Collapse, the Ordinary Daily Life of the Valkyries

I hurried down the cobblestone path. While checking in at the hotel, I heard from Mr. Kenji, Uncle Miharu's friend who runs the hotel, "There's a candlelight parade tonight! The whole town will be illuminated. Look forward to it!"

This is a ceremony with a long history. Its original origin was to prevent the bride who was going to marry the land god of Shenhai from getting lost or falling on the road, so many candles were lit to illuminate the ground. Now it has turned into a lively costume parade.

When I reached the intersection, I looked around for any trace of the parade.

"I've actually reached the opposite intersection."

The procession was moving at a remarkable pace. But for some reason, they seemed to be heading in the opposite direction of the city. Since there weren't many buildings there, if they went a little further, they would reach the outskirts of the forest.

I was halfway along the parade, glancing out the corner of my eye at the scattered retail stores, when I suddenly heard several boisterous laughs. A man in drag, dressed as if for a parade, and several children appeared on the side of the road.

The man dressed as a clown danced briskly and played his trumpet out of tune, while the children laughed happily and surrounded him.

Just like Hamel the Flutist, manipulating the children with the sound of the instrument - this ridiculous thought flashed through my mind for a moment, making me shudder.

They seemed to be heading for the same forest as the procession ahead. After some hesitation, I slowly followed them.

The roads that had been repaired disappeared, and the number of trees standing side by side increased rapidly.

After walking for about ten minutes in the forest, where sunlight streamed through the leaves, I began to feel a little uneasy. This was unfamiliar territory, and if I went too deep, I'd be in danger of getting lost.

I stopped briefly to confirm my location, then looked back at the direction the clown and the others were heading.

“…Huh? Gone?”

I looked around frantically, but couldn't see the clown or the children.

Instead, I discovered something unexpected.

"A bench? Why would there be a bench in a place like this?"

There were simple wooden benches with backrests placed between the trees, and they didn't feel like they were just discarded, after all, there were several benches placed at irregular intervals.

"It's probably a place for people to sit and rest in the forest."

I couldn't help but smile. I walked to the nearest bench, checked it was intact, and sat down. My feet were aching. I exhaled softly. Even though I'd lost track of the parade, it was nice to just relax and enjoy the forest air. The mossy old trees and the smell of soft earth.

——It’s so comfortable.

I closed my eyes. The spring sunshine on my body was warm and the air was clear. I'll bring my uncle here later. Then, I slowly opened my eyes.

"——!"

The scenery in front of me changed.

The originally sunny and comfortable afternoon suddenly turned into a night world filled with tension.

I got goosebumps all over my body. I wasn't asleep, I just closed my eyes. How could this happen in just a minute or two?

“…?…!”

I wanted to make a sound and stand up, but I couldn't do it.

Before I knew it, my hands and feet were bound by the bench.

—No...! This isn't a bench! It's changed shape!

I was struggling to think in the midst of extreme confusion.

My eyes hadn't adjusted to the darkness for a moment, so I couldn't tell what I was sitting on, but I was certain it wasn't a bench. The part that touched my waist and back wasn't flat, and it even reacted slightly to my movements, as if it had a life of its own. And there shouldn't have been any armrests.

And what exactly is this furry object that's digging into my cheek and covering my mouth? Its uneven thickness makes it impossible to believe it's just a piece of cloth.

——I can feel body heat, could it be a human hand...?

I got goosebumps again. I had to break free and run away immediately—I thought to myself, a strong sense of anxiety overtaking my fear. I didn't know what was going on, but I felt I couldn't ignore this feeling of impatience.

I struggled desperately, the unidentified object, perhaps trying to stop me, tightening its grip on my wrists and ankles. The tip of my bangs felt like it was about to poke my eyes, but I couldn't even move my hand to push them away.

Cold sweat broke out, my composure gradually lost, and my breathing became rapid. If I could remove the thing covering my mouth, at least I could scream for help. Thinking of this, I forced my trembling body to move harder.

Suddenly, a candle light appeared before my eyes.

"!"

——Someone is here!

I forgot to even blink as I stared at the object standing right in front of me.

"Ah, have you finally decided on my successor? And they picked a rather young lady!"

It was a cheerful voice that was totally out of place in the ominous darkness surrounding it, and sounded quite abrupt.

The candlelight dimly illuminated the figure of a suspicious person speaking meaningless words.

—Dressing up in drag…?

A man in bizarre clothing appeared.

For a moment, I forgot the strange situation and fear I was in, and stared at the person in front of me, and the other person looked back at me silently.

His waist-length hair, as smooth as snow, lacked the unnatural feel of a wig, and the upper half of his face was obscured by a dark silver mask. The garment he wore differed slightly from a kimono: the sleeves of his coat reached to the floor, flowing in the wind, while the hem seemed to be longer only at the back. A delicately embroidered belt was encircled by several thin chains adorned with small gemstones, while his lower body was fitted, made of the same color as his coat. The candlelight barely illuminated his feet, so it was impossible to tell, but he likely wore shoes similar to long riding boots.

What kind of cosplay is this? It looks like a traditional costume that could be worn by either Japanese or Western people.

——Who is this person? What does "heir" mean?

Although I had so many questions I wanted to ask, being unable to speak was both overwhelming and frustrating. "Help me unravel this!" I groaned a few times, trying to convey my message. Then, the unknown person in front of me put their index finger to their lips and smiled.

"Be quiet! You've only just been recognized as a candidate for the succession. If you make a sound, the power of the protective shell surrounding you will weaken, or even break."

——What candidate, what shell, what is this person talking about!

"Your world and our April world, chosen by the 'Hunza', have become a 'heavy realm' where the two worlds merge and intertwine. Without my protection, you will be crushed by the distortion of the heavy realm and ravaged beyond recognition."

April World? What country is this? This incomprehensible explanation made him even more anxious.

Could this be one of the parade's activities... Perhaps I've been forced to participate in a courage test or an escape game? Even with this thought, I felt something was amiss.

No matter what, it is impossible for such activities to bind ordinary tourists like this.

I suppressed the dread that was sweeping over me and looked up at the person whose face was curled with amusement. Because of the mask that covered most of their face and the unique clothing, it was impossible to tell their age or even their gender. The same could be said about their voice; it wouldn't be surprising to tell it was a man or a woman.

"Your eyes are whirring around like a curious cat. But just be quiet and listen to me."

This amused voice made me a little angry. I didn't want to be described as "curiosity" or something harmless, because I was really scared. I groaned in protest, and my body struggled to break free from the restraints on my hands and feet.

Miscellaneous: Thinking

It was dark inside.

It wasn't even night yet, and even though the curtains were drawn, the streets of Paris in November were a blanket of gray beneath the heavy, low-hanging clouds. Furthermore, while the room was spacious and high-ceilinged, the walls were dark, creating a solemn atmosphere that felt both suffocating and oppressive.

The only bright color was the flames jumping in the fireplace, sometimes bright red, sometimes golden, swaying unsteadily.

"Do you know who I am?"

The person who asked the question was an old man sitting in a large wheelchair, with a blanket covering his knees. His hair and beard were white, but his eyebrows were still black. He was thin and gaunt, but his eyes were still sharp.

The old man's question was directed to a person standing about five steps away, directly in front of him. The person was dressed in men's clothing, with thick brown hair tied back. At first glance, he looked like a teenager, but his voice was that of a young girl.

"I know a thing or two about you."

"Oh, you seem quite polite. Now, tell me, who am I?"

The girl controlled her tone.

"You are Count Guy de Brickell. My grandfather."

"The second half of the sentence is superfluous. I don't acknowledge a granddaughter like you."

The old man waved his hand impatiently, and the girl answered without hesitation:

"My father is Maurice de Brickell. He is your son. Therefore, I am your granddaughter."

The wheelchair creaked. Perhaps too excited, the old man tried hard to stand up, but the effort failed.

"It's a shame to even hear the name. Morris, that unfilial son!"

The old man's voice trembled.

"Blinded by those liberal ideas, he dropped out of college and eloped to Canada. Even more outrageous, he married a wild woman from that place, bringing shame to our family."

The girl's cheeks flushed with anger, and her eyes flashed like lightning. She protested loudly:

"My mother is a native, not a savage!"

The old man pretended not to hear.

"Then you are the child born of my unworthy son and the barbarian's daughter. What is your name?"

"My name is Kelian, and I'm sixteen years old." The girl answered while suppressing her emotions.

Lord Brickell looked at the girl coldly.

"This is the first time I've met you. You have the letter signed by Morris, but other than that, you have nothing to prove your identity."

"So, Uncle, no, Your Excellency, are you going to acknowledge this granddaughter?"

These words came from a middle-aged man standing next to the Earl. The room was too dark to tell whether he was thirty or forty. Since he addressed the Earl as "Uncle," he must be his nephew. To Corian, he was her father's cousin.

"Now is not the time to say such things. Don't rush me. I'm afraid to tell you that I'm not a good person, but a good person."

Count Brickell glared at him, and the man named Marseille fell silent. Count Brickell coughed loudly, seemingly on purpose, and turned to the girl named Corian.

"So, what year is it, Corian?"

"1830."

Corian answered in confusion. The old earl nodded pretentiously.

"Yes, 1830. How old would he have been, if he had still lived?"

"My father? Qiling eight + V four 锍岜拒 (seven.) Lingmeng"

"Your father is an unfilial son. I don't care how old he is."

The old Earl spat out these words with malice. Corian's cheeks burned with anger. The Earl seemed unconcerned by his granddaughter's reaction.

"Marseille, if he were still alive, how old would he be?"

"Who are you talking about?" Marseille asked patiently.

Lord Brickell replied:

"Napoleon."

Marseille's eyes widened at the unexpected name. Corian, on the other hand, wasn't surprised. Born in Canada, Corian didn't have a particular impression of the name Napoleon.

"You mean the Emperor Napoleon?"

"Emperor?! That powerful villain, more vicious than a jackal, don't call him emperor! How can you be considered a subject of the Kingdom of France?"

"I...I spoke out of turn. Please forgive me."

Marseille quickly wiped the sweat off his face with a handkerchief.

"After Waterloo, Napoleon was exiled to St. Helena and died there in 1821. He would have been fifty-two years old at the time of his death. That was nine years ago, and if he were still alive, he would be sixty-one now. But why do you suddenly ask about this?"

The old count did not immediately answer Marseille's question, but simply stared at the flames in the fireplace. Marseille shrugged slightly, leaned his head in the direction of Corian, and asked softly:

"Corian, you know Napoleon, right?"

"I've heard of his name."

The old man's question was directed to a person standing about five steps away, directly in front of him. The person was dressed in men's clothing, with thick brown hair tied back. At first glance, he looked like a teenager, but his voice was that of a young girl.

"I know a thing or two about you."

"Oh, you seem quite polite. Now, tell me, who am I?"

The girl controlled her tone.

"You are Count Guy de Brickell. My grandfather."

"The second half of the sentence is superfluous. I don't acknowledge a granddaughter like you."

The old man waved his hand impatiently, and the girl answered without hesitation:

"My father is Maurice de Brickell. He is your son. Therefore, I am your granddaughter."

The wheelchair creaked. Perhaps too excited, the old man tried hard to stand up, but the effort failed.

"It's a shame to even hear the name. Morris, that unfilial son!"

The old man's voice trembled.