MDL | Chapter 2.9

It was the fairy godmother. The terrifying witch. Her voice thundered down like lightning, striking the tops of their heads.

“I won’t forgive you! I won’t forgive you! I won’t forgive you I won’t forgive you I won’t forgive you I won’t forgive you I won’t forgive you I won’t forgive you…“

From the depths of the swamp, thick purple vines of thorny lotus shoots sprouted rapidly. The tough vines tangled tightly around the Prince and the wizard’s arms and legs. Holding the wizard’s arm firmly with his left hand, the Prince gripped his sword with his right. The white blade, finally free from its sheath, gleamed as if rejoicing. With the cursed sword, the Prince slashed through the vines binding them. He cut through the thorny brambles blocking their path and the tree branches reaching down from above. But no matter how much he slashed, no matter how many times he cut… the swamp plants blocking their way only grew thicker. His progress was slow and exhausting.

“Clear the way!”

The Prince shouted, cutting through a thick vine that was choking the wizard.

“Even if you block me, I will go to Omphalos!”

Well, that…

……

……

……sounded like a cry driven by desperation. The wizard felt an inexplicable sinking feeling in his chest.

The swamp plants attacking them suddenly stopped moving. The thorny vines tangled around the Prince’s sword arm loosened and slipped away. The large leaf covering the wizard’s mouth fluttered weakly to the ground.

“…Omphalos?”

 The fairy godmother—no, the witch—asked.

She rose smoothly from the depths of the swamp, clad in purple. The Prince, now seemingly unfazed by even the most grotesque sights, answered coldly.

“That’s right.”

The witch studied the Prince carefully. Then she turned her gaze to the wizard, who was crouched beside him. After a moment, she nodded.

“I see. So it’s you. The one who stands at the boundary. The one who crosses the boundary. The one who destroys the boundary. The one who devours the boundary.”

Like a fairy who enjoys riddles, even her speech was riddled with mystery. She then turned her gaze to the wizard and said,

“And you…”

The witch bit her lower lip, pondering for a moment.

“…The wicked wizard.”

……

……

……Look at that! She also called the wizard a “wicked wizard”! I can’t help but feel a little smug. No, no, that’s not the point right now.

“I was just going to give you a little scare, but now that I know who you are, I can’t just let you go.”

“How do you know us?”

The Prince asked.

The witch’s face changed. Her sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and cold yet beautiful middle-aged features began to melt like cream on a hot summer day. She looked like one of the frog familiars she kept in the swamp, or like a charcoal painting smudged by an artist’s fingers.

“How do I know?”

The witch laughed—kekeke—stretching her lips wide like a madwoman!

“How do I know? How do I know? How? How? How?”

Suddenly, she stopped laughing.

“Everyone! Everyone knows you.”

Huh? What does that mean…? Does it mean the Prince isn’t the only one who remembers past lives?

 ……Nah.
Surely not…
……No way.
Really, that can’t be it, hahaha. Hahahaha.
……
……

The Prince’s face hardened at the witch’s incomprehensible words.

“Foolish, foolish Prince… The signs of rifts and calamity follow at your heels, yet you remain oblivious. How many monsters have you devoured? You think going to Omphalos, plunging that white sword into the world’s navel, will solve everything? Foolish, truly foolish… Open your eyes and see the world. Look around you. Where are you? Who are you? And who is that wicked one beside you? If you still can’t see, then devour more monsters from the rifts. Then you’ll surely…”

“Fairy Godmother!”

The wizard, trembling, struggled to his feet and shouted. His face was pale, drained of all color. The Prince had never seen the wizard so pale before. He tried to help him up, but the wizard took a few steps forward on his own and stood defiantly before the witch.

“What are you doing right now?”

His voice was cold, like scolding a child. Stern, like a judge seated high in a courtroom. A voice that allowed no rebuttal or excuse.

The Prince had never heard the wizard speak like this before. It was a far cry from his usual whining, clingy, sweet, and coaxing tone. Suddenly, the wizard seemed much older.

Come to think of it, how old is the wizard?

A young man in his early twenties, with golden hair and blue eyes, still with a blush of youth on his cheeks.

But is he really that young?

He must have looked exactly the same when he cast the curse on the Prince as a baby!

The witch fell silent. Her pale gray eyes burned with pure hatred toward the wizard. No…

It wasn’t just hatred in her eyes. Hatred, and…

Fear.

And the determination not to yield to it.

…Haha. How strange. A powerful swamp witch afraid of the wizard? Am I seeing things, everyone?

The wizard looked at the witch. The witch looked at the wizard.

After a moment, the wizard returned to the face and voice the Prince knew so well. The innocent face and coquettish voice of a young man.

“Fairy Godmother, you won’t get the Queen’s baby anyway! That’s how it’s meant to be. That’s the law and truth of this world. An unchangeable fate! So just surrender quietly!”

The witch—the fairy godmother—stepped back. The thick swamp vines around her swayed weakly, losing some of their strength.

“…No. I can’t do that.”

She shook her head fiercely.

“I’ve surrendered too many times. Lived as this world wanted, a faithful puppet, a willless slave. All those futile repetitions… Do you even know how that child lived each time? Love, that terrible game of emotions, always blinds people. My dear girl loved the King! Loved him! So she promised to spin gold for that greedy man. Not knowing she already carried his seed in her belly! Not knowing she could no longer spin gold!”

…Well, isn’t that just a cliché story?

A story found in every era, every culture. The tale of a betraying man and a betrayed woman. So very trite.

“That foolish, pitiful thing clung to my skirt, begging me. ‘Godmother, Godmother… please help me. If I don’t spin gold, he’ll abandon me. He’ll stop loving me.’ Is a king who only gives love in exchange for gold even a king? Isn’t he just a scoundrel? But my foolish girl, blinded by her emotions, couldn’t see that… What could I do? All I could do was take the baby my poor girl would bear, destined for misery. That’s all I could do.”

As if responding to the fairy godmother’s emotions, the swamp plants writhed restlessly. They grew to the height of a giant’s crown in an instant, then shrank just as quickly. They bloomed flowers, only to shed yellowed leaves moments later.

“I couldn’t even do that properly! I always failed, always, always! This damned law of the world!”

She said always. Did you all hear that?

“Wait, witch, are you perhaps…?”

Perhaps sharing the same doubt as me, the Prince asked. The witch turned to him. Her eyes gleamed ominously. Her lips curled upward like a clown’s painted smile.

“Ah, yes… I see…”

Instead of answering the Prince’s question, she muttered to herself. A chilling premonition struck the wizard, and he tugged at the Prince’s sleeve. The witch laughed—kekeke—then wiped the smile from her face.

“Prince, I don’t hate you.”

The madness, hatred, and fear swirling in her eyes vanished along with her smile. All that remained was sorrow—pure sorrow.

“But if you were gone, everything would end.”

With that, she raised her arms high into the sky. Dark purple shadows began to gather in her palms. In response, the entire swamp stirred. The bridge where the Prince and the wizard stood, near the swirling dimensional portal, shook precariously. It felt like the bridge would collapse at any moment.

No, it is collapsing! The moss-covered, creaking planks are twisting! Nails are popping out! The old ropes are snapping, one by one!

“Hurry, Prince!”

As soon as the wizard shouted, the Prince grabbed his hand and sprinted toward the vortex. The moment the Prince’s foot touched a plank, it snapped and fell… but he stepped onto the next one just in time. Thanks to this, the Prince and the wizard looked as if they were flying through the air.

Just a little more, a few more steps…

Then, a massive, slimy, wet hand burst from beneath their feet. A mud monster, created by the witch. The Prince quickly leaped onto the railing. The mud monster swiped at him but missed. Clumps of sticky mud splattered onto the Prince and the wizard’s clothes.

“Godmother! Have you truly gone mad?”

The wizard snapped.

“We don’t have time for this nonsense! If the rift comes, you’ll all die! You, your girl, the baby prince! It’ll be the real end! There’s no next time! Do you understand?”

But the witch laughed joyfully.

“Not bad.”

……

“If this becomes our final life, that’s not so bad either.”

As she said this, she winked playfully at the Prince.

“Isn’t it terrifying to think there’s no end?”

……

……

……

Would the Prince agree with the witch’s words? He, more than anyone, knows the meaning of “no end,” doesn’t he?

The witch, trying to defy fate to steal the Queen’s baby, and the Prince, who fled to defy fate and avoid falling asleep. What difference is there between these two?

……

……

The mud monster’s hands retracted into its body. It shifted forms effortlessly. A gap opened somewhere in its shapeless mass, forming something like a mouth. It chomped at the railing where the Prince stood. Just as he had done with the shadow monster, the Prince slashed at the mud monster with his white sword. But unlike the shadow monster, the mud monster didn’t perish. The severed part fell to the ground with a splat, but only for a moment. It squirmed and merged back into one body. The mud monster twisted its entire form, stomping its feet. The remaining planks of the bridge crumbled into the swamp.

“Prince!”

The wizard clung to the Prince. A magic quill slipped from the wizard’s sleeve and drew a large circle around them. A thin, transparent bubble formed, enveloping them and lifting them into the air.

The mud monster stomped relentlessly, the bridge completely collapsed, and the swamp plants continued to writhe and grow.

But inside the fragile bubble, the Prince and the wizard were untouched by the chaos outside.

The wizard’s golden bangs brushed against the Prince’s forehead. They were pressed close together, foreheads touching. Like lovers.

……Yes.

Like lovers.

The Prince touched the wizard’s cheek. He was worried because the wizard looked so pale. His skin was cold as ice.

“Are you alright?”

“Are you worried about me?”

The wizard smiled faintly.

“I’m fine. Ah, but I can’t hold this for long. The witch has unleashed all her power. This bubble will burst soon. Then we’ll be caught by that mud monster and sink to the bottom of the swamp.”

Despite his grim prediction, the wizard didn’t seem despairing.

“But it’s okay.”

Unable to make sense of the wizard’s contradictory words, the Prince continued to caress his cold cheek.

“Don’t worry, Prince. I…”

The wizard took a deep breath and closed his eyes, as if savoring the touch of the Prince’s hand. A tender, blissful smile spread across his lips. It was the smile of someone who knew that, even in the midst of a snowy winter, a warm fireplace and a cup of tea awaited them.

“I’ll definitely lead you to a happy future.”

“A happy future?”

“Yes, a happy future. Even if we’re cursed, even if we face these absurd trials… there’s still a happy ending waiting for us. A future that ends with ‘and they lived happily ever after.’”

A future that begins with ‘Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a prince under a curse,’ and ends with ‘and the prince lived happily ever after.’ For eternal happiness to shine, a little trial is necessary. But those trials will never make the Prince unhappy. They’ll only be as painful as pricking a finger on a spindle or falling into a deep sleep until a princess’s kiss arrives. Those trials will become the stepping stones to the Prince’s eternal happiness. And I will definitely deliver that to the Prince…

To <―――>…

……<―――> is…

……

……

No, no. It’s too soon. This sentence is coming too early. Not yet. I hope the Prince doesn’t remember his name until the very end. Everyone? You haven’t read it yet, right? I’ll erase it quickly…

Haha, am I being a bit mean? But everyone, that’s what names are like. In some stories, knowing the name means the end. Just like in this story, Rumpelstiltskin. So please be patient and wait until the very end of the tale.

……

……

……

“Promise me, Prince.”

 The nameless wizard whispered to the nameless prince.

“I’ll never let you be unhappy.”

So, he asked the prince to trust him. Even though he was a wicked, despicable wizard who cast curses and killed without remorse, he swore he wouldn’t let the prince suffer. For the prince, he could do anything—anything at all.

The blind, fervent words poured into the prince’s ears like a passionate confession. The prince couldn’t bring himself to say a word in response.

The wizard hugged the prince with all his strength. His cold body, devoid of warmth, felt more like a beautifully sculpted wax or clay doll than a human. But even a doll’s body, if held long enough, would begin to radiate a human-like warmth.

The prince could clearly feel the wizard’s skin growing warmer with shared body heat. But that wasn’t what left him flustered.

“You…”

He murmured with a confused expression.

“When did you grow so tall? You were so small… so very small…”

He trailed off, sensing something was off. But no. The wizard had always been like this since they first met in the Forbidden Forest. There was never a time when the wizard’s head barely reached the prince’s chest. Of course. The wizard had always been tall.

“Prince, really.”

Yet the wizard laughed and replied,

“Only now do you notice I’ve grown? How careless of you.”

Pop! Bang!

The bubble surrounding them burst with a firework-like sound. Rainbow-colored soap bubbles scattered into the air. Even the mud monster, stomping its feet and flailing to catch them, paused for a moment to stare at the floating bubbles.

The wizard, with a small burst of magical energy, pushed the prince toward the swirling portal. The recoil sent the wizard flying in the opposite direction, arcing slowly toward the depths of the swamp.

“Wizard!”

The prince reached out belatedly, but it was too late.

“I won’t let you go, Prince!”

The witch snarled, gesturing wildly. Long vines shot out to grab the prince. But as the wizard fell, he pulled out his quill. Ink splattered from its tip, forming thorny brambles that tangled the vines, blocking their path to the prince. The witch let out a furious scream. Fueled by her rage, the mud monster swelled in size and lunged toward the wizard…

Toward the wizard…

The prince’s body plunged into the vortex. The last thing he saw was the wizard, caught in the mud monster’s grip, his body torn in half, limbs brutally ripped apart, entrails and raw flesh exposed…

Yet, even as his body was torn to pieces and discarded at the bottom of the swamp, the wizard smiled happily.

 

<The End.>

***

No! No! No, why is this happening?