Stupid Cupid

See disclaimer in part 1

Rosary awoke refreshed from her full night's sleep, feeling playful and predatory and only made more so by the knowledge that today it was White's Day at last.

Starting to grin in anticipation of the fun today would bring, Rosary stretched and fluffed out her hair. She supposed that it couldn't be helped that much, but she worried that all this sleeping on linen might be starting to show its wear and tear: Silk sheets were much better for your skin, and even though they'd cost her a fortune, they were what she always used at home. Still, as long as the negotiations were going on, Rosary supposed she'd have to live with the slight to her vanity. She and Roswell had to be there to support Yggdra and Gulcasa, after all—Lombardia was being particularly sticky and disagreeable despite the Royal Army's old ally Gordon's attempts to even things out, and many of the Temple Knights had looked like they were going to blow blood vessels when Yggdra had announced to everyone's surprise that she intended to return Orlando to the care of its original owners, the farmers and nomads who traversed its plains. As the Merian papacy had always been the staunchest supporters of the Fantasinian domination of the continental lands, it was going to take Yggdra and her allies quite a bit of wheedling to get the conservatives there to view Orlando as its own neutral territory again.

That was more important than a few tiny signs of chafing, wasn't it?

Rosary shook her head at herself and got dressed, deciding to tie her hair back with a band of pale pink lace rather than wearing her favorite hat today. She looked in the mirror, decided for a fresh-faced look instead of her usual light touch-up of mascara and foundation, and sauntered down towards the pub where alcohol was temporarily eschewed in favor of breakfast.

Sitting down and picking up the menu, Rosary pursed her lips slightly and looked at the list, trying to decide what she wanted to eat. Before she got too far, though, someone tapped her on the shoulder.

"Here you are, miss," one of the waiters said, placing a plate of pancakes in front of her. They'd been made just how Rosary liked them—big, fluffy, and golden, with a slight spill of syrup over them and the Sweetberry, peach slice, and half-melted square of apple butter placed in the middle of the top one.

"But I didn't…?" Rosary said with a frown, confused.

"Oh, don't worry, this has already been paid for," the waiter assured her.

Nonplussed, Rosary handed him her menu, then took a forkful of pancake and sampled it. Her eyes went wide, and she stared down at her food in shock.

"What's the matter, miss? You—don't like it?" the waiter asked hesitantly.

Rosary whirled around to him, starry-eyed and nearly in tears. "You have got to be kidding. These are sooo perfect! Please, please just do me one thing: Find the chef and tell him I wanna marry him!"

The waiter laughed. "Well, actually, miss, you can tell him yourself. He's right over there."

"What?"

The waiter pointed over to a table a little further away, where Roswell was sitting down with a few of his attendants, apparently deep in discussion with them about something on the menu.

Rosary gawked.

"What?!"

Roswell seemed to notice he was being talked about and looked over at her, the very picture of innocent confusion, folding his menu back up as he called to her, "Is something wrong?"

"Don't you 'is something wrong' me!" Rosary stood up and pointed down at those perfect pancakes. "You can COOK?"

Roswell pushed his chair back and stood up as well, looking anxious. "You don't like them?"

"N-no! Of course I do! I'm just surprised! Since when do you cook?" Rosary demanded.

"For a while now," he replied, a relieved smile crossing his face. "I've found that I like to. And—if you like those, you'll want to finish them before they get too cold, right?"

"Oh. Oh yeah." Rosary sat down, realizing how many people were watching them with interest. "Uh… well, thanks…"

"Don't thank me until you have the rest," Roswell said simply, following suit. "…I'm glad you enjoy them."

Rosary shook her head and went back to eating, amazed. Damn, he's a lot better at this than I remembered, she thought to herself. …White's Day and food.

Still, it wasn't as if she was going to complain. She loved pancakes.

Polishing them off and flipping a coin to the waiter for his service (despite his protests that he hadn't really done anything), Rosary headed back upstairs to her room to think. Just then… Roswell had seemed less like the distant, guarded man who was her rival in magic and more like the sensitive, kindhearted boy who'd been her best friend, so long ago.

When she entered her bedroom, Rosary found another surprise: A wide flush of pink and white roses sat in a tall glass vase on her dresser, with a small white card propped against its base.

Rosary headed over to the flowers and basked in their sweet scent with a smile before opening the card.

Happy White's Day, Roswell's slanted, scrolled handwriting proclaimed in steady black ink. Take a last walk in the garden with me before it gets too cold? Meet me at the door if you're interested.

Rosary smiled and shook her head, deciding she might as well indulge him and wondering how he'd managed to pull off this stunt in the short opening he'd had. This had obviously taken planning. Then she looked back at the message and stared at the last two words written there with a slight shock.

Love, Roswell.

"Love…" Rosary murmured, touching the word with a frown. Usually he would just have put "from" or something else, since it was to her. Knowing from experience that the more slanted Roswell's writing was, the more hurried he'd been, and taking note of the perfect forty-five-degree angle of his words, Rosary decided it had probably been a slip of his pen, so to speak.

But why would his first instinct have been to write "love"?

Weird.

Rosary fingered her rose brooch, the heirloom of the house of Esmeralda, and shook her head. Now wasn't the time to think about that. Doubtless Roswell was busy; if she didn't hurry down to meet him, he would assume she wasn't coming at all and leave.

And if not out of being busy, his low self-esteem would probably get the better of him and convince him there was no way she'd want to spend the day with him, and send him crawling back to his own rooms, hurt.

Damn it.

With a sigh and a shake of her head, Rosary found her fur-trimmed cloak and tied it on, rushing back out of the Royal tower. If she hurried, she'd probably be able to make it.

---

It wasn't as though Elena hadn't been expecting it some time today, but when she turned around and suddenly found Zilva standing right behind her, it still took her by surprise.

"Z-Zilva-sama?" she squeaked, going pink both from her beloved mentor's proximity and the slight shame at being snuck up on unawares.

"Elena." Zilva's pale gold eyes were calm, and she was smiling slightly. "I believe there's a matter for the two of us to discuss."

"Um… y-yes, Zilva-sama," Elena agreed with a quick bow. She knew that few other people were using the castle library at the moment, so it would probably be fine for the two of them to talk here.

"…I've reached the point in time in my career as head of the Imperial Special Forces that I must begin to consider naming a successor," Zilva said after a pause.

"But, Zilva-sama—" Elena protested, wide-eyed.

Zilva held up a hand to stop her, shaking her head. "Such is our fate, that our occupation comes with many hazards. It's rare to see a successful assassin much older than her mid-thirties—by then she will either have died in the line of duty, or stepped down to allow someone with fresh skills and sharper senses to take the lead. Elena, times are changing and the wars have subsided, but to let down our guard and expose His Majesty to needless danger would be folly. More so now than ever before, he is the hope of all of Bronquia, and the Special Forces will revert to its original function, as spies and gatherers of information to guard the Dragon Throne. He and the new Queen of Fantasinia must be protected at all costs."

Elena nodded. "…I know. Their Majesties are going to create a bright new future for us all."

"Yes. And for their sake, I must have my plans in order for the day I will no longer be able to serve them. I have served as mentor to all new recruits in the Special Forces, but rarely have I come across those who might be able to succeed me. That is why… I am very glad to know that Bronquia and Fantasinia are now allies."

"What do you mean…?" Elena asked hesitantly, confused.

"Because without that alliance, I wouldn't be able to propose to extend the network of the Special Forces to defend both countries… nor would I be able to name you my successor."

Elena went bright pink. "Z-Zilva-sama…!"

Zilva's slight smile grew. "I can think of none worthier, Elena."

"B-but…!"

"Don't protest. It can only be you, Elena… because you are the only one of my students capable of besting me in combat, and leading the Special Forces down an honorable road when I no longer can."

"Zilva-sama…" Elena shook her head, flustered. "But… it's far too early to start thinking of such things, isn't it…? I… don't want to think of a day when you won't be in command of our forces…"

"That's exactly why I've chosen you," Zilva told her. When Elena didn't try to object again, she removed a red band of cloth from one of the pouches on her belt and tied it around Elena's upper right arm. "This sigil, like my own, has been passed down the command of the Special Forces for generations. I received it from my teacher, and now I'm entrusting it to you… although for you, there's been a slight alteration added."

"…Alteration…?" Elena looked first at the black band on Zilva's arm, with the black dragon rampant of Bronquia's flag outlined in red emblazoned on it, then at the one now on hers. Next to the symbol of her cherished homeland was a newly stitched pale yellow firebird: Fantasinia's White Phoenix. "This… Zilva-sama…"

"I hope this is a sufficient White's Day gift for you," Zilva said with that slight smile of hers, reaching out and placing her hand on Elena's chest, right over her suddenly thudding heart.

"Zilva-sama…" Blush bloomed over Elena's face like a spring carnation. "I… I don't know what to say…"

"Then don't say anything." Elena complied, but her jumbled thoughts became one long, exultant squeal of mingled amazement and pure joy as Zilva leaned in and lightly brushed her lips against her student's.

She couldn't believe she'd ever thought this year's Valentine's Day and White's Day could go wrong—she was in heaven.

---

Roswell looked up, surprised, as Rosary came flying down the corridor to skid to a halt at the garden gates, huffing, her breath little puffs of white in the chilled air.

"Did I… keep you… waiting…?" the heir to the White Rose asked as she tried to get her breath back.

Roswell shook his head. "No. It's not as if I have anything of importance to do today, it's fine."

Rosary scowled up at him, pink-faced. "You suck. I can't believe I ran all the way down here to find you if you didn't have something else to go do. I swear, I don't know why I get all worked up for things like this."

"…?" Roswell just gave her a confused look.

"…Never mind. Let's just go."

"…That's so like you, Rosary," he told her with a smile, and offered her his arm. "Shall we head out, then, fair lady of the White Rose?"

"Oh… oh," Rosary's face flamed, and she shook her head vigorously as if to clear away the blush. "That's not fair! Don't just turn on the charm when I'm mad… now you've got me acting like Yggdra. Stupid Roswell!"

Embarrassed and irritated with herself for getting embarrassed, Rosary put her arm through his and clutched it tightly as the two of them headed into the chilly garden.

Though only a month ago this place had still been flourishing, the late return to summer weather was most definitely over, and winter was rushing in, right on schedule. The flowers and plants that still remained were caked in a sugary-looking coat of glittering frost; if the castle's weather mages were right and they were in for a dusting of snow later this week, this place would be a beautiful ice palace for a few days.

Then, of course, the cold would kill the last remaining blooms, and the garden would return to its annual sleep until the warmth of spring reawakened the earth.

As the two magicians walked arm in arm down the frost-dusted cobbled path, Roswell looked down at her with a regretful smile. "…I've really missed this."

The sad tone of his voice hurt her heart; for once she didn't try to put up a witty front and simply answered, "So have I…"

They lapsed back into silence, looking around the painfully lovely, dying garden. Rosary shook her head and thought to herself, So much we missed out on, so much trouble caused, all because of a couple of stupid artifacts, when this is what really matters.

The thought felt false, and Rosary knew in her heart that things had been falling apart between the two of them since long before Nessiah had left the Ankhs in their hands.

Memory resurfaced deep within her, painful and stark, bringing back things Rosary hadn't wanted to think about ever again—an agreement between friends that had seemed practical but had become something nerve-wracking at the last second; the rapid, frightened beat of Roswell's heart against hers; soft, unfamiliar black silk sheets; a moment of brief sweet pain; a split second when she'd felt like she was flying.

Their parents' disgusted rage.

"That time, three years ago…" Rosary turned towards Roswell as he hesitantly began to speak, not surprised that he'd been thinking the same things as her. "It was a mistake. We knew it was a mistake. If we hadn't—then maybe things wouldn't have gotten so… so out of control."

"We were just stupid kids back then," Rosary told him. "We didn't think about things, we just did them. And—because of that, you were 'free'. That was when you finally faced down your folks, right?"

"That doesn't matter," Roswell said stubbornly. "That argument would have happened sooner or later anyway. It wasn't worth the trouble you got into with your parents. We heard about it, eventually—the way they treated you after that was horrible. Besides—regardless of all our good intentions and practicality, the first time is supposed to be special, something you share with the one you love. It—whatever it was that we had, that broke it, Rosary. After what we did, and what your parents said… everything was just too awkward. We couldn't go back to the way things were."

"…Most of that was my fault," Rosary admitted slowly. "I—didn't want to blame myself for the pain I was in, so I blamed you, and I didn't give any thought at all to what you must've been going through. Roswell, you were way too sensitive back then, but it was only after that whole mess that you started playing with razors. And I tried to ignore all that, too. We just… did all the wrong things."

"Rosary, I'm sorry." He wouldn't look at her. "I've—wanted to say it for three years, but my pride has always been in my way. I'm so sorry. I just wish—but I could never ask you to forgive me."

"It wasn't your fault," Rosary insisted, slipping her arm out of his in order to squeeze his black-gloved hand. "We were too young to know better, and we made a dumb mistake and wound up hurting each other. The first time is supposed to be special. By not taking into account what we would go through afterwards, we sold ourselves short—we sold each other short. And so… I'm sorry, too."

"…………" Roswell looked down at her. "Is it… too late, even so…?"

"Hmm…" Rosary let go of his hand and walked off a few steps, looking up at the ice-blue sky. "…You know, once when I was reading a book of our ancestor Valois' poetry as part of my studies, I found this one poem that talked about friendship, comparing it to a garden. It said that it has to be taken care of and looked after, and that it weathers seasons just like one in real life. Roswell, maybe… maybe these past three years have just been like winter for us. Even though it's been hard, and a lot of what was between us got lost or broken… there's still something there, something that can grow. That's… what I want to believe."

"I hope you're right," Roswell said softly. "…I miss my best friend."

"Well…" Rosary turned back towards him with a crooked smile. "So do I. And… since it's mostly my fault that you're like this right now, I want you to know… I'm not going to screw up anymore. I'm not going to hurt you if I can help it, and if I do, I'll apologize straight off like I should. You've always been… the one of us who feels things, instead of sticking your foot in your mouth all the time, but… you used to be stronger. You were always the sentimental one, but… it's not like now, where you're so fragile it's like your heart's made of glass. So—from now on, I'm gonna take better care of you."

"Rosary…"

"If your heart's like glass now, then… I promise I'll protect it. I won't just wait until something breaks you, then stand around feeling bad while I let Yggdra and everyone else pick up the pieces. I'll protect you, Roswell."

"Rosary…" Roswell looked at her with a strange expression, then shook his head and smiled, looking faintly abashed. "…Doesn't this seem a little backward…?"

"This is a weird time for you to suddenly decide you wanna be all traditional and manly," Rosary told him, putting her hands on her hips and narrowing her eyes at him. "And let's face it, you need a nanny a lot more than anyone else in the Royal Army does, even Nietzsche, so I don't know where you get off acting ungrateful."

"Alright, alright." Roswell shook his head. "Forget I mentioned it."

Rosary rolled her eyes and pulled her cloak a little tighter around her shoulders, then walked back up to him. "We used to be friends, before we started making all our stupid mistakes. And—because I think we have a chance at that again if we try, I'll take care of you until you're back on your feet. Let's… have a fresh start, okay?"

"…………" In response, Roswell leaned in and put an arm around her shoulders, closing his eyes.

"Roswell?!" Confused and a little alarmed, Rosary turned towards him. He was smiling, though one cold tear clung to his lashes, ready to fall.

"Rosary… thank you," he said in a soft and husky voice.

Despite the cold, the two of them stood that way for a long time.

---

Kylier had barely wandered away from the company of Yggdra and Nietzsche when she ran into Nessiah in Karona's high-ceilinged halls.

"I was wondering where you'd gotten to," Nessiah told her with a smile, sounding pleasantly surprised. "So you've been hiding with your friends all this time?"

"What d'you mean, 'all this time'?" she retorted, giving him a playful swat in the chest. "And we haven't been hiding, either. Nietchan wanted to know more about White's Day, so we were telling her stuff while we were waiting for Elena and Flone to come back. Rosary said she wanted to spend more time with Roswell—who ever thought we'd see the day?—so it's not like we had much else to do."

"Regardless, I've been trying to track you down for a while now, and since I've finally found you, I've got something for you." As Kylier watched, curious, Nessiah extracted a small flat box from the voluminous folds of his robes and held it out to her. "It's been a while since I've done one of these—I hope it's enough to suffice?"

"Now you've got me feeling bad," Kylier said a little guiltily as she took the box. "All I did was give you the leftover cookies from what I gave Milanor. You didn't need to do anything fancy."

"But those weren't just any cookies," Nessiah pointed out. "You worked hard to be able to make them—you should be proud of your efforts. Besides, they were very good."

"Aww…" Kylier shook her head, embarrassed. "Stop it, you're making me blush. It was really no big deal."

"I could say the same here," Nessiah told her. "Go on and open it."

Still shaking her head, Kylier opened the lid and gasped, her eyes lighting up.

"Pretty!"

As she gaped wonderingly at the pair of bejeweled earrings sitting on a layer of black foam, Nessiah smiled. "I thought you'd like them."

"These are so awesome," Kylier gushed, carefully picking one out and holding it up to the light. From the sloped gold hook and two tiny chain links hung a line of four little jewels—two cerulean blue, the other two warm purple—and then a shimmery gold star that carried a multifaceted glint despite the fact that it was solid metal. "I'm totally impressed! Not only are these the cutest earrings I've ever seen, I don't think even Milanor knows my ears are pierced!"

As Kylier set the earring back down and took out the unobtrusive brass studs she usually wore, Nessiah's smile turned impish. "Well—I'd say I know you a bit better than Milanor does, Kylier. Remember, our souls were once linked, and even though all we could really feel then was our own pain at the violation of our minds intruding so violently on each other… we still carry residual spiritual impressions of each other."

Kylier nodded slowly. "…Yeah…" Her stomach turned at the memory; she'd felt a plunge of icy cold horror in her chest and then, without any warning, pain had ripped through her head like it had been splitting open. First her innermost soul had rippled like a shockwave, spilling dozens of jumbled old memories to the surface, and then there'd been the recoil and backwash of Nessiah's mind and soul into hers, and all the mind-shattering torment he'd ever suffered had fallen for all the world like leaden weight onto her body. After she'd been able to sort back and talk to Milanor and the others about it, she'd found that the shrill sound she'd heard over the roar of her own deafening shock had been Nessiah screaming.

It had been three and a half minutes of sheer hell, but… Kylier doubted she would give up the experience for anything. Without it, she wouldn't have her relationship with Nessiah, and that was worth a little pain.

After putting on her new earrings, Kylier made a face. "Now I feel really, really bad. Nessiah, you made these yourself, didn't you? And you went to all that trouble, when all I gave you…"

"I told you, it doesn't compare at all," Nessiah insisted, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Cooking is difficult for you, and you hate it. For me, making charmed accessories is easy, and it's something I enjoy. You struggled to learn something new, and I just did what I've been doing all my life. Cookies may not seem like much, and they disappear rather quickly, but what they represented meant a lot more to me."

Kylier hugged him. "Thank you…"

"Don't worry about it," Nessiah replied, returning the embrace. "Now, these are spelled for good luck and protection, so take care of them and they'll take care of you. In fact… why don't you test them out right now by heading out and trying to find Milanor? He's been looking for you with minimal motivation at least as long as I have, and I'm beginning to think that unless you chase him down, he'll never get to you."

Despite herself, Kylier giggled. "Are you two ever going to be able to get along?"

"Mmm… maybe." Nessiah grinned. "Once he gets off his high horse and stops attacking me on sight. …And once the fun of picking on him starts to fade."

"You're hopeless," she informed her friend, giving him one last squeeze.

"I know I am. Now—I hate to just run off like this, but it seems to me that Durant and Cruz will need some prodding to get things together and approach Yggdra, so…"

"Yeah, I know. Once you're done there, you better take a break, though," Kylier told him. "You've been wearing yourself out playing Cupid all this time."

"I know, I know. I will." He turned and left. Kylier stood watching as he went with an amused look on her face, even now not really sure how much of everyone's romantic success this year was because of him.

But then—she doubted that Nessiah would ever really be able to stop manipulating people. After all, that was just the way he was, and after living that way for so long, he probably couldn't change so quickly.

Well, just as long as he was acting in everyone's best interests, Kylier couldn't fault him for it.

Shaking her head at herself, she turned to head back in and make her excuses to Yggdra and Nietzsche. If Milanor was ever going to find her, she'd have to be somewhere pretty conspicuous.

---

Yggdra and Nietzsche were deep in discussion about the past White's Day presents the Queen had received in her childhood when the door creaked open to admit two former members of the disbanded Royal Army—the knight holding the new position of Queen's Champion, Durant, and the head of Karona's old archer squad, Cruz.

As the girls lapsed into curious silence and watched, the two of them turned to each other sheepishly and then looked away.

"You do it."

"No, you."

"But I don't know what to say."

"Neither do I."

"We can't just stand here."

"So say something."

"You do it."

"Come on, you wanna get yelled at by Nessiah again? Let's just—together now—"

"Is something the matter?" Yggdra interrupted, looking awkwardly from the big knight to the wiry archer. Both of them glanced at her, then looked away, embarrassed.

"Nietzsche knows, Nietzsche knows!" the undine announced suddenly. "This is for White's Day, isn't it? Isn't it? You're gonna give Yggdra her present now, right?"

"Nietzsche, hush," Yggdra said quietly, giggling.

Durant cleared his throat. "Ah—milady. This…" He and Cruz slowly brought out a beautiful array of brightly-colored flowers arranged in a wide, floppy woven basket.

"Oh!" Yggdra squealed and flew over to it. "Oh, how lovely!"

"Uh, this is from all us guys," Cruz said, scratching his head. "There's a flower in here from each of us. We didn't really have much idea what else to do, so…"

"Thank you!" Yggdra accepted the armful of basket and flowers, resisting the urge to squeal and bury her face in them to bask in the sweet scent. "Tell everyone I said thank you! Oh, they're so beautiful! They must be—"

"The last of the season, yes," Durant said, looking relieved. "We took what we could from the gardens and asked for the florists' assistance with the rest. We're very grateful that you took the time to think of us all this year."

"I love them," Yggdra gushed, giving in just a little and taking in a deep breath of the flowers' scent. "I'm going to go put them upstairs in my room right now! Thank you!" And off she went, practically floating with joy.

Durant and Cruz turned to each other and sighed in relief.

"Nessiah must've come up with most of that, right?" Nietzsche asked once she was gone.

Knight and hunter both hung their heads and nodded, ashamed.

Nietzsche giggled. "Humans are funny! Hmmm, maybe Nietzsche should try Valentine's Day next year. This time was a lot of fun to watch!"

---

"Uh, Kylier—"

She turned and broke out in a big smile, seeing Milanor coming up behind her with a very red face and a box tucked under his arm.

"Ah! Hey! I've been looking for you everywhere! Where've you been, you big silly?"

"I was. Uh. Um." Milanor shook his head. "A-ah, Kylier, can we just… go somewhere…?"

"Sure," Kylier replied, and ducked into an alcove. He followed her with a sigh. "And… what's with your hands, anyway?"

Milanor blinked at her, then looked down to the number of bandages on his fingers. "It's… it's nothing! I was… just a little clumsy the other day… that's all."

"…?" Kylier cocked her head to one side and gave him a quizzical look.

Milanor sighed and held out the box, clearly embarrassed. "Well—here. It's your White's Day present."

Kylier accepted the box with a smile. "Can I open it now?"

Milanor shrugged and looked around evasively. "…I guess."

Kylier balanced the box on her hip and undid the flaps, peering inside. Once she got a good look at the contents, she gasped in delight.

"Milanor, you didn't!!"

"Ah…"

"Oh myyyyy Goooood!" Kylier dropped the box in favor of what it had held, holding it up with a squeal. "So cute! It's so cute! I can't believe it! Ahhh, it's perfect!"

Milanor grimaced. "Damn that Nessiah," he mumbled under his breath. "Why's he always have to be right about everything?"

"Did you say something?" Kylier asked.

"No." Kylier knew Milanor would think better of repeating it. He knew she wouldn't let an unkind word be said about Nessiah without a fight, and would know that now wasn't the time.

"It's soooo cute," she squealed again. "And it looks just like Al! Milanor, where did you find it?"

Milanor looked first at Kylier, then at the green-and-bronze, button-eyed griffon plushie in her arms, then at a corner of the ceiling. "Well…"

Kylier gasped again, staring pointedly at his fingers. "Oh, no way! Don't tell me you made…?"

"Uh…"

"Oh my God. You can sew?"

Milanor turned red. "W-well…"

"No! It's amazing! I can't sew at all! And this is perfect, and you worked so hard even though you stabbed yourself a lot! This is so cool! I can't wait to show it off to everybody."

Milanor stared at the ground, obviously embarrassed. "Just don't tell them I… it's not manly, you know?"

Kylier rolled her eyes at him. "You are so weird."

"…whatever."

"Well… manly or not, I think it's cool." Shifting her new plushie in her arms, Kylier gave Milanor a quick hug, then took him by the wrist and pulled him back into the open. "Come on—let's go hang out for a while!"

---

Yggdra headed out into the hall from the Royal tower, finished arranging her floral gift to her liking, to realize that she had a guest—Gulcasa was leaning against the opposite wall, and from the way he straightened up when she took a few steps forward, he'd been waiting for her for a while.

"…Yggdra…" He shook his head, then looked at her with a serious expression. "Can I… talk to you alone for a while? There's something… I really need to tell you."

:to be concluded:

Notes on the text

Where the heck are Russell and Flone?: Uh… I'm trying to keep this story T-rated. I think that's all I'm going to say on the subject, okay?

Roswell can cook?: Hey, I think it's sexy. And I'm sure I'm not the only one.

MILANOR can SEW?: He has had to fend for himself for a while. That's kind of a skill you pick up out of sheer necessity, so why not?

Roswell and Rosary did WHAT?: He was 18, she was 16, they decided they wanted "experience" before they entered serious relationships, and decided they'd rather get said "experience" with a friend than some stranger. They didn't really consider what the emotional impact would be, and the event sort of estranged them. Plus their parents most definitely gave the two of them hell when they found out. Awkwardness prevailed, eventually becoming distrust and later dislike. And then Nessiah got involved, and we know the story from there.

Vegan?: Forgot to mention this last chapter, but it's true. Elena and Kylier are listed in the game as vegetarians and dislike eating meat. Vegans are generally somewhat stricter in what animal products they can and can't eat than vegetarians, and it differs from person to person. Some won't eat animal products altogether, which definitely makes their lives difficult. As far as we know neither Elena nor Kylier is in the super-strict vegan category.