Lucia had invited Caruncle to visit her home.
Sebastian had been relentless about tagging along. After pestering her over and over, he finally wore her down.
And now, all three of them sat inside Lucia’s greenhouse.
The air was thick with the scent of soil and fresh blossoms. The glass walls fogged up slightly from the warmth inside, trapping the garden’s quiet, golden light.
“Perhaps… you were a man before?”
Caruncle threw her book directly at Sebastian’s face.
THUD.
He fell off his chair.
“AGHH!”
Lucia re-entered the greenhouse, carrying a tray.
“Careful! I’m coming in!”
She made her way toward the table, carefully balancing three cups of coffee and a plate of cookies.
Caruncle glanced around, expecting Mortimer to follow behind her—but no one else was there.
Lucia sighed. “Your butler ditched me.”
She set the tray down, rolling her eyes. “The moment I picked this up, he went ‘Oh, what a lovely lady you are! Forgive me for making you carry the tray all the way to the garden!’ She huffed. “And then he left me alone in the room.”
She turned toward Sebastian, who was slowly sitting up, adjusting his chair.
“…And what exactly did you do?”
Sebastian rubbed his face. “Well, I was just trying to guess who she was before the transplant.”
Lucia groaned. “Oh god, not this again.”
“No, but listen! I think I guessed correctly! I asked if she was a man, and she got all mad and threw a book at me!”
Lucia glanced at Caruncle.
She was pretending to read a book about the meaning of flowers.
It was obvious.
She wasn’t actually reading—her eyes were fixed on a single spot, unmoving.
Lucia sighed. She had noticed too.
“Sebastian, maybe don’t ask things like that.”
“No, but see! I don’t care about who she was! I was trying to tell her that, no matter what, she still has my complete devotion!”
Lucia raised an eyebrow. “And why, exactly, do you want to follow her so badly?”
Sebastian puffed up his chest. “Because I love her!”
Silence.
I watched Caruncle’s reaction carefully.
Her emotions were always hard to pin down. I could feel them, but translating them into words never worked the way I wanted.
She had been moody all day, but now her emotions were a strange soup of contradictions.
There was anger. But where it came from, I couldn’t tell.
There was frustration.
But also… relief.
And worst of all—a calmness that made her feel empty.
She tried to push away memories of the basement. They made her furious.
She told herself she was just tired.
That must be why she felt like this.
Lucia cut through the silence.
“Sebastian.” Her voice was flat.
Sebastian blinked. “…Yes?”
“You must know that confessions like that aren’t very proper.”
Sebastian tilted his head. “Huh?”
Lucia sighed. “The only thing you’re doing is forcing the lady to respond. That isn’t polite.”
“Oh. I– I apologize, I didn’t—”
Lucia’s gaze hardened. *“And knowing very well that Miss Esparza cannot talk, don’t you think it’s even worse? You just keep talking at her, over and over. If you like her that much, maybe just follow her in silence.”
Sebastian’s face flushed. “…I—I didn’t realize.”
I glanced back at Caruncle.
Her stomach was twisting with butterflies, but her expression was a deep frown.
I think… she was happy, but annoyed.
Like when a stray dog follows you, and it’s cute, but you really wish it would go away.
Lucia broke the tension with a sharp gesture.
“Anyway, enough of that. How do you like the flower garden?”
Caruncle picked up the chalkboard.
"It's beautiful."
Lucia brightened slightly. “I’m glad you think so. It’s been a nice distraction for me.”
Her voice wavered slightly.
She turned toward the flowers. “Flowers are the kind of beings that don’t disappoint you.”
Caruncle looked up sharply.
Their eyes met.
And for a second, they both looked like they were about to cry.
“And!” Sebastian suddenly spoke, snapping the moment apart. “The Circle says flowers can be used in spells too!”
Lucia turned on him. “That hasn’t been proven.”
“Well, one day, I will prove it! You’ll see!”
Lucia raised an eyebrow. “That’s what you’re going to do with your life?”
“Yes! I want to understand the wonders and mysteries of the world!”
Lucia smirked. “You couldn’t understand the multiplication table if you tried. How are you still in the Circle?”
Sebastian pouted. “Math just isn’t my forte. But I do have a good handle on literature, language, and charisma!”
I smirked. “Fun, huh, Caruncle? Watching conversations happen around you, unable to join in?”
Of course, it wasn’t fun.
But it was what it was.
Lucia glanced at Caruncle, who was frowning deeply.
Then, suddenly—Lucia grinned.
"See? Not even Elena here is falling for your act!"
Sebastian gasped dramatically. “I also want to unveil the mystery of women.”
Lucia snorted, shaking her head.
They finished their coffee in quiet conversation, and then—
“By the way,” Lucia said, setting her cup down. “There’s more I’d like to show you.”
She stood and held out a hand. “Come with me.”
Caruncle hesitated—then took it.
They wandered through the flower fields.
The gray sky loomed overhead. But the ground was bursting with color.
Lavender swayed in the misty breeze, its scent thick and calming. Foxglove stood tall, their pale pink and cream flowers elegant even in the dim light.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Despite the absence of the sun, the blossoms seemed to glow.
At the top of the hill, Caruncle finally sat down.
Lucia sat beside her. “Tired?”
Caruncle shook her head.
She reached for the chalkboard—
But before she could write, her tears fell first.
Sebastian arrived—but for once, he said nothing.
No one did.
They just sat there, gazing at the sky, as the mist swallowed the horizon.
***
Caruncle had been a force in the world once.
A man who moved nations. Who fought for something real.
Now?
Now, Caruncle was a corpse in a rich man’s home cemetery.
She had arrived in this world, and everything had collapsed around her.
A cursed existence. A negative force.
She woke up in green.
Not white. Green.
The air was thick.
Hot. Suffocating.
The walls of the room seemed damp, covered in a sheen of moisture, as if the jungle outside was breathing into the space.
She tried to sit up, but the humidity pressed down on her.
She was sweating.
What happened?
Last night, she had been having dinner with Custodio and Mortimer. She had felt herself dozing off, head sinking toward the plate.
She must have passed out.
She looked to the side of the bed.
A small envelope.
With shaking hands, she opened it.
“After six months under my care, it is time for you to take the next step.
We took the liberty of helping you sleep last night, and after a long journey, we have arrived.
This is Holiday’s Island.
A peaceful land where no one will bother us.
Here, I have brought every Elena before you.
Mortimer and I have gone hunting. We will return by 10 AM.
After that, Mortimer will cook. And I will spend time with you.
It is time for you to become my wife.”
The letter fell from her hands.
She shot up, heart hammering, corset biting into her ribs.
Her breath was coming too fast, too sharp.
The room was too hot.
Her dress from last night clung to her skin, sticky, suffocating. The corset, which she had finally gotten used to, now felt like it was strangling her.
Boots.
She spotted a pair of leather boots near the door.
She shoved them on.
Then—she ran.
She didn’t follow the path.
That was where they would come from.
Instead, she pushed through the tangled mess of jungle.
The sun—she could see it. Finally, she could see it.
For months, she had only known fog and gray skies.
Now, it burned too bright, too heavy, glaring through the canopy like an open eye.
She had no idea how long she ran.
An hour?
Time had stretched, twisted.
The air grew thicker. It clung to her like a living thing.
The fabric of her gown—ruined.
The silk was drenched in sweat and dirt, dragging at her legs. The lace had torn away in places, catching on unseen thorns.
The leather boots—**once pristine—**were now scuffed, buttons missing, caked in layers of grime.
She wiped her forehead.
Her hands were trembling.
Then—
A crack.
Somewhere in the trees.
Caruncle froze.
A shadow moved.
Low. Stalking.
Like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.
She held her breath.
Her pulse pounded in her ears.
The jungle was too dense, too alive, too knowing.
For a moment, nothing moved.
Then the shadow melted back into the foliage.
She exhaled sharply.
Her entire body shook.
She had to keep going.
But the jungle was never-ending.
And then—her foot plunged into something wet.
She lurched forward, the bog sucking at her boot.
The sound it made—a sickening squelch.
Her breath hitched.
She yanked her foot free, falling onto the damp earth. Her arms shook as she pushed herself up.
She was losing strength.
Then—
A sound.
Not a crack.
Not a rustle.
A soft, rhythmic roar.
The ocean.
She ran.
She broke through the final wall of trees.
And there it was.
The sea.
Stretching endlessly.
The waves crashed, a deep, rhythmic sound.
Her vision blurred from exhaustion.
But she could see it—
A boat.
Anchored just past the shore.
She stood there, panting, staring, disbelieving.
The ocean breeze wrapped around her.
Cold. Crisp.
For the first time in months, she could breathe.
And yet.
Something still felt wrong.
The air wasn’t just thick with heat.
It was thick with something else.
Like a feeling.
A whisper.
A curse.
For a moment, she hesitated.
Then—
She walked toward the shore.
Stepped into the waves.
And, finally—
She sailed.
***
The boat rocked beneath her.
The waves stretched out forever.
Each stroke of the oars was heavier than the last. Her arms ached, muscles trembling, her breath ragged.
She looked back.
Nothing.
The island was gone.
Ahead, the sea was an endless, uncaring void.
The sun beat down on her skin—too bright, too harsh, like it was punishing her for daring to leave the shadows.
She squinted against the light, her hands prickling with heat. She hadn’t felt sunlight on her skin in six months.
Ten years, in reality.
Her body, pale and starved of warmth, was already starting to burn.
The oars felt like dead weight.
Oh, wait. That’s what they were.
She was dragging herself through the water. Through life.
Delightful.
Her vision blurred. Blue and gray smeared together.
She blinked it away. Kept rowing. Refused to stop.
Glanced back.
No shore.
No land.
No sign of hope, anywhere.
Her arms shook. Her fingers split open with blisters. Every stroke was a punishment. The universe’s way of reminding her who was in charge.
Then—her grip failed.
The oars slipped from her hands, falling limp across her lap.
The boat rocked gently.
Caruncle let out a long breath.
And lay back against the wood.
She had stopped rowing half an hour ago.
The horizon blurred into the sky in every direction.
The sun burned. Raw. Unrelenting.
Her throat felt like sandpaper. Her lips were split and dry.
Each breath she took was full of salt.
Her skin—aching, feverish. But she didn’t care.
At least she had felt the sun.
She stared at the sky, watching the clouds stretch over her, slow and heavy.
The boat creaked beneath her. The waves lulled her.
She wasn’t sad.
Wasn’t angry.
Just lonely.
She had seen the world now.
That was enough.
The beauty of the woods. The glow of flowers in the mist.
Everything else was just flavor. The extra people added to life to convince themselves it was worth living.
Her mother used to say that people never changed.
They would always make the same mistakes.
So why would it matter if she missed out on the future?
The thought drifted through her mind, light as sea foam, dissolving into the sound of the waves.
She closed her eyes.
The sun painted her eyelids red.
And she smiled.
“I felt a strange happiness after I looked in the mirror.”
Her thoughts were slow. Distant.
“For once, I didn’t hate what I saw.”
She let herself sink into the warmth of the boat.
“Now, all I want is peace.”
The waves whispered against the hull.
The sea rocked her, lulling her gently.
She wanted to die because she was happy.
Caruncle.
Caruncle.
"Happiness is a double-edged sword."
"Once you have seen the meaning, nothing will ever taste the same."
The waves answered.
Soft. Gentle. Pulling her further and further.
“Is that what you really feel?”
My voice.
She didn’t answer.
She heard the birds.
Watched them fly away.
She was happy to have heard them one last time.
If Jazmin saw her again, she would accept her failure.
She would accept being dissolved into nothingness.
She was crying.
But I was holding her hand.
Her tears were warm, mixing with the salt on her skin.
They rolled down her cheeks, sinking into the fabric of her clothes.
Why do you cry, Caruncle?
You, who have the answers to everything.
You, who understand the truth of this world.
Why are you feeling so pointless?
So lonely?
She didn’t answer.
She just stared at the sky.
The boat drifted on.
The shore vanished behind her.
The sun above watched her.
Unblinking.
“…Fine.”
“I will take over.”
I sat up.
The oars were slick with sweat and salt.
The sky was clouded over now.
But I could still see the sun.
I thought.
"The sun sets in the west… this time of year, at least."
I looked toward the horizon.
"If I row that way, I should reach the mainland before nightfall… hopefully."
I placed my hands on the oars.
And started rowing and I tried to whistle a song.
But, my lips were too dry, and no melody came out.
End of Act 2.
"A Glove From Tasty Soup"
