong that even the likes of this maid couldn't 'digest' it properly. And Sean... just stood there with a look of incomprehension as he watched his friend's first nervous breakdown he witnessed. Soon, the dark energy ceased and the head of the family fell unconscious. Cirael gently laid his head on the grass, and she and Ciel sighed in relief. The servant wiped her brow – her whole head was sweating. Breathing heavily, she said:
–I've never felt such hatred in him before... not even that day 162 years ago. Hatred for someone named Gerda. Any idea who that is, ma'am?
–Well... in 162 years, he may have met someone with that name, but I can't imagine anyone he could feel that kind of anger towards! Either way, we'll get to that later. In the meantime, Sean, open him up and scoop out the pus. When he has a breakdown like this, a lot of toxic stuff is released from his heart... whatever it is. You know it already, but you don't have to sew him up. It'll heal itself.
Sean, already calmed down, smirked, pulled a scalpel and gloves from under his robe, then said: "Free for a close friend." Then he walked over to Oliver, who was lying on the floor, crouched down next to him and began to slowly cut into his chest. Black liquid gushed from the inside like a fountain, which Sean scooped up and collected in jars. "And how does he keep so many medical supplies under his coat?" thought Cirael. After filling the 3rd liter jar, Sean exhaled and stood up. His gloves and sleeves up to his elbows were covered in the black pus. He said:
–Good thing I have 10 more of these coats to spare. Okay, I'm done.
He put away the 5 scalpels, which was how many had fallen into disrepair after this "operation", into a vacuum bag and nodded. Cirael nodded in return, and without any difficulty bent down and lifted her unconscious husband off the ground.
–Let's go home. After something like this, he usually needs two or three days of rest.
By then, the muscles of his chest had already healed and begun to cover with skin, although there had recently been a huge hole there. Such incredible regeneration had long been known to his family and friends, so no one was surprised. And so, the procession returned, never having held the annual wake. After all, the birthday boy's life was more important now. However, they didn't found out what those graves were or who Ludwig, Martha and Gerda were.....
–It seems a little too chaotic, don't you think? – said someone who was sitting on that very hill, watching those who were leaving.
–Yes. Somehow she is completely lazy... it reminds me of how badly you do everything, – replied another, standing next to his interlocutor.
–I'm very sorry for the readers, I'm afraid everything is going to be terribly boring in this iteration. But it's okay, since everything is so bad, the iteration will end quickly, and then it will be time for us to act and entertain the public.
–Oh, how much do I hate you...
–Of course, my puppet.
After this dialogue, the two unknown people disappeared from the place where they were.