"What?"
The rocket chair refused to launch. Even with the final survivor as its passenger.
He stepped closer to inspect the furniture, scrutinizing it from head to toe. There was nothing wrong with it, at least from what he could see. Except for the clock going silent.
So why wouldn't it fly?
"What...?" He hated repeating himself, it sounded ridiculous. But this was getting on his nerves. He had no time for this!
With barely restrained anger, he demanded through gritted teeth, "Why is it not flying yet?"
He hid his face behind a hand, his cane digging through the soil under his weight. He was no artificer. He didn't know how to fix this.
"I... I don't know..."
He looked at the survivor strapped on it. He wasn't expecting any answer and hers didn't help at all. But it wasn't decorous to snub a response.
"It appears to be broken, mademoiselle," he replied, fixing his glasses with a push. "Have you any idea what caused this?"
"Um..."
Seeing her as distressed as he further irritated him. Why did this game have so many problems?
"The maintenance! They announced about maintenance in 10 minutes or so... Maybe it has something to do with this?"
He frowned. He had been waiting for this maintenance the whole day just so he could have some time for himself.
"I am well aware. However, the maintenance should be able to postpone matches and this one should be no exception. If anything, this battle would've been considered null or you should've flown back to the manor by now."
"You're right..."
"Of course," he scoffed, pacing back and forth in front of the rocket chair, cane behind his back. It was the only way to keep his temper in check. "But if your hypothesis were correct, then apparently the rocket chair stopped working because of it." He looked in the direction of the Exit Gates. Unsurprisingly, much to his chagrin, the beacons weren't lit anymore. "And the Gates are affected as well."
"What?" she gasped, showing a hint of panic for the first time in the match. "Does that mean... the Gates won't open, then?"
"Apparently." He conjured up the console (he still didn't understand how it worked), a semi-translucent scroll floating in the air, writing an eloquent 'Surrender' with a snap of his fingers.
His ire rose when the mystical ink dyed a bloody red, unable to carry his command.
"I-I can't surrender, either!" came her harried voice. She had also summoned her panel, one smaller than his but still appearing as the same thing.
"Brilliant," he muttered under his breath, waving the console away with a flick of his hand. "If the dungeon itself won't cooperate, then..." He turned around to start hunting for the said exit until she halted him.
"Um... If you'd be so kind, sir, can you please help me get off this chair?"
He flinched. Did she just ask him to rescue her from the rocket chair? Him, a hunter!? It's just about the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. Enough to warrant his wrath.
He narrowed his eyes at her, something she probably wouldn't see, conveying his annoyance at everything happening. She met his gaze, eyes pleading with a melancholic smile on her lips.
Something in him was moved and softened his heart. He felt ashamed of himself—she was just a frightened girl victimized by faulty mechanics. He shouldn't get mad at her like it's her fault. Well, she did give him a hard time this match but neither of them knew this would happen, anyway. He just needed to send her back to the manor if he wanted to get his sweet rest.
So he sighed. "Of course..."
He was no artificer, craftsman, or mechanic. But he did create his camera with his own hands. It would be a lie to say he didn't know his way with the simplest contraptions.
So it only took a 'few' minutes for him to realize that he needed to somehow dislodge the restraint keeping the survivor in place. And after another 'few' minutes, he finally removed it after forcing the screws apart with his trusty cane. The restraint fell to the ground with a loud clang.
"Finally!" he sighed. "That took longer than expected." He bent down to unfasten the straps on her wrists. The whole experience of dismantling a rocket chair felt strange and his anger took a back seat in the meantime.
"T-thank you," she replied, wringing her wrists to relieve them of the numbness. That must've been the longest time she'd been bound on a rocket chair.
Again, it reminded him of his ire. He wouldn't have had to break one if only...
"Follow me." The hunter interrupted his line of thought to focus on the matter at hand. "I know where the dungeon is."
The survivor sprang up to her feet, cane in one hand as she silently obeyed him. He was glad that of all the survivors, it was her that he was stuck with.
And also pleasantly surprised that she was this docile, contrary to what the others said.
"Brilliant!"
The dungeon was clamped shut. Mocking them with its steel hatch unbudging.
He knelt to grasp the handle. Of course, it wouldn't open. "What was I expecting?"
She said nothing, but her face reflected his disappointment with a bit of panic and fear. Her cane tapped the hatch, receiving a resounding clang in response.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a withering sigh as he got up. "Well, there we have it. Stuck in this cursed place for five hours."
He briskly turned without another word, sauntering off to the seashore crates to sulk by himself.
This was supposed to be his day off. He only wanted to play one match as exercise. Then he'd spend the next remaining hours resting and meditating in his room. He hadn't heard of anyone getting stuck in a match because of this maintenance. He supposed that they could try opening the Gates but if Oletus wanted it, it could've whisked them back already. And he wasn't in any mood to attempt something out of his expertise, especially after the rocket chair earlier.
After dusting off one of the sturdier coffers, he sat down with a sigh, head resting against the statuette of his cane.
Now, what to do?
A rustling noise alerted him of his companion's presence, now presently sitting down on her crate an arm's length away.
He looked at her—really looked at her. The little lady had a rosy appearance, reminding him of spring and morning doves. She was a creature of charm, a dainty doll too innocent for this cruelty of a game. She looked even more innocent in white; it fit her so well that she should wear it more.
He looked at himself, wearing the colour black. A gaudy ensemble of D.M. against her elegantly simple Clio. They couldn't have been more different.
"You don't have to follow me everywhere, you know," he clarified to gain her attention. "I'm well out of ideas."
"I feel the same," she replied, voice soft. "I'll go if I'm disturbing you."
"I didn't say that you can't stay, either." He set aside his weapon as he leaned against the pile of crates behind him. "I'll merely bore you with my company. I'm not in the mood to talk right now."
"You're not boring at all," she insisted, a small smile on her lips as she peeked at him. "And thank you for letting me stay. It's so quiet when I'm alone..."
He regarded her with an indifferent glance. He didn't mind her at all. But if she were a stunner, he'd lose his patience sooner than the Camera World's collapse. The Mind's Eye was a more welcome alternative than the rest.
"Suit yourself."
Silence...
The calm waves were a melodramatic sound that pervaded his ears in a dulling delight. The dimness of the sky and the overall melancholic ambience of the place simply made him drowsy. Too drowsy that he was starting to nod off.
What he'd give for a bed... or even a couch would do. Somewhere he could rest his tired body for just five minutes. He covered his yawn with a hand, throwing a glance at the lady beside him. She seemed to be in deep concentration, peering at the horizon or the land beyond that. Sitting as primly as a lady should.
Perhaps he should start a conversation... But she looked so calm and at peace, he wouldn't be rude enough to disturb her reverie.
He struggled to keep his eyes open, fixated on her visage. Maybe he should start a conversation...
...
...
The calm waves were a pleasing sound that soothed him into a deep slumber. The melancholic atmosphere no longer bothered him and he found the gloomy background a perfect contrast to the whiteness canopying his vision. The softness under his head was a luxury he never expected to have.
He blinked slowly. Soft...?
It took him a while to realize that he did fall asleep. That he did fall from his perch, landing right on top of...
Joseph's face beamed red as the realization hit him. He found himself lying on her lap. On her lap.
...?!
He blinked again, unmoving and not daring to move. His heart jumped to his throat, anxiety not unlike what he felt when he would be losing an important match. This was embarrassing. Embarrassing! Did he really fall down and landed on her lap?!
He looked up to see her face. She was still looking beyond the horizon, just as he remembered she was doing before he lost consciousness. But now, there's a dusting of pink on her cheeks.
He screamed internally.
He shut his eyes tight. Breathed in deeply to relax his nerves. The most obvious thing to do was to get out of this scandalous scene immediately and apologize for his unseemly behaviour (even if he had no control over it!). Hopefully, she wouldn't babble about this to anyone or his pristine reputation as an immaculate gentleman would be ruined.
Suddenly, she looked down, at him. He froze on the spot, feeling his face turning the same colour as her pinker cheeks. Did she see that he's awake now? Should he say something?
Never had he felt such anxiety under a woman's scrutiny. Why was he even feeling this way?
Her hand moved. It was petite, like the wholeness of her. He wondered how tiny it must be against his own.
Then slowly, she lowered her hand down, down on his hair. A faint touch on the top of his messy locks softer than featherlight.
He gulped down. Loudly.
"Ah!" Quickly, she retracted her hand, hiding it behind the other. Her cheeks were aflame with embarrassment and he couldn't help but admit how much cuter she looked.
"Y-you're awake! You, you fell asleep on my shoulder then you started falling that I had to m-make you lie on my lap!" she went on in a nervous spiel. "I didn't have any bad intentions! I just didn't want you to fall down on the ground."
He released the breath he didn't know he was holding. Seeing her all worked up was affecting him. "No— No need to fuss about it. I figured as much."
He took the opportunity to finally rise, bracing his arms for the effort. Except that he couldn't. His eyes went wide.
He couldn't move. Or rather, it hurt to move.
"You can get up now if you want," she timidly offered, wringing her fingers behind her back.
"Uh— Unfortunately, my body doesn't seem to cooperate." This was so embarrassing...
"What do you mean?"
"I can't get up," he managed out of his discomfort. Why was this even happening to him!? Pins and needles seemed to prick every part of his limbs that it was more hurtful to move.
"I'll help you!" came her worried voice which was followed by the most painful aid anyone ever gave him. As she tried to lift him by the shoulders, carefully, bolts of numbing pain shot all over his limbs.
"No!" he hissed. Seeing her visible flinch, he quickly elaborated as calmly as he could muster, "No, it hurts more. Please put me down."
Her ready compliance made him even more guilty and ashamed.
"If-if it isn't too much to ask, circumstances being..." It was so embarrassing but he needed to say it out loud for his own sake. "May I... stay..."
Thankfully, she was a bright girl. Her eyes lit up in understanding, lips upturning when she'd gotten the answer right after their eyes met.
"O-oh... Of course." She sat up a little straighter, face as red as wine, though he felt that she wasn't as bothered as he assumed. "Is this alright with you? Do I need to...?"
"No, this is fine." It was most certainly not but he had no choice. Managing to move a hand, he pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled another deep shaking breath. "Just stay as you are and... continue what you were doing."
"Okay..." Thankfully, she was kinder than he expected. "Let me know if you're uncomfortable."
He nodded, internally fuming as he hid his face from her.
