Bourgeois was still haunted by the memory of that day. He could smell the blood on his clothes and the stench of death in the air.
He longed for the fresh sea breeze to wash it all away and cleanse his senses of the horror he had experienced.
That's why he couldn't let their deaths be in vain. The regret of being unable to do anything while feeling so many of his friends' lives being taken would always haunt him. He clearly remembers feeling the lives of his comrades fade into the air—one moment he could see their auras, and the next, they were gone.
He was supposed to look for their backs…
What kind of sniper can't even protect his own captain? Him.
Even if they're no longer a crew, even if his captain is dead, and even if he's no longer a pirate, he can still protect that one thing his comrades gave their lives for—the Stone of Dreams. They had lost the Stone of Eternity that day, but if both stones are kept apart, their true potential cannot be unleashed.
That man, if he can even be considered one, will come seeking the stone. After all, his plan cannot be completed without it.
With the help of the few survivors from his crew, they founded the Kingdom of Bourgeois.The kingdom was designed to hide the stone where no one could find it except someone who knew its location.
For generations, the secrets of the kingdom's very foundation were passed down to the royal family.
The royal family carried with them a curse that Bourgeois regrettably passed to his grandson the day he died.
His grandson was banished from the kingdom because his will wasn't strong enough to fight against Hakuba. And now, that same grandson is back in his homeland on a very important mission.
"Young man, would you like to order something?" asked a young lady to one of her customers who still hadn't placed an order. "Oh, yes, of course. I'd like a crème brûlée and some water, please," Cavendish replied with odd-looking glasses and a fake white beard.
Cavendish was doing everything he could to stay incognito. After all, he had been exiled from the kingdom, which is why he was in disguise.
"This is really good. Hey, miss, can you bring me some more, please!" Cavendish was enjoying his crème brûlée when the person at the table across from him cheerfully asked for another serving.
The sight from the other table made his eyes pop out of their sockets—it was nothing less than a pile of empty plates, enough to make one think a family had eaten there when it was, in fact, the work of a single person.
"Here's your crème brûlée, young man." His dessert had arrived, bringing him back to his mission. He had better things to do than worry about a glutton. Like finding a way to contact those girls. If anyone could help, it was them.
"This evening at the castle, there will be a grand masquerade ball! Everyone is invited! Organized by none other than the Three Musketeers!" As he walked through the streets, he saw one of the royal announcers proclaiming a masquerade ball.
He made his way through the crowd to get one of the flyers the announcer was handing out.
"Hey, that's mine!" He grabbed the last flyer at the same time as someone else, and they struggled over it until it tore.
"Agh, look at what you did, frog face!" Bourgeois complained.
They had to stop fighting and try to piece it back together.
"What does it say?" he asked, confused.
They managed to reassemble it, but it was still hard to read. "It says everyone has to arrive before six. Also we must bring a gift," said the other man as he read it aloud.
"A gift?" Cavendish asked, as he finally got the chance to look at the guy's face.
He soon realized that this man was the same one from the restaurant. "Apparently, the whole event is for a birthday."
Cavendish tried to read the poster.
There it was; it read: As this is a birthday celebration, everyone is expected to bring a gift for Miss Hiroko.
He was glad to see that part was intact.
"Well, I guess that's everything. So, if you'll excuse me, I have things to do!" Like buying a birthday gift for Hiro and finding the perfect outfit.
Only the best for someone as beautiful as him.
When night fell, the grand hall was filled with the warm glow of countless candles, casting shadows on walls adorned with gold leaf and intricate murals. The orchestra was tuning their instruments, ready to begin playing the enchanting melodies that would accompany the evening's festivities.
The guests had arrived in their finest attire, but what truly stood out on this occasion were the ornate masks adorning every face. From delicate lace to bold feathered creations, each mask was a carefully crafted work of art designed to conceal the wearer's identity. Some guests had even chosen masks that covered their entire faces, enhancing the mystery of the event.
Cavendish had also chosen a mask that covered his entire face, after all, he was still on a covert mission. It was a shame that such a beautiful face had to be hidden, though it wasn't as if he wanted to cover it.
It was time to search for the girls. He knew them well enough to recognize them even with a mask on. The music began, and the guests took to the dance floor, twirling and swirling in a sea of color and movement. The atmosphere was electric, with a sense of excitement and intrigue that could only be found at a masquerade ball.
As the night wore on, he couldn't find them. This was proving to be much harder than he had expected. He ended up going out to the garden, frustrated.
Then he heard someone mumbling nearby. Normally he wouldn't care, but he turned anyway to see someone removing their mask in frustration. "You again!" It was that same fool from the restaurant and the flyer.
"Oh...it's you," frog face replied with a mischievous grin.
"You? That's all you have to say? At least something between the lines of: I'm so sorry, a frog face like me should never have dared to exist in the same plane as you,...would've been nice," Cavendish said dramatically as a single tear fell from his eye. "What's with that face?! Is 'Dickhead' your name?" he shouted, seeing the other person scowl back at him.
"Wait, now that I think about it, you look familiar..." Cavendish realized something. He had seen that man somewhere before.
He was with his crew when one of the few informants he had sent to investigate the rumors happening in his kingdom had brought him new information.
"What is this?" he asked, in response to the photo that had been handed to him.
"One of the men you sent to your kingdom sent this photograph. He's had a few encounters with the revolutionaries before, and he's certain this man is one of them. If you're really thinking about going back there, you should be prepared for him." The reply made him think. What did the revolutionaries want in his kingdom? Could they have any clue about what was happening there?
But that couldn't be possible. The Revolutionary Army shouldn't know anything about something so delicate and personal to his kingdom.
"Hey, you! You're a revolutionary!" Cavendish pointed, aiming his weapon at him.
"And what if I am?"
"What are you doing here?"
"To be fair, why don't you tell me what the pirate prince Cavendish is doing here in exile?" The other man didn't hesitate to answer.
"How are you so sure it's me?" he questioned immediately. They were wearing a mask, he shouldn't be able to…
"Please, you gave yourself away the moment you said I was the man from before. The only person I bother was you. Your disguise back then was so bad that I realized who you were."
Cavendish face went red as a demon.
"So let's get to the point, shall we, revolutionary?" He wasn't going to keep up a pleasant conversation with him, even if all he'd done so far was embarrass himself. "Fine, but not here," said the frog-faced man.
Cavendish nodded, somewhat annoyed.
So he followed him to the place where he was staying.
"You already know my name—not that I told you, but you know it. So I think it's only fair that you finally tell me yours." Cavendish demanded.
"My name is Sabo. I really hoped to meet you someday. Although I didn't expect to find you in your kingdom. After all, you're an exiled prince," Sabo replied, as the candlelight illuminated his face.
"Alright, Sabo, let's get to the point. What does the Revolutionary Army want with my kingdom? I may have been exiled from here, but this is still my home, so I won't hesitate to kill anyone who dares to harm it!"
Sabo nodded in agreement.
"I suppose you've heard rumors about the strange occurrences that have been happening lately,"
"Occurrences? What occurrences?"
"Wait! You didn't know? Then, why are you here?" Sabo asked back, completely surprised.
"For something else. First, can you tell me what you mean?"
"Rumors have been circulating that strange anomalies have been happening in the Bourgeois Kingdom in recent weeks. I came here not because the revolution sent me, but because this is the homeland of a close friend of my mother's. This kingdom means a lot to her, so I decided to take a vacation and investigate," Sabo confessed with a slight smil.
"Why did you say you hoped to meet me someday?"
"My mother's friend was your grandfather. I don't really care if you believe it or not. Now that I've come clean, it's your turn, or it wouldn't be fair."
Cavendish sighed at Sabo's statement. It was only fair for him to do the same. But then something crossed his mind, "What is your mother's name?" Cavendish asked, lifting a brow.
He was going to come clean, but not without gathering more information first. He was educated about the founding of his kingdom, as well as some of his grandfather's adventures before settling down. He knew some of his grandfather's friends' names. If Sabo wasn't lying, he'd know.
"Sara was the name your grandfather knew her by."
The moment that name left Sabo's mouth, Cavendish knew he wasn't lying. "Sara? That Sara?! That Bitch... I mean, what a surprise!" Cavendish exclaimed as he moved frenetically.
Sabo frowned as Cavendish tried to correct his mistake.
"Don't call my mother a Bitch!" Sabo shouted, offended at the insult throw towards his mother.
"That's what she is!"
"No, she's not!"
"All I know is that she went off contact with my grandfather. She left him wondering if she would ever come back. And guess what? She never returned, and my grandfather passed away without ever seeing her one last time. If that doesn't make her a Bitch, I don't know what does!" Cavendish said as he turned and saw a dark aura near Sabo.
.
.
.
Some time later, they had both calmed down enough to continue the conversation without anyone losing an eye.
"Though it's strange to have a grandmother for a mother," Cavendish commented with laughter. "Alright, I get it! You're truly insufferable," Sabo complained, finally tired of Cavendish's attitude.
"I suppose it's time I tell you why I'm here," Cavendish added, finally stopping his teasing. "It all started when I received an anonymous letter notifying me of the sudden appearance of someone who shouldn't be here."
"Have you ever heard of an Betwixt-and-Between?" As Cavendish expected, Sabo immediately shook his head.
"That's normal. Not many know about them. Few, if any, really. Want to know why? Because there's only one known so far," Cavendish began to explain, while in the royal ballroom, a blond gentleman approached a beautiful lady to ask her for a dance.
"An Betwixt-and-Between is neither fully human nor a shadow. It's an in-between."
The lady gracefully accepted the offer, taking the gentleman's hand.
"A shadow can't have a shadow, which is why they lack one in the first place."
Everyone was so absorbed in their own affairs that they didn't notice the lack of a shadow in the gentleman dancing among them.
"A shadow can move differently from humans, who are limited by the laws of physics. But what happens when you're neither fully human nor fully a shadow? You walk and fly. As far as I know, the only Intermediate that existed could only fly because he was terrible at walking."
As they begin to move to the rhythm of the waltz, she notices her partner is quite clumsy on the dance floor. Despite this, she finds his attempts endearing and can't help but laugh at his adorable missteps.
"Everyone has a birthday, except an Betwixt-and-Between. How can you have a birthday when you were never truly born or grew? How can someone not grow? A shadow can take different forms and shape itself, so an Intermediate doesn't grow—it molds itself. It's practically an immortal being if we're only talking about aging."
The lady's laughter fills the ballroom—not mocking or cruel, but genuine and infectious. The gentleman, embarrassed at first, soon finds himself enjoying the dance, laughing along with her. As they twirl across the room, other couples pause to watch, captivated by their joy and energy.
"The royal family of Bourgeois has been awaiting the return of the only Betwixt-and-Between. After all, no matter how much time has passed, he wouldn't have died so easily. The only one known to date is called…"
As the night draws to a close and guests begin to leave, the gentleman approaches the lady once more. This time, he doesn't ask her for a dance. Instead, he asks if he would have the honor of accompanying her on a stroll through the gardens.
"Pan D. Peter."
She accepts with a smile, and together they step into the cool night air, the sound of music fading behind them.