Before Gensokyo
The dark clouds had spread across the moonlit sky like ink blotching in water.
Hong Meiling walked the perimeter of the mansion, the dirty moonlight painting her green dress blue. It was an unnecessary patrol—she could instantly sense malign intent in, around and beyond the mansion—but it gave her body something to do, something to distract herself from her thoughts.
She was loyal to Remilia. The mistress of the night had beaten her handily—and, whilst that would have been enough to win over the Chinese girl's loyalty, Remilia had deigned to help her. She would never stop being grateful.
But the energy that generated from the household these days was toxic. It agitated her. It angered her.
She tried to ignore them, the doubts and suggestions that appeared in her head. The poisonous mood that radiated off of the house put her off from completing her tai chi routine, and it ruined the execution of her duties. She didn't pacify invaders these days; she battered them. She didn't neutralise them; she vented on them. Gone was her grace and precision, replaced with the muddy rage that had held her hostage during the bad old days.
She would not run, she told herself that more often than ever.
As she told herself that for the upteenth time, she felt a presence leave the mansion's doors. The most familiar one. She rushed to stand to attention by the black iron gate, not wanting to be reproached. Initially, she thought to be nonchalant and distant; anything else would be met with impatient scorn.
Then she read the familiar, dwindling aura again and felt the brittleness there.
"Miss Scarlet?" she asked.
Remilia made a noise of surprise, turning her head. There was a suitcase in one of her hands.
"Gatekeeper." She sniffled.
Meiling saw how she kept her face turned, so as to hide the tears in one of her eyes. It was a childish impulse—Remilia knew that she'd been seen.
"What's wrong?" Meiling asked.
"Everything, apparently," Remilia managed, her bottom lip quivering.
The cold silence held for all of a second before Meiling gestured her over.
"C'mere," Meiling said gently. It would be one of the rare instances where she'd be so casual to her mistress.
Remilia let the suitcase lie where it was, crossing the flagstones to bury herself in Meiling's embrace.
Gone was the aspect of the moody, brooding mistress of the mansion, revealing the crushed and lonely girl that had only tried to protect them all. Remilia's hands were like claws, her subdued sobbing making the gatekeeper's heart melt.
"Patchy's s-scared of me, and F-Flan said she hates me after— after I said I was leaving. I only"—here was a hiccup—"I only wanted to keep them safe." She wanted to go on, but the words disappeared into Meiling's green sleeve.
"It's alright. It's okay," Meiling whispered soothingly. She kept saying it until things calmed down, and the two of them sat on the cold flagstones with their backs to the black bars of the gate.
Remilia told her everything. She told Meiling how the mansion was running out of magic, how Patchy grew weaker with the strain, how Flan scared her, how she worried daily about the remnants of the Impaler's court finding them and bringing their politics and war with them. She told Meiling how she harangued herself for driving on when they could have stopped, for passing on Valhalla, Avalon, the Neverlands, a score of fantastic places that she had found petty issue with.
And when they had found the perfect place—a paradise in the east—she had rubbed its caretaker wrong.
"So, you and Miss Patchouli brought us here to train?" Meiling said.
Remilia breathed out until her lungs were emptied. Her upset had stolen her energy. "To regroup, maybe that's the better term," she managed.
"I see," Meiling murmured, casting her senses back over the house.
She could feel the others. Patchouli and Koakuma were in the library, relieved but drained. Flandre in the basement… For once, the anger was gone, replaced instead with a deep sadness.
"Patchy is probably figuring out how to get us underway again, and I'm to learn how to comport myself," Remilia explained.
"So how can I help, Mistress?" Meiling asked.
Remilia turned to look at the gatekeeper. "Huh?"
"How can I help?" Meiling repeated. "I'm your servant, one that you beat fair and square, remember? I could escort you to the place you plan to stay, or I could find some things for Miss Patchouli? Some ingredients for her cauldron? She has one of those, right?"
"What brought this on?" Remilia asked.
Meiling gave her another one of her blithe smiles. "Why, I thought I was clear enough, Mistress. I'm your—"
"Yes, yes. You said as much, but why? Why do you want to help me now?" Remilia asked, not unkindly.
Meiling had come to miss that inquisitive tone.
"Honestly?" Meiling asked.
"Mmm," Remilia sounded.
"You're really cool when you get serious." Even in the murky half-light, Remilia could tell Meiling was blushing. Meiling grinned at her own phrasing, continuing even as it coaxed an embarrassed giggle out of the scarlet devil. "No, really! I think you're amazing. I was happy to lose our duel, our quest for the gungnir was my favourite adventure, and Patchy— I mean, Miss Patchouli," she pushed through her flustering as Remilia waved her on, "she's a little quiet, but she's nice to be around—and her winged friend too!"
Remilia's shoulders sagged a little, her glamoured wings invisibly brushing on the cold bars. "It's kind of you to say that—"
"What's more, you're a fluffball," Meiling added.
For a second, Remilia searched for offense meant, but Meiling's guileless smile put her at ease.
"Explain?" Remilia said primly.
"You care. A lot. S'why I lost to you in the first place," Meiling said.
"How do you mean? Did— did you let me win?" Remilia asked, mockingly haughty.
"Ahaha, no— Well, yes, but! I would've lost anyway," Meiling admitted, before going on. "Oh, and! You helped me. When I was… rargh." She raised her hands to imitate claws.
"Yeah." Remilia sighed.
"And you worry about Miss Flandre, and you don't go on rampages for power or riches like those bumpkins back in Transylvania. You're balanced in your wants, and noble in them too! You just want a house you can call a home, and you don't even want it for yourself, you want it for them."
Meiling banged her head dully against the bars. The mansion looming beyond.
Remilia nodded.
"...Unless you get bored. Then things go off the rails." Meiling changed her tune when Remilia gave her a mock-glare. "In an exciting and fun way, mind you."
"Uh-huh," Remilia murmured, going quiet as she stared out at the row of houses facing them.
"You're not alone, miss. Say the word, and I'll come running," Meiling said tenderly.
When she saw the smile that tugged at her mistress' mouth, the gatekeeper knew she had to finish strong.
So she shot to her feet. "So! If Remilia Scarlet, mistress of the Scarlet Devil Mansion has orders; Hong Meiling, the Rainbow Gatekeeper will do her bit!" she exclaimed and struck a pose that only the goofiest resident of the mansion could pull off.
She heard a happy little sigh behind her. "Thanks," Remilia said, a weary smirk conquering her child-like face.
Meiling grinned as she turned to face her mistress, expectant.
Remilia breathed in and out again, her easy confidence returning. "For now, make yourself available to Patchouli and Flandre. I will need you to soothe their worries and keep them safe."
Meiling's smile grew fierce at the command, her fist and palm smacking together in a salute. "You have my solemn vow. Not one intruder gets by."
Remilia shook her head with a chuckle. After Patchouli's frigid ultimatum and Flandre's hateful parting words, she felt blessed that it'd be Meiling's words she'd carry into the night.
Meiling snorted noisily as her tremendous stores of empathy got the better of her, her hands clumsily rubbing at her eyes.
"Hey! No crying," Remilia admonished, pretending to be serious.
"No, ma'am. Just grit in my eye, sorry!" Meiling's hands flew down to her sides, her eyes shining as she stood before the vampire mistress.
London, Day One
"Read all about it! The Ripper returned, or just another copycat?! Another girl found cold in Whitechapel!" The man had a hand cupped to his mouth as he shouted to the comers and goers outside Blind Beggar pub, his eyes lacklustre as the masses passed beneath him.
"I will take one!" A pale hand thrusted up in front of him. Startled, he looked down to see a girl who could be no older than ten staring up at him.
She wore an olive dress, her hair a surprising sky-blue, and crimson-red eyes that took his breath away.
"E-Eight pence, Miss."
Remilia nodded and the man selling newspapers felt a strange relief when her gaze left him. She turned to regard the pretty maid in the dull black dress at her shoulder.
Sakuya already had the money out and in hand. Remilia whispered a 'thank you' to Sakuya and threw her a smile before she paid the man for the paper. The maid was surprised how good it felt.
It didn't make her duty any easier, however.
"Find out what you can about this Remilia. Find out who she meets, who she travels with, who knows her and what she cares for. If my brother insists on taking her, it will be done expertly, and it will be done quietly."
"Sakuya, the parasol?" Remilia asked.
Prompted back into the moment, Sakuya straightened and gave Miss Remilia her shade.
"Something's on your mind," Remilia said, handing her the newspaper as they walked.
"My apologies. I will not be so distracted again," Sakuya replied.
"Not good enough," Remilia decided. "Tell me… Here," she offers the change in her hand, "penny for your thoughts. That's the expression, is it not?"
Sakuya shook her head at the proffered handful of change. "I was distracted, as you said. It shan't happen again."
Remilia frowned up at her. It was testament to Sakuya's world view that she expected some hateful insult or a haughty dismissal.
"Well, if you're not distracted, I suppose I could tell you what I'm thinking about," Remilia said. "Did you have parents, Sakuya?"
Sakuya blinked at the question, the crowd filling the gap in conversation with the dull roar of city life. "Why, of course."
"What are they like?" Remilia asked.
Sakuya thought about it. It had been such a long time ago. "They raised me as best they could. You're familiar with workhouses?"
Remilia shook her head, turning on her heel to begin her walk away from the public house. Sakuya followed her as she explained, "Well, a workhouse is a place where those families without the means to support themselves can live."
"What is it like?" Remilia asked as they moved through the river of weary men and women that moved to and from the tavern.
"It is something like a prison. Food is rationed, and children are expected to work." Sakuya remembered how her father had given her his share of the food.
"What kind of work?" Remilia asked.
"Breaking bones for fertilizer, stones for roads…"
"When's the last you've seen them?"
Sakuya furrowed her brow as she felt something tender well within herself.
"A year and a half. I received notices that they'd died five months ago. Within two days of each other," Sakuya said, volunteering the fact of their demise so as to dissuade the girl from the subject.
"So why are you here and not in the workhouse?" the unfazed Remilia asked.
Sakuya sighed, recalling the look on her father's delighted face when he'd told her the good news. The way her mother had cried—happy tears though they'd been—had frightened her.
"My father had made a friend during a job; someone who volunteered to take me in and find me a job as a maid."
"How did that go?" Remilia asked, glancing back to read Sakuya's expression.
Sakuya smiled fondly. "Mister Osbourne took me in. It was a bumpy start, but he became like a second father to me."
Remilia's eyes widened a fraction, her mouth opening. "Damn."
"Yes, I'm afraid so." Sakuya chuckled. "The same Mister Osbourne you met."
"He's a mean old man! A mean old man!" Remilia repeated hotly.
"He's troubled and possesses lofty standards, certainly, but I owe him for what little joy that I was afforded during my upbringing." Sakuya went on, "I am sorry that you got on the wrong side of him."
"Well, it's not my fault. As you said, he's a prideful piece of work!" Remilia cursed.
"If I may be so bold, my lady…" Sakuya began.
"Oho! Am I your lady now?" Remilia asked, shooting her a grin, before she gestured at Sakuya to continue.
"Were you particularly… humble, in your dealings with him?" Sakuya asked.
Remilia froze, her walk stopping as she looked back at Sakuya with a scowl. For an instant, Sakuya feared that she had gone too far.
"No," Remilia admitted. "I thought I needed to impress him."
"There's every possibility you asserted—inadvertently, I must stress—that you were, in some way, better than him."
Remilia was simply stunned.
"But I am, though," the scarlet devil insisted.
Sakuya stared back down at her.
"Oh dear." She sighed, despite herself.
Sergei kept them in sight, but only just.
The burden was growing, God love her. God love them both.
He adjusted his flat cap so it covered the top of his soft, sloe-eyed face.
This is Miss Remilia Scarlet.
"Da.." he muttered, seemingly to no one. He saw Remilia look round and up at the master's servant girl, the affronted pout making him grin.
She is an affront to God. Like the maid that still lives, she still lives. Why does she still live…
His smile faltered.
"I do not doubt you, o' angel, but may I ask how? She does not look it. The last two girls did not look very evil, either." His voice was thick with a smooth Russian accent and a smoker's depth.
Evil does not parade itself upon the face of the world; it lives in secret, plants its roots and only when it is ready will it bear its ungodly fruit for all the world to suffer.
The Russian nodded, hunching forward as he walked.
"Ach, but what rotten fruit did sweet Rosie bear towards anyone? She seemed to me to be a nice girl, from beginning to end," Sergei admitted.
As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt his shoulders hunch as the weight doubled.
A truly committed heretic. She clung to her façade of innocence to her death to shake you! Do you not know she would have murdered five men five years from now, had you let her live? My sword, my protector…
The Russian huffed as he walked the cobbles, keeping his eyes on his quarry. He saw Remilia wave a gloved hand dismissively at the master's servant girl.
"Ah. Yes, of course. I forgot that," he managed.
I know you did, the creature hissed in his ear as she crawled up his back, and that is why God sent me to watch over you, to guide those hands, those wicked hands of yours towards a righteous mission! You need me, and I need you, Sergei, sword of God, servant of God.
Sergei sighed happily at that.
"I am not worthy; I do not think," he said good-naturedly, feeling the weight lessen considerably. On that humble sentiment, parasite and host together stalked the scarlet mistress into the moneyed side of Whitechapel district.
It was easy to tell that they were walking into the richer areas.
The cobbles and pavements were cleaner, the traffic better dressed and sparser, with the only commoners present here to maintain the property of their betters. Most men were at work, most women at home—though those few that were present on the street were well dressed for wherever their errands took them, and often chose to ride in sleek, black, horse-drawn carriages that rolled over the cobbles. The houses here were impressive affairs; whilst most buildings further into London were squat, windowed blocks packed with multiple dwellings, each house here—with their sun-scorched bricks and dull-grey roofing tiles—could breathe. They had spacious gardens, wrought iron fences, lush greenery, trees bristling with leaves dotted the side of the road.
One house amongst them made them look squalid by comparison. The difference was so stark, it had drawn something of a crowd.
Sakuya's brow furrowed as Remilia began to hurry. She parted the crowd quickly, the men and women who obstructed her crying out at the forcefulness, set to protest outrageously until they saw it was a small girl pushing them aside.
The loaned servant girl hurried along, keeping her mistress shaded.
Past the barrier of ogling onlookers, she saw it. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened.
It was more akin to a castle than a house.
A scarlet castle.
It had a perimeter wall painted a warm deep-rose, a black-iron gate at least twelve feet tall, a grandiose clock tower, a tiered column of apartments with dressed windows that stood behind the east wing.
When had the city informed the public that they'd build this?! Had it always been here? Surely not! The style is grandiose—gothic, even. Entirely unlike the rest of the neighbourhood. Entirely out of time.
"I don't understand," Sakuya managed.
"Sakuya, the parasol!" Remilia shouted.
"Yes, Miss!" Sakuya jumped, following her as her mistress approached the gatekeeper.
The gatekeeper… Now, she stood out. A red-haired girl in a green beret and matching dress that Sakuya had only seen in story books about adventures in the Orient.
She'd been speaking deferentially to a portly, red faced man before she caught sight of Remilia.
Her face lit up.
"Miss Remilia, good morning!" she shouted, waved hard.
"You know her?" Sakuya asked.
Remilia turned around to look up at Sakuya with a devilish grin.
"Of course! Why, she guards my estate," Remilia said coolly.
Sakuya didn't even try to recover. She was stunned. She had lived in London for a very long time, doing her master's bidding on these streets. How had she never noticed this scarlet mansion?
"Your face is priceless, Sakuya. Would you like to meet your workmate?"
"Eh?" Sakuya managed.
"It's so good to see you, Miss Remilia! Have you done— Oh!" The Chinese girl's almond-shaped eyes diverted when Remilia shot her a look, going over to Sakuya. "Hello there! I've…"
Once more, the gatekeeper paused, but it was different. This hesitation wasn't born from awkward impudence.
Sakuya noticed that the Chinese girl was looking her up and down, and didn't know why. Was her surprise so unsightly? She hurried to compose herself.
"Sakuya, this is Hong Meiling, the mansion's gatekeeper," Remilia explained.
Hong Meiling bowed her head. When it rose again, the Chinese girl wore a smile so kind and sincere that it disarmed the maid entirely.
"I am deeply honoured to meet someone entrusted with my lady's life." Hong Meiling beamed. "I look forward to working with you—Sakuya, was it?"
Sakuya knew she should have protested. Her employment wasn't so simple; her name wasn't Sakuya; she wasn't supposed to be here, enjoying this charade. She felt pulled in two different directions. She felt her breath come in shallow gulps, knowing in her bones this was wrong. What she did was wrong—
"Hey?" Meiling caught her attention.
Sakuya watched as her off-hand was taken up in the gatekeeper's strong fingers. She almost backed away, surprised by the familiarity.
"However long you're staying, I hope we can be friends." Meiling hit her with another one of those easy-going grins of hers.
The servant girl could feel the anxiety abate at the mere sight of that glowing smile.
"I'd... I'd like that very much." Sakuya smiled breathlessly, feeling the edgy nervousness wash away.
Meiling grinned all the wider for that.
"Is Patchouli in?" Remilia asked, as though bored.
Meiling's chin swivelled to regard her mistress, even as she continued to clasp Sakuya's hand.
"She is! Ahhh... I have to ask." The corners of Meiling's mouth pulled apart a little more.
"No, you don't," Remilia said.
"I do," Meiling said sadly.
"I'm your mistress. Let me in," Remilia said hurriedly.
"Have you found a tutor suitable to teach you the rules of social etiquette practiced here?" Meiling said miserably.
Sakuya saw Remilia's sulking face.
The gatekeeper went on.
"Miss Remilia, I could have sworn you said to me that you were going to educate yourself here, that we might—"
"Yes, yes!" Remilia snapped.
Meiling visibly winced. "Then, what happened? Was there a set-back?"
"How can you tell?" Remilia asked with a voice laden with sarcasm.
Meiling's voice turned condescending, though she didn't mean to. "Oh, Mistress, with my ability to read—"
"I know, I know, I know of a man who can help me but he refuses to!" Remilia said in a rush.
"Oh. Well, that's no good! Tell me, where is he? We will speak to him together!" Meiling declared.
"That isn't happening. He's made his decision!" Remilia sighed, waving at Meiling to move aside.
"Then what are we to do?" Meiling asked, sounding beleaguered.
"Will you move?" Remilia asked, her fingers probing her own temple in exasperation.
"As soon as I have this man's name and address, rest assured, I will let you—"
"Umm," Sakuya finally piped up.
"Would you hold this, Miss Scarlet?" She asked as she offered the parasol, her voice brimming with energy.
Remilia looked at Sakuya as though she was mad. Meiling's expression… Sakuya would never forget the pitiable, puppy-dog look on the gatekeeper's face.
The scarlet mistress took the parasol, looking as though she might use it as a cudgel.
"I will return soon with written proof that Miss Scarlet has secured lessons with Mister Osbourne," Sakuya told them.
"What— No, you will not! Sakuya!" Remilia gasped, then shouted after her as the maid ran down the street.
The scarlet mistress and the gatekeeper watched her go, the both of them flummoxed by the maid's sudden inspiration.
"So what was that hand-holding about?" Remilia asked, her attention back on the Chinese girl. The humans began to disperse, none of them daring to approach Remilia and ask obvious questions about the scarlet castle suddenly in their midst.
Meiling looked troubled.
"Tell me what you saw in her. Meiling," Remilia said, gentler but still firm.
"She's in turmoil," Meiling said simply.
"Turmoil?" the mistress echoed.
"A turmoil I'm struggling to tease apart," Meiling decided with a grim expression. "She's like… a ship fresh from the storm. You've been at sea, Miss Remilia?"
"Once," Remilia said. And I'll be damned if I ever go out on the water again, she thought.
"She looks like she's under a lot of stress. The wood is splitting, cracking under the pressure."
Remilia's mouth thinned. "What's causing this pressure?"
"Something bad," Meiling said.
Remilia opened her mouth to unleash a sarcastic barb, but the troubled expression on Meiling's face stopped her.
"The ship analogy is an apt one," Remilia announced as she rolled the parasol's arm on her shoulder. "These humans are naught but ships, and I am the river. They will abide or be run aground, and have their secrets laid bare."
Meiling forced out a chuckle. "With you at the helm, I don't doubt that!"
Remilia threw her a sidelong smirk, gladdened that she could steady the gatekeeper's nerves.
"Why are we having this conversation, Miss Remilia?" Meiling asked.
"Hmm?"
"About the human girl. She's small, frail… She seems like she might fall over dead at any moment. I think she's nice, but…" Meiling left the question unanswered. She had recalled Remilia saying some uncharitable things about the very species she'd once belonged to.
Meiling watched her mistress as the young girl clearly mulled over the question, her red eyes staring at her feet.
"She was nice to me when no one else was. One good turn deserves another, and all that," Remilia decided.
"Hmm." Meiling smiled at those words. "I think you've got good taste. I can tell she's a good person.
"As are you, Miss." Meiling hurried those last words out in a hushed voice.
Remilia thought to respond sarcastically, teasingly, or just take the praise in stride. But it had been a stressful few days, and…
"I'm thankful I found you when I did, Meiling," Remilia admitted.
Another silence. One that grew awkward.
She turned and realised Meiling was beaming at her with a misty-eyed smile.
Remilia panicked when the gatekeeper's arms flew open and advanced.
"Not in front of people!" Remilia protested, raising her sharp fingers to defend herself.
Meiling's embrace never came. Instead, she perked up like a meerkat, staring down the road Sakuya had vanished from.
"Is she making good time?" Remilia asked.
"I… I don't know," Meiling trailed off.
Sakuya ran awkwardly, one hand holding up the black hem of her maid's dress so she could cover the distance more quickly. There was no concern for being spotted by the population; even if they had, they'd only see a flicker, an afterimage of her surfacing before she dove back through the stuttering still images that she could capture and hold in place.
As she caught her breath five minutes into the journey, she contemplated her visibility. She thought of her master, of how he had used this power. The pictures all around Sakuya shivered, stirring.
With a stab of concentration, she shuffled the fearful faces of his victims to the back of her mind. She focused on the now. The journey to Mister Osbourne's.
When she saw the door ajar and heard him roaring, she hurried inside the house that had once been home. She seized a walking cane from the stand that stood by the door. She drew the hidden sword stick within, hovering in the doorway to Mister Osbourne's dining room. He lay there, prostrated.
"Oh, help me up, will you?!" Mister Osbourne shouted at her.
Sakuya paused a moment longer. Satisfied that there were no apparent intruders, she went to help him up.
"Tea?" she asked him.
"Yes, blast you."
Sakuya endured the snapping and the snarling as she prepared green tea—she had weathered so much worse from rougher sorts, after all. As soon as the faded cup was in his hands, the hostility evaporated from his wizened face.
"Thank you, sweetheart," he whispered, his hooded eyes turning kind behind his gold rimmed oval glasses.
Sakuya smiled as she sat herself down opposite him, his hooded eyes going from drink to her and back again as he drank deep.
"Ahhh, horrid stuff," he managed, a single cough bursting through his talk, "but made sweeter by the hands that poured it."
"Not by much, though," Sakuya said as she sat there, attentive, almost eager. "How's the leg?"
"Oh. Feels as though a bullet went through it a few years ago," Mister Osbourne muttered.
"A very specific description there; the consequence of being a brave old fool, I daresay?" Sakuya grinned.
She could see that his hackles rose, but at the last moment she saw the smile that hid beneath his downturning moustache.
"Well, I am a fool, no mistaking that," he tutted, shaking his head.
"You sell yourself short, Mister Osbourne," Sakuya replied smoothly.
"Mmhmm. So, what's got you here, then? It can't have been just to see me; you were in something of a state," he prompted.
Sakuya paused, thinking how best to tackle this. With Jared Osbourne, she opted for honesty. Any other approach he would see through and disapprove of viciously.
Besides, she owed him that little.
"You met with a Remilia Scarlet yesterday—"
"No. Absolutely not," Mister Osbourne murmured, shaking his head with some feeling.
Sakuya's shoulders sagged. "Please, would you let me finish?" she asked.
"I won't entertain the prospect of tutoring her, girl. Far too much wrong with her, and I won't have my hand forced on this. You know my policy," Mister Osbourne said.
"Well, what's wrong with her?" Sakuya asked, forgetting herself.
Mister Osbourne's expression turned cold. "She's a liar and a braggart. Worse, she was arrogant enough to believe whatever slight she dealt me could be remedied by throwing money in my face. I won't tolerate it. I won't!" His voice had risen.
Sakuya wavered. Once upon a time, she had been in decent enough health to weather Mister Osbourne's prideful temper, but—
No, she had to do this.
"You and I are agreed that those traits are reprehensible, so let us take her to task, together! Tell me, what did she lie about?" Sakuya asked.
"Daughter of Vlad Tepes Dracula… Why, he's been cold for five hundred odd years." Mister Osbourne sneered.
"Then let us ask her why she lied!"
"Pah. What for? Likely some compulsion or some brattish tendency. Look, it doesn't matter. My mind is made up!"
"Why!?" Sakuya almost shouted the word.
Mister Osbourne was shocked. So was Sakuya. She knew she had to press on.
"Please, help her! Your intervention could be worth more than you know!" Sakuya said.
"I know the worth of my tutelage, girl. God love you, it seems I've failed you as a teacher, given the way you've stormed here unaccompanied, making demands of me on how I run my business, raising your voice—"
"Her life is at stake, Jared!" Sakuya fired back across the table.
Mister Osbourne leaned back, his hard eyes looking on at Sakuya. "The devil do you mean?"
Sakuya held his gaze, knowing that if she could, she would tell him everything that had happened since she left his roof.
Mister Osbourne's brow furrowed harder still. "Girl, tell me what you mean, what you meant by that."
Sakuya felt a twitch touch her right eye. To tell him the truth would endanger him.
"God…" Sakuya sighed, her breathing jumping. She did not want to fail Remilia. She did not want to go back with nothing. She did not want to see Remilia die. If she met with Mister Osbourne and concluded her business quickly, this foreign princess might leave England alive. Has she always been so compassionate?
The servant girl's fingers gripped the table edge.
"…Are you in danger, girl?" Mister Osbourne asked, his severe eyes glowering at her from behind his glasses.
Sakuya laughed breathlessly at that. "Please, with the skills you've armed me with?" she managed.
"Good God, you are. This Remilia brat, is she strong-arming you?" he asked.
She shook her head, numb. "No. I'd say she's the one who thinks she can save me."
"Save you from whom?" Mister Osbourne asked, agitated.
The servant girl declined to answer for a time. Then she tried to answer, until Mister Osbourne could hear her teeth chatter and see her chest heave with the effort.
"God in heaven—I'll-I'll give her one, one last chance! It's done. Easy now, easy... I'll— We'll discuss finances on the day, I'm sure she can match my prices.
"Just look after yourself, won't you?" he asked, his manner turning soft, only letting the servant girl leave with his written word when he was convinced that she was steady on her feet.
"One last thing…" Sakuya managed.
Mister Osbourne waited, his irritated scowl still betraying a hint of concern.
When Sakuya returned to the mansion with a slip of signed paper in hand, the Chinese girl remained, but Remilia was nowhere to be seen.
"Oh, she went on inside. You can go on in," Meiling said as she stared straight ahead with a strangely forceful cheeriness.
Sakuya hesitated for a moment, following the gatekeeper's gaze.
That's when she saw Sergei across the way, and her heart stopped.
"Miss Sakuya, the mistress is waiting!" Meiling insisted over her shoulder. Sakuya obeyed, hurrying fearfully behind the gate as it was closed behind her, wanting to cry out when Meiling turned her back on Sergei. It didn't matter if it was broad daylight; if there were other people around…!
Meiling's expression was serene as she stared back into Sakuya's face from between the bars.
"Go," she urged her softly. Sakuya hurried up the gravelled path that led to the Scarlet Mansion's doors, intent on fetching help as Meiling turned to regard the stranger.
Meiling's eyes landed on the Russian and never left him. He stood on the opposite pavement, wisps of cigarette smoke snaking from his nostrils. In shabby clothes and with slumped shoulders, he didn't look like much.
But then, Meiling supposed that was the point. Everyone else on the street was simple enough to look at. Some were in good health, others were dying. They were human, with their mortal wants, with their fragile conditions, moods and ailments.
The man in front of Meiling, though… His aura was cold, yet excited. Febrile, yet necrotic. Like a host of maggots swarming over a corpse.
"Hello, sir," she volunteered with a grin, her almond eyes watching him.
The man smiled forcefully. "Zdravstvuyte, hello, Miss," he said, a cigarette jutting between his fingers.
"Are you sick? You look pale," Meiling said.
"As pale as the girl in there?" Sergei suggested.
Meiling's smile shrank a little. "I don't believe you have an appointment," she stated.
"Nyet, no," Sergei simpered. "It is a pity, too, with the services I offer."
"What is it you do?" Meiling asked.
"I… help the sick. The troubled. Find them relief." The handsome Russian rolled the words over in his mouth before letting them tumble out.
"Ahh, that's sweet of you! Like acupuncture? Or do you talk them through their worries?" Meiling folded her arms.
"I excise demons, that…" He trailed off as he started to toy with his ear. He stood a little straighter now as he took a drag on the cigarette.
"Exorcise?" Meiling chanced, seeing how his aura suddenly strengthened—no, it grew more powerful but it became more unstable. Confused. Violent.
"No, no, to remove the demon, not to— Please be quiet." His voice dropped into an acidic growl, glancing sidelong at nothing as he crushed the cigarette between his fingers.
The hostile aura intensified.
"Back down, please. There are no demons here you can remove," Meiling promised, her voice all good humour as she felt the situation escalate.
There it was. The tension in his leading leg. The sudden shift in his weight. The feral snarl lurking beneath the Russian's docile smile as his other hand stayed low at his side. So many red flags that Meiling could see and sense and feel.
She was the target. That was good; none of the humans nearby were in danger.
It would be fast. She determined that he was armed with a blade—the lack of stress he planned in his striking forearm told her it was something that required little pressure to do incredible damage.
It would be brutal. He had no intention in forcing entry, or mugging her—why would he? The signals she received from him, the body language, the economy of energy… All of it told her that he meant to kill her.
Meiling blew a steady exhale through her mouth, her focus all for him as his discarded cigarette bounced off the cobbles.
The few humans that had stuck around cried out in astonishment as the Russian started forward.
Present Gensokyo
As Remilia and Patchouli entered the vestibule, they saw the pair of fairy maids that were staring out through a crack in the great front door, the sunlight painting a bright bar over their black and white uniforms.
"I wonder why they're fighting," one fairy said, unaware of their company.
"Hoshiguma and Meiling? Who knows?" the other said.
"Who do you think'll win?" the first fairy asked.
"The oni, easily. Meiling isn't that strong," the other fairy said, nodding hard.
"You seem awfully sure." Remilia's sharp words threw a panic into the fairies, rounding on their mistress in a flurry before training took over and they lined up.
"Did this 'Hoshiguma' threaten my personage, or that of my sister?" Remilia asked.
"W-We don't believe so, Mistress," the first fairy volunteered.
"And they haven't broken the spell card rules?" Patchouli hovered close with a tome in hand, her half-lidded eyes staring the fairies down.
"N-No!" the second fairy stammered out, withering under the discerning gaze of the librarian.
"Hmm. There's every chance Hoshiguma could win," Patchouli admitted.
Remilia glanced sidelong at her, the barest hint of an appreciative smile on his face.
"During this peace? Certainly. Though if anyone made a dedicated attempt on my life or that of my sister's, Meiling would quash them."
"As always, our mistress speaks the truth," a shadow up in the galleries announced.
The fairy maids began to sweat bullets as Patchouli and Remilia glanced up at the head maid who kept to the darkness. "If we were under siege, I'd rely on Meiling before I would a hundred oni," Sakuya added, her statement lacking play or warmth.
One of the fairies gulped audibly beneath Sakuya's silvery stare.
"Luckily," Sakuya smiled without enthusiasm, "we aren't under siege. What are—"
"What are your duties?" Remilia interjected, earning a startled glance from Sakuya.
The fairy maids looked to Remilia, then to the exasperated Sakuya, then back to Remilia.
"Well, here's a new one! Go and pour Miss Hoshiguma a drink. We'll invite her—she can be Meiling's plus one!" Remilia clapped her hands, pleased with her solution.
"Now set to!" Remilia snapped. The fairies bustled past her, rattling apologies off of their tongues as they went.
Remilia imagined that their words about Meiling's reliability would trickle down into the ranks. Since their Scarlet Mist Incident, the fairies had started to doubt the gatekeeper, even starting to ridicule Meiling's ability to perform her duties.
Remilia would have that put right.
Once they were gone, Sakuya pouted as she approached the bannister. As ever, she looked handsome and pristine in her white and midnight-blue French maid's outfit. "There's a rota for a reason, Mistress," she huffed.
Patchouli hid her smirk behind her book as Remilia rolled her eyes in exasperation. When there were guests or staff around to see them, those two were the scarlet devil and her faithful hound, poised, elegant and all the rest. But when upper management was alone, the masks would slip.
"You are more than welcome to seize back control of your maids when the clock strikes midnight, but for today, please, go and get ready to receive your guests!" Remilia shooed her.
Sakuya's chest rose and fell with a sigh, clearly unhappy with the order. But she obeyed, bowing modestly to the both of them before striding, almost out of sight.
"We made sure to invite the Hakurei, and the half-ghost as well!" Remilia shouted after her.
Sakuya paused in her footsteps, before going on.
"And Reisen?" Sakuya reappeared at the gallery's bannister.
Remilia playfully tilted her head. "Of course. I'm not going to risk insulting the lunarian or her people."
She could hear Patchouli scoff quietly behind her book, but Remilia kept her eyes on Sakuya.
She saw the spark in the head maid's eyes, and watched as she left the gallery more quickly now.
"You'd thrill at the chance to put Kaguya in her place," Patchouli murmured.
"You. Freeloader. You'll be holding my parasol for the duration." Remilia replied archly as they prepared to go outside.