The Story of the Vessaliuses
In his nice, warm, private room at Pandora Headquarters, Oz Vessalius slept.
“…Nn.”
The sun was already high.
The light that crept through the gap in the curtains fell across his cheek, and it seemed to disturb him a little: He was frowning slightly in his sleep. Even so, he showed no sign of waking.
Cocooned in a down comforter, his head sinking into a soft pillow, he slept without stirring. His breathing was slow and regular. The room was filled with a delicate, tranquil stillness of the sort that anyone would go out of their way to avoid disturbing.
Just then, a faint sound ruffled the stillness.
Creeeak…
It was the sound of the door that led to the hallway, opening.
“—”
Someone slipped smoothly into the room through the barely open door. A girl with long black hair.
The girl looked around the room. When she spotted Oz on the bed, she broke into a tiny, mischievous smile.
It was a charming smile, like a flower bud opening.
—In the next instant: “Ha-hah!!”
The girl bared her fangs (canines, really) in a ferocious grin, launched herself into a sprint…
And took a flying leap at the bed.
Lithe limbs flailing gracefully, she reached the zenith of her jump, nearly touching the ceiling.
She was directly over the bed. Just below her, locked in her sights, was Oz, still sleeping peacefully, although his expression seemed a bit uneasy.
She couldn’t possibly miss.
The girl’s eyes shone with a predatory gleam. At the perfect moment, when there was no possible chance of anything in the universe sending her off-course…
…her dainty lips opened…
…and she spoke, gleefully, almost singing:
“Ooooz! 
”
It was a full-force, gravity-driven attack.
At the very last second, a premonition of incoming menace woke Oz, and—maybe it was coincidence, or a miracle—he managed to avoid the attack by half-falling out of bed.
With an impressive fwump, the girl landed on the down comforter on her derriere and immediately said, “Tch!” She sounded disappointed, but still somehow entertained. Then she bounced right back up to her feet and stood on the bed, drawn up to her full height, feet apart, looking down at Oz.
Although Oz had managed to avoid the attack itself, he’d hit the back of his head when he tumbled to the floor, and he was groaning in a scratchy voice. He sat up, running a hand through his sleep-tousled blond hair, his face still drowsy. He rubbed the back of his head where he’d hit it on the floor, looking up at the girl in a daze. Then he spoke.
“Good morning, Alice. Listen…”
“Huhn! It’s noon already. You mean ‘good evening’! Good! Eve! En! Ning!”
Alice, the ultra-aggressive girl, smiled defiantly, puffing out her chest proudly for no apparent reason.
“Umm,” Oz said, hedging. “Good evening, Alice. Listen…”
“You evaded that attack quite well! I’m impressed! That deserves praise: Good boy, well done!”
“…Could you explain why you’re making attempts on my life all of a sudden?”
“You slept in. I came to wake you up,” Alice told him, as if to say Worship me. “Be grateful, Oz! Bwa-ha-ha!”
Alice looked to be in her mid-teens, but that arrogant attitude suited her to a T. …Not that that made it okay. Still, she didn’t lie. If she said she’d come to wake him up, then it was true.
…In Alice’s mind, anyway.
“I see,” murmured Oz. Alice didn’t look as if she felt a shred of guilt. “Then, er, couldn’t you have been nice and shaken me gently or something?”
“What are you talking about?! I was nice! There aren’t many as nice as I am. Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
“…You’re feeling good, aren’t you, Alice?”
Oz was laughing a little. “Mm-hmm,” Alice said, with an exaggerated nod.
Alice was always high-energy, but this morning she was even more hyper than usual.
Oz wondered whether something good had happened. Even if it had, if it made her attack him in his sleep, he wasn’t at all confident that he could simply feel happy for her.
At Oz’s words, Alice’s expression flared even brighter:
“Exactly, Oz! Good job noticing that. I’m feeling fantastic today!”
“Yes, I can tell by looking at you.”
“Heh. I know what this is. It’s called ‘powering up,’ am I right? Hm?”
Powering up? Oz was puzzled. Alice kept right on talking a blue streak.
“Ha-haaa! I’ve felt hot and strange since this morning, you see. It’s as though some completely new me is about to wake up! I’ve never felt anything like this before. I bet I’m about to acquire some tremendous new power. Not only that, but when I walk, my feet feel a bit unsteady, as if I’m floating. Kuh-kuh-kuh… I may be able to fly soon! True, my head feels sort of foggy and it hurts like the dickens, but—heh-heh—I’m sure it’s all because I’m powering u— Achoo! Cough, cough! Bwa-ha, bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Snurff, wachoo!”
Alice bragged, seeming to be at the top of her game. However, she sneezed and coughed, and her delicate, finely shaped nose was running.
—Wait just a minute, Oz thought, staring aghast.
Abruptly, he put his face very close to Alice’s. Telling her not to move, he leaned his forehead against hers.
At first, startled, Alice tried to pull away.
“Wh-what, Oz?!”
“No you don’t. Hold still.” Oz caught Alice’s shoulders. “…”
“…Oz?”
“You’re running a fever!”
Alice’s forehead was astonishingly hot. Oz’s face grew earnest and very serious.
“That isn’t ‘powering up,’” he told her. “That’s a cold!”
…A cold? Alice cocked her head to the side, perplexed.
It wasn’t quite noon yet.
| 12:00 |
I’ve never heard of a Chain catching cold before, Gilbert Nightray thought.
It was noon, and the day was sunny and peaceful.
Gilbert was sitting on a chair pulled close to the bed in Oz’s room. His eyes, which tended to get hidden by his black hair, were troubled and downcast, and his eyebrows were drawn together in what appeared to be sorrow. The combination made him look truly worried.
“…”
He was gazing at the bed.
It was Oz’s bed, in Oz’s room, but now Alice had taken his place. She was wrapped up in the down comforter with a damp towel on her forehead, clearly and unmistakably sick. She’d been bundled into bed over her objections, and she looked dissatisfied, displeased, and irritated, but she was also feverish, and she seemed a bit weak.
“…Haah… I can’t believe it,” Gilbert muttered, shaking his head.
He gave a despondent sigh.
Quietly, almost to himself, he murmured:
“Who’d have thought the stupid rabbit would actually catch cold? Fools never catch cold.”
“What was that—?!”
Alice shot bolt upright in bed, sending the towel flying.
Gilbert wasn’t melancholy, or worried, or sad. He was simply appalled at Alice’s cold.
Setting aside the question of whether the rabbit’s stupid or not, how could a Chain catch a human disease…?
Alice, who was wearing a set of boy’s pajamas that Oz had insisted she take, stood up on the bed indignantly.
“Why you…! Are you muck…mocking me?!”
She’d meant to sound sharp, but she tripped over her own tongue, slurring the words.
She growled in frustration. Gilbert sighed. Good grief.
“Never mind. You’re sick. Get back in bed and stay there.”
“Don’t you make fun of me! Who’s sick?! This is nothing! Just give me some meat and I’ll be fine in no time—! …Oog…”
Alice started off aggressively, but before long, her body listed unsteadily. Despite her words, she seemed limp and exhausted.
“…What did I tell you? Lie down.”
Weakly, Alice collapsed back onto the bed with a thump. Gilbert heaved another sigh.
Frustrated that her body wouldn’t do what she told it to, Alice muttered an aggravated “Tch!”
Still appalled, Gilbert fixed the wildly rumpled comforter and retrieved the towel from where it had fallen by the pillow.
When he picked it up, he noticed that the wet towel was lukewarm, so he dipped it into a brass basin of ice water that was sitting on the floor and wrung it out again. Most of this was done with almost no thought on Gilbert’s part. By now, taking care of people was second nature to him.
He thought back.
A little while ago, when he’d come to this room, he’d run into Oz, who was on his way out.
Oz had told him about Alice’s cold, and then declared enthusiastically:
“I’m taking care of Alice all by myself. I’ll do everything.”
Then he’d added, firmly:
“And Gil, you’re in charge of making sure Alice takes it easy!”
Then he’d left the room, saying that he was going to get food and medicine for Alice.
He was probably planning to pick up a prescription at the dispensary, but Gilbert had his doubts as to whether human medicine would work on a Chain.
Oz hadn’t looked like someone who’d shouldered responsibility for an onerous job. He’d seemed determined not to let anyone steal his fun. He’d been bursting with enthusiasm. Alice was special to Oz; Gilbert knew that. That probably explained it, but…
As he thought, Gilbert laid the cold, damp towel on Alice’s forehead.
“Nnrgh…” Alice wasn’t happy about being treated like a sick person, but she didn’t struggle.
An expression of comfort crept across her fever-bright face, and she gave a small cough.
No matter how you looked at her, she was a clear, picture-perfect example of a girl who’d caught a cold.
Well, Gilbert thought to himself, I guess when the stupid rabbit’s this meek, she’s not entirely uncute—
Chomp.
Gilbert’s hand had been hovering over Alice’s face, and she bit his little finger with enough force to make an audible noise.
It was so unexpected that Gilbert felt shock before he felt any pain. He didn’t understand what had just happened.
Belatedly, as the pain registered, he screamed internally: Did she just bite me—?!
Why?!
It made absolutely no sense.
His head was filled with a blizzard of question marks.
Alice glared at Gilbert. Then, still latched onto his little finger like a fish on a hook, she smiled triumphantly.
“Mugaw, mugaw mugaw! (You jerk! You were laughing at me, weren’t you?!)”
She seemed to have sensed it in the air. Animal instincts were not to be trifled with.
“Wha?! Hey, you—! Let go! Let go, I said!”
Thoroughly flustered, Gilbert swung his hand around, trying to shake her off. Alice wouldn’t let go.
It wouldn’t be at all okay to break a sick girl’s grip by knocking her flying, but…
It hurt so much that Gilbert thought, I can’t be picky about how I do it! Reluctantly, he clenched his free hand into a fist.
Just then, the latch rattled, the door swung open, and a perplexed voice said, “…??? What are you two doing?”
Gilbert and Alice looked at the door. Instantly, Alice (finally) released Gilbert’s finger.
Oz was standing there with a silver tray balanced on one hand, and he was wearing an apron.
—An apron with little chicks all over it.
Oatmeal with mashed bananas mixed in.
That was what Oz had prepared for Alice. Oatmeal was oats—a type of large grain—that had been roughly ground or finely cut to make them easier to cook, and it was usually simmered with water or milk. It was boiled until soft to make it easy to digest, was rich in vitamins, minerals, and fiber, and often turned up at breakfast.
That said, it was considered surprisingly hard to season properly.
“…Chicks,” Gilbert murmured.
He was staring at Oz, and at Oz’s apron. For a moment, Oz blinked in confusion—“???”—but then he got it. Dexterously balancing the tray, he twirled once, flaring the apron proudly.
“I wear it pretty well, don’t I? They told me I really looked the part. I bet I’ll make a good wife someday!”
Oz looked tickled pink. He was really into this.
“—Yes, it looks very good on you,” Gilbert told him, straight-faced.
“Gil… Don’t give me a serious answer. There’s a punch line here, but that isn’t it.”
Oz sounded disgusted, and Gilbert hemmed: “Oh, uh. Hm.”
Still, it was true: Oz really did look good in that apron. Gilbert turned slightly away from Oz, averting his gaze, and cleared his throat. Then, abruptly, the blood drained from his face.
“The apron… Does that mean… Oz, d-don’t tell me… Did you make this…?”
He’d eaten Oz’s cooking once. The memory rose in his mind. Even if he was being polite, “ghastly” had been the only word to describe it. However, Oz was brimming with confidence.
“It’s fine! I had the cook show me what to do as I was making it. I even tasted it to make sure. They told me I had a knack for this!”
It wasn’t likely that the future head of the House of Vessalius would ever need a knack for cooking, but Oz looked thoroughly pleased by the idea.
At the sound of loud sniffing, Gilbert glanced at the bed.
Alice was kneeling on the bed with her legs splayed out to either side in an M. Her face was tipped slightly upward, and she was sniffing the air.
“Hmm.” She nodded in approval. “Something smells good, Oz.”
“I know, right?! I made you something tasty, Alice.”
“Oho. Then—of course—it has meat in it, doesn’t it?”
“Huh? No, it doesn’t.”
“…I didn’t quite catch that.” Alice repeated herself: “Of course it has meat in it, doesn’t it?”
“I told you, there’s no meat.”
“Whaaat…?!”
That can’t be! Alice reared back, seemingly shocked to the core.
“I put in milk and cinnamon and banana and—”
Oz’s explanation didn’t seem to get through to Alice. She drooped dejectedly, planting both hands on the bed.
“I trusted you. I can’t believe you’d betray me like this…”
From her pose, Gilbert thought she might be about to snap, and he hastily dropped into a fighting stance.
However, Alice stayed deeply depressed, wrapped in an aura of gloom. The sight left him feeling a bit deflated, and he thought, The cold must have knocked the fight out of her.
“It’s all right, it tastes really good,” Oz said cheerfully, and took over Gilbert’s chair.
Setting the tray on his knees, he picked up a silver spoon from where it lay beside the deep dish of oatmeal. Since it had come straight from the kitchen, steam rose from the dish, and it looked piping hot.
Oz scooped up a spoonful, brought it to his own lips, and blew on it to cool it.
Then:
“Here, Alice. Say ‘aaaah.’”
…Wha… ‘Say aaaah’?!
Gilbert, who’d gone to stand behind Oz and a bit to the side after vacating the chair, stared, flabbergasted.
Deferentially, Oz held the spoon out to Alice, holding a napkin under her chin with his other hand to catch any spills. He was the very picture of devoted service.
Y-you’d really go that far, Oz—?!
The sight of his master being a servant poleaxed Gilbert.
Apparently Alice found this sort of meticulous encouragement flattering. With a small grunt, she drew close to the spoon. Since Oz had blown on it, it had cooled down a little, but it was still fresh oatmeal, and it was still quite hot. She couldn’t just gulp down the whole spoonful at once. She pecked at the spoon with her lips, panting a little to let the steam escape her mouth.
Oz watched her, and his eyes looked happy. He seemed to be thinking, Alice sure is cute.
Gilbert watched Oz. His shoulders were trembling slightly.
“There’s still a lot more. Here…”
Once again, Oz dipped the spoon into the oatmeal and held it out to Alice. At that, Gilbert couldn’t take it anymore and interrupted. “Wait!”
As a valet, the sight of his master waiting on someone was too much for him. At his sudden, sharp cry, both Oz and Alice looked startled.
“Oz, you don’t have to do that!” Gilbert said. His expression was one of desperation.
“Gil? …But Alice is—” Sick, Oz was about to say, but before he could finish—
“Then I’ll do it!” Gilbert insisted, catching the wrist of the hand that held the spoon. Oz looked blank.
“Huh? …Gil, you’re going to make her say ‘aaaah’? I…I’d actually like to see that, but…”
“I’m not saying ‘aaaah’!”
Gilbert refused point-blank. At that, Oz used his free hand to pry Gilbert’s fingers from his wrist, whisking his hand away so that Gilbert couldn’t take the spoon. Oz gave him a mild glare.
“…But no. I told you, I’m going to take care of Alice. Remember?”
No matter how Gilbert argued, Oz seemed determined to hang on to his role as Alice’s caretaker.
If he pressed him too hard, he really might put Oz out of sorts. Gilbert couldn’t do anything but watch, although he was choking back the urge to cut and run the whole time. The worried wrinkle between his eyebrows grew deeper and deeper.
Oz fed Alice oatmeal as if he were feeding a small bird.
“Is it good, Alice?”
“Mmm. It’s not bad. It would be perfect if it had meat, though.”
“When you’re better. —Oh.”
Oz, who’d been plying the spoon cheerfully, seemed to remember something. He turned back to Gilbert.
“By the way, Gil.”
“…What.”
“You came to my room. Did you need something?”
“Oh—”
At those words, Gilbert remembered.
| 13:00 |
“—And so, the number of illegal contractors of which Pandora is aware is…”
In an office in a corner of Pandora Headquarters, Sharon Rainsworth’s voice rose and fell.
It was one in the afternoon, and the sun had just begun its journey down the sky.
Oz wasn’t present. The office held only Sharon, Xerxes Break, and Gilbert.
Gilbert stood, leaning against the wall, listening to Sharon without paying much attention to her. He’d visited Oz’s room to pass on a request from Sharon, who’d wanted to meet as a group and discuss a few things after lunch. The content of the discussion itself was of little importance: just a report on Pandora’s overall activity. Oz and Gilbert tended to work independently instead of as part of the organization, and Sharon had thought it would be good for them to know a little about the rest.
Oz had refused on the grounds that he had business he couldn’t leave unattended. Gilbert hadn’t been very interested, either: He was here because he’d thought it would look bad for both him and Oz to be absent.
—Please tell Sharon-chan I’m sorry, Oz had said.
…Alice was really special to Oz. Gilbert knew that. What he didn’t know was how special, or why Oz felt she was special.
Because she’d returned him to this world from the Abyss, which was said to be impossible to escape? But it would be more accurate to say that Alice had used Oz in order to cross to this side herself. On top of that, in making Oz an illegal contractor, she’d practically wired him with a time bomb.
If anything, it wouldn’t have been at all odd for him to resent Alice—
As he reached that particular thought, Gilbert suddenly found himself perplexed.
What do I think of that stupid rabbit?
Her stupidity was constantly causing him trouble, her confrontational personality made him very uncomfortable, and that arrogant attitude of hers frequently got on his nerves. Not only that, but she was a meat-loving picky eater who was always hungry, and, well, as a cook, it was nice to see someone eat what he’d made as if it tasted that good. —But that was neither here nor there.
It seemed to him as if he had every reason to hate her and none whatsoever to like her.
Was that why? Gilbert remembered Oz in that apron. Oz wasn’t used to cooking, but he’d done it for Alice. Was that why he’d felt so restless—you could almost have called it irritated—at seeing Oz wait on her?
Hah—! Wait, am I jealous? …Me? …Of the stupid rabbit?
Not even possible, he thought. He shook his head with a dry little smile.
To clear his mind, he thought about the chick pattern on the apron Oz had been wearing.
You know, that apron really did look good on him. He’s an aristocrat, and yet he’s able to wear commoner clothes with style. That’s my master for you—
Lost in thought as he was, Gilbert failed to notice it.
For a while now, having registered that he wasn’t paying attention to her, Sharon had been calling his name.
“Hellooooo? Gilbert-kun?”
When Break came up beside him and spoke—loudly—right in his ear, Gilbert came to himself with a jolt.
He looked over. Break was pointing at something.
When Gilbert glanced in that direction…
“Tee-hee-hee-hee-hee.” Thoom-thoom-thoom-thoom…
There was Sharon, wearing a flawlessly elegant smile. The pressure she gave off as she beamed made Gilbert quail instantly.
“You seem to have wandered into an entertaining daydream, ‘Raven.’”
A shudder chilled his spine. It was all Gilbert could do to squeeze out a “…Nuh, no.” Sharon’s bright smile seemed to corner him—“I’ve been speaking of matters of some importance, you know. What were you thinking about?”—and his answer came as a gasp.
“Ch-chicks,” he said, honestly.
“—Chicks?” Sharon and Break cocked their heads in simultaneous confusion.
“Alice-kun has a cold, eh?”
“And Oz-sama is nursing her…which is why he was unable to attend.”
After Gilbert filled them in, Break and Sharon wore odd expressions, as if everything made sense and, at the same time, made no sense at all.
Apparently neither of them had ever heard of a Chain catching cold before, either. From their reactions, Gilbert thought, asking if they knew how to handle the situation wasn’t likely to yield any noteworthy responses.
Break, who was standing beside Sharon, raised a jaunty index finger.
“Meaning that, with his master taken from him, faithful hound Gil-kun is feeling lonely.”
“My!”
Sharon put a hand to her mouth and giggled.
“That’s not it! I’m not particularly…”
Gilbert argued, blushing, but his words and expression only fueled Break’s and Sharon’s smiles.
Gilbert could never match these two in this sort of exchange, and the least damaging strategy in this situation would have been to beat a hasty retreat. Of course, if Gilbert had been able to read the room and make a decision like that one, he wouldn’t have been Gilbert.
“…I just… Oz insisted on taking care of the stupid rabbit himself, and I thought it was weird… Not only did he cook for her, he did the ‘Say aaaah’ thing—”
Break and Sharon: “(Grin, grin)”
—I shouldn’t have said that! Gil realized, but it was much, much too late.
“O-ho. ‘Aaaah,’ you say?” said Break.
“‘Aaaah,’ wasn’t it?” said Sharon.
“‘Aaaah’—” Break and Sharon chorused.
“Wh-wh-wh-what are you two driving at?!”
Gilbert lashed out in self-defense. Sharon gave a smile as bright and beautiful as sunshine.
“No, no. Nothing at all—snrk! Tee-hee.”
“Heh-heh, you mustn’t laugh, my lady… Heh-heh-heh!”
“Wh-wh-why you—!”
“—That’s enough for now. We’ve got his attention,” Break said, without blinking.
“Yes.” Sharon nodded, her face serious.
“This may be cause for concern. A disease that affects Chains… Perhaps it’s a curse of some sort.”
They completely ignored my reaction, Gilbert thought morosely.
Come to think of it, both Sharon and Break were contracted to Chains. If there was a possibility that this disease or phenomenon could affect their own Chains, then it certainly was their business.
Gilbert himself was in the very same position, but he hadn’t thought things through that far.
These two were perfectly synchronized with each other, and he wasn’t able to follow the pace of their conversation. He was at their mercy from beginning to end.
“Hmm.” Break gave a small sigh. “What does Oz-kun say?”
“…He’s enthusiastic.”
“Beg pardon?”
“He’s enthusiastically taking care of the stupid rabbit. He actually looks happy—”
As he mentioned that to Break, Gilbert’s eyes suddenly fell to his own hand.
Oz’s hand, as he’d dipped the spoon into the oatmeal and held it out to Alice. This was the hand he’d used to grab his wrist.
The fingers he’d wrapped around Oz’s wrist had been pried off right away.
…Something was bothering him. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was there.
No, I do know. That was—
He opened and closed that hand, several times.
He’d fallen abruptly silent. Break watched him, quietly, not interrupting.
Sharon looked as if she’d like to ask what was wrong.
“Oh…” Gilbert muttered.
A scene flared in the back of his mind, just for a moment. Something distant, and faint, and nostalgic.
Fluttering, sparkling, swirling as it fell—
Gilbert looked up. He spoke, shortly.
“Golden…snow…”
Break and Sharon had no idea what he meant by that, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Gilbert had turned on his heel and was walking away, heading out of the office at a rapid clip.
From behind him, Sharon called to him, but he didn’t have the time to answer. He reached the hall and headed for Oz’s room, almost running. He knew the distance wasn’t that great, but it felt far away, and it made him anxious and irritable.
—That idiot! He muttered under his breath.
Arriving at Oz’s door, Gilbert flung it open without knocking, calling “Oz!” as he did so.
“Ugh, gkh, aaaaaaaaah……!!” Alice cried out in agony.
| 13:30 |
On the bed, Alice was clawing at her chest and gasping in pain.
“Alice! …Alice, are you okay?!” Oz was leaning forward, calling her name over and over.
“—?! Oz, what’s the matter?!”
Gilbert rushed over to them. Oz looked up at Gilbert, shaking his head. “I don’t know, she just suddenly…”
This was much more than a mere cold.
Alice’s body was arched like a bow. She’d gone into convulsions. She flung the down comforter off, and when Oz reached out to her, worried, she scratched his arm. “Ow!” Oz cried.
Neither Oz nor Gilbert knew what was happening to Alice. Her arms clawed the air as if she were a drowning swimmer who was desperately trying to surface. Her eyes were unfocused, as if she was delirious from a high fever.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah…!!”
Her scream split the air in the room. “Alice!” yelled Oz.
Then, abruptly, she fell silent, collapsing limply. What now? Gilbert thought, warily.
“Aah—”
Alice grimaced, making a small noise, and then—
“WACHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”
An enormous sneeze shook the room like a volcanic explosion. As it did…
Mini-Alices poured from Alice’s body.
“I’m hungry!” “Starving, starving.” “Hey, Oz!” “Bring me meat!” “Or you there, Seaweed Head. You can go instead.” “Meat.” “I want meat.” “I want to eat good meat.” “What kind of meat is ‘good meat’?” “The meat of meats.” “Really meaty meat.” “The king of meats.” “That’s weird.” “Meat is already the king of foods.” “She’s right.” “It’s a fact.” “Good meat is the meat king of kings.” “That sounds strong!” “How cool!” “I want to eat it.” “Feed it to me.” “Tonight’s dinner was supposed to be steak.” “Grilled meat?!” Grilled meat, hee-hee, pretty amazing, huh?” “What are you bragging about?” “Then there’s meat in the kitchen?” “There is.” “There is, there is.” “What if there isn’t?” “If there isn’t, there isn’t.” “How philosophical.” “Philosophical?” “Philosophical meat?” “What does that taste like?” “Flavor that makes you think.” “Is it yummy?” “…It makes you think.”
“…Huh? What’s going on?” Oz muttered, dazed.
It was a scene straight out of a joke, or possibly a nightmare. With that explosive sneeze, about a hundred—no, more—tiny Alices had materialized from Alice’s body. They were only about fifteen centimeters tall, and they’d spread all over the room, wriggling and squirming.
Closer inspection showed that each one was rather cute, like a doll. Still, the sight of more than a hundred of them swarming and chattering was terribly creepy. Not only were they all over the floor, but some were stuck to the ceiling or crawling over the walls, and they were all yelling, “Meat! Meat! Meat!”
“Oz, what is this?!” Gilbert shouted.
“How should I know?! D-does this happen with colds?”
“Not that I ever heard…”
The situation was so weird that Gilbert felt more irritated than shocked or aghast, and he clicked his tongue. It wasn’t a loud sound, but the mini-Alices had sharp ears. Moving in unison, they all turned to look at Gilbert.
The silent, fixed stare of a hundred tiny creatures was a little—no, very—eerie.
Gilbert felt a chill run down his spine. The mini-Alices were whispering among themselves.
“What should we do?” “Should we eat him?” “For starters, sure.” “But depending on how we cook him…”
“That’s a pretty dangerous topic, midgets!” Gilbert yelled, although he was backing away quickly. Even as he did so…
“Meat!” “Meat!” “Meat!” “Meat!” “Meat!” “Meat!” “Meat!” “Meat-meat-meat-meat-meat-meat-meat-meat-meat-meat—!”
With their eyes glittering viciously in their adorable faces, the hundred-plus mini-Alices rushed at Gilbert like a tsunami.
There was no way for him to fight. —Gilbert prepared to die.
“…?!”
“Gil!” Oz was calling him, desperately.
Gilbert’s consciousness slid helplessly into darkness—
The swarm of mini-Alices had mobbed Gilbert, kicked him mercilessly, and disappeared into the hall.
The only ones left in the room were a dazed Oz; Gilbert, on the ground and unconscious; and Alice, breathing hard on the bed, as if she was in pain. Worried, Oz looked from Gilbert to Alice and back. He ran to Gilbert first and discovered that he’d only passed out, and that nothing was really wrong.
With a short sigh of relief, Oz immediately turned and ran to Alice.
“Alice!”
“Those little…”
Alice tried to stand, but it was as if she had no strength left, and she sat down flat on her behind.
“I told you, don’t push yourself.”
Oz soothed Alice, making her lie down.
Alice tried to bluster that she wasn’t pushing herself, but there was absolutely no force in the glare she sent at Oz.
“Those were… Those midgets are my ‘strength,’” Alice muttered, letting her head fall to the pillow.
“Your strength?” echoed Oz.
“I felt like something inside my body was restless earlier, and…it overflowed, just now.”
Apparently that sneeze had been the trigger.
That said, Oz couldn’t immediately accept the idea. It was just too strange.
Stunned, he gazed at the door the mini-Alices had disappeared through.
He couldn’t even imagine the sort of ruckus that had to be enveloping Pandora Headquarters right now.
“…Arrrgh, I can’t.”
Alice tried to sit up, but her body wouldn’t listen to her. She muttered in frustration.
“Alice, you’ve got to lie still.”
As Oz chided her, concerned, Alice gazed up at him with unfocused eyes. Her small lips moved: “Please.” Oz saw, and he nodded. As Alice’s consciousness faded, she murmured, “Please get back my strength.”
“All right,” Oz said, without hesitation. “Tell me what to do.”
“…I don’t care how you do it. Stomp on them or wring them to death, or do anything you want, but kill them. If you do, they should turn back into ordinary strength and come back to me.”
Alice spoke as though she was delirious. Then her eyes slid shut. Oz called, “Alice!” in spite of himself, but Alice’s only response was her labored breathing. She seemed to have completely lost consciousness.
This was a far cry from the Alice who was sometimes violently energetic and cheerful. Oz knit his brows as though he was in pain.
“—Alice’s strength.”
Nothing about the situation seemed real, but he knew exactly what he had to do.
He had to save Alice.
Oz opened a hand in front of his face, then balled it into a fist. With an expression that made it look as if he was praying, he pushed the fist against his forehead. “…Okay,” he muttered, and although his voice was quiet, his tone was determined.
Finally, he stretched out the hand to Alice’s forehead, fixing her tousled bangs. Then he turned on his heel.
He left the bedside, heading for the door. As he passed the fallen, unconscious Gilbert, he said, “Sorry, Gil. Once I get back, I’ll take care of you properly.”
He put a hand on the doorknob. Opened the door. Ran out into the hall. The hall was littered with fallen Pandora employees; like Gilbert, they’d probably been attacked by the swarm of mini-Alices. It looked like a scene of carnage. At the sight of the tragedy in the hall, Oz caught his breath.
Fortunately, although they were unconscious, none of them seemed to be injured. Silently apologizing to the fallen employees, Oz ran down the hall.
He knew where he was going.
If the mini-Alices were made of the same stuff as Alice, there was only one place they’d go.
Oz ran, thinking that it might already be too late.
He was headed for—
“The kitchen!”
The faces of the kitchen staff, the people who’d complemented him on his apron and showed him the basics of cooking, flickered through his mind.
Let me be in time, Oz prayed, and ran faster.
| 14:00 |
By the time Oz reached the kitchen, the mini-Alices had already occupied it.
Almost all the mini-Alices had gathered there and were working the kitchen staff like slaves, forcing them to prepare meat dishes. Anyone who showed even a glimmer of defiance was bitten mercilessly. They may have been cute, but at heart, they most certainly were the B-Rabbit.
The kitchen was filled with countless greedy voices calling, “Meat! Meat! Meat! Meat!”
With a pot lid for a shield and a ladle for a sword, Oz confronted the terrifying, carnivorous horde, and—
The battle in the kitchen was the stuff of legend.
| 16:30 |
“…There she is. That’s the last one,” Oz muttered quietly.
Behind Pandora, near the edge of the property, up in the bushy green leaves near the top of a maple tree. Oz’s voice had been very soft, but in response, he had a sense of someone flinching and a cute little “Eek!” drifted down from the treetop. Through the gaps in the leaves, he could see a tiny, doll-like shape.
It was a mini-Alice.
With the help of the kitchen staff, Oz had managed to vanquish the horde of mini-Alices who’d been terrorizing the kitchen. However, just when he thought he’d defeated them all, he’d spotted a tiny shadow sneaking out of the kitchen.
He’d chased it all the way here.
Above his head, a trembling voice spoke. “Don’t erase me, don’t erase me, don’t erase me…”
The personality of this last Alice was apparently nothing like that of the real Alice or the other mini-Alices. She seemed to be quite a scaredy-cat.
“Don’t erase me, don’t make it hurt, don’t pick on me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
Brr-brr-brr-brr. Her tiny body trembled in the shadows of the leaves.
Oz still held the ladle in one hand. In the kitchen, he’d used it to smack lots of mini-Alices, turning them back into strength, but…
“…”
Oz glanced at the ladle. Then he dropped it, letting it fall by his foot.
I really don’t think I can smack that one, he thought.
“Okay.” He nodded. “Let’s go.” Then he got a grip on the maple tree and began to climb.
“…Wow…”
He’d shinnied up the trunk and reached the top of the tree. As Oz clung to a large branch, his eyes found the last mini-Alice, and he gave a small cry.
Brr-brr-brr-brr.
The mini-Alice was crouched down, trembling, trying desperately to hide behind a maple leaf. Registering Oz’s approach, she gave a small “Yeep!” like a songbird’s cry, and looked at him with tear-filled eyes.
“Don’t pick on me, don’t pick on me,” the mini-Alice whispered, over and over.
Sh-she’s so cute… What should I do? Oz thought.
“Um, umm, listen, miss…”
“Eek!” The mini-Alice shuddered violently.
“It’s okay, don’t be scared.”
“Don’t pick on me, don’t make it hurt!” Brr-brr.
“I won’t pick on you, and I won’t hurt you,” Oz said, trying to calm the frightened girl.
At that, the mini-Alice poked her face out from the shadow of the maple leaf and looked at Oz. Really? she was thinking uneasily. Really? He could tell as plain as day. Oz smiled at her. “I promise,” he said.
The very idea of erasing the little thing seemed cruel.
…That said, the mini-Alice was a fragment of Alice’s strength. He couldn’t just leave her like this. For now, Oz thought, I’ll get us both back down to the ground. He wouldn’t find the answer by sitting up here worrying.
“Come here, Alice. Let’s get down.”
“Down?”
“Uh-huh. It isn’t safe up here. I won’t do anything rough, I mean it. Okay? C’mon.”
“…Promise?”
“I promise. I never break my promises, either. Trust me.”
“…Okay.”
Answering in a tiny, tiny voice, the last mini-Alice began to walk from the end of the maple branch back toward Oz. She still seemed a bit uneasy, as if she didn’t completely believe him.
“Slowly. Go slowly,” Oz cautioned, and he gently reached out a hand toward the approaching mini-Alice. At first, she shrank back fearfully from Oz’s outstretched hand, but he waited patiently, and at last she put out her own hands and caught his index finger.
Oz smiled. Mirroring him, the mini-Alice smiled bashfully, too. Her adorable expression made Oz sigh. In the next instant:
Huh?
He felt a rush of vertigo. A chill raced down his spine.
Oh no…!
The strength was rapidly draining from his body. The feeling in his legs, which were wrapped around the thick branch, seemed to melt away. 
He felt weak. His vision lost all color, beginning to dim.
“Oz?” the mini-Alice asked, puzzled. His body was flooded with a sense of impending crisis, but his arms and legs wouldn’t do what he told them to.
He could feel himself beginning to tip.
Gravity was pulling at him.
He was going to fall.
Blast it, why?! Not here…!
Forcing his hand to move, he grabbed the mini-Alice and hugged her to his chest.
At the very least, he thought, he had to protect her.
Aah… I wonder if it’s going to hurt when my head hits the ground. I bet it does. I hate pain— he thought, rather nonchalantly, as his consciousness receded.
Behind his eyelids, he saw drifting golden snow, fluttering and sparkling.
“—Oz!”
Just before he passed out, Oz felt as if he’d heard somebody calling.
It was a voice he knew well…
Oh. Gil?
It’s like a golden sea, he thought.
A wide, vast field of wheat seemed to spread all the way over the horizon. When he drew a deep breath, it smelled like the sun. The ears of grain, swaying in the wind, really did look like the surface of the ocean.
The field was tended by one of the farming families the Vessalius dukedom retained. The year Oz turned twelve, Uncle Oscar took Oz, his little sister Ada, and Gilbert to visit during the harvest season. It was a short day trip, and it had been Uncle Oscar’s idea.
Uncle Oscar had business to discuss with the farmers, so he told the children to go play for a while.
Immediately after saying good-bye to his uncle, Oz dove into the ocean of wheat with Ada and Gilbert.
There wasn’t a cloud in the clear blue sky.
The early afternoon sunlight had just begun to deepen.
“This is a marvelous wheat field, young master.”
Gilbert was carrying a basket packed with the sandwiches and dessert they’d have for lunch.
Oz puffed out his chest as though the wheat field were all his doing.
“I know, right?! That’s because it’s our farmers’ field, and they’re amazing.”
The three of them stood side by side, gazing at the sea of gold in fascination.
Abruptly, Oz cracked a mischievous smile.
“Hey, Gil.”
“Yes?”
“There’s a bug on you.”
“There is? Where?”
“Right there. See? Here in front, on your hair. I’ll get it for you, just hold still.”
He put out his index finger, bringing his hand close to Gilbert’s face.
As the finger approached the long bangs that hung over his eyes, Gilbert looked uneasy; he squeezed his eyes shut. On seeing this, Oz’s mischievous smile widened.
He shot a glance at Ada. Ada tilted her head, curiously, as if to ask what was going on.
“I-is it gone yet, young master? Please hurry…”
“No, wait, wait. Hrrrrn, it’s bigger than I thought it was.”
“What?!”
“Don’t move. One…two…three—”
?!
Oz’s fingers changed course and pinched Gilbert’s well-shaped nose.
Gilbert’s shocked expression and boggled eyes struck Oz as funny, and he laughed out loud. He let go right away. He waved a hand at Gilbert, who was looking at him a bit reproachfully, caught Ada’s hand and ran, making his escape. Gilbert ran after them, calling “Please wait!” in a distressed voice.
Oz ran. He ran as if he was making for the wheat field’s golden horizon.
Ada had looked startled at first, but she soon tightened her grip on his hand and smiled up at him.
She was giggling as she ran. Oz felt satisfaction well up inside him.
“Having fun?”
“Uh-huh! Lots of fun, Onii-chan!”
“You are, huh? Me, too!”
They panted as they spoke.
He was glad they’d come. He was deeply grateful to Uncle Oscar for having suggested the trip to his father.
As he ran, grinning ecstatically, Oz looked back.
“Too slow, Gil! We’re going to leave you behind!”
“…P-please wait! Young master! Lady Adaaa!”
Oz stopped. He and Ada stood there, looking at each other, catching their breath. Finally, Gilbert caught up with them, panting and gasping. As he did so, Oz was about to take off running again when he hesitated. Just then, a great gust of wind blew through. The huge, strong wind bent the wheat low as it passed, and he heard the stalks rustling against each other. Fwiiiiiiiiiish…
…!
Oz stood transfixed. The force of the wind made him close his eyes involuntarily.
Then, slowly, he opened them.
Tossed up into the air by the wind, the chaff sparkled in the sunlight.
Sparkling and fluttering.
It fell from a clear blue sky. Almost like…
“It’s golden snow…” Oz murmured.
He caught his breath. The sight kept his eyes—no, his whole heart—riveted.
Gilbert and Ada stared, too. They stood there, wordlessly.
Once, long ago, Oz saw snow that shone like gold.
Distant, faint, nostalgic—
| 17:00 |
…Hmm? Huh…?
When he came to, groggily, Oz was rocking gently. The evening sky was flushed with vermillion.
Oz’s mind was drifting, still half in that sea of gold.
—It smells like sunlight, he thought.
His mind was gradually returning to the present. He started to register the scenery around him. His sense of time was still fuzzy.
Where am I? he thought, vaguely. When is this?
Never mind that, what’s happening to me?
Right in front of him was the back of Gilbert’s curly black head. He could feel his body heat through his clothes, and the solidity of Gilbert’s back. Gilbert was walking. Oz’s legs weren’t moving. They dangled in midair. Even so, he was traveling forward.
“Are you awake, Oz?”
At Gilbert’s voice, which sounded a bit out of sorts, Oz woke up with a jolt.
He was being carried. Piggyback. By Gilbert.
—Hold it, he thought. How did this happen? He had absolutely no idea.
“What am I doing? Heading back to the mansion.”
“Not that! Why are you carrying me?!”
“Don’t you remember? You fell out of the tree.”
“Huh……?”
Gilbert’s words triggered a memory.
He’d climbed up the tree to catch the last mini-Alice. Just when he’d almost had her, all the strength had drained from his body and he’d fallen. He’d held the mini-Alice to his chest, and had been prepared to hit his head on the ground. That was all he could remember.
That’s weird, Oz thought. For having smashed into the ground, he didn’t feel—
When he got that far, he remembered the voice he’d heard, right before he passed out. Oz!
It had been Gilbert’s voice. Even though Gilbert was supposed to be unconscious in Oz’s room.
…He’d caught Oz.
If he’d been one step slower, Gilbert now said, he wouldn’t have made it in time. Oz had no way to respond to that. When Gilbert next spoke, there was a note of pleading in his voice.
“Don’t push yourself. Please.”
“—”
I should probably say something to Gilbert, Oz thought. Apologize, or thank him.
Still, the words wouldn’t come out. All sorts of feelings tangled together in his chest, sealing his mouth shut.
Gilbert was quiet for a little while, too. Then:
“I’m glad I made it in time.”
He sounded immensely relieved. “—I’m sorry,” Oz apologized, in a very, very small voice.
But immediately afterward, he yelled, “Aah!”
He’d shouted right in Gilbert’s ear, and Gilbert winced, but Oz paid no attention. “Where’s the last mini-Alice?” he asked.
“Gone,” Gilbert said, briefly.
On reflex, Oz grabbed Gilbert’s hair roughly.
“You erased her?! You forced—”
“No, that came out wrong. She ran off. I don’t know where she went.”
“Oh—” Oz was relieved.
Gilbert was carrying him down a path on Pandora grounds. It was the way back to the building.
Oz still needed to look for the mini-Alice, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to stop by his room first. Most of the mini-Alices had been turned back into strength, and had probably returned to Alice’s body.
If Alice is at least a little bit better, he thought—
“Wait, that’s not the problem here! Let me down, Gil!”
Oz began to struggle again, and Gilbert scolded him. “That’s dangerous!”
“I told you, I’m fine! Put me down! What’re you piggybacking me for?!”
“Not happening. I’m taking you back this way. All the way to your room.”
“No! You! Aren’t! I can walk by myself!”
Oz flailed at the back of Gilbert’s head, halfheartedly, not putting any strength behind the blows.
Gilbert only answered, “You can’t. You were pushing yourself. I know you’re already at your limit.”
Although he didn’t raise his voice, it held a determined strength.
It was a moody voice, and it was clear that Gilbert had no intention of giving an inch.
Oz involuntarily swallowed his words. Gilbert continued, his tone angry.
“Why didn’t you mention that you’re sick, too?”
Oz closed his mouth. There was nothing he could say to that. After bumping along on Gil’s back for a short while in silence, he muttered:
“You noticed.”
“…Of course I did,” Gilbert answered.
Back in Oz’s room, when he was nursing Alice. When Oz had dipped up a spoonful of oatmeal and held it out to Alice, and Gilbert had caught his wrist. The difference had been subtle, but his temperature had been high. It wasn’t something anyone else would have paid attention to if they’d caught his wrist that way. Besides:
“The worse you feel, the more enthusiastic you get… You’re a real piece of work.”
Come to think of it, his eagerness to take care of Alice had been a sign, too.
“Well, I…” Oz hesitated, uncomfortably. “Alice’s cold is…my fault.”
His fault— Oz’s instincts told him that was so, and he was sure it was true.
Oz had gotten sick late the previous evening. There was a book he’d wanted to read, so he’d stayed up late, and he’d been so engrossed in the book that he’d forgotten he’d left the window open. When he’d noticed he was chilled through, he’d hastily clambered into bed. …But.
At daybreak, he’d started to feel the symptoms of a mild cold. He’d thought he could shake them by sleeping in for a while.
When he found out that Alice had also caught a cold, he’d understood immediately.
Ordinarily, Chains didn’t catch cold.
Alice had probably come down with cold symptoms because she was linked to him… Her contractor. Oz didn’t know if the same thing happened to other contractors and their Chains, but even so.
“…I see. So you decided to take responsibility and take care of her… Dummy.”
As he spoke, Gilbert’s voice held a hint of laughter. Oz sulked, puffing out his cheeks and turning his face away.
“Golden snow…”
At Gilbert’s abrupt murmur, Oz’s breath caught. Gilbert continued.
“A long time ago, when we went to that wheat field. You hid the fact that you had a cold and ran around playing, and in the end, you collapsed.”
“……Yeah…”
Going to the wheat field. Playing with Ada and Gilbert. Seeing that golden snow.
It was a fun memory, a nostalgic memory, but that wasn’t all. It was painful, too.
Father’s always hated me—
Even now, he didn’t know the reason. …His father, Xai Vessalius, had seen him as something detestable from the time he was small, and Oz hadn’t even been allowed to go out casually.
Personally, Oz was used to being treated that way. All he’d had to do was force down his own feelings so that he’d be able to accept whatever happened.
However, Ada was still little, and it hurt him that she had to feel cooped up as well. As her older brother, he felt he really should have been able to take her by the hand and show her all sorts of different places.
It was likely that Uncle Oscar hadn’t been able to stand seeing the two of them like that, and that was why he’d made the suggestion to their father.
A few times each year, the House of Vessalius inspected the farms on its land. Oscar had told Oz’s father that he wanted to take Oz and Ada along that year, and to bring Gilbert as their servant.
He couldn’t imagine that his father had given his consent readily, but Oscar hadn’t told him how he’d gotten him to agree, so Oz never did find out what had happened.
They wouldn’t be spending the night. It was just a simple day trip.
Ada had never gone far from the mansion before, and she seemed absolutely thrilled. This had made Oz happy as well, and he’d accepted the invitation.
That day had been just like today. He’d felt a little sick in the morning, but he hadn’t told anyone. —He’d hidden it.
If he backed out of the excursion, he knew his kindhearted little sister would probably stay home as well.
He hadn’t wanted to make her do that.
And so, both before Oz arrived at the wheat field and after, he’d acted as cheerful and merry as ever—no, even more so. He’d teased Gilbert. He’d held hands with Ada and run through the wheat field with her. He’d thought that as long as Ada was smiling and having fun, nothing else mattered.
And, when night fell, Oz had collapsed. —Out in the wheat field.
Back then, Gilbert hadn’t noticed that Oz wasn’t feeling well until he fell down, and he hadn’t been big enough to carry Oz after he collapsed. From what Oz had heard, all he’d been able to do was panic and run calling for Uncle Oscar.
He’d been a kid then. Just like Oz.
And yet now—
He’d noticed the change in Oz, had come running just in the nick of time, had caught him and carried him.
On top of that, he’d even scolded Oz, telling him not to be reckless.
What gives…?
A complicated emotion was welling up inside him.
“—I was dreaming,” Oz muttered. “I dreamed about that.”
All Gilbert said was, “You did, hmm?”
Oz rested his forehead on Gilbert’s shoulder, as if he was tired. He was hiding his face, even though Gilbert wouldn’t have been able to see it anyway.
What gives…?
The same words surfaced in his mind. Thinking even to himself that he sounded like a spoiled little kid, Oz thought, chagrined:
How could he go and get this big without me…? That burns me up…
In the evening light, Gilbert’s back smelled a little like the sun.
| 17:30 |
In the end, Gilbert carried Oz all the way back to his room.
When they got there, Alice was curled up in the down comforter, asleep. She might have been feeling a bit better, or possibly not; it was hard to say. Her color seemed slightly better, but her strength hadn’t completely returned yet.
“…I’ve got to go look for that last Alice.”
“No, you—”
Rest, Gilbert was about to say, but just then, a tiny shadow appeared on the bed.
It was the mini-Alice.
Her vague air of embarrassment, the way she fidgeted nervously, and her very un-Aliceness convinced Oz and Gilbert that she was that last mini-Alice. They were speechless; they hadn’t expected her to turn up on her own.
The last mini-Alice gazed at Oz steadily. Then she ducked her head in a bow.
“Thank you for protecting me.”
Back when he was falling out of the tree. At the very least, I have to protect her, he’d thought, and he’d desperately hugged her to his chest.
“You were very kind to me, and it made me happy, so… I’m going back to ‘me.’”
“Alice—”
“They’re all back inside ‘me.’ Once I go back, ‘I’ll’ feel better.”
The mini-Alice gave a soft, fragile smile. Neither Oz nor Gilbert had seen a smile like that on Alice’s face before. Still, somehow, there was something about the smile that made it seem Alice-like.
The mini-Alice looked into Alice’s sleeping face. “I’m home,” she told her. Then, soundlessly, her body dissolved into sparks of light, and the sparks melted into Alice’s body.
As if the return of the last fragment of strength had flipped a switch, Alice slowly opened her eyes. Then she sat up.
Still seeming a bit dazed, Alice gazed at Oz.
“It sounds like you took care of ‘me,’” she murmured.
“Never mind tha—”
“While I was sleeping… I saw golden snow.”
“Huh?”
At Alice’s words, Oz’s breath caught.
“That was your memory, wasn’t it?”
Oz couldn’t answer right away.
Alice had caught his cold because they were linked…because he was contracted to her. The idea had given him nothing but guilt. He’d felt that he needed to apologize to her. He’d been sure that when he told Alice the truth, she’d be mad, too.
But Alice said:
“I got to see something pretty. All because I’m linked to you.”
She sounded shy…
On hearing those words and seeing Alice’s expression, an emotion Oz couldn’t articulate welled up inside him.
Delight, relief, sympathy—it was a mixture of all of those, and he felt as if he’d tear up if he carelessly put it into words. …So Oz smiled cheerfully.
“Alice, you’re better already?”
“Of course. As a matter of fact, I’ve powered up. …And actually…!”
As if she’d just now realized that Oz was riding on Gilbert’s back, Alice’s eyes went wide. She leaped out of bed.
“What are you doing way up there?! That looks like fun!”
Alice ran over, pointing at Oz, her voice excited. She stopped right in front of Gilbert, held both arms up, and started hopping up and down. “Oz, switch with me! It’s my turn!” she demanded—pestered—begged impatiently.
For Oz’s part, even though up until this very moment he hadn’t been at all happy about being carried, he said, “What? Hmm, I dunno… This is pretty comfortable…”
At Alice’s reaction he put on a mischievous, weighty, worried expression. “That’s not fair, Oz!” Alice said, stamping her feet. “No fair, no fair!” she repeated.
“Mmm-hmm, what should I do…?” Oz said evasively.
Finally, caught in the middle, Gilbert said in a worn-out voice, “Knock it off, you two.”
Even as he said it, he sighed.
After that, of course, Oz gladly traded with Alice and climbed into bed himself.
As for Gilbert, he was forced to carry Alice around on his back and take care of Oz until late that night.
~Fin~