"Pain, pain, pain," Jeanne lay on the floor, her fingers gripping her head that felt painful and numb.
She screamed, but her voice broke into uncontrollable sobbing. Tears flowed endlessly, as if her body refused the reality that had just struck her. Her gaze was empty—not because she was unconscious, but because she was too conscious of what was happening.
"Pain... this hurts so much... Mother, why is this happening to me..." her tears flowed and dripped onto the floor.
BRAKK!
Anna forcefully broke the door open. She saw Jeanne collapsed on the floor, holding her head.
"Jeanne!" Anna called as she was about to approach her best friend.
"STOP!!" Jeanne screamed hysterically.
Anna immediately stopped, shocked and confused. "W-What is it, Jeanne?" Anna asked softly. Her expression showed worry.
"Stop... please... don't, don't come here, Anna..." her voice was faint. Her white hair, which usually looked soft, was now messy, covering part of her face.
"Jeanne, is there—" Anna's words were cut off by Jeanne. "Please... Anna, go away," Jeanne interrupted softly. Her voice was still faint and chaotic. She was still lying on the floor while hugging her knees. "Leave me alone," she added, her voice fading at the end of the sentence.
Anna stared at her best friend, confused, and also sad. Anna lowered her face. "I'm sorry..." she said softly. "If you're hungry... I already cooked for u—for you," her fingers clenched. "Don't forget to contact me," her voice was bitter, and with a heavy feeling she slowly turned around, then closed the door and left Jeanne alone.
Jeanne bit her fingernails. "What did I just say..." her chaotic mind, and the memory of death at the station, she could still feel it, and it haunted her. She bit her fingers harder, even until they were injured.
...
At the Special Detective office, 16:20.
Leo Tolstoy was sitting in his chair, the work desk in front of him filled with documents. He let out a deep sigh in the silence of the room and lit a cigar.
His black hair was neatly combed back, and some of his sideburns had turned white, giving the impression of a mature and authoritative man.
TOK TOK
The door to his room was knocked.
"Come in," Leo called casually.
Eugene Vidocq, with dark red hair, entered casually, both hands slipped into his pants pockets. "It seems you're busy, huh?" Eugene asked calmly, then approached Leo's desk.
"It looks like it," Leo replied. "What is it, Eugene Vidocq?" Leo asked, taking his cup of coffee and slowly sipping it.
Eugene sat in another chair. "He just contacted me," Eugene answered, as he opened the documents on Leo's desk.
"He?" Leo asked, but it was as if he understood who Eugene meant. "Ohh, what did he say?" Leo straightened his tie and suit.
"The movement of Night Order," Eugene answered, placing the document down. "Not only that, in the eastern state territory, a village suddenly disappeared, the corpses of its residents were floating in rivers and lakes," his voice became serious.
Hearing that news, Leo Tolstoy tapped his forehead lightly, as if thinking. "Have the Government there and the Special Detective organization in the east investigated it?" Leo asked inquisitively.
Eugene smiled. "Of course," he answered and continued. "We must be cautious of Night Order's movements hiding in Ingrasia," Eugene said. He stood up from his chair, and slowly walked toward the exit while waving his hand from behind.
Leo watched him leave. Before Eugene closed the door, Leo called him. "Eugene, what about Miss Weels, will she come?" Leo asked.
Eugene stopped at the doorway. He turned around with a smile. "She will definitely come," Eugene replied, then he closed the door.
CLAK
The door was closed, and for a moment Leo inhaled his cigar and exhaled it, then turned his gaze out the window, staring at the sky filled with industrial smoke.
"They really are troublesome," Leo muttered in a low voice.
...
Jeanne was still in the same position, collapsed on the floor while hugging her knees. Her mind was empty, minute by minute, until several hours passed. Without realizing it, frustration and despair made her fall asleep until late afternoon nearing night.
Jeanne opened her eyes, slowly stood up and sat leaning against the bed, her silver-white hair messy covering part of her face, and some of her fallen hair had dropped onto the floor.
Jeanne's frustrated and heavy gaze was visible behind her hair. The silent atmosphere of the room and the sunlight that was beginning to sink through the window made her bedroom slowly swallowed by the darkness of night.
Jeanne stood up after a moment of silence, and walked slowly while supporting her body against the wall with her hand. Occasionally the pain in her head could still be felt. She tried to step out of the room.
"Anna..." she called, in a faint voice. "I forgot, I drove her away..." Jeanne complained, remembering the unpleasant words she had said to her best friend.
Wearing a simple white dress that was wrinkled, Jeanne walked to the dining table. She stood right in front of it.
Glancing at the cold food and a letter on the table, Jeanne took it.
"Don't forget to eat, Jeanne... I'm sorry if I didn't realize anything about your feelings right now. But if you don't mind telling me, just tell me, don't keep it all to yourself. We are best friends, right? Get well soon, Jeanne my best friend."
—Anna.
Jeanne read the contents of the letter. The heavy feeling in her heart was as if it had been struck by a huge stone. Then Jeanne slowly sat down on her chair, took a spoon, but the spoon fell because of the wounds on her fingers. Jeanne picked the spoon up carefully and ate the cold food.
"Delicious..." she thought. Chewing her food without rushing.
Then she took another bite, and for a moment her lips trembled, tears flowed from her eyes without her realizing it, and wet her cheeks.
Her face lowered, fragile. Tears dripped and soaked her white dress.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKHH..." her scream was hoarse. Jeanne's despair finally exploded. Her heart shattered even more, uncontrollable sobbing. Her breathing felt suffocating.
"Why is all of this happening to me..." Jeanne pulled her legs onto the chair and hugged her knees, the spoon in her hand fell to the floor. "I want to disappear," she said in her heart.
"Am I still human?" she asked herself.
"You are still human," that girl's voice was heard in Jeanne's head.
Jeanne's eyes froze for a moment. She raised her head, looked around, then stared at the dark corner of the room.
Slowly, a little girl appeared, wearing a simple black dress with a white ribbon on her chest. Her hair was silver-white, and long. She dragged a teddy bear whose right arm was torn, it looked like it was about to come off. The girl was none other than young Jeanne.
Jeanne immediately stood up, making her chair fall over, fear and despair mixed together. "Go away!" she ordered.
"If you think you are not human. Then why can you still feel pain? Mother said, humans are fragile and weak creatures, but also strong," young Jeanne kept speaking without caring about Jeanne's order, and slowly approached the dining table.
"Stop it, don't disturb my life!" Jeanne screamed. Jeanne covered both of her ears with her hands.
Young Jeanne now stood right on the other side of the dining table, facing Jeanne. "Do you want to run away again?" she mocked, young Jeanne giggled.
Jeanne gritted her teeth and gripped the table with all her strength, the wounds on her fingers that had just dried now reopened. In anger, Jeanne flipped the table toward young Jeanne with force, but the table hit nothing, only rolled over.
PRANGGG!
The loud sound of the table falling, and plates breaking scattered on the floor.
"Go away, go away!" Jeanne repeated it over and over. She slowly stepped back, keeping her distance while covering her ears.
Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room became silent and terrifying.
TOK TOK
Her apartment door was knocked quite hard.
Jeanne turned her head, slowly.
"Miss Weels, are you inside?" the old man's voice from next door called her. "I've been hearing noise for a while, don't disturb other people's time at night!" the old man outside the door scolded.
Jeanne walked closer to the door and leaned, dragging her body down. "Yes, I'm sorry," she answered without opening the door.
After hearing Jeanne's answer, the old man said nothing more and left.
Jeanne looked at her dark and messy home, only lit by the dim moonlight through the window, her gaze empty. Fresh blood on her fingers was still wet. "What should I do..." she whispered. "Can I fix all of this..." Jeanne messed up her silver-white hair, making blood stick to her hair.
Jeanne raised her lowered head, seeing a flash of light reflecting from the kitchen. Jeanne stood up and approached it.
She stood in front of the kitchenware cabinet, she glanced at pots, plates, and others, then her eyes landed on the kitchen knife hanging in its place.
Jeanne did not move, neither did the atmosphere around her. She took the knife. Gripping it tightly, and slowly pointing it at her neck. Her hands trembled violently.
Jeanne closed her eyes, resigned and hopeless. When the knife was about to slice her neck.
"Do you want to run away again?" young Jeanne's voices appeared in her head. Jeanne immediately opened her eyes and threw the knife away.
Her breathing became suffocating and ragged.
"What am I doing..." Jeanne glanced at the knife lying on the floor. "Stupid..." she continued in her mind. Jeanne stared at her silver-white hair falling onto the floor.
Jeanne once again sat leaning in the corner near the door, while hugging her knees. "I want all of this to end and I hope all of this is just a dream..." Jeanne whispered in her heart.
...
Time kept passing, until 11 PM. The clouds covering the moon slowly drifted away.
Jeanne slightly raised her head, staring at the moonlight that now shone deeper into the dark and messy room. Without realizing it, Jeanne stood up and walked closer as if she had been called.
She stood in front of the window, then stared at the moon that shone brighter than usual. In silence, Jeanne walked toward the exit door, and turned the doorknob.
CLAK
Jeanne slowly went out and observed the quiet apartment corridor. She walked, occasionally looking around. There was only silence and the light of corridor lamps.
She kept walking without changing her clothes, as if she did not care about her shabby and messy appearance.
Jeanne left the apartment building without anyone noticing or seeing her, as if she was only the night wind.
Walking barefoot, Jeanne could feel the cold piercing the soles of her feet, then she walked along the night streets, with an empty gaze, as if she had no destination.
But her eyes remained fixed on the moon in the night sky.
Step by step, Jeanne walked along the night streets, passing people who came and went. Some people looked at her strangely, then ignored her.
The farther Jeanne walked, without realizing it she entered a children's playground. Jeanne then sat on the swing, and swung slowly.
Jeanne still did not move much, but slowly she opened her mouth and hummed while swinging, the night wind gently blew her dress.
"I remember... my mother often hummed with this tone when I felt anxious and couldn't sleep at night," Jeanne thought, without stopping her humming.
She looked at the moon in the sky. Her right hand lifted, then she stared at the moon through the gaps of her fingers as if she wanted to grasp the moon.
"Is the moon always this beautiful?" Jeanne asked in her mind. "Can I be like the moon? Still shining even when covered by clouds and replaced by the sun?" Jeanne pulled her hand back, gripping the swing rope, the night wind fluttered her silver-white hair.
Jeanne's lips slowly formed a thin smile. Little by little, her feelings, her thoughts, and her sanity became slightly clearer again.
Jeanne inhaled and exhaled. "I really am the worst..." she said softly. "I hurt Anna's feelings, I'm ashamed to show my face to her..." Jeanne stopped her swing.
For a moment Jeanne remembered Leo Tolstoy's words. "You said, you dreamed about events that will come, maybe that is your power....and you can use it to save people," Jeanne raised her head, staring at the bright moon once again. "Saving people. 'Right?" she said softly.
"If I enter that world... can't I live normally?..." Jeanne still stared at the moon with her empty gaze. "No... from the beginning when I could rise from death and repeat time, that was not normal," she rubbed her forehead, as if it was heavy to accept.
"And moreover that job is what I hate... becoming a Detective," Jeanne stood up from the swing, and walked while looking at the quiet and gloomy atmosphere of the playground.
Her back became cold. "I unknowingly walked here, this place is quite scary," Jeanne immediately walked quickly when she realized the frightening atmosphere of the playground, then she left the playground.
Jeanne stepped on the pathway lit by streetlights, until she reached the edge of the river near the park.
"It's better here," Jeanne slowly sat at the edge of the river. She took a stone and threw it into the river. "Special Detective... Detective," Jeanne muttered softly.
Suddenly Jeanne remembered her past, where she stood in front of a tombstone, with a photo of a man around fifty-nine years old. That man was none other than her father. Jeanne wore all black clothes, along with her empty gaze.
Realizing it, Jeanne touched her head. "My father died while carrying out his duty, at that time I wondered, but all the answers, none of them felt acceptable to me," Jeanne said softly. While little by little remembering it.
"He always lied, he rarely spent time with me and mother... I even only found out his real job was a Detective after my father had died..." she said softly. Her voice felt heavy and bitter.
Several minutes passed. After her mind became fully rational. "Cold," Jeanne hugged her body, then she decided to go home. Jeanne stood up and left the river.
...
CLAK
Jeanne had returned to her apartment without any problems.
"I really am careless, going alone at night with clothes like this, and leaving the door open!!" Jeanne rubbed her forehead, realizing her careless action.
KLAK
Jeanne turned on the lights, and glanced at the wall clock. "1 AM..." Jeanne let out a soft sigh.
After checking that nothing was missing or strange in her house, Jeanne decided to clean herself by taking a warm bath.
Jeanne soaked in her bathtub while closing her eyes. "I have to apologize to Anna... but how should I do it?" she thought. "I drove her away without a clear reason, that must have disappointed her..." she sank part of her face and blew from under the water, making bubbles.
"For now I have to rest first," she thought.
Several minutes passed, Jeanne changed clothes and treated her wounds, and covered the cuts on her fingers with bandages.
Jeanne looked at her messy apartment room. "I'm too tired to clean it up now..." Jeanne walked back to her room, and closed the door.
Jeanne's eyes swept across her room, again her eyes landed on the paper bag on the table, Leo Tolstoy's gift as compensation. Jeanne ignored it and threw herself onto the bed.
Her eyes stared at the ceiling of the room, then slowly closed, and she fell into a deep sleep.