-Arc 1-

  Chapter 3

  “Airborne Irritants”

  *?*?*?*

  Seraphine: “Why?”

  Eris: “Eh?”

  Seraphine: “Why don't you know?!”

  She had collapsed onto her knees, her black skirt pooling over the crimson carpet. She finally was looking back at Eris now, so her guilty eyes were forced to be averted.

  Eris: “I don't…”

  Seraphine: “You don't know.”

  Eris: “——”

  Seraphine: “Why don’t you remember?”

  Seraphine’s voice broke, as her fingers strangled the fabric of her skirt.

  Eris: “——”

  There was nothing to say. To say ‘I don't know’ anymore would be to spit in the face of Seraphine, trample over her feelings, and skip away.

  Eris was a guilty woman, and her robbery of the woman known as ‘Eris’ from Seraphine and the others was her crime.

  If ‘Eris’ was here, maybe she could mend Seraphine's heart with her skills and adaptive nature. She was always thinking of others, right?

  Eris couldn't think of a way.

  ‘Eris’ was an enviable woman, whom no flaws had been voiced of her at present, and as such it could only be assumed that her flaws were minute or non-existent.

  Seraphine: “Eris…”

  Eris: “Sera…phine.”

  Seraphine: “Eris… please…”

  Eris had also sunk to her knees, and upon Seraphine's begging, she slowly crawled towards her on the soft rug.

  Eris: “I—”

  She put her arms around Seraphine. The stranger in her arms trembled. Eris knew not if she was doing this to comfort Seraphine or herself. Her embrace was not reciprocated. The redhead’s hands were busy squeezing her own apron and wiping her tears away.

  Seraphine: “Please… remember.”

  Eris: “Hk~”

  Her breath had been taken.

  The entire time, facing those who were struggling with ‘Eris’s’ absence, had she even tried to remember? No. She took it as it was. That she didn't remember.

  Eris was not so foolish as to think that she could force a memory that she didn't have out into existence. But, the realization that she did not want to remember struck her.

  Seraphine: “Why can’t you remember?!”

  She didn't want to make Seraphine cry, or Petra smile so forced. She didn't want the silver haired maid to glare at her like that, or the blue haired one to have to avert her eyes.

  But she didn't want to remember. Why? She didn't know. That was her answer.

  Eris: “I don't know.”

  She had said ‘I don't know’ and spat in the face of Seraphine, trampled over her feelings, and skipped away.

  Seraphine: “Eris, please. Come back. Wake up! Please!”

  Eris was the one who didn't reciprocate a touch now. As Seraphine’s hands clutched her shoulders, and faced her with tears streaking down her cheeks, begging those words. Eris stared at her.

  Her mouth was open with disgust.

  Inwards facing disgust. ‘Eris’ couldn't wake up. She couldn't wake up and give back ‘Eris.’ She couldn't wake ‘Eris’ up, because she was the one who put her to sleep and sealed her away from the aching, longing hearts of those who had confirmed her.

  Eris: “I’m sorry.”

  —*—

  Seraphine: “We’ve gotta make lunch. You’re cooking with me!”

  Seraphine’s mood had changed rapidly after what happened in the hall.

  As Eris stared at her weeping, her bright red hair suddenly flew up and she had hoisted herself to her feet. With tears still staining her cheeks, she held out her hand to Eris and pulled her up before she could react.

  And so, Eris was led back into the dining hall and stepped into the kitchen for the first time.

  Eris: “Isn’t it your specialty? Cooking? You’ll let someone else dilute your skills?”

  Seraphine replies with a saddened blank stare.

  Seraphine: “—You let Petra corrupt your way of thinking. She’s the only one who will say no to extra help. The more help I get, the better.”

  From her lips twitching, Eris could tell those weren't the first words that came to Seraphine’s mind.

  Eris: “I see…”

  With that said, Seraphine pulled open the kitchen cabinets. She said she would be making lunch, which would mean it’s past breakfast time. Eris didn't remember eating breakfast, though. Actually, she didn't remember ever eating at all. Again, food wasn't an unknown, foreign concept, but rather she could not remember the last time the taste of food had teased her tongue.

  It went without saying, but that extended to cooking as well. She was sure ‘Eris’ had cooked, at least occasionally.

  Seraphine: “Since it’s only lunch time, we’ll just do boxed lunches and hand them out to the others. Of course, Master Carlos will be expecting something a little more fancy, so…”

  Trailing off, Seraphine looked around, as if assembling each meal in her head, before gliding off towards a set of marble steps downwards into a lowered room.

  Eris: “What is down there?”

  Seraphine: “Oh, right. It’s the ice-box. You know, for cold storage?”

  Seraphine’s eyes were on her, but it didn't feel as if she was looking at her. Or anything at all.

  Eris: “Ahh…”

  Seraphine blinked at her, and Eris expected Seraphine’s mood to shift again. But she just turned around and entered the ice-box.

  A cold gust of wind blew at Eris as the glass door opened and the red hair disappeared inside it.

  Even though Seraphine had recovered abruptly after her breakdown, Eris noticed Seraphine’s glances. Her eyes had lost the hope she carried when she believed that it was all part of ‘Eris’s’ plan. Eris still received her smiles, but she noticed a significantly larger amount of blank staring in just the short period of time after that argument, then she had done at all preceding it.

  Seraphine didn't ask for Eris to call her ‘Sera,’ again, either.

  —*—

  Seraphine came out of the ice-box with goosebumps up her neck and a handful of bags.

  She sat the bags down on the counter. Eris peared inside. Fruits and vegetables were haphazardly tossed into one, and the other had some sort of preroasted meat.

  Eris: “I’m sure we could turn this into something, but I want to say— I don't have any experience in the matter of cooking.”

  Seraphine: “Well… maybe it’s still in your brain, though? Even if you forgot the instructions, your hands might tell you what to do.”

  It was a good idea. But Eris had tried to rely on muscle memory before, and had come out disappointed. Though, it could be true that ‘Eris’ simply never had the muscle memory for watering plants or sweeping leaves off the pathway before. But it was unlikely.

  Still, another perturbing realization came to Eris. She felt relief that not only the memories of her mind, but also muscles, were gone. If her hands moved with the knowledge of a master cook she had never grown to be herself, it would only serve as a hammer. The nail would be the reminder that even her body was not hers, and her senses, muscles, and limbs longed for ‘Eris’s’ return.

  Eris: “So ‘Eris’— um. I was a good cook before, then?”

  Seraphine, unexpectedly, didn't change her demeanor much. Only, it took her longer than usual to reply.

  Seraphine: “Yes. Very good. We were the best cooks ever.”

  “We were.” They were. ‘Eris’ and Seraphine. Those two had been a duo of chefs in this very kitchen. From an outsider's perspective, they could assume that the deadly alliance of cooks were back again, as usual.

  But ‘Eris’ had left Seraphine behind. No— it was Eris, who had usurped ‘Eris’ from this kitchen, and made it certain that that maid would never make lunches for her comrades again.

  Eris could see Seraphine drifting again.

  Eris: “I’ll try my best then.”

  Seraphine: “Yes. Let’s.”

  —*—

  While inexperienced, making lunch was rather intuitive. Making sandwiches was, while not in her muscle memory, a straight forward task. Slicing fruits and vegetables was a bit trickier, but with guidance, Eris did a serviceable job.

  While Eris did so, Seraphine warmed up the larger course for Master Carlos. Sliced, glazed ham. She also boiled a large amount of water, since tea would have to be provided to everyone.

  Seraphine did the heating without a stove. Eris hadn't noticed earlier, but the entire kitchen was without heating appliances.

  Eris: “You have an orange rune, don't you?”

  Eris made that assumption with knowledge left over from ‘Eris,’ which recalled the mechanics of basic runes and magic. Her observation came from combining the residual knowledge and her more intentional observations of Seraphine.

  She had brought the water to a boil instantly by placing her hands over the kettle, and the ham was brought to steaming with a similar touch.

  Seraphine’s eyes lit up as Eris asked that question, and in her distraction, the meat suddenly seared and began to grow darker.

  Seraphine: “Ah!”

  Quickly correcting her mistake, Seraphine brought the ham down to its original perfected temperature, though there was now a singed blemish.

  Eris: “Ah?”

  Regaining her thoughts from the mistake, Seraphine leaned in close to Eris’s face.

  Seraphine: “You remembered? About my rune?”

  Eris leaned back from Seraphine’s intrusion.

  Eris: “S-Sorry, but it wasn't my memory. I just assumed because of your temperature control.”

  Seraphine: “Oh.”

  Eris and Seraphine gazed at each other for a moment, crimson eyes on cerulean.

  Seraphine returned back to her work without a follow up statement.

  “——”

  Eris: “Is that how the ice-box works as well? You keep the temperature cold in there?”

  Seraphine: “Yeah. Like in the greenhouse, I keep the temperature low. But it’s not how Petra keeps saying it is.”

  Eris: “It’s not? How does she say it?”

  Seraphine: “I keep correcting her, but she keeps making the mistake that I can keep it at a constant temperature.”

  Eris’s knowledge inherited from her predecessor ended at the basic knowledge of the orange rune, so she also kept the same impression as Petra did.

  Seraphine: “I can't keep it at an exact temperature. I just raise it or lower it every day, depending on how cold or warm it got since last time.”

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  Eris: “Isn’t that exhausting?”

  Seraphine: “If it was a huge area, it probably would be. But in an area like the greenhouse or the ice-box, it’s not much of an issue.”

  With knowledge she probably would never actually need now in her head, Eris returned to making sandwiches and cutting fruits.

  Seraphine: “Now we box them up and pass them around. Make sure everyone has an even amount of everything.”

  Eris: “They come to the kitchen or we deliver to them?”

  Seraphine: “We bring the lunches to them. Most of us eat on the job or take a short break for it.”

  Eris thought any reason to take any amount of break would be used to its fullest extent, but their diligence continued to impress her.

  Seraphine: “But I have to take this to Carlos, so you will have to hand them out yourself.”

  Saying that, Seraphine emphasized the platter of ham and vegetables she had cooked with her hands for the Count of the manor.

  Eris: “That’s fine, but… I don't know where I would find the other maids. I still haven't even seen all of the manor.”

  Seraphine responded with a blank stare, holding the warm plate in her hand.

  Seraphine: “Well, I don't know their exact location now either… You just have to look for them. Since it’s only noon, most of them should be in the east wing.”

  Eris began to think that Seraphine’s input was unhelpful. But, her words did have some useful qualities. It was true that even for someone who was well acquainted with the manor, keeping tabs on the whereabouts of every servant would be impossible with the ability of a normal human, so searching for them would be normal.

  Of course, if not for her amnesia, perhaps she would know the schedules of the maids, and have an easier time.

  Still, the prospect of wandering around an unfamiliar manor by herself, under the pressure of delivering food in a reasonable amount of time, was immense.

  She didn't want to bring ‘Eris’ into this, but it was impossible to not compare herself with her. With her familiarity and skill, this would probably be a task so mundane she would forget it immediately after its completion.

  Seraphine gave a pitiful smile to Eris, who was staring at the bag of packed lunches in her hand.

  Seraphine: “I didn't mean to put pressure on you. But— I’m sure the others will be lenient on you even if it takes a while to find them.”

  Eris: “Ah… thanks.”

  —*—

  It was her first day at the manor, and she had already been separated from her guides.

  Actually, it was her first day alive. She carried the basic knowledge of most things a human her age would, but none of the memories to confirm if her knowledge was true or not.

  It could be said she was a book. Information about the world was printed on the pages, but the book was not the one who accumulated it all itself. The author had passed it down, as a parent or teacher, and bestowed the book with only the knowledge it was deemed fit enough to know.

  The reader of the book could take it, read it, and understand the knowledge written there. However, if the knowledge written was true and from what source, was, well, unconfirmed. Only the author knew exactly from where that information was sourced.

  So to call her a baby who had read a book would not be wholly inaccurate, though she at least took consolation in the fact that neither her body nor her brain were undeveloped as so.

  It was no surprise that the others felt remorse for the loss of ‘Eris.’ The book is a poor substitute for the author themselves.

  As Eris roamed the halls, she peaked into every room, but found most empty. In the east wing, they were mostly guest rooms.

  For a Count who claims he hates politics, he must receive many guests to justify this many spare bedrooms.

  Eris came across a door labeled ‘storage.’ It was numbered with a ‘fourteen’ under it. Astonishingly, it would imply there were fourteen, and likely more rooms dedicated to only storage. For a home this massive, it made sense.

  As she checked every door, she checked this one as well.

  Immediately upon opening said door, she was attacked by a stream of coughs. Dust filled her lungs and refused to leave.

  It filled her throat and her chest. Eyes, nose and mouth weren't safe either. The air was smokey with the grit, and it lingered on her skin and clothes.

  ???: “Keep it shut when I’m dusting!”

  A sharp, unfamiliar voice called out from the dim. The smog of dust forbade any direct eye contact with the person in the room.

  Eris: “Eh— sorry!”

  Eris reluctantly stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. Her nose twitched, fearful to draw breath and start another coughing fit.

  But the irritant in the air had already initiated its second attack.

  Eris: “Ah, ah—choo~!”

  ???: “What are you doing, Eris?”

  She still couldn't see the source of the voice, but whomever it was, they knew her name. Swiping at the lingering dust in the air and pulling up the collar of her uniform over her face, she pushed through the storage room. Her eyes watered, but eventually she saw the warm glow of a lantern and the silhouette of a person amongst the fog.

  Eris: “I brought— hk— lunch…”

  The air in her lungs was mostly dust, and speaking was a coarse and dry thing.

  Suddenly, with a scrape, long gray curtains were yanked open and a cascade of sunlight poured through. Eris’s eyes, already watering and adjusted to the darkness, strained and ached from the intrusion.

  Before her, standing amongst the dust unaffected, was a silver-haired maid. The one of course, she first saw when they gathered around her that morning.

  She was a bit taller than Eris, so she had to look up at her cream eyes. Doing so, she broke eye contact again.

  She seemed older than Eris by a couple of years. Eris wanted to make an estimate, but not only did that seem rude, she also had the realization that her own age was lost to her.

  The maid had nothing in her hands. Not a feather-duster or a broom or anything of the sort, despite claiming to be ‘dusting’ and the abundant presence of it in the air.

  Silver-haired Maid: “Lunch? Right. Lunch.”

  As if it was a foreign concept, her skeptical tone ridiculed Eris. Shrinking backwards, Eris nodded.

  Eris: “I um… yeah. But, I don't think you’ll want to eat it here…”

  Silver-haired Maid: “I wasn't planning on it, no.”

  Eris: “Right…”

  “——”

  So, the two remained like that for multiple moments. The thick smog of dust fluttered through the air lazily as Eris’s gaze was cast to the floor. She could feel the other’s cream eyes through the top of her skull.

  Silver-haired Maid: “Eris.”

  Eris: “Ah- uh, yes?”

  The older girl’s stern voice made Eris jump, and fumbling her own stance, she forced herself to look up at the other in the eyes.

  Silver-haired Maid: “Are you going to give it to me or not?”

  Eris: “Ah- uh, yes! Sorry!”

  Renewed with the vigor of awkwardness, Eris reached into the bag and presented the other with a packaged lunch.

  Feeling the weight of it shift off her hands, Eris opened her eyes.

  Expecting further words to be shared, Eris’s gaze lingered on the silver-haired maid, but she didn't make any follow up statements.

  “——”

  Eris: “Excuse me…”

  Eris was startled by her own mouth speaking. She was thinking about saying those words, but she didn't actually intend to speak them. It was too late now to back down, however.

  Silver-haired Maid: “What?”

  Her sharp response only made it harder to continue.

  Eris: “Can you tell me your name?”

  —*—

  Silver-haired Maid: “Oh, right…”

  The taller maid crossed her arms, cocking her head to the side with a stern expression that cut through the dust.

  Silver-haired Maid: “Caelia.”

  Eris: “Caelia?”

  Caelia: “That's what I said.”

  Eris wanted to smile at her, compliment her name, wish her well on her work, and maybe ask a few questions. Particularly on how she was ‘dusting’ without a duster and why said dust was as thick as milk in this room. But Caelia’s cold responses blew away any opportunity to do so with a strong gust.

  She figured it was some sort of resentment Caelia held towards her. Not ‘Eris,’ but Eris. After all, she was the one who had caused despair for her comrades and herself. She was the one who had forgotten them and sealed the 'Eris' that they held dear away. She was the poor replacement, a book. Not the author. Every one of those feelings came crashing back with Caelia’s attitude.

  Eris: “Sorry…”

  Caelia: “You’re sorry?”

  She grimaced after hearing Eris’s apology. Of course, a simple ‘sorry’ would not make up for her actions.

  Eris: “I know it’s—”

  Caelia: “What are you sorry for? Delivering food?”

  Eris: “Huh?”

  Caelia: “Alongside your memories, you’ve also lost your hearing, is that it?”

  Eris: “No! Well, I was just… apologizing for… forgetting your name. And all that.”

  Caelia: “If you’re going to apologize with an ‘and all that,’ it doesn't come off very heartfelt.”

  Eris had faced opponents where her enemy was sadness and remorse for the loss of ‘Eris.’ This is the first time that anger was the response, and she was inexperienced with such a foe.

  She was right. Her apology was weak. For the scale of her actions and to someone who was a superior by age, her apology was reprehensible.

  Eris: “I apologize for forgetting your name and face. I sincerely hope to make amends and get to know you again.”

  Trying to fix what she had already failed, she lowered herself into a deep bow.

  “——”

  Caelia: “I think it’s convenient that you came alone. Seraphine isn't in attendance, is she?”

  Eris: “Eh? Well- she said that she would be serving Master Carlos…”

  Caelia: “That seems likely for her to do. Leaving an amnesiac to run around an unfamiliar place, to deliver lunch to unfamiliar strangers.”

  Eris: “Well, I did think it was a bit suspicious—”

  Caelia: “What did you come to get from me?”

  Eris: “Get… from you?”

  Caelia: “What did he tell you to listen out for? What did he tell you to ask me?”

  The Maids of

  Count Schwartzhardt's Manor

  An informal grunt was all Eris could muster as a reply. Dust spun wildly before her from the air expelled from her stunned mouth.

  The sound she made wasn't one of offense or even surprise. A punch to the gut that winded her was a more accurate metaphor.

  Eris: “Egh… Who?”

  Her voice was gagged with the lack of air and the overabundance of dust, and words came out as if she was choking on food. The sheer unexpectedness of the question had sent her body into panic.

  Caelia’s body stiffened. The lunch in her hand disregarded, she stepped forwards, and the taller woman clutched Eris’s collar, and pulled her against the wall.

  Caelia had restrained herself from slamming the smaller maid against the wall, but pressed against her was she, and with her taller posture and age she leveraged her natural intimidation.

  Due to the opposing maid’s taller height, Eris was forced on the tips of her feet by being held up by her.

  Caelia: “Carlos. What did he ask of you?”

  Eris: “Miss— Caelia-?!”

  Her cutting, stern voice that never raised above soft-spoken, oppressed Eris’s ears.

  Caelia: “If what you say is true, your memories are gone, is that correct?”

  Eris: “That's— that is true…”

  Caelia: “So what is it that Carlos spoke to you about when you first met him?”

  Eris: “I—”

  Caelia: “Don't hesitate. It makes you look guilty.”

  Eris was guilty. But she was not sure she was guilty of the crime she was currently being accused of. In fact, the identity of the crime itself was unclear.

  She had picked up on Caelia’s cold attitude even when first glancing at her, but she did not expect things to escalate to an interrogation upon their first meeting.

  Not that she had ever been in such a situation before, but Eris felt that the best course of action in such a situation was honesty. That, and giving clear answers as to not frustrate the prosecutor.

  Eris: “He asked me about my amnesia, introduced himself, and then brought me to the grand hall where I met all of you… And that’s pretty much it.”

  Eris felt the tight grip around her blouse loosen a fraction.

  Caelia: “Eris…”

  The unsettled dust between them started to settle, as Caelia’s piercing gaze turned to the floor with a squint.

  Eris: “I’m not sure what this is about, but if I made a mistake—”

  Caelia: “So you won't tell me, then?”

  Eris: “Is there something I forgot?”

  Eris leaned back even further than she was being pinned, her head against the dusty wall. The airborne irritants setting on her skin and clothes like microscopic conquerors.

  Caelia: “I don't wish to be this cruel to you, but it was a request. With that said, Eris… please kindly tell me the truth. I’m obligated to injure you until you do.”

  Eris found those words to be nonsensical. A theory could be crafted on whom had made such a request of Caelia, but faced with immediate danger, she found it illogical.

  With that said, she could tell injury would be hard to avoid. She was telling the truth, from what her memory had recalled. The insufficientness of her capacity had created this situation, where she was too irresponsible to hold information important enough to be demanded at the threat of violence.

  Eris: “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry! I know that you're probably feeling a lot of stuff right now since ‘Eris’ has been taken from you, but I beg you to think about this first!”

  Caelia: “I am thinking!”

  Caelia's voice finally raised, and the grip on Eris’s collar tightened once more.

  Eris: “I seriously told you all I know! I really would like to take that agonized expression from your face, but I don't possess the comforting memories to do so!”

  Eris’s relatively composed manner of speaking had faltered, for the face of Caelia, on the verge of tears and red to bursting, was too much to bear.

  Not to mention, she wished to avoid harm to a body she was not the owner of.

  Caelia: “Eris… you were so clever.”

  The author of her book had not detailed the conspiracy that Caelia seemed to be referencing.

  Suddenly, her mouth twisted into a smileless chuckle. Her fingers suddenly released Eris’s collar, and she was allowed off her tip toes.

  Eris clutched her own collar with her own hands this time. She had a natural recoil away from Caelia, her body’s instinct of self preservation.

  Caelia was obviously speaking about ‘Eris.’ Though what the former ‘Eris’s’ capabilities had to do with this, Eris did not know.

  Caelia: “Whatever Carlos asks of you… whatever he speaks to you about…”

  Eris: “Master Carlos..?”

  Caelia: “Don't listen to him.”

  Eris: “Huh..?”

  Caelia: “And if he asks you to ‘keep an eye’ on us, or however he words it. Tell me.”

  Eris: “I don't get it.”

  Caelia: “Eris…”

  Caelia’s cold gaze returned to bore through Eris. Eris swallowed hard, the first time she had since being pinned to the wall.

  Eris: “Y-Yes?”

  Caelia stared through her for moments that dragged on in the dusty, window lit room.

  Caelia: “I don't believe you.”