12 O’Clock Marionette

Before him, there was nothing but Amy Royalsand.
No one was attacking him.
In truth, the solution to Cruello’s predicament was simple.

‘Destroy the cliff, and it’s over.’
If the magic circle generating the illusion was broken, the energy source would become meaningless.
The problem was whether Siora Bonetti could survive if the cliff collapsed.

Holy power seemed to enhance her reflexes, but her overall physical ability was lacking.
Cruello didn’t want to gamble on something he couldn’t guarantee.
For now, he moved forward, searching for another solution.

The countless illusions followed him.
[Why aren’t you saying anything, Roy?]
[Does your throat hurt?]

"Shut up."
[Oh my, you can actually say something like that?]
[Let’s have tea! I want lemon sherbet. The one we had last time was delicious.]

"For the love of god, just be quiet."
[Roy, do you hate tea? Then I’ll drink it for you.]
[That’s right, I can do anything for you.]

"Amy, please—"
[I'm not Amy.]
A voice that did not belong to Amy Royalsand.
Cruello abruptly lifted his head.

A girl, likely in her mid-to-late teens, stood before him.
Like Amy, she had blonde hair, though hers was darker and cut short.
Her expression carried a hint of gloom, with a small beauty mark beneath her lips.

With a cynical tone, she spoke.
[I saw that young lady’s face too, since you keep insisting. She looks nothing like me. This is insulting to her as well.]
"…Viga."

[You finally remember my name?]
Viga rubbed her eyes, looking exhausted as she approached.
[What the hell is all this?]

She stopped just a step in front of him, surveying the area.
[You acted like you’d moved on, but you still see the whole world as Amy Royalsand, don’t you?]
"I didn’t create this."

[Does it even matter? You still haven’t let go of her death, and that’s why this is happening.]
Viga let out a sigh, her words striking him in a way he couldn’t refute.
[And me too.]

"Viga."
[You never trusted me while I was alive, but now that I’m dead, you think about me endlessly.]
"…So I—"

[Do you really think that’s what I wanted?]
Cruello’s eyes shook violently.
Viga took another half step forward, closing the distance.

She reached out with both hands and gently cupped his face.
Her fingers were cold enough to send chills down his spine, but her voice was even crueler.
[You know, this is all because of your selfishness, young duke.]

"…"
[If you truly cared for me, you would just forget everything. Stop digging up graves.]
Cruello’s face twisted into a scowl as he glared at her.

[Destroy the cliff. Bury everything. Then you’ll never have to suffer again.]
"…No."
[We didn’t come here to harm you. If that were the case, we wouldn’t just be talking like this, would we?]

"Viga."
[Don’t you want to be free, Cruello?]
His eyes widened at her words.

Clenching his teeth, he shoved her hands away.
Yet the one who staggered was not Viga, but him.
A wave of nausea washed over him, and Cruello pressed the back of his hand to his lips once more.

"You're… not Viga."
[Or maybe you just want to believe that?]
Viga laughed mockingly.

Despite her cold demeanor, her smile was unexpectedly warm—an unsettling contrast that sent a sharp jolt through his mind.
His vision blurred, his stomach churned.
Cruello swallowed dryly.

When Viga took a step closer, he stepped back three.
She watched him for a moment before crossing her arms with a sigh, as if dissatisfied.
[Fine. I’ll admit defeat. That’s just how it is, isn’t it? A servant can never win against a master.]

A phrase Viga used to say often.
Even though he knew it was an illusion, Cruello felt his heart plummet.
[I am the core of this illusion. You don’t have to destroy the cliff—just kill me, and the mist will clear.]

"Kill… you?"
[It’s just an illusion anyway, so what does it matter? It’s not like I’ve truly returned to life before your eyes, is it?]
Or are you scared?

Viga smiled playfully, her eyes curving into crescents. A cheerful dimple formed beneath them.
Cruello didn’t smile back.
He simply glared at her with heavy, sunken eyes.

Yes, this wasn’t the real Viga. It was just another illusion.
Like in the first trial, if he destroyed the core, it would disappear like a dream.
Without even pausing to catch his breath, he gathered his mana.

An ice-forged sword took shape in his hands.
The girl merely watched, still smiling, making no attempt to run.
Of course. It was just an illusion.

"…"
Gripping the sword, he felt the weight of his killing intent swell.
And to be honest, that intent wasn’t directed only at the illusion.

Buried beneath deep affection was resentment.
The lingering emotions that had seeped from a corpse had always prevented him from remembering Viga properly.
But now, like a dam breaking, they surged forth.

Even knowing she hadn’t chosen to die, he couldn’t control himself.
Why did you leave me behind and die?
Why did you tear open an old wound only to drive an even bigger nail into it?

I only ever needed you in this world.
And you must have known that.
Cruello’s bloodshot eyes burned red.

If he simply swung the sword and cut down Viga’s illusion, his heart might feel lighter.
But something was wrong.
His heart was full of hatred.

His hands held the weapon, ready to strike.
And yet, for some reason, he couldn’t move.
[No matter how much you cling to this, you can't live with an illusion forever. It’s time to graduate from this.]

Despite her words, Viga suddenly pointed behind Cruello.
Her gesture didn’t match what she was saying, and before he could process it, his instincts made him turn around.
In that split second, a powerful impact struck his back.

“Kh—!”
“Oh, you actually fell for it.”
The voice that followed was absurdly playful.

Dumbfounded, Cruello lifted his head.
The Viga who had been standing before him was now close enough to slap his back.
“Vi—”

Before he could finish speaking, Cruello realized.
This wasn’t Viga.
The moment recognition set in, Viga’s face melted away, revealing another figure.

Blonde again, but completely different otherwise.
Her hair was shorter, her nose sharper, her chin free of any beauty marks.
And most striking of all—those round, violet eyes.

Cruello mumbled blankly.
“…Siora Bonetti?”
“You recognize me? Are you finally conscious? Can you hear me now?”

With every question, Siora made a point to slap his back again.
Cruello was too stunned to react to her petty antics.
Siora—not Viga.

The moment certainty set in, all the Amy illusions began to crumble into dust.
Like a row of dominoes collapsing, one after another.
The closest ones vanished first, then the ones farther away until, finally, the entire space was empty.

Now, in the world left behind, only Siora remained.
Her violet eyes shone vividly.
The most distinct color Cruello had ever seen.

I found Cruello.
He had been walking around with a face that ensured no one would dare approach within thirty meters.
And yet, Amy’s illusions had crowded around him within a single meter.

When I shoved through my fake replicas to block his path, I thought the problem had been solved.
Then—
“…Viga.”

I haven’t admitted this until now, but my heart almost leaped out of my chest.
Of course, Cruello hadn’t actually realized who I was.
He had simply fallen for the hallucination and mistook me for Viga.

Even when I tried purifying myself, it didn’t work.
Even when I tried reasoning with him, he kept having a one-sided conversation with himself.
I even grabbed his face and spoke directly, only to be coldly pushed aside.

Bastard!
“Kill you?”
“What the hell are you talking about? Are you insane?!”

When he started spewing nonsense, even radiating killing intent, I prepared to run.
Easy, easy.
Keeping my hands open to avoid provoking him, I stayed perfectly still.

Alright. Count to three, then bolt.
But then—an idea popped into my head.
“Hm, wait a second.”

Slowly, I moved my hand to the right.
Cruello’s eyes followed.
Left. Up. Down. The same reaction.

“Oh-ho.”
He might be distorting my words and expressions, but my movements were registering properly.
That meant I had an option.

“Ah! Look over there! The Grand Elder is tap-dancing! My god, a nine-time backflip! What a masterpiece of artistry!”
Pointing behind him, I shouted whatever came to mind.
Fortunately, he turned his head.

Idiot!
Taking advantage of the moment, I channeled holy power into my hand and slapped him square across the back.
That did the trick.

Mission accomplished.
After a few more smacks for good measure, I watched as Cruello finally came to his senses and subtly withdrew my hand.
He stared at me for a moment before letting out a hollow laugh.

“…I feel like I got smacked upside the head.”
“It was your back, actually.”
Should I have hit him in the head instead? What a shame.

Cruello ran both hands down his face.
“Dal—nothing happened to you, did it?”
“That’s right. Everything was perfectly fine—except for Cruello.”

“The hallucination was a trap designed to make us attack each other.”
“Obviously. You tried to kill me, after all.”
“…Try to understand. You looked like someone else to me.”

“Even if I was dead? Am I supposed to understand that too?”
“…What do you want?”
“I’ll decide later.”

One more debt added to the list.
Satisfied, I nodded and glanced around.
The mist was still lingering but had noticeably thinned out.

Judging by the pattern—
“It looks like everyone who entered needs to break free of their illusions before this place resets.”
The moment I said it, the mist rapidly dissipated.

The sheer relief I felt was indescribable.
Actually, no—it wasn’t just relief.
“What’s with this rain…?”

Like a hole had torn open in the sky, rain poured down in torrents.
The thunderclaps were deafening.
When did this start?

Covering my ears with both hands, I lowered my head—
And spotted a lone woman standing dazed in the downpour.