MDL | Chapter 3.1

Episode 3. The Scene Beneath the Juniper Tree

The three horses carrying four humans galloped frantically. Along the way, shadow monsters lunged from the front, back, and sides, reaching out to grab the horses’ necks and tails, but they managed to dodge them. In a way, four-legged beasts are more reliable than humans. They are instinctive. More sensitive and immediate than humans, who have forgotten their primal wildness while living in society and civilization. How to die, where to run to survive… The horses just knew it all without being taught.

Especially the prince’s horse, Sleipnir, leading the way, played a big role. Did you know, everyone? The name “Sleipnir” originally comes from ancient myths of cold regions. It was said to be the name of the horse ridden by the all-powerful king of the gods. It had two hooves on each leg, totaling eight hooves, and was incredibly fast.

In this story, Sleipnir had four hooves and looked ordinary, but it still lived up to its name. Our Sleipnir ran faster than the monsters could reach out and faster than the fragments of the crumbling world could fall from above. As Sleipnir cleared the path, the other two horses—Fafnir, as brave as a dragon, and Huinim, as clever as a human—followed closely behind, each showcasing their unique traits to escape the calamity.

The four humans just had to hold on tight, gripping the reins and tensing their inner thigh muscles to avoid falling off the galloping horses.

Yes, the prince’s party managed to escape the kingdom without a single casualty solely thanks to these horses.

How long did they run?

By the time the sun, which had just risen in the eastern sky, passed its zenith and began to tilt westward…

Sleipnir, leading the charge, suddenly came to a halt. The abrupt stop sent the prince and the wizard tumbling off the horse. Thankfully, Fafnir and Huinim didn’t trample them. Those intelligent beasts leaped over the prince and the wizard, coming to a stop beside Sleipnir. The horses’ breaths, a mix of excitement, fear, and exhaustion, steamed in the air. Zig jumped off Huinim and rushed over to the prince and the wizard.

“Are you two alright?”

Thanks to the thick, cushiony layer of fallen leaves, the two were unharmed.

“The rifts!”

The moment Zig reached out to help, the wizard sprang to his feet and shouted.

“What about the rifts?”

He then looked around.

A forest with leaves piled thick and soft like a mattress. Yellow, ripe leaves. Acorns rolling on the ground here and there, a few gray squirrels rustling through the fallen leaves. The season… was likely late autumn.

There were no shadow monsters, no rifts.

They had successfully escaped! From one story to another, from one world to another. They had crossed an invisible boundary.

Phew, they could rest easy for a few days now. It would take some time… for the calamity to devour one story and encroach upon another.

Brushing off the leaves stuck to his hair and tunic, the prince also looked around with a somewhat relieved expression. So did Zig. As for Rose… well, we’ll talk about her later. In any case, it seemed unbelievable to everyone that they had survived that chaos.

Only the squirrels native to this forest, with their plump tails raised high, were wary of the humans who had invaded their territory.

The horses’ rough breaths also calmed down a bit, and the four humans and horses shared a few sips of water from a canteen.

But the rest was brief.

“Let’s move,” the prince urged with a stern face. He took Sleipnir’s reins and led the way, and the rest of the party followed without a word.

It might have been more efficient to rest here for a few hours and then set off again rather than dragging tired horses along slowly. They weren’t unaware of that. But their impatience outweighed any rational calculation. They were all anxious. They wanted to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the calamity behind them. The fear they felt the second time they faced it was greater than the first. It was a despair and helplessness they couldn’t get used to.

Above all, the sun was slowly setting.

They needed to find a place to rest for the night while there was still light.

Most of all, Rose’s condition hadn’t improved since she blew the king’s head off with her pistol.

Her eyes were slightly unfocused, and she refused to put the pistol away. She gripped the handle tightly with four fingers, her index finger resting loosely on the trigger, ready to fire at any moment. In that state, she had miraculously managed to stay on Fafnir’s back and ride all the way here.

Rose’s panic was understandable. After all, it was her first time killing someone.

Rose is, of course, a brave princess. In countless past lives, hadn’t she single-handedly fought through the evil wizard’s thorny brambles to break the prince’s curse? But even such a brave princess had never killed a human being whose blood flowed red. Her sword was sharp and merciless against evil magic, but its blade had never been pointed at a human.

So how confused must she be now?

What Rose urgently needed was a warm fire, warm food, and the kindness and goodwill of strangers.

Haven’t you all experienced it many times in your lives? Those days when your heart was broken, or on the verge of breaking, and warm air, warm food, and warm kindness helped mend your soul.

The chirping of birds singing back and forth like a round, the sound of small animals scurrying through the fallen leaves, the rustling of branches brushing against each other in the gentle breeze.

Though they were passing through a small, peaceful forest, it felt as if a heavy stone had settled in the hearts of the prince’s party.

About an hour into their weary, heavy-footed journey, a bird with a long, flame-red tail flew overhead and perched on a nearby branch, preening its feathers with its beak.

It was a bird they had never seen before. Its small, black eyes were shiny like well-roasted beans, and its red-and-white feathers gleamed. It was truly a small, beautiful bird.

As the party passed by, the bird opened its beak and sang in a lovely voice:

“Tweet, tweet!
My mother killed me,
My father ate me.
My sister Marlène wrapped my bones
In silk and buried them
Beneath the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet!
Where else could there be a bird as pretty as me?¹“

Haha… Isn’t it eerie? But the bird’s voice was so clear and beautiful that even the horrifying lyrics sounded sweet.

The wizard stopped walking and smiled at the bird.

“Hello!”

“Tweet, tweet!”

“You’re such a pretty bird.”

“My mother killed me.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“My father ate me.”

“Is there a place nearby where we can take shelter from the wind and rain?”

“My sister Marlène wrapped my bones.”

“As you can see, we’re very tired. We need a place to rest. Just for one night.”

“In silk and buried them.”

“We’re not bandits. We won’t cause any harm.”

“Beneath the juniper tree.”

The small, beautiful bird fluttered up above the wizard’s head, circled once, and then flew off to the northeast.

“Tweet, tweet!”

It continued to sing in a high-pitched voice.

“Where else could there be a bird as pretty as me?”

The wizard watched the bird fly away and let out a small sigh.

“Let’s follow that bird.”

Desperate for even a straw to grasp, the prince’s party followed the bird. As if guiding them, the bird perched on a branch and rested until they got close, then fluttered away, singing, before perching on another branch and repeating the process.

After walking through the bushes for a while, a narrow path appeared between the trees. At the end of it was a modest but well-kept garden, a large juniper tree, and a small single-story house. The red sunset bathed everything, dyeing the pale gray roof in its warm hues.

It was a beautiful and peaceful scene, gently soothing the hearts of the weary travelers.

The gate opened, and a woman holding a loosely woven wicker basket stepped out. Her hair was beginning to gray. She was startled to see the prince’s party and exclaimed, “Oh my!” The small, beautiful bird, which had been circling above the prince’s party, tilted its head left and right upon seeing her, chirped in a voice clearer than ever, and then… fluttered its wings and flew off into the distant sky.

The middle-aged woman, who had been silently observing the prince’s party for a while, finally smiled.

“You must be tired travelers. Come in, please come in. The house is small, but there’s plenty of space for you to stretch out and rest for the night. There’s also plenty of water and food. Come on, don’t be shy, come in.”

Before the prince’s party could even ask, the woman grabbed their hands and pulled them inside. The party gladly accepted her invitation. They were too exhausted to doubt or be wary of the kindness offered at such a perfect moment.

“My name is Marlène.”

Marlène. The name from the eerie song of the small, beautiful bird. True to her name, which evoked the image of a madeleine, her smile was as sweet and kind as a honey-coated pastry.

As Marlène had said, the house was modest and cozy, but it had everything the four humans and three horses needed. A warm fireplace, comfortable chairs, soft blankets. Hot onion soup and dense rye bread to soothe their frozen insides, fresh water and milk, turnips and carrots freshly picked from the garden. And even an old cat. The old cat seemed to take a liking to the usually quiet prince, refusing to leave his lap throughout dinner. Oh, right! Of course, the three horses were also given plenty of hay, apple peels, fresh water, and a clean resting place.

After dinner, drowsiness washed over them. The tension they had been holding onto finally released. Marlène, watching them doze off at the table, chuckled softly and showed them to their sleeping quarters.

Since there was only one spare room, Rose slept inside the house, while the other three made their beds in the barn with the horses. But Marlène’s barn was warm enough for the night, and she brought them thick, soft blankets and pillows, so there was no discomfort.

As soon as they each lay down, they fell asleep without exchanging a single word, as if they had passed out.

How many hours did they sleep?

The prince woke up.

It was still dark, but the first night with the moon and stars still in the sky. Having fallen asleep early in the gray twilight, he had woken up early. His body ached here and there, and fatigue lingered heavily in his eyes and head, but it didn’t seem like he could fall back asleep anytime soon. So, the prince folded his pillow in half, propped his head up with his arm, and began to admire the large juniper tree outside the barn window.

A tree with sharp, needle-like leaves that stayed green all year round. Its branches spread wide at the base, narrowing into a cone shape as they rose. Among the sharp leaves were round, pea-like berries. Ah, it must be the season for juniper berries. Over time, the berries would ripen to a deep red, like dried blood.

As the prince was admiring the tall juniper tree in the night scene, the door of the house where Marlène and Rose were sleeping creaked open. Rose stepped out. Marlène had lent her clothes from her younger days, so Rose was dressed in a comfortable white shirt and a thick quilted vest.

Rose stood in the middle of the yard for a moment, looking around, then walked over to the juniper tree. She crouched down, knees drawn up. Hmm… Could she be… crying?

Hmm…

Crying is much better than just clutching a pistol like a lost soul.

Should I go to Rose? Should I comfort her as she cries alone?

A beautiful prince from a fairy tale would have done that. He should have. After all, that’s what a “prince” is supposed to do, right?

But the prince didn’t move. Instead, he realized he wasn’t the only one who had woken up early in this barn.

Zig, lying closest to the barn door, quietly got up. Despite the chilly autumn night breeze, he stepped outside without even grabbing a coat. Zig didn’t look at anything else—not the beautiful night sky dotted with stars, not Marlène’s lovingly tended garden, not the persimmon tree laden with ripe fruit. He walked straight toward the juniper tree, toward the crying Rose.

Rose, sensing his presence, looked up. Her face… though I can’t see it clearly from here… must have been streaked with tears. Let’s assume that’s the case. Even if it’s not true, what does it matter? This is, after all, a story. A world where carefully crafted truths are more important than raw facts.

Zig bent down. He must have placed a hand on Rose’s cheek. Drawing courage from the peaceful, drowsy atmosphere of the night, he wiped away her tears.

What did he say?

“Don’t cry, Princess.”

That’s a bit boring.

“You did the right thing.”

Hmm, that doesn’t quite fit the romance.

“I’m here for you, Princess.”

No, no. That’s a bit too hasty.

……What Zig said, let’s leave that to your imagination and mine. All we know is that Rose pushed him away and stood up abruptly. She raised her voice as if angry. Zig, unusually, didn’t back down and spoke back to her with equal intensity.

But what they were arguing about, what conversation they were having… we can’t know that. From inside the barn, all we can do is describe the scene beyond the window. With a bit of imagination. My imagination, and yours.

Perhaps Zig’s face turned red. Perhaps Rose, unable to control her anger, shed more tears. Perhaps sharp words, hiding genuine feelings, were exchanged.

We can’t know what they said to each other…

But we do know that, after that long, intense moment, she threw herself into his arms.

She buried her face in his broad chest.

He hesitated for a moment, unsure what to do with his arms.

When she tightly wrapped her arms around his back, he finally gathered the courage to hold her tightly in return.

Above them stretched the branches of the juniper tree, laden with sharp leaves. Above the juniper tree hung a round, golden moon. From the couple’s feet to the vibrant garden… the shadow of the embracing lovers merged with the shadow of the juniper tree, stretching long across the ground.

“…Those two,” the wizard suddenly spoke up, having woken early as well.

“Are you just going to leave them like that, Your Highness?”

Despite the wizard’s abrupt question, the prince wasn’t startled. Deep down, he had expected that if he was awake, the wizard would be too.

The prince turned his gaze to the wizard.

“Leave them alone?”

The wizard slowly sat up, smoothing the flattened hair at the back of his head and pursing his lips. His face looked displeased.

“Are you saying I should interfere with those two?”

“The princess is your bride.”

“Not yet, she isn’t.”

“The princess and you, the two of you, are married.”

“That hasn’t happened in this life.”

“Aren’t you jealous?”

The prince fell silent. For a brief moment, he looked inward. But the answer came quickly, without hesitation.

“No.”

A short, simple reply. The wizard’s lips pursed even more. Though it wasn’t a moment for laughter, the prince let out a small chuckle. He thought that if the wizard kept pursing his lips like that, they might end up looking like juniper leaves.

Good grief, jealousy?

The smile slowly faded from the prince’s face.

“Do you think I should be jealous of Zig?”

This time, it was the prince who asked.

“Do you think I should rage like a husband whose wife has been stolen and point my sword at him?”

The wizard didn’t answer, but… it was obvious. From the way he avoided the prince’s gaze, furrowed his brow, pursed his lips even more like juniper leaves, and clenched the innocent blanket in his hands… sometimes we can understand more than words can convey, can’t we?

The prince felt as though he understood Zig’s feelings. That is… how Zig must have felt when he saw Rose and immediately walked out into the moonlight without hesitation.

It was a strange night. A peaceful and quiet night. A night without shadow monsters to cut down, without the screams of people, without the sight of a world crumbling in despair. An utterly ordinary, and therefore strange, night.

On a night like this, anyone would have felt the same. They would have felt the same as Zig, who had placed his hand on Rose’s cheek.

With that same feeling… the prince asked something he would never have asked under normal circumstances.

“Is that your true intention, wizard?”

The wizard glared at the prince as if he had been struck.

“I don’t understand the intent behind your question, Your Highness.”

The wizard ruffled his messy hair again.

“My true intention? Is that important to you? Is it important to this world? Whatever my true intention is, whatever yours is, whatever theirs is… none of that matters. What matters is the law of this world. Your destiny. You’ve fallen in love with the princess time and time again, married her, had children, and lived happily ever after. Don’t you feel any destiny with her?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

What the prince had asked? Ah, right…

……

……

The prince hadn’t asked about the laws or destiny of this world. He had asked about the wizard’s true intentions.

……

……Alright. If that’s what you’re curious about, Your Highness, I have no reason not to answer.

“Yes, alright. My true intention?”

The wizard’s gaze at the prince was filled with resentment and reproach.

“It’s true.”

As short, simple, and firm as the prince’s answer.

“I wish you were jealous of Zig. I wish you loved Rose.”