CH 31

“Why do I have to show up at the party dressed like this?” Stella asked.

“Because everyone wants to see it!” Rye said. “Come on, you can’t just buy a new outfit and only wear it once.”

“If you say so.”

Stella was at the restaurant, surrounded by everyone.

She was in the same white chemise dress she’d worn for her dinner with Greggs. Prettily embroidered and with weird frilly things on the skirt, it had been purchased and retailored at Typica’s suggestion. Only Typica and Varrell had seen her in it, which was why Rye was being so insistent—but if Stella was being honest, she didn’t appreciate being treated as a dress-up doll.

“It looks really pretty on you, Miss Stella,” Marie said.

“Of course it does,” Typica said with a smug grin. “I picked it for her, after all. If only she’d also wear the cute hat and accessories we bought. Why must you be so stubborn, Stella?”

“I don’t need those,” Stella said.

Typica shoved a finger at her. “See? Stubborn. Girls like you should care more about dressing up and looking pretty.”

Typica wasn’t fond of listening to people. Ignoring her was far more effective than trying to reason with her. “I’ll see if I can work on that,” Stella said dismissively.

“Man, I remember wearing those,” Rye said. “It’s so pretty, isn’t it? Hard to move in, though.”

Typica started. “You’ve worn dresses before? Are you nobility?”

“What? I, uhm— No, of course not! Haha. I misspoke. I’ve never seen a dress in my life!”

“Don’t lie to me! Stella, I need your authority to drag the truth out of her!”

“Maybe another time.”

Stella already knew that Rye was probably of high birth, but pressing her in her current state would hardly yield any straight answers. It would be a waste of time. And Stella hated wasting time.

She plopped into a chair. The restaurant’s tables were arranged in a circle at the center of the room, laden with the best dishes Marie could prepare: ribs, stew, fish meunière, meat buns. There were many options, and they included each guest’s favorite dishes. Stella requested some fruit salad. Nutritious and easy to eat.

“I’m not anyone’s master today,” Stella announced to the gathered guests. “You may act freely, as long as your actions don’t harm the store or my own person.”

“Ha! Ain’t no one gonna do that! Right, Beck?”

“Of course! Me and the boys will keep an eye out for troublemakers!”

And who’s going to keep an eye out for you? Well, it wouldn’t hurt to let them have a little fun, Stella supposed.

“Drink on, men,” Varrell said. “I’ll stay sober to keep you lot in line.”

“Varrell, my man! You’d do that for us?”

“I strive to be battle-ready at all times, so I wasn’t going to drink anyway. I will have one glass, though.”

Beck grinned as he poured Varrell a drink. “Here you go. Enjoy!”

It would appear that, contrary to Stella’s expectations, Beck and Varrell had grown quite tight during their time training together. And a good thing, too.

“All right, Stella, you’re the boss. It only makes sense for you to give the toast. Hit us with your best speech!”

Stella remained seated as she snatched a glass of juice off the table, murmured a barely audible “Cheers,” and emptied it in one go.

“That was fast!” Rye said.

‘Too fast, eh!’

“Oh, but I am not surprised,” Typica said with a stifled chuckle.

Varrell frowned. “Better that than a long speech, but come on. You didn’t even try.”

Stella heard more indiscreet comments as each guest cheered and drank, then filled his or her plate and started eating. Apparently, this was what was called a “buffet-style meal.”

“Look, look,” Rye said, grinning, “I got you some ribs! Love me some ribs. Something about eating meat right off the bone just feels different, you know?”

“I didn’t ask for that,” Stella said.

“Ah, ma’am! Here, try these smoked lamb sausages. Isn’t the scent wonderful? They’re pretty good!”

“I helped prepare them!”

“Did you, now? Nice work, but I don’t want—”

Before Stella could finish her sentence, three portions of ribs and five sausages avalanched onto her plate, burying the leafy greens she’d just put there.

Marie passed by carrying two large plates. “Ah, Miss Stella, I almost forgot! I made some apple pie—since you wanted to eat it—and some potato pie too. I hope it’s to your liking.” She cut a big slice of each and put it on Stella’s plate.

Stella was speechless. She hadn’t asked for any of this, and yet the food pile on her plate grew taller by the second. Humans were spontaneous creatures, and Stella loved them for it, but sometimes their actions defied all logic.

“. . . These look good,” Stella said.

“Of course they do,” Rye said. “We made it all together! Right, guys?”

“Yeah!” the two boys exclaimed.

Sally giggled as she watched them. Stella felt she was being treated like a child. For once, though, she didn’t mind. She was not anyone’s master today.

Varrell chuckled. “Look at you, the center of attention.”

“They’re just making fun of me. Like I’m their cute little doll.”

“Hey, don’t say that. The kids don’t know how to approach you. You’re similar ages, but you’re always acting the adult.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Of course. But would it kill you to pretend you’re a kid like them for a day?”

“You want me to act like that?”

Stella pointed over her shoulder to where Typica and Rye were fighting over some ribs, each biting into one end of the meat. There was enough for everyone, but apparently that was the best cut. Just look at them, getting sauce all over their mouths like toddlers. Idiots.

“Well, my sister is embarrassing me again,” Varrell said. “Can you believe she’s over twenty years old? Terrifying, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely terrifying.”

‘Scary stuff, eh?’

“And no one wants to marry her. Sad, isn’t it?”

“Very sad.”

‘Pretty sad, eh?’

Stella stuffed a sausage into her mouth and another one into Clever’s. A pungent aroma immediately stung her nostrils. It permeated the gravy, bringing out the richness of the meat. Not bad. Stella broke a piece of bread, dipped it in soup, and tossed it in her mouth. Quite good.

“I see you’ve found your appetite,” Varrell said.

“Some of it, at least. Not as much as they did, though.”

Stella pointed at the men of Beck’s Regiment, drunk on alcohol mixed with tears of falling stars and gobbling up their food. Though this sort of behavior would be unacceptable during opening hours, none of the guests seemed to mind, so Stella decided to allow it.

‘Beck sure ’as gotten cheeky, eh? Becks like ’im should know their place!’

Clever glided over to taunt him in person. Beck’s cocky attitude had probably gotten on his nerves. That bird could be really touchy sometimes. Unlike Stella.

Suddenly, the restaurant’s door was flung open and an idiot with flashy hair entered. Apollo, heir of the Orson Family. He was accompanied by two attendants, each carrying multiple paper bags and bottles of drink.

“Ladies and gentlemen of Glenn’s General Store! I, the great Apollo, grace your party with my presence—and I bring foods and drinks!”

“Apollo, sir!” Beck exclaimed. “I’m glad you could make it!”

Of course it was you who invited him. Beck was incapable of keeping his mouth shut.

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Apollo said. “Now that the Stock Company and my family are officially allies, this city’s stability relies on our friendship.” He waved toward the door. “What’re you fools waiting for? Come on in!”

As it turned out, Apollo had brought more than two attendants. In the blink of an eye, eighteen more people had tramped in and were settling among Beck’s men to partake in their revelry. At least they’d brought their own drinks. Wondering if she should kick them out anyway, Stella shot Marie an inquisitive glance. The older woman simply nodded with a calm smile. This restaurant was Marie’s jurisdiction; if she was fine with this, then so was Stella.

Stella decided to forget about the new arrivals and focus on her meal. It wasn’t long before she was interrupted.

“Hey there,” Apollo said.

“Good evening, Apollo,” Stella said.

“What’s that you’re wearing? Nobody told me about a dress code.”

“There’s no dress code. They’re just having fun at my expense.”

“Huh.” Apollo scratched his head. “Maybe you should’ve worn something flashier.”

“Are you saying this looks bad on me?”

“What? No. The color almost blends with your skin tone. Terrifying, really.”

“Then there’s nothing wrong with it. I really don’t care if you’re afraid, after all.” Chuckling softly, Stella poured Apollo a drink. She would be a good host today.

Apollo looked at her with a funny startled expression, then said, “Sorry, I should’ve told you I was coming. But I figured you’d have turned me down.”

“Probably.”

“Well, that’s . . . sincere. Anyway, I’m here to say thank you. For giving me a chance to prove my worth.”

Stella closed one eye as she tried to remember what he was talking about. The extermination of the Palpud Union? That had indeed boosted Apollo’s reputation, but Stella had used him like a pawn. He didn’t owe her anything.

“No need to thank me,” Stella said. “All I did was set the stage. You and the other actors did all the work.”

“Still, that’s more than anyone’s ever done for me. My old man hoards all the work and all the merit. After that day, though, he was forced to recognize my abilities. Ha! You should’ve seen the look on his face.”

Apollo took a long swig from his cup, then swiped some ribs off Stella’s plate and started wolfing them down.

“This might be the wrong time,” Stella said, “but have you heard the news from outside? Things are finally coming to a head.”

“Yeah. My old man is on edge. Keeps yelling that he’ll leave town if Greggs doesn’t make up his mind soon.”

“Here’s a free word of advice. Don’t do anything yet. Let things play out, gather as much information as you can. Wait before you make a move.”

“I’ll tell him. I mean, with that dress and that cold piercing look, I’d do anything you ask, really.”

“The future looks promising for us, doesn’t it?”

“Promising?” Apollo chuckled. “Maybe for you. I shudder to think what’ll become of me after spending a few decades around you.”

Though Apollo and Stella were friends, the friends of today could be the enemies of tomorrow. Well, no point thinking about that now. There was a more pressing matter at hand.

“Go easy on me, all right?” Stella said.

“That’s my line. You don’t drink, right? Here, have some juice. It’s boring, but better than nothing.”

“Thank you.”

Stella accepted the offer without giving it much thought. Sometimes humans just “went with the flow,” apparently. Varrell had lectured her at length about it. And just as Stella thought of him, Varrell approached with Typica in tow.

“Who’s this, with the garish hair?” Typica asked. “Stella, you must choose your acquaintances more wisely.”

Apollo’s hair was dyed red and black, colors which represented his desire to stand out from the crowd. Stella found it annoying, and struggled constantly to keep it out of her line of sight. If Apollo became one of her minions, she’d shave him bald immediately.

“W-Who do you think I am?!” Apollo snapped. “You stand before the heir of the—”

“If you’re going to yell at each other, do it outside,” Stella said. “I expect you to be in your best behavior here.”

“Uh— Yeah.”

“All that anger isn’t good for your health. If you want to live a longer life, try being a little more stoic. Self-control is a sign of maturity. Only petty men are ruled by their emotions. They always speak the loudest.”

“H-Huh. All right. I’ll remember that.”

Stella curled her lip. “You’re awfully docile today. Did something happen to the real Apollo?”

Apollo looked away. “Oh, shut up. I’ve made a fool of myself in front of you so many times at this point that it hardly affects me anymore. If I can at least learn something from it, I’ll take it.”

I see. Apollo had a lot of potential, which would be an issue if they were to become enemies later down the line. People looked up to him as a leader; that sort of charisma was something you were simply born with.

“You have a bright future ahead of you, Apollo,” Stella said. “I like that in a man.”

“How old were you again?”

“Ten. Did you forget already?”

“I’m seventeen. . . . Man, this is unfair.”

“You’ve come to an interesting realization, haven’t you? Care to enlighten me?”

Apollo grimaced and, ignoring the question, started chewing on his ribs again. Typica and Varrell laughed.

At the height of the party, some of the guests lay red-faced on the ground while others slumped over their tables, fast asleep. Clever was blacked out with his beak inside a glass. Apollo snored beside him; Varrell had been pouring him way too many drinks. Typica, on the other hand, looked completely fine. She even asked for another drink.

The restaurant was still a lively place. The children, who weren’t allowed to drink, played gleefully under the doting eyes of Beck and his men. A rare scene, unthinkable under normal circumstances.

Rye approached Stella, who raised her hand wardingly. Having eaten at least three times her usual amount, she was well and truly full.

“You’re full already? Crud. I’ll save this for you, so make sure to eat it later!”

“I will. I’d hate to let any resources go to waste.” Worst case scenario, she could always force Clever to eat it.

Rye chuckled. “You’re so stingy, Stella. Though you did spend a lot on this party.”

“I just hate waste. And also having more things than I need.”

“Spoken like a true businesswoman.”

Stella didn’t mind paying people generously to make them more motivated. Except for Varrell and Typica, everyone in her household was technically her property. She didn’t have to pay them, but they wouldn’t apply themselves fully if they were working for free. Besides, it only made sense for them to get something in return for their hard work when she was profiting off of it. Why hoard all the money for herself anyway? Stella had nothing to buy, and the store—for all its shortcomings—was not about to go bankrupt. Marie could do what she wanted with the restaurant and everything else. Stella wasn’t going to interfere.

“Speaking of businesses,” Stella said, “ever considered opening your own? You could have a workshop in one of the houses on this street.”

“W-What? Really?”

“Sure, but you’d have to convince me that you’re skilled enough to make a profit. Like Marie did.”

“All right, you just wait! I’m gonna show you a masterpiece!” Rye exclaimed. Then, meekly, she added, “Uhm, you know, I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?”

“Beck, his squad, Apollo, they’re all thugs, right? And thugs are the bad guys.”

“Right.”

“But despite that, the party was pretty fun. I talked to them, and they didn’t seem like bad people. Well, except for their language. I was wondering why.”

“Before I can answer that, we need to define ‘good’ and ‘bad’ people. Which will take a while. Got some free time?”

Rye gave an awkward smile. “It’s not that complicated. It’s just that these are the same people that pick on the weak and helpless on a daily basis. The Stock Company and the Orson Family, they extort people, right? Sometimes even kill them.”

“Right.”

“But looking at them now, it almost feels like we could work together to make this town a better place for everyone.”

“Well, humans aren’t that simple. They’re multifaceted. Sometimes, those who contribute to society the most are monsters to their own families.”

“Hmm. I guess.”

“Even a paragon of virtue like me will be named a villain by those whose lives I’ve ruined. It’s all relative.”

Rye raised an eyebrow. “You? A paragon of virtue?”

Stella cleared her throat. “To give you a straight answer, they were friendly toward you in order to please me. I’m powerful, and you’re a member of my household. All friendship comes at a price.”

“Well, I guess you’re right.”

“Also, they treat the weak as they do because they don’t want to end up in their place.” There was no middle ground in this town; either you were the perpetrator or you were the victim.

“. . . So it’s a ‘kill or be killed’ kind of deal?”

“They know perfectly well what it’s like at the bottom of society, and they don’t want to be there. They have to act tough as a means of self-preservation.”

“Self-preservation, huh.”

Stella nodded. “You know what it’s like too. You’ve been there.”

Rye didn’t respond. She looked thoughtful.

“Thanks to me, though, you’ve managed to crawl your way out. Don’t waste that opportunity, Rye. I hit rock bottom too, once, and look at me now. There’s nothing stopping you from achieving your goals.”

Rye thought for a moment, then gave a resolute nod. “Yeah.”

“Determination. I like it. You make your master proud, Rye.”

“You’re still the most determined of us all, though. Maybe that’s why everyone follows your lead.”

“Thanks, but flattery will get you nowhere.”

Rye chuckled. “So stingy.”

Stella smiled.

“So, like . . . do you think it’s possible to make everyone happy if we all work together?”

“What do you mean by ‘making everyone happy’? That’s really vague.”

“I dunno. I guess it’d be nice if people could be equal no matter how rich, poor, strong, or weak they are. I feel like there’s a way, I just don’t know how. I mean, just because you’re rich or strong doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want, right?”

Stella didn’t respond.

“W-What? Why’d you clam up all of a sudden?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to have such an admirable opinion. Are you sick?”

“Rude!”

Stella chuckled. “You know, if everyone were like you, the world would be a much more peaceful place.”

Rye pouted. “You’re saying I’m naive, then?”

“It was a compliment,” Stella said truthfully. “True equality is probably unachievable, but your ideals are commendable. But if you want to try anyway, the first step is to get a position of leadership. You’ll need to secure it and silence the opposition through force of arms. It won’t be easy.”

Even if Rye were successful, that would lead to a contradiction, namely, herself—the despot who enforced her own system by systematically destroying every alternative, casting off anything that threatened the utopia and creating the greatest echo chamber in history. A world of happiness and equality, built on inequality. Was it truly a paradise?

Regardless, an attempt had been made to create a false, eternal paradise like this. They dug their own graves, assigned gravekeepers to guard them, all the while longing for the promised day of awakening. It never came. They perished.

The truth, which the other one refused to the bitter end to see, was that there was nothing left in those graves but dust. It was also ironic that the castaways ultimately managed to live and thrive in this world.

Suddenly, some sort of interference affected Stella, making it difficult to think. Red feathers covered the places where her memories should have been. Surprised, she looked at Clever and found the bird staring at her intently.

That probably meant these memories should stay buried. Stella raised her hand, and Clever went back to sleep.

“Unachievable, huh . . .” Rye said. “Man, being human is kinda sad.”

“It is what it is,” Stella said. “Anyway, stop brooding and eat some more.”

“All right, I’m gonna eat like there’s no tomorrow! You too, Stella!”

“I’m full. How many times do I need to tell you?”

“Come on, just eat!”

Some people were egotistical, slaves to their own greed and emotions. Others were like Rye. Humans were varied; that was why they were so interesting.