Nearly a week had passed since her talk with Atago. A time spent sleepless as the spoken words echoed endlessly throughout her mind. The conversation consumed her no matter what she did, disrupting the normal life she tried so hard to live. But, it wouldn't leave her head, that open secret she had been told, which only aimed to hurt her as much as possible.
"Bel, I don't know if you're hiding something, and frankly, I don't even care if you do. Let's just have your mother's death serve as a lesson for us all, so that none of us will step out of line again~."
Atago had said it in a voice filled with sweet fake love; Belfast would die. Her adoptive mother, who had taken her in, would get torn apart limb for limb in punishment for breaking the shipgirls' silent accords. Only for her corpse to be left abandoned way out to sea, never to be seen again. She had been frozen in shock when Atago said it, desperately using every last ounce of willpower not to let her true feelings show.
Because she could barely contain the happiness she felt at that moment.
But her eyes had betrayed her, or that's at least what she assumed had happened, due to the compliment Atago gave them right afterward. They were the window to the soul, after all, and no matter what one wanted, would they always reveal a sliver of truth. But that truth had been misunderstood by the bigger shipgirl, and that was the only thing that mattered in the end.
Atago thought her eyes had represented anger and despair, ones that were genuinely losing themselves in true anguish. And Bel couldn't fault her for thinking that, because that's all it ever meant, it was all they ever felt, so why should she be any different? Even if she was somewhat unlike the others.
Bel was thought of as a mere follower of another, an experiment that did not belong, which threw itself into the first thing it could call home. A doll that had no aspirations for herself, and therefore carried no danger by her lonesome. Content to aim for second place in this never-ending race for the Commander's heart. Something another shipgirl could never do.
But they were wrong.
Bel only acted the way she did from knowing what would happen if she didn't. It had been the very first thing she learned, like everyone else. But only because they all knew the rules did not mean that they also understood them to their core. The shipgirls needed to balance their desires with the restrictions set before them, never becoming too greedy in the face of certain death. Belfast, for example, couldn't. Becoming the only flaw she had as the otherwise perfect head maid.
And outside it all was Bel, who played the act of an innocent little girl from the very moment she was born. She took no part in the endless fighting the shipgirls created and she never pursued any advances towards the Commander herself. She lived away form the others' hell and had slowly been accepted as an outsider because of it.
Her gamble had paid off, and she wanted nothing more than to jump in glee.
The others thought of her as a mere pawn, making only Belfast punishable for the transgression they had both committed, creating the perfect ending she had worked after for so long. It had become a victorious delirium for Bel, one which few things would get her out of. But pain still certainly would, as a small yelp escaped her lips.
An electric feeling shot through her senses as her skin got pierced. She had gotten pricked by a fair rose's thorn as her gloves once again failed to protect against the familiar pain that slowly followed.
Her mother had tasked her with caring for several small gardens outside while she inspected a part of the royal navy dorm Bel had already cleaned. It was an easy job if she hadn't been ordered to keep her white gloves on, as it would also be an examination of her skill in keeping them clean in an otherwise dirty environment.
She was told that her appearance always needed to be dignified and perfect in order to carry the royal maids' garments, but it would seem that she wasn't quite there, judging by the red liquid that slowly spread throughout the white silk of her glove.
She would've cursed if she was old enough to do so, even if she was a pristine lady at heart. It had reached deep down enough to draw blood, and now all her hard work would be for naught. How careless could she be? She had won a battle, not an entire war, and still celebrated like a drunken general.
Bel had built a reputation of perfection like her mother, and any mistake now would only bring uncomfortable questions and presumptions for later. If the others somehow got the idea that her way of life until now had all been an act, even if it was unfounded. Then her head would be the next to roll without question.
Bel stared down at the rose held in her open palm in disgust. She needed to be better, she wasn't yet perfect, and that wouldn't do. This had been a minor hiccup, but it paved the way for far graver mistakes. And so she decided, clenching down on the rose with all her strength. It was a self-induced punishment and a cover for what had transpired. She would never let them uncover her act, no matter what.
Her eyes were resolute as she tightened her hands down on it for the last time, showing no emotion except cold apathy to what was happening. She had learned that a lady should never cry for petty reasons, only to let them fall when she felt it absolutely necessary, and this was no such time. Because if she didn't take this seriously, she would never become a lady worthy of her Master.
Belfast stood alone inside the empty foyer of the Royal navy dorm, studying every inch of its spotless interior. It was here that most foreign filth would find its way in, not just small parts of dust and grime but also the real dangers to their life. It was her duty to make sure they never stayed, along with the rest of the maid corps, so that the life of the Commander would be preserved.
Her little Bel had received the privilege of cleaning here today as she neared the end of her training. And she had done a beautiful job, living up to both her name and class. It has been like this for some time now. Vigorous inspections, one after the other that showed no signs of Bel slowing down in her strive for perfection. Perhaps it ran in their shared genes?
Belfast absentmindedly walked by a window frame, dragging two fingers along its smooth surface to see if any forgotten dust would be revealed. Still, as she gazed upon her gloves, they once again showed nothing but undisturbed white silk. How proud she was of her own guidance, seeing its result over and over again. It proved to her that the other maids had failed to reach perfection, not her methods to teach it.
She mulled over for a second if Bel had earned to be without punishment today but quickly disregarded it. This was something more than reaching perfection. This was so she could break the little shipgirl completely.
Her tutoring had long ago gone beyond mere training, though her methods had proven effective in that as well. No, this was her retribution against the one that had wronged her the most; the vile Siren that had carried her face.
The first kiss she and the Commander shared wasn't even with herself. It sounded so bizarre when she said it aloud, like reality had morphed into a joke that only aimed to humiliate her. And even though she had beaten that harlot, securing her place beside him once again remained the bitter taste of defeat.
She had devoted herself thereafter in relinquishing it the only way she could; Bel. The little shipgirl that wore her face just as the Siren had done, making her fantasies of sweet revenge easy to live through, which in the end had become both a blessing and a curse.
She was the perfect substitute when her spite could not reach the Siren forces beyond the island. In fact, she had been nearly too perfect. Belfast couldn't punish her hands like before because of it, she could barely even face her at all. The simple pleasure of seeing her own face twist in despair while she imagined that Siren wench, it had just become too much for her to control.
Belfast paused her inspection and steadied a deep breath with a hand on her chest. She desired to inflict more pain on Bel even now. A feeling she fought every second of her day, a feeling she often lost to too.
She took a last look around the room. It would seem that Bel had once again failed to disappoint her, at least in the foyer. A disappointment in and of itself for the larger shipgirl. However, there would be plenty of more time to find faults elsewhere. Bel had been appointed several rooms and gardens, and when one also accounted for the meager time she had received to complete them, where the cracks of her false perfection sure to show.
A few knocks from the front door caused Belfast to pause her ponderings. The first sequence of knocks had filled her with curiosity, but as the second round came mere seconds later, were it quickly replaced with annoyed anger.
"Come in."
A firm welcome and a pointless gesture. It was an open dorm, after all. Belfast couldn't stop anyone from entering or leaving even if she wanted to, even with the ongoing cleaning procedure that was taking place.
Though it would seem that her welcome had truly been worthless as the seconds slowly passed her by. There was simply no reply in return, no thank you, no affirmation that they had heard her, or even the simple act of opening the door to enter. Did she really need to do everything herself?
Her walk to the door was neither fast nor slow, buying just enough time for her to put on a happy mask. She did not know who was behind it, and there would be quite the disaster on her hands if the Commander were the one at the end of her deadly glare.
But neither Commander nor shipgirl was present as she opened the door. There was no one, in fact, making it seem like she had been welcoming only empty air. That's at least what she had thought until she looked down, spurred on by a loud cry.
"I'm so sorry, Mother!"
Before her was her bowing daughter holding her hands out, blood slowly seeping through her now destroyed gloves. The image was so absurdly shocking that she could only stare down for a moment, the smile she had slowly leaving its place as she understood the situation. But what ultimately took her back to reality was a single drop of blood as it fell to the ground, staining the clear and clean rock slab below.
"Bel… What happened?"
It was a harsh question that showed no compassion towards the daughter that so clearly hurt. Bel's punishment had already been set in stone, so why bother caring for her at this time as well? She would soon be screaming in pain anyway.
"I made a mistake… And I corrected myself for it."
Belfast went down on a knee as she meticulously took her own gloves off, undoing the straps and ripping them off in a fierce show of precision without even looking. She soon after took both of Bel's hands in her own, studying them with a brutal efficiency that did not care about the complaints of pain from the little girl before her.
"Did you now? Well, get inside and clean yourself up then… And make sure you don't dirty anything else while you're at it. I'll be with you soon."
Bel ran away after giving her another bow. A quick one this time, not as deep or formal, nearly skittish in nature as she made her way inside, leaving Belfast alone at the now open door.
A mistake, was it? Now that was a long time ago, especially as her dear daughter fought long and hard for the pinnacle of her perfection as well. But everything had two sides to it, and this was no more different.
Her own perfection was always a sort of pride for Belfast, something that no one but herself could achieve. So to see someone else meet her standards, even if they were her counterpart, still stung.
It felt like she had lost one of the few things that made her stand out as unique, something one needed if you desired to have the Commander's attention. His first kiss had already been stolen by someone who had worn her face, and now her daughter slowly took away the one thing that made her special whilst doing the same. It all created quite the conflict within her.
On the one hand, was anger towards Bel for her failure in accomplishing a simple task. On the other, however. Came the relief of not yet being matched.
Her little girl had tremendous potential, learning every minute detail that no one else would have paid attention to. Nothing could compete against the amount of knowledge she could partake in from one day to the next, and it scared her tremendously.
It had been two months since Bel was first created, barely one since she officially started her training, and the progress she had made put her above even some veterans of the maid corps. It wouldn't be long until even someone like Sheffield would be surpassed. So for Bel to make a mistake now created more questions than her relief could play down, forcing her only to investigate further.
Belfast could feel her eye twitch every time she walked by a small bloodstain covering the ground, and every time she did, she fought herself not to stop and clean. But her patience was running thin, and Belfast didn't know how much more she could bear to ignore.
Bel's wounds had been rough and uneven, not created by something as delicate as a knife. But the question of what and where still remained. There were several parts of the garden the small shipgirl had the privilege of taking care of today, and Belfast took great care in inspecting each and everyone until she found the one she was searching for.
A brilliant bush of roses, fine and trimmed. Though with an unfinished cleanup around it. The tools that Bel had used were still on the ground, and a pile of sick roses that had been cut off laid just a distance away. At the top rested one dyed in blood that had long since dried, from the petals to the lowest point of its cut-off stem, making it seem abnormally healthy compared to the withered flowers beneath it.
But as Belfast gazed around at the mess around her feet, she could feel something snap inside her. Even the walk here had been slow self-torture in and of itself. This whole situation had been one big mess, and she needed to fix it.
So Belfast disregarded the crushed and bloodied rose for now, putting the cleanup of everything that had yet to reach perfection far and above in priority.
She took care of the many tools that had been left behind, putting them in their designated spot inside their toolbox. She then tended to the flower beds that had not yet been completed and cleaned up every fleck of blood until the stone slabs they once sullied were as pristine as the day they were created.
It was her job as the head maid to right the wrong of any failure the others managed to create in their field of duty, and this was no different. Bel had failed, and she would correct it, both task and shipgirl. Nothing would stand in the way of her perfection, not even her beloved daughter.
And soon remained only the one stained flower by its lonesome, carried in the pondering hands of Belfast as she slowly made her way back to the dorm.
The rose itself wasn't that interesting. It belonged in the trash like the rest of them. It was only what it represented that carried any meaning. But as she tried to dismantle it with her eyes came no answer bare. She had no idea what that mistake was. The flowerbeds that Bel had serviced were spectacularly taken care of like usual, and besides the unfinished cleanup of the tools, was nothing out of the ordinary. So that only left Belfast with the original reason for the assignment to work with; testing Bel's ability to keep herself clean in dirty environments.
Bel's uniform had been spotless when she entered. Well, except for her gloves, which showed massive amounts of contamination. It was plausible for dirt to be hidden behind the blood that covered them as well. There was no denying that. But Bel hadn't been digging through the soil underneath, she had been tending to roses above. That made the possibility of her getting careless and ripping her gloves more likely.
A simple yet preventable mistake. The question now was why it had happened today in the first place. Belfast was incapable of perceiving this as merely regular carelessness. No, this was something more than negligence. It wasn't her first time in the gardens, and she was now used to this work. Something had to have distracted her, and there was several things which could be capable of that.
Belfast's gaze turned dark as a particularly unpleasant thought struck her. This needed to be investigated… for their family's safety and future.
Bel hummed a quiet tune as she finished bandaging her palms. She knew punishment was waiting, though she did not care for it. It was what she deserved, after all.
The flowers in the garden outside didn't matter to her, nor did the other chores she had been forced into. They were another's perfection, not her's. But they were also a lesson, ones that Bel still valued despite her hatred for the one who taught them. No, the one she had failed today was only herself, as she jeopardized her future with the Commander.
An internal sigh echoed throughout her mind. Why did this need to be so complicated? Even when everything went her way was her one goal still so far away. The news about Belfast's imminent death nearly drove her into a frenzy. So the thought of getting even closer to her goal was sure to make her lose control, and she couldn't allow that to happen, even if she wanted to enjoy its fleeting delights.
Bel knocked herself lightly on her forehead, trying to dispel her spiral into depression. This was supposed to be a happy moment after all. The small mess she had left outside would keep Belfast away for quite a while, and she would have plenty of time to enjoy herself in this calm before the storm. This was the moment to get lost in her fantasies, not to think about the nightmare that was reality.
Belfast had given her the gracious privilege of having her own room. Something the small shipgirl thought was more of a convenience for her mother than herself. But it gave her some time alone, making smaller projects more manageable. Opening a drawer revealed one of them; a small line of different outfits. Well, to call them different would be quite the overstatement since they were all modifications of the standard maid uniform she wore every day.
There was barely any done, however, as it took quite the effort to get hold of both tools and material. Though that hadn't stopped her from completing a few, one being a meticulously sown dress from a maid's black undergown. She had made it plain and simple, removing any extravagant details. Even the blue-white stripe had been removed, remodeled into a small ribbon, one she would tie up her hair with. It was a dark, sorrowful dress. One that would soon be her mourning garb.
Bel enjoyed putting it on every now and then as she fantasized about its place in the future. Even wearing it now as she pranced around in front of the mirror made her feel like a giddy little child. And just looking at herself in it made her ego swell. She must surely be the cutest cookie this island had ever seen! Yep, the smallest and cutest, that's who she was! Sweet as sugar!
The absolute opposite of what she needed to be to get the Commander's attention…
It had been a difficult pill she had to swallow, even though it was plain to see for everyone else. She was a child surrounded by adults, her greatest strength and weakness. And truth be told, it had been the only reason she has gotten so far as she has now. But it didn't take away from the fact that the Commander could never love her in the body she had now, at least not in the way she wanted.
She had tried to see if his heart would flutter towards her, praying that the Commander hid a dark secret underneath his kind appearance. How he perhaps could also see her as a potential woman to make love to, even though she looked the way she did. But every time their eyes met, no matter how much she played to her strengths, had the Commander never given the signal that that could ever be the case.
It was a sad revelation, though not one that had been entirely unexpected. Though he was only human, perhaps he could be conditioned over time? A sweet little idea, she thought, one that only the future could tell if it would work or not.
A silent buzz inside her mind disturbed her loved-filled fantasies. Belfast was coming, and she could no longer dawdle. She quickly changed back to her maid outfit, leaving her room behind as she put on her sugary cute mask once again.
She would continue to play on her little gamble, to foster the image of this happy little family until its unfortunate end. Because there were some things only a cute and small girl like her could do…
Authors note's
The perfect maid that would fall from her only flaw, and her daughter that was so sickly sweet that one would puke from her presence. After the next chapter will Operation Siren start! Who shall perish and who will rise? And what could the plan from those that observe from the shadows be? The climax of the story's first arc will soon begin!