Chapter 11: Bedtime Story

Jiablu peered through the window of his room. The curtains violently flapped as a gust of wind blew. Though it was night, the city was filled with sounds of footsteps. From his spot, he was able to see the numerous soldiers moving about.

Ever since he broke contact with Raymond, his mind turned into maelstrom. That soldier did it for her. Jiablu was sure. But why? Once again, he was unable to fully understand the meaning behind the concept of love.

He felt dazed as he tried to come up with an answer to his question. But he found none.

Three knocks were heard before the door creaked open. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the air as a woman with blonde hair entered. Her chasuble hung past her knees, and on her shoulder was the insignia of a rose and shield.

She gently placed the tray she held on the table. “You okay? Everything will be fine. Don’t worry. Commander Lancelot said that we should be safe as long as we stay inside this fort. Here, have some snacks.”

Jiablu stared at the small piece of bread and the cup of tea. After he turned human, eating had become a blissful experience. He had never known that food could be so great, so exhilarating. He heard a giggle as he wiped the drool on his chin.

He was about to pick up his share when Faith’s voice echoed. “Wait. Manners. Young man, what should you say?”

He glared. This was the third time she asked that exact question. Jiablu snorted, “Yet again, a mere priest is telling me to be grateful?”

Faith sighed. She was almost becoming used to this. “Yes. Young man, when someone gives you something, it is perfectly normal to say your thanks.”

Jiablu reached out for the bread, but his hand somehow refused to touch it. Should he give in and follow the rules of human society? He paused for a few seconds.

“You shall be rewarded for this, someday,” he eventually said. He felt euphoria the moment the bread touched his tongue. Eating was indeed a blissful experience.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw that Faith’s lips curled into a smile. She shrugged. “That’s how you say thank you, eh? Cute. Well, not a bad start I guess. You really like eating, huh?”

Jiablu would have casually responded with a yes, but his mouth was full of bread that he was left unable to speak.

After Jiablu finished his food, he once again remembered the question he has trouble finding the answer. His head throbbed in frustration.

“Priest, perhaps you know the answer to my question,” said Jiablu.

Faith tilted her head to the side. With the sound of soldiers moving about as background, she asked, “Question? What is it?”

“Ever since I’ve heard of it, I have been curious about this thing called love. But no matter how hard I try, I cannot grasp its meaning,” said Jiablu. He noticed that Faith’s eyes slightly grew wide.

“L-Love? H-Hey, aren’t you too young for those things?” she said. She glanced at the door before she added, “You want to know what love is? Seriously?”

Faith was sure that if someone else was inside the room, they would probably be laughing from their conversation. Jiablu nodded once. “Yes.”

There was an awkward silence. Faith once again stared at the door, then to Jiablu. The young man’s eyes were focused, and she knew that he was seriously asking his question. She breathed a gulp of air then exhaled.

“Love… how should I say this? You are asking this because old man Gaston told you about it, right? Listen, love is a complicated thing. But basically, it comes down to one thing: Love is giving your all for a person—without expecting anything in return,” said Faith. She violently blushed upon completion of the statement.

Jiablu remembered Raymond. That soldier was ready to die and to exchange his soul for that woman. Then, was that love? Why was it that a weak and insignificant existence like him was capable of loving another? Jiablu pondered with all his might, with all his soul, but he was still unable to find an answer.

What the priest said was not enough. He knew. “I don’t understand. The old human from before… he told me that love is what gives him purpose. If love is merely giving everything, then what differentiates it from pity, from kindness? If that is love, then how does such insignificant thing give life significance? How does it give someone his purpose?”

“That… is…” Her voice trailed off.

If there was another person inside the room right now, Faith would have long pleaded that person for help. Unfortunately, she was alone.

Faith wanted to hide, but her feet remained rooted in the ground. She was still young. She held no further answer to his question.

Jiablu waited hopefully, but the priest did not elaborate. What a useless human, he thought.

“Hey, are you alright? You look… horrible,” whispered Faith. Now that she had a careful look, she noticed that Jiablu’s face was paler than usual. Black marks encircled his eyes, and his cheeks had started to assume a sunken appearance.

Jiablu shot a quizzical stare. He said, “What is it, priest?”

“Have you been sleeping well?” she sternly said. Now that she had thought about it, she had never seen Jiablu sleep since they had first met. She was a light sleeper, thus she would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night. Whenever she took a walk, she would see him there outside—silently gazing at the distance.

Each and every time it happened, Faith was unable to utter a single word. The eyes of the child as he gazed into the far horizon were deep, almost piercing. Those were the eyes of someone that had lost everything. And as a fellow human being, Faith could not find herself breaking the child out of the solace of that silence.

“Have you been sleeping well?” she repeated after receiving no reply. Jiablu stared at him, and she stared back. The black circles in the child’s eyes were becoming more vivid.

“I have no need for such trivial thin—,” said Jiablu.

“Trivial?! A child like you—no… everything that lives—need to sleep! What do you think you are? Some undead that requires no nourishment? Someone that needs nothing but hatred in order to sustain its life? Is that it?” said Faith. Her words were spat in quick successions and by the time she was finished, she was already gasping for air.

“Do humans honestly believe that it is hatred that fuels the lives of the undead?” said Jiablu. His question was off topic, and it took Faith by surprise. There was something eerie about his voice this time, but the priest was unable to pinpoint it.

Faith nodded. “Of course. Can you think of anything else? According to research, miasma is born from hatred. Going by that logic, hatred is the root of all evil. It is the root of all undead. There’s no doubt about it.”

A chuckling sound echoed inside the room. Jiablu’s eyes danced as he grinned. “Amusing. So, this is the extent of human knowledge?”

Faith frowned. “What do you mean?”

Jiablu did not reply. He walked towards the window and gazed at the twin moons above. He knew far better.

Miasma was nothing but remnants of the soul. Scholarly speaking, it was the specks of dusts that remained after someone’s soul had dissipated. Since everything has a soul—from immovable rocks to flowing rivers, even to the tiniest of insects—miasma could be considered the detritus of life itself. The assumptions of these arrogant humans were utterly incorrect. Jiablu had never heard of something so laughable in his entire existence. Well, what could he expect from a race that regarded a mere Queen Fairy as god? He shrugged the thought out.

“I guess asking someone like you is not a wise decision, priest,” said Jiablu. His voice turned monotonous as he airily added, “I will take into consideration that everything you have told me thus far is incorrect.”

Faith felt an urge to retort. Her previous smile had completely slid down her face.

Jiablu’s next words took Faith by surprise. “Priest, you came here in accordance to the order of your master, no? Ask. Tell me. What do you wish to know?”

Master? Faith felt that Jiablu was pertaining to their commander, Lancelot. Still, she was surprised that Jiablu knew her intentions. Just as he had assumed, she indeed came here in order to ask the questions the Knights of Tesma had been holding back in the last few days.

“Once we get to the Kingdom, we will be required to report all that happened during our journey. I know that I shouldn’t be asking this, but I want to know. What happened in your village?” said Faith.

Jiablu had long expected that they would be asking such questions sooner or later. He had long readied a reply. “I don’t remember.”

It was an undesired response, but it was by far the safest. Responding with a complex story would easily risk being found out in the near future. By telling everyone that he held no memories of what had happened, Jiablu could evade questions using a single answer. It was the conclusion he had come up with after considering all other possibilities.

Faith bit her lips. She was unsure if the child was lying, or if the child was simply traumatized by what transpired. There had been numerous incidents before wherein someone completely lost memories of the traumatic experiences in their life. It was their mind’s simple mechanism to prevent it from breaking down. Without such horrifying memories, life would ensue.

“I see,” she said. She had decided not to pursue the matter any further. “Then, I shall tell the commander that.”

She picked up the tray then went towards the door. Before she left, she once again reiterated, “Sleep. You need to sleep. Got that?”

There was silence after the priest from the Order of Aquina left. Jiablu once again peered through the windows. From the distance, he could hear the shouts of bliss from the soldiers. He was sure that Lancelot and his men had finally returned from their expedition outside.

“Good. We can finally leave soon,” said Jiablu. He remembered the words uttered by Faith before she left. “Sleep, huh? I have never considered that. Maybe the priest is right. I am indeed inside a weak shell after all.”

He looked at the small bed at the corner of the room. It was made entirely of wood, with a thin sheet of cushion on top. The small worn out pillow was not enticing, but Jiablu’s interest was piqued by the idea of sleeping.

After some thoughts, he had decided to do it. He slowly rested his body onto the bed. To his surprise, his eyes began to turn heavy—as though someone was pulling it down. He felt his strength leave his body. What was this sensation? He had never felt so weak and helpless before. He wanted to get out and stay up, but his body refused to listen. Slowly, his eyes closed.

Without him realizing it, he dozed off into dreamland.