FOUR DAYS LATER LI'S MANOR

I drum my fingers on the smooth, black marble-like surface. With each tap, vibrant colors ripple from my probing touch. It's a holographic game table, projecting several horizontal planes depicting a game of three-dimensional shogi. On four of the boards are small, bright-green, and light-pink pieces opposing each other in a rather cluttered fashion. The fifth board, on the middle right plane, is rather empty, and Sergi contests it with a single promoted knight.

A few hours ago, Sergi expressed interest in passing time by playing Shogi while waiting for Brutus and Olga to return from the city. Being a little rusty myself, I found myself more than happy to abide by his request. It’s a rare chance to show off my skills after losing to Simon so many times in the past.

Perhaps I got a little overboard with myself. Or, rather, a little cocky. Sergi, despite being a complete beginner, wins the first game rather quickly—a little over twenty minutes. In our second match, Sergi dominated me on nearly all boards except my home.

But a small breakthrough in his rear quickly allows for a surge of reinforced drops on my part following a swift stranglehold on his main pieces, and a concise check of his king. This second match lasts a little longer, a little over an hour and a half according to the clock on the side. With the score being one-to-one, I felt like neither of us wanted it to end there. Olga and Brutus aren’t here yet.

More drumming of the table. And now, we’re well past the mid-way mark of our third game, and unlike the previous games I find myself back in a tricky predicament like before. Unfortunately, it’s been proving difficult turning the tide around. On the central middle battlefield—the fourth board, and the center-left plane—the first board—has been seeing my spearhead formation slowly crumble.

The push into board three—more or less Sergi ’s home board—on the top plane starts strong. In a matter of turns, it appears as though I could corner Sergi’s king. But with a strong push comes strong defiance, and the sharp increase of my pieces getting captured. A number of my turns shift into a painstakingly crafted static defense.

Simon chips away in the middle just as slowly—a back-and-forth battle of attrition not in my favor. The distance to Sergi’s king piece grows wide. I lose ground, but Simon feeds me pawns—mostly composed of captured pieces that I regrettably sacrificed to acquire superiority on the first and fourth boards. Several pawns I (re)capture mean trading some of my knights and bishops. In terms of numbers, I gain more in quantity, but Sergi is more than capable of deploying his captured pieces and tipping the scales considerably with quality offense pieces.

But from the positions Sergi can deploy them on, Sergi will face the possibility of immediately losing them anyway given my moderate superiority. Realistically, he could set up a formation behind his lines, therefore losing the initiative in his breakthroughs but mildly pushing the front lines further. In Sergi’s case, it’s a complete and utter slog no matter how I look at it. In my case, I simply cannot do anything but hold the lines. Any gamble of brute-forcing and regaining ground in the middle board will only end in pointless sacrifices.

My attention turns to the fifth board. Connecting to the fourth, third, and second boards, there’s a lot of room for outflanking. Yet, until Sergi’s recent turn placing a single piece there, neither of us concentrated any pieces here. Sergi has little room for error: any turns he dares spends in the first and fifth boards is vulnerable on the main fourth board. Likewise, any effort I could put into the fifth board would mean being overstretched than I already am.

However, I do have a few pieces on my second home board. None of them are particularly useful at the moment. Given they are originally pawns that I never moved off the board: pieces that I intended to promote and fulfill the role of any captured pieces. Reserves, in other words.

But that’s all they are, simple reserves. It could take a few turns promoting them into versatile, strong units. If Sergi wants to, he could gamble on fielding his captured pieces there, and either encircle me on the fourth board, or flank into the second and take my small line of pawns by surprise. My defenses on the fourth board—strong as they are—remain stretched and cracking under pressure. The first board is manageable, given that his pieces there remain held at bay, and divided from his main formations on the third and fourth boards.

But the point of Shogi is not to kill… or rather, in this game’s case, capture all your enemies: the objective is the king. Though, it could be beneficial to capture his pieces on the first board in particular and therefore stem the tide in the middle—and even the third board—with overwhelming numbers. But by spending my turns finishing off his small, helpless force on the first board means Sergi could gain the upper hand in the center battlefield. As frustrating as it is, half my pieces on the first board are unable to be put to real use. It’s a dilemma that tactfully works for that board—for Sergi. And even so, it strategically works for him on board four.

I lean forward to rest elbows on the obsidian table, hands clasped over my chin. A fluctuation of colorful lights gives life to the table. And yet, that brings me back to the situation in table five. With each passing turn, Sergi seemingly pays no further attention to it. At the same time, Sergi still has a score of captured pieces laying on the sidelines: no seeming interest to deploy them anywhere.

And I simply cannot make any sense of it. Sergi spends a turn here with the nonsensical indecisiveness maneuvering of tiles on his home board. A turn spent there trying to break out from the first board—a rebuff from me in the fourth board. Sometimes a decision by me to advance any pieces spurs him to put a piece down to deter any movement. A glance at the clock: almost forty-six minutes in, and we are at an impasse.

All the while, the fifth board remains no-man’s-land. “Sergi,” I mutter, stroking the scar running along my face, “if we keep up this indecisiveness any longer, we will have to call it a draw,” Sergi only mumbles under his breath. Sergi shifts around in his seat, folding one leg over the other. His gaze shifts between the game and the window as he props his chin up with a fist.

Just as I want to provoke him more, there’s a whishing of the parlor’s door somewhere behind us. I glance behind to see Haru approaching us with a tray of charcoal-brown cast iron teaware. She whistles a happy tune and appears rather absentmindedly with a childish smile. It’s only when Haru sets the tray down on the coffee table next to us does she seemingly come to her senses. Interestingly, she stares absentmindedly at Sergi for what seems like an unsettlingly long time.

“I’m sorry,” Sergi mutters, “did I… seem to startle you?” Sergi, with his attention still on Haru, sets down a rook on the fifth board.

“Oh!” Haru says, “um,” the timid woman glances at me for help, “I didn’t expect you to have any… er, visitors, do you want some time alone…?” Sergi waves his hand. I spend my turn promoting one of my reserve pawns into a silver general.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Sergi says, “the name’s Sergi, or Serg, or,” Sergi pauses to put down a bishop piece on the fifth board, “I’m a friend of Li here—I’m part of the Castelforte crew, perhaps we simply never met before? ”

“I see…” Haru muses, she looks over at her tray, “I’ve been so used to the presence of the security guards shuffling around that it feels so bizarre seeing anyone else other than Bru—tey and Miss Olga.”

“Bru,” a profound scoff from Sergi; a glance at me with a smirk, “—utey?”

“It’s… an affectionate nickname,” I remark, promoting another pawn, “Olga was the one who started it. Seems like it has rubbed off on most of us by now, hasn’t it?” Sergi sets down another piece on the fifth board—this time, one of my silver generals. Even if all I have are pawns, my situation might be difficult to assess overall.

“Well, anyway,” Sergi looks at the tray Haru brought with her, “I’m guessing one of those isn’t for me, are they?” Haru shakes her head.

“No… I’m really sorry. I figured Li was cooped up in here all alone. Since the kids aren’t being welcoming, I decided some peace and quiet wouldn't hurt… I hope you don’t mind, Madame Li, ” Haru says, curling her locks of hair.”

“Not at all, the more company the merrier,” I remark, “it was going a little dull having Sergi as company… he’s never been the sociable type,” it evokes a hoarse scoff from the man that I brush off, “the orphans… how are they doing?” I ask. Haru looks down, her grin curls into a sad grin.

“They’ve been… well, they’ve been misbehaving a bit lately,” Haru remarks. She sits on a nearby ottoman, pouring herself purplish liquid into two bronze-colored cast teacups. “Isabella… she’s been accusing me of being a traitor,” Haru chuckles, sipping on her tea.

“A traitor?” I say, “I’m guessing it’s because she knows you’re acquainted with… what is it I was referenced to as?” I give Haru a warm smile, ignoring the straining pain, “big-breasted scary scar lady?”

Sergi scoffs. “Not too good with adult authority, huh? Sounds about right—as a role-model pirate already,” Sergi says dryly. The gruff subordinate peers closely at the situation on the first board. It’s now or never, with his surprise buildup and subsequent push onto my third board, I capture all of his pieces on the fourth board but one. This focused gambit means my king lies exposed on the fourth board.

Haru continues, “I wanted to give her and the kids some alone time, so after leaving them their usual delivery of food and drinks, I headed here to recollect my thoughts,” Haru smiles apologetically, “they’ve been eating well, though. But it never seems to be enough to keep them well-fed. I want to help them out more than just providing them with food, but I feel like that could take time.”

This time, Sergi, grabbing our attention with a sensible hum, “Li, you said you were interested in looking over an orphanage did you not?”

“Huh? Ah,” I stroke my cheek, “yes, I’m guessing you found out from Brutey? ” A nod—followed by a scoff, as Sergi murmurs the nickname.

“Part of me is glad you couldn’t possibly bastardize my name like that,” Sergi says, running a hand through his shaggy hair. Haru continues to have an unsettling fixation on the man. “Anyway, those kids… they must’ve called that creepy place their home after the Castelforte left port, I’m guessing?” Haru nods in acknowledgment.

Sergi sighs. “Well, since you were looking to raise an orphanage of sorts, I guess it could work out if you looked over them? It means protection if things arise, I mean. Otherwise, I hope they don’t get too cocky and start butting heads with the crew,” Sergi says, glaring at me.

For a brief moment, I shift attention to the holographic Shogi game. The playing field has been getting more dynamic now: the game’s time clocks in at an hour and ten minutes, and I push with my king and spearhead onto the third board. Sergi’s king is guarded by a well-rounded defense—but the lack of any generals will mean he can’t hold out for much longer.

Haru offers the other bronze-colored teacup to me. It’s hot to the touch and has a spicy, bitter aroma to it. After staring into the steamy, purplish surface, I look up at the other two. “You’re right, it’s almost as if… it’s fate,” I smile meekly—a mild sting of pain, “but given what Haru said, having them warm up to me could take time but I’ll make it possible. I offered Haru the chance to become a chef for me—so with her to compensate for my lack of cooking skills, I can keep them from being an unruly bunch,” a gulp from the cup burns my tongue, “I’ll act as… something as a motherly figure to them if nothing else,” I finish with a glowing smile.

Haru joins her hands in a raised steeple, her smile gleaming ear to ear, “what a relief that is to hear!” Haru exclaims, “a real, big relief, madame Li. I’m almost happy to hear that… I’m sure I have nothing else to worry about. I’m sure with the two of us, they’ll come around eventually and see we aren’t so scary after all.”

“Pirates? Not scary? Yeah, I’m sure that’ll take some time,” Sergi retorts. Haru and I shoot glares at him, and he throws his hands up, “All alright, I take it back,” Sergi smiles weakly, “I’d like to help, too, you know. Help keep Olga from doing anything too rash with the kids…”

“That’s one way to get you to cooperate if Olga is involved,” I say warmly. Sergi leans back in his chair and nervously chuckles. He turns his attention to Haru.

Sergi begins speaking, “if it’s not too much to ask, would it be possible to get a drink? Watching the two of you drink makes my mouth dry,”

Haru, shocked, stands up in place, “oh! I’m so sorry. It sort of slipped my mind… would you like some tea, coffee…?” Sergi tilts his head, stroking his grizzly chin.

“Beer?” Sergi muses. He glances between us with shrugged shoulders but neither of us says a word. “Surely, you do have some alcohol in storage, right?”

“Unfortunately for you,” I say warmly, resting my head on a fist and tapping the flickering table with the other, “most of it was stowed away on the Castelforte when we left. Sorry, but you’ll just have to be sober for the time being.”

“Are you accusing me of being an alcoholic?” Sergi retorts. I merely smile in response. Sergi sighs heavily and strokes his shoulder. “Coffee… coffee with a few ice cubes.”

Haru claps her hands again. “Gladly! I’ll be right back with all our drinks,” she takes one long, good glance at Sergi and hurries off into the manor proper.

There's a spell of silence upon the woman leaving. Sergi and I focus our attention back on the game of Shogi. Sergi throws everything he has available on his third board to stall defeat. His efforts in avoiding getting placed into check cause both of us to lose many game pieces. After the dust settles, both of us have a very large amount of captured pieces on the sidelines. As it stands, there are only four pieces in total left on the board.

Neither of us can spare the chance to reinforce our positions. It’s more of the typical back-and-forth mirror movement hoping to outwit the other, but all it does is pass time. After what feels like a continuous sequence of repetitive turns, Sergi begins to speak, “that Haru woman… she seems so sincere and innocent. Tell me, Li, how does a little nice lass like that mix in with the wrong crowd? What compels a lovely character like her to willingly risk her life among scummy individuals?”

“She seems to be managing well all things considered,” I say, brushing my blemished nose, “are you worried for her? That’s rather unusual for you to care about others,” a sly smile, “my, falling for her, perhaps?” Sergi shifts uncomfortably in his leg, recrossing a leg over the other.

Sergi clears his throat, “well… no,” his gaze darts from game piece to game piece, “if that’s your attempt at teasing me—or at least throw me off from this game, then it’s not working.”

“What a shame,” I say wryly, “I’m sure you noticed, but she seems to have to take a particular liking to you… like a maiden finding her first love,” Sergi looks at me with a disapproving frown.

Sergi retorts, “barring the fact that you’re the one to talk,” a stark scoff, “I think it’d be in Haru’s best interest if she kept her distance from me.”

“Scared that such a pretty maiden will fall for a crude, unsophisticated man like you?” I say coolly, “I thought about playing cupid, so to speak, herding Haru towards Brutey, but maybe I can help her out with you?”

Sergi cuts loose an exasperating sigh, brushing the unruly dark hair from his eyes. “I think you’re a little delusional, Li. But at least you’re in better spirits now… but anyway, Haru sounds a little too innocent for her good… what was it that she mentioned? The lack of security?” Sergi asks. I sit up straight, just as Sergi risks it all, and drops a silver general in the vain attempt to even the odds.

I answer, "that is correct. Given that you were gone and busy in Valspon," I pause: then a sigh, "I suppose shedding light on what happened here would not hurt."

I recollect my thoughts for a few moments and spend some time telling Sergi of the events that transpired between the time I left for L übeck back on the twenty-second, to the fateful events at the Löyly sauna. Sergi takes it all in slowly and quietly while the two of us occasionally play our turns at Shogi.

When I finish, Sergi glances outside at the snow-laden landscape. "Was it the right thing to do?" Sergi asks rather wryly, his tired, calculating eyes searching the horizon. "Dismissing all your security after that incident, I mean. Would it not make sense to tighten security, at least for a while—until it's certain that Hwang keeps her word?" Sergi shifts his gaze until we lock eyes, "maybe she expects you to lower your guard before showing her real—"

"Checkmate, Sergi," I say. I casually drum the obsidian table and a reactive rainbow glow follows. Both the pink king and the virtual tile it's on glows a contrasting brown. The helpless, cowardly king remains trapped between two promoted silver generals: a lone knight remains powerless in helping its liege.

Sergi blows through his nostrils. He rests his hands atop his greasy-like hair and leans back in his chair. "You're putting yourself at risk, Li."

Wincing, I provide a slight smirk. "If one more person has to needlessly die because of me, Sergi—regardless of their allegiance—there's no way I could live with myself. I want to be able to sleep knowing that there will be no further bloodshed. I want you—and everyone else—to accept this and move on."

Sergi takes in the Shogi situation, staring at the pop-up indicating his unfortunate demise. Then our eyes meet, and he responds with a long-winded sigh. "Move on, and live under the constant threat of retaliation?" Sergi asks, "is that the sort of life you want to live? Knowing that Madame Hwang will execute you at the slightest suspicion?"

"Enough, Sergi," I say, grimly, "all I desire from you and everything else is to accept my wishes." Sergi leans forward, squinting at me through his unkempt hair.

"Is that an order? A demand?" Sergi asks. I respond with a sigh, tapping the game table as I do so.

"I'm asking you as my friend, Sergi," I respond warmly, "you trusted me then, at the Castelforte under a worse pretext," Sergi shifts to the side in his seat, "you voiced your objection but still followed me through the Rubicon…" I lean over the table, "all I ask is the same now… Jung wouldn't want us to remain divided like this for our survival."

Sergi stares at the checkmate window for what seems like a long time. But finally, he taps the affirmative button and gets to his feet. "It sure as hell won't be blind obedience, but I'll do it if it means some semblance of peace," Sergi remarks, "Simon… have you informed him of what happened at Löyly?" A brief pause, "of what happened to Jung?"

I respond, "Zhui informed him, I believe, when we arrived at the harbor. But as for my confrontation with Kamon… no, but I imagined he would have found out about it by now.”

“That Simon… always the last to know, huh?” Sergi muses. Before I get the chance to respond, a whish of the entrance interrupts me. Expecting Haru, I see Olga and Brutus instead. Just behind the large oaf is the comparably small woman carrying a few extra cups of tea. Sergi and I get up from our seats to greet them. “Well, you two took an awful lot of time—oh?”

Olga carries in one of her arms some folded clothes, but what catches my attention the most is the new square-shaped purple eye patch she now wears. “Serg, nice of you to drop by,” Olga says, beaming at us both, “the situation over there at Valspon… I assume we no longer have anthing to worry about with the Federation fleet?”

Sergi glances at the rest of us, a deep exhale. “Not much remains of the Federation presence over there in Preuben. Richter reckons that there’s hardly a token force comparable to the one we saw over Dissenland. Neither of us wanted to linger around any longer, so most of us went our separate ways,” Sergi leans on the table, stroking his stubble, “what’s that you have there? Looks like some dresses.” The lanky holds her arms up for a better view. One of them is a long, flowing red skirt with a black-and-white wrapped top. The other, slightly visible underneath is a one-piece dark purplish dress.

“How pretty,” I say, receiving one of the steamy hot cups from Haru passing by, “who are they for?” Olga and Brutus look at me blankly briefly before Brutus responds with a slight chuckle.

Brutus is the one to answer, “since the Don is hosting the ceremony at his palace soon, Olga and I decided to do a little shopping for her, and… uh,” Brutus smiles weakly, he caresses the long, bright red skirt, “well, for you as well.”

I stare at the dress, processing what Brutus just said. And once the fact dawns on me, I caress my disfigured cheek, “oh.”

“We hurried back once we realized that it was going to start sooner than later,” Olga continues, “and for the record, it was my idea to pick it out—not Brutus’s.”

Brutus turns to her with a frown, “hey now, discrediting me? I was the one that pointed out it might—“

“My idea, ” Olga retorts, beaming at him with piercing eyes, “you merely agreed after I mentioned it might look good on Li. ”

“Oh, brother,” Sergi says, pinching his nose ridge, “I feel like leaving these two alone is simply asking for trouble—bloodshed, even.” I crack a smirk, caressing my warm, smooth cheek. Regardless, it brings me some joy that the two of us—and even the rest of us—can relax. I would even say most of us can fraternize without the looming threat of a Metropolitan threat, or even from Kamon. There is no bigger relief knowing that I am no longer held under scrutiny by that woman.

“Madame,” Olga starts, “if you don’t mind, since we don’t have enough time as-is, I’d like it if we could try them on and make sure they’re a proper fit.”

I step aside to let Brutus pass by and sit down at my side. Brutus starts to speak, “I guess in the meantime, ol’ Serg and I will pass the time with some, uh…” Brutus squints, “oh, this isn’t chess, is it?”

“Space Shogi,” Sergi responds, “and it’s Sergi—with a silent e… mister Bru—ty ”

“Right, Serg,” Brutus says, glaring at him, “I’ll keep it in mind… you know how to play this? I’m not as skilled as Simon, but I usually get lucky playing against the Madame sometimes…”

Sergi, with an even more menacing glare, takes his seat. “Something of a novice, I’m more accustomed to chess myself. But I’ve always liked a challenge when I see one.”

Olga tugs on my sleeve and points at the door and Haru, “we should get going… I’m eager to see how it looks on you,” Olga says.

Haru, surprised, blinks owlishly, “m-me? Ah… I think I’ll busy myself with some grub, I imagine you and Brutey must be starving, miss Olga!”

“Can you stop call—agh!” Brutus groans. A glance at the game table makes me realize he has carelessly let his essential silver general piece get captured, and it seems like barely five turns have passed already.

“Man, you’re rather rubbish at this,” Sergi muses, stroking his stubble. Smiling, Olga tells Haru that is fine, and the three of us head out for the main building, leaving Sergi and Brutus to stare intensely at each other over Shogi.

Olga and I head upstairs into one of the vacant bedrooms. She sets down the long red skirt and black top atop one side of the bed, heads over to the next side, and with her back to me begins with undressing. I watch her briefly before turning away and following her stead by stripping down. Reaching for the pile of clothes, I take the skirt first, finding its length rather surprising: measuring it against me, it seems to go a little past my waist.

I set the red skirt down for now, and reach over for what I believe to be the shirt, but instead find that it’s something of a dress. “Have you ever worn a hanbok before, Madame?” Olga asks, I glance over and find that she has finished already. She wears a long-sleeved sapphire-colored dress mostly plain in design. I tilt my head at the question, trying to recall the last time I’ve ever worn something so formal, much less something called a hanbok.

“There was one time,” I say, reaching for the black dress and slowly slipping it over me, “many years ago when I was a child,” I blink, trying to tap further into my thoughts, “it was a festival that my mama—,” a subconscious bite on my lower lip, “that my parents took me to… but I must’ve been so little, it sort of resembles this outfit here… a hanbok you called it?” Olga nods, “there were more clothing pieces,” I scrunch my brows, bearing the mild pain from the scar, “this design seems simple in comparison, though.”

“I’m sorry,” Olga says, her gaze to the bed, “I thought you would’ve liked it… you don’t have to wear it if you want.” I take a step to Olga, taking her hands and caressing them.

“You must be under the wrong impression,” I say warmly, “it’s a lovely design, Olga. I love it,” Olga smiles weakly, stroking me on the head, “I’ll wear it of course… even if I have to begrudgingly wear it for Zhui’s ceremony.” Olga smiles more convincingly this time and pats me on the head.

"As long as I get the chance to see you in it," Olga says, "I don't care much about anything else." Olga smiles, apparently examining me in the long tunic so far. She purses her lips, "since you never worn… or rather, you haven't put one on in so long, would you like me to help you with it?" I open my mouth to respond, but before I can do so Olga spins me around. The motion leaves me dizzy, but Olga's firm grip is enough to keep me steady in place.

I suppose I wouldn't have a say in the matter either way. Olga's hands smoothly slide all over me as she carefully slips each article of clothing on. As Olga does so, a thought crosses my mind. “I didn’t get the chance to ask earlier, but did you encounter Simon at all when you were in the city?” I ask, craning my head slightly to the side. Olga doesn’t stop, but she does hum for a bit.

“Master Simon?” Olga muses “yes, he just now came back from the planet, it seems. Master Simon…” Olga trails off, not once stopping with tying up my hanbok’s outer skirt garment. I crane my head some more, curious by what she meant.

“Olga? Did something happen with Simon?” I ask, reaching to stroke my warm blemished cheek.

Olga responds, “sorry, um… he didn’t really specify anything about his Lübeck visit. Master Simon looked rather pale before we encountered him, but he eased up and livened when we briefly talked,” Olga clears her throat, helping me with sliding on the white-sleeved cherry-dotted outer sleeves.

“Did… did you tell him about the incident at Löyly?” I ask, quietly. Olga stops, breathing in long and exhaling heavily. When it’s apparent Olga isn’t going to respond, I place my hands over hers. “He didn’t take it very well, did he?”

“Master Simon… he was greatly distraught,” Olga says, balling her hands into fists. “Once he learned about what happened, he hurried off to the bastard’s palace but Simon wouldn’t say as to why—for what reason,” Olga says, rather quietly. My chest stings a little. But I know better than to believe Simon would do anything rash. He would’ve known this would happen sooner or later—I suppose it was only going to be a matter of time. Inevitable.

Olga resumes helping me put on the hanbok. I feel as though now the room’s atmosphere is too stiff. “On a somewhat related note,” I say, “while we’re on the subject of the ‘Löyly incident’, I’m relieved to know you aren’t giving me the… um, for lack of a better word, cold shoulder about…” my cheeks redden at the peculiar memory, “well, I’m happy that you aren’t ignoring me as you did after that day,” I say warmly. Looking down, something is off. Or rather, am I imagining things, or is Olga tightening the bow too much? “Olga? I think this is good enough, you don’t need to tie it any further—“

“Cold shoulder?” The blonde says, sternly, “that’s a new one I haven’t heard before,” at this point, it does seem like Olga is deliberately over-tying it. No, I must be imagining it. Is this how they’re usually done? What was Olga’s tone with me just now?

“Olga? It’s kind of hard to—“ I am cut off by Olga grunting and pulling hard on both ends of the bow, and an embarrassing high-pitched cry escapes my lips. What follows is lightheartedness as I find it momentarily difficult to breathe properly.

Olga begins to speak, in a less stern tone, “Sorry! I think my hands slipped. I’m still getting used to this mechanical arm… it feels like I don’t know my strength anymore.” Olga acts quickly in loosening it a little, just enough to the point where I can breathe in and out properly again. Turning around, I glare at the towering Olga with a pout.

“Olga…” I say quietly, “are you still upset about that?” I break off my gaze with her, taking a step back, “I mean… I suppose it would make sense for you to be,” a pause,” you’re… you’re mad at me, aren’t you? I guess it does explain why you would… ignore me so much,” my lips quiver as I lock eyes with Olga again. Her expression changes to distraught, and she pulls me closer to her in a tight embrace.

“Li… I could never let something so trivial and so silly get between us,” Olga says, “I… you mean too much to me for that to cause any sort of misconception between us. If I hated you for even a moment, how could I live with myself? ”

“There’s more to this world than just me, Olga,” I reply softly. Olga holds me tighter in her embrace. A deep sigh from the woman.

“You are my world, Li,” she says. My face reddens as I find myself at a loss for words.

“Thank you, Olga,” I say, mustering the strength to squeeze her back. After a while, Olga pulls herself away, smiling wholeheartedly. She eyes me down again and turns to head out the door. “Ah… heading out so soon?” I ask, surprising myself at the timidness in my voice. Olga smiles sly back at me.

“I’ll let the guys know we’ll be ready to go. Rami is downstairs waiting to take us,” Olga proceeds to head out the door, but pauses and traces her steps peeking in, “don’t get lonely on me so fast, okay?” I only glare at Olga with another pouty voice as she smiles again and steps out the door.

Finding myself left alone, I wander the bedroom and make my way into the balcony. It’s an open-style platform with semi-transparent flooring, surrounded by a dullish-gray railing. As I make my way to the riling, the cold, familiar breeze brushes off me, touching my mature scar tissue with a tingling sensation. I’ve been cooped up in my room these past few days for so long that I find the breeze welcoming, even if it does make me wince a little. Just sliding my hand across the metallic bars is enough to give me shivers.

I look upon the vibrant clusters of houses that dot the mountainous valley. They bring color to an otherwise plain landscape and are populated by people that are just as eccentric. This loving community, as mishmash as it is, is composed of individuals from all walks of life. Even those who I have previously considered my foes now live comfortably right at home, content with living peaceful lives. Reflecting on it like this, I suppose I’ve been merciful in some ways, have I not? Allowing outstanding individuals to prove their loyalty to their fellow crewmen and me that there is a possibility of putting aside differences to live a new life.

I tighten my grip on the railing. If humans can put aside their differences so easily, and adapt to an environment that has been previously hostile to them, then is there hope of ending this perpetual cycle of maiming and killing that has existed since the dawn of man? One day, the Metropolitans—or by extension, the Ruthense or some of the other colonial factions—will confront and lay siege to the Toscana region. But that could come decades from now—centuries even, but that’s more of a stretch. And maybe, it simply won’t come at all. Perhaps the Federation as an entity will fracture or reform itself into something more autonomous—a less focus on outward expansion and costly military expeditions and focus on keeping itself stabilized?

Of course, that is nothing that I could, much less anyone else, could predict. No political foundation can withstand the passage of time. As my gaze shifts through the town to the lonesome chapel, I can’t help but take pity upon its sad state of affairs. It’s unlit, most likely freezing, and the thought of the children freezing and starving even now after their long trek from the slums disheartens me greatly.

One day, I will die. Rather that is by illness, old age, or in a battle against some foe, I’ve accomplished so much for the Mafia… and yet it seems as though I have done very little. I failed to prevent large-scale bloodshed on two occasions, and thousands have perished as a result. I’ve left hundreds more with harbors awaiting the return of ships that will never set sight on their loved ones again. I’ve protected people now, but can I protect people in the future? I stroke my chest, sliding my hand down my stomach. If I were to have children—or adopt any—could I guarantee that, even after my passing, could I set them up for a nice and comfortable lifestyle, much like me and many others can experience now?

I look up at the chapel again.

There is no such thing as a happy ending for pirates. Those were one of Jung’s last words to me before he met an untimely passing. Even now, I cannot say for certain if the man is right or wrong in his judgment. My crimes, past and present, are too great to bear now, but there’s no telling what the future may entail. My contemporaries may depict me as a horrible character, but perhaps generations from now could paint my actions, my characters in a fairer light.

Regardless of how my fate will go, and how I will be perceived for centuries to go, all I can do is live in the moment. As of this moment, I’m free. I’m free of Kamon’s crosshairs and I’m free of the Metropolitan threat. I’ve been given more freedom now than I’ve ever possibly had in my life with the Mafia. Despite what Sergi retorted, I’m free of fear, of crippling anxiety, of paranoia of what may happen to me next.

And I will use that freedom to raise orphans like Isabella. I want to give them a chance at life, to share that sense of comfort with them for as long as I possibly can. I want them to feel loved, to feel wanted. In a sense, to live my life through them… a life that for the most part I could only dream of having. A life full of tender loving care and for them to know that their being matters—because they do matter.

And yet, when I reach up and glance at the starry space visible through the open Side panel, I can only wonder… could there be a day where I can be free and meet Victoria again? Could there ever truly be a time where the Mafia can co-exist with the Federation… if not slowly be integrated into the Metropolitan fold?

I want to see Victoria again. I want to feel her smooth, delicate hands interlocked with mine again. I want to peer into those ruby-like eyes just one more time. I want to tell her my stories and hear of hers, too. Is it an impossible wish? A dream so far away, I could only reach out for it but never grasp? Is this the extent of my freedom?

A heavy-like cloth weighs on my shoulders—and I realize it’s my poncho. I turn around to find that Olga is back. She’s taken a few steps back and now leans against the open door-frame, arms folded under breasts. “Sorry, Madame, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she says. A tilt of her head, “someone weighing on your mind? Unsure about going to the ceremony after all?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” I respond, turning to gaze at the mountainous settlement, “I simply lost my way in a stream of consciousness about everything we’ve done to this point,” I pause for a long sigh, “a reflection of what has been done, and what is to come. Will we live a life of blissful luxury, in peace and freedom? Or will I have to inevitably look forward to a life of never-ending conflict with the Federation? Many questions beckon to me on the long road ahead. Questions that I am unsure about. Answers that I want to know… is freedom truly the most desirable thing? What exactly does freedom entail?” I turn to face Olga.

“Do you believe, Olga, that one day we can live in harmony with the Federation? That one day, I can walk a free woman to wherever my heart’s content, and do whatever I may wish without fear of prosecution? Could there ever truly be a day that my life—and everyone else’s—can truly experience what it means to live a long and fulfilling life? To fall in love, to grow old and die, surrounded by loved ones?” a brief pause, “could there ever truly be a day where I can meet and befriend Victoria again? Do I have that right to do so despite us killing each other’s comrades for the most ill-conceived reasons?

“I wish that one day the Madame Scarface dies—a fade into obscurity. I desire to live and experience more of life as myself—as Li Chou and to be seen by the world as Li Chou. I think in some ways, my meeting with Victoria reminded me of my humanity—she reminded me that Li is still alive after all these years. I don’t want to be burdened by my past any longer, Olga. I want to only look forward to a better future—not just for myself, but for the chapel orphans, too. Even if I cannot live an eventful life for myself—even if I cannot achieve a happy ending of my own, I can at least provide them one,” I lock eyes with Olga, “we can provide for them a life that most of us were denied.

“Sorry…” I say warmly, rubbing my disfigured cheek, “I got a little carried away, didn’t I?” Olga seems to ponder the monologue for a moment before shaking her head. She comes over and leans on the cold railing—and slightly towards me: her tilted head touches mine.

“I’m sure that your wishes will come true, eventually, Li,” Olga says softly, “no grudges last forever, no resentment is eternal. I’m sure one day the two of us can meet with Viktoria again. It could be years from now, but I’m confident it could happen. I’m just as eager to see who this Viktoria person is for myself,” Olga smiles heartedly, “I have her to thank for changing you… for opening your eyes. Even if I am a little jealous that you seem so fascinated with her.”

“Olga?” I ask, blinking owlishly. The lanky blonde scoffs and caress my bangs.

“I’m only kidding, Li,” Olga says, wrapping her mechanical arm around me, “partially, anyway.”

“Olga…” I mutter. Olga chuckles, leaning further on the railing, and I follow her gaze over the mountainous, vibrant valley. “I never realized until now how wonderfully pretty this view of the settlement is, don’t you think?” I ask, glancing at Olga.

“It’s nowhere near as gorgeous as you, Li,” comes Olga’s abrupt reply, “even though I only have one eye, your beauty shines twice as brightly compared to the village,” I turn away to hide my blushing, “I can only wish I had two eyes to savor this moment in its fullest. If I had lost both eyes… I’d forever be distraught knowing I could never be graced in seeing you anymore,” Olga says. I glance back at Olga, who looks on absentmindedly.

“I’ll always be here to act as your eyes, Olga,” I say warmly. A rare sight of Olga blushing as her eye darts around nervously. With one hand, I caresses her face and carefully rub the side with her purple eye patch. As I gaze into her beady eye, I can’t help but find her more charming than usual. My heart beats fast as my gaze shifts up and down, her pinkish-red lips pursed together as she tilts her head with one brow raised.

I’ve always viewed Olga as a liable person. As a subordinate who wouldn’t hesitate to execute any orders I give her. As I look deeper into those hazel eyes, it leaves me to wonder if I’ve ever thought of Olga as a woman… if I ever saw her as something even more than just a companion. The longer I feel drawn into her eye, the more my cheeks and my facial scar burn red. Olga mutters my name, but I ignore it. And without realizing it, I push myself up on tiptoes and press my lips to hers.

It’s only for a moment, and I pull away. Olga blushes a fiery red, as she fumbles for words at my unexpected gesture. “We should get going,” I say, pulling the poncho over me tightly, “we wouldn’t want to keep the others waiting any longer.” And without giving Olga the chance to respond, I dart out of the room for downstairs.

Making my way onto the front porch, I am greeted by Rami and the others—and then I stop in my tracks. Among the group are a dozen kids, all armed with ladles, rakes, and bats. At the helm is a stern Isabella, folding her arms as she tries to peer at the adults on even ground. She’s the first to spot me—and she lightens up as a result. The others follow their gaze and seemingly sigh collectively. “Well, well, if it isn’t the princess herself,” Sergi says wryly—a sharp nudge from Brutus.

“You look utterly remarkable,” Brutus says, protecting his sides from Sergi, “breathtaking, even.”

“Thanks, Brutus,” I respond, caressing my still-burning cheeks, “sorry for the wait, but what’s going on?” I ask, peering between the two groups. Isabella clears her throat and steps forward. Unlike the others, she remains empty-handed.

“We’re here to deliver our demands!” One of Isabella’s lackeys declared; a rather obese fellow. In a way, he reminds me of Brutus. Isabella reels around to tell him to shush. She turns to face me again, a look of concern. Isabella takes a deep breath and comes closer to me. The petite, purple-haired girl continuously averts her gaze as she gets closer.

“Um…” Isabella mutters, she nervously clutches her tattered apron, “um… I,” she takes another deep breath, consciously avoiding eye contact still, “big booby lady, um…” to my surprise, she does a swift bow, “I’m sorry! I’m really sorry for my behavior the other day! Um…” a clearing of her throat, “I-I didn’t mean to come up here and confront you like this… I wanted to come to say sorry sooner, but the really big scary men walking around your house, they were, um…”

“The scary men won’t be around anymore, Isabella,” I say softly. I slowly get to my knees before Isabella, and I place a hand on her timid shoulder. The young girl looks up and locks eyes with me.

“Lady…?” Isabella says, she purses her lips together, and tears begin to form in her eyes, “you’re not mad at me for the snowball I threw at you…?” I shake my head, her lips increasingly tremble. “I’m sorry… I caused you and, and Miss Haru so much trouble, didn’t I? Coming into that chapel place…”

“Li,” I mutter. Isabella tilts her head.

“L-Li?” Isabella asks.

“That is my name, Li—Li Chou,” I hold Isabella closer in an embrace, “Isabella… no more bad things will happen to you. You don’t have to run anymore from any troubles,” Isabella shivers as she sniffles and gasps, “you coming into the abandoned chapel is perhaps a sign of fate. Maybe it was our destiny to meet,” I pull Isabella away, wiping her reddish eyes in the process, “so you don’t have to cry anymore, okay?” Isabella hesitates with averted eyes, a gaping mouth—but quickly nods.

“Y-you’ll take care of us?” Isabella stammers, her violet eyes locks eyes with mine, “you’ll really, really… take care of me?”

I grin weakly as I respond, “I may be a terrible cook compared to Haru, but I’ll do what I can to be a foster… parent,” and to my surprise, Isabella throws herself onto me—squeezing me tightly. Her tears stream down and soak my cloak’s mantle. “Let’s do our best from here on, Isabella.”

“I-I will, Miss Li…” Isabella chokes between sobs, “thank you, thank you for being my light, Li Li…” Isabella says. After which, Isabella seems to calm down. With a deep breath, I gesture Isabella to let go and I get up to dust the snow off my knees. She glances behind her at the others out of curiosity.

“Um… did I catch you as you were leaving?” Isabella asks, her eyes admiring Rami’s car. I smile wryly, patting her head.

“A visit to a big, scary place hosted by a big, scary man,” I say warmly, “I’ll be back soon… and I’ll play with you as much as you want. So in the meantime, let’s be nice to Miss Haru and do as she says, okay?” Isabella nods obediently and runs off to join her crew. Afterward, I head into the backseat of Rami’s car alongside Olga—with Brutus in the front-side passenger seat. I glance at Olga, and then at Sergi and Haru outside.

“Sergi isn’t joining us?” I ask.

“Seems he wants to help out with the kids,” Olga answers, “he said he feels guilty leaving Haru by her lonesome with all these kids.”

“Well, that sounds fair,” Brutus adds, “this car isn’t big enough for all of us.”

“My, are you sure it’s not just of your size alone?” I ask laconically, “anyway… I’m surprised the roles aren’t switched—with you staying and Sergi coming. Cold feet with Haru, already?” Brutus glances at us and scoffs, grumbling something under his breath.

As the car rumbles away, I take one last good glance at Isabella and the others as they run after us and wave us off. I return the wave and sit back in my seat to look at Olga. She averts my gaze at first, but eventually gives in and returns a glowing smile.

All is well now.