DAY 39-5: CARDS AGAINST HUMANITY

Memories flash across Leda's mind, of the energetic boy who didn't think twice to offer her and Orian a helping hand. How quickly he'd become acquainted with her, met the Queen, and died.

Nausea consumes her.

  "Who's the idiot?"

   Orian laughs lightly. "He's—"

   "—Estan Rez, the dude who's been showing Nairo the ropes since he started working here." He wraps an arm around Orian's shoulder, drawing him closer to himself. With renewed vigour, he sends Leda a wink. "You look rather new, too. I did hear we had a new maid join the ranks but who knew she'd be a gem like you."

"Madam Yana told me when cleaning the throne room, she found his body." Hadey Rez communicates the news. Her tone is flippant and detached, as if they're discussing the weather. "The maids and butlers who were there at the time noted they saw you and some other butler chatting with him before the Queen arrived."

   She swallows.

   "Was it her? Who sent the order to take his life?"

   Ro, sensing the tension in the air, listens quietly.

   Frustrated tears prickle the corners of Leda's eyelids. "I..." Her voice cracks. "I couldn't do anything. In an instant, Paola was there, then in the next, he was... already..."

   Silence brews between them, the guilt crushing her immensely.

   They were... siblings? They shared the same surname—how could she not piece it together? Nevertheless, her own powerlessness let his life be taken so easily. All because she said she was staying behind, and he was kind enough to keep them company.

   Despite her turmoil, Hadey rises to her feet, and with her hands by her thighs, faces her with indifferent blinks. "We knew from the moment we started working for the Queen that our deaths were inevitable. After growing up in the slums, there wasn't much choice for hybrids like us. Even the simple things aren't easy—like going to Arsenals, and being free to pursue magical jobs."

   Leda flinches. "Hybrid?"

   Hadey points to her eye, disappointed she doesn't get it. "I used magic to change their appearance, but in truth, I was born from a Club father and half-Heart mother. I'm a genuine hybrid." She lowers her hand. "I talked big to you about how hybrids are the scum of Straeh—how much weaker, and unnecessary they are in this kingdom—when I'm one myself. I even concealed myself the best I could to get a job here at the palace. I hated my roots, so I cast it aside. But... Estan was—he was the opposite. He evaded attention and lived cautiously because he wanted to live and make enough money to turn our late mother's dream into a reality himself."

   "Nairo, Led-Adel, I want to help you, honest. And although other Hearts may find it pleasurable to die in situations like this, I don't have the intention to.

   "I learned information and kept cautious so I wouldn't. I only accepted this job at the palace so I can raise enough money to become an apprentice. I can't die before I make my dream come true. I'm sorry, but you're on your ow—"

   The memory socks Leda in her nonexistent gut. His last words...

   Teardrops stream down her face, strengthening tenfold.

   Hadey presses her eyelids shut. "Knowing that even him—someone I admired for being so resilient—can die a death so quiet..."

   "Hadey..."

   "You truly are odd, Adel. Crying for someone you hardly know. Weeping so much for him, while here I can't muster a single tear."

   She clenches the fabric above her chest. Cast upon her profile is a smile—the first expression Leda's ever seen on her.

   "It seems... I've stopped feelings emotions like that a long time ago." Weld behind her words, fragile tone, and the sole tear that dribbles down her cheek, is nothing but melancholy. "The Land of Straeh we have so much pride in—is it truly worth not being able to mourn the death of my own brother?"

♥♦♣♠

   "So he escaped, huh?" Elevating the snake tied in so many knots around the central pillar in his bedroom, Avel emits a breath. "You're supposed to be my familiar, Zaire. What good if you can't handle a lowly Spade?"

   "M-mwaster!" is all the comes out of her mouth. Her head, too, is in yet another loop, making her yelling indecipherable.

   Avel interprets it anyway. "What do you mean he's not like the others? Isn't it pathetic making excuses for your loss?" He prods at her stomach. "Maybe it's because I've been feeding you too many corpses lately. You're getting fat."

   Zaire's shouting grows more profound, and much more indiscernible.

   "Your Highness, allow us to help you prepare for the ceremony," the tailor calls.

   Him, and the rest of his peers, have already gathered all the necessary materials, including the snow white suit that glows under the light of the room.

   Rising to his feet, Avel does as told, and allows the hairdressers to tend to his hair while the tailors measure his body. Zaire's hissing, and the commotion in the palace becomes a muddled buzz in his ears. The sight unveiled beyond his grand window seizes all his attention. Thousands upon thousands crowd the palace. The paleness of Straeh is nowhere to be found. Flowers, magic, decorations, ornaments, gifts—colours and smiles of all kinds, surround him.

   The platitudes they shout loft as well.

   "Congratulations, Your Highness!"

   "You're finally to rule Straeh as our beloved king!"

   "The day you've worked so hard toward—your dream, and sole reason for your birth—is finally here! What a gracious day!"

   Gracious?

   It was nowhere close to the word he'd used to describe this day.

   Leda is his mother's possession. She's been reduced to another head on her grotesque wall.

   Avel's eyes glaze the portrait hung at the centre of his room. His mother and him, smiling. His father was once apart of it too, beaming as sillily as them, but from the moment he passed, she had it adjusted.

   Get rid of the unnecessary. Disestablish all attachment to the weak. It was nothing uncommon. Since Leda is gone, since Remi is gone, he'll have to adjust. Find something new to entertain him.

   Just like always.

   "Father! Teach me, teach me!"

   "You wish to learn, huh? Are you sure you have what it takes?"

   "I have everything I need right here! My lab coat. My backpack filled with all the necessary equipment. Some potions and medicines. Oh, and, and—"

   A hand, ruffling his hair. A laugh so gentle and soft it caused him to grin all the same.

   "You'll become a fine quack one day. Someone who will bring comfort to people just by being by their side. You'll save so many lives, Avelious. I know it."

   "Your Highness, how would you like me to dispose of the corpses upstairs?"

   Avel turns to the servant who'd posed the question. Like always, their callous demeanour doesn't waver, even when concerning their former coworkers. Nevertheless, successfully drawn from his reverie, he replies, "Do whatever you'd like. Zaire's eaten enough of them."

   "As you wish."

   With a bow, they leave, and the remaining workers continue to tend to him.

   Save, huh? he thinks after a pause.

   Where's the fun in that logic? Even if he saves them, they'll die eventually. Especially within this kingdom.

   Blankly, he cranes his neck, fixing his attention to the mosaic of colours patterning the ceiling.

   The voice of his distant past never stops replaying in his mind.

   What... did that man look like again?

♥♦♣♠

"Does that feel all right?"

Leda tilts her chin from side to side, then rolls her neck and shoulders. Nothing falls, nor does anything feel loose.

Awed, she touches her throat and the rest of her reattached body. "It's perfect. I feel like myself again."

Hadey tucks the surgical needle and thread back into the bag she'd grabbed from the medical ward. After escaping Queen Estelle's bedroom, Hadey had led them to a room where dead bodies are kept until the palace morticians stop by to deal with them. Not having the stomach to enter (no pun intended), Leda loitered outside with Ro, keeping watch of the surrounding area, while Hadey successfully retrieved it. Their next destination was the medical ward whereby they stole equipment before stowing away in this empty room. Hadey proceeded to sew Leda back together from there, leading to their situation now.

"I can't believe that actually worked," Leda muses on.

"I made sure to reattach all your blood vessels alongside your skin with memory of having to sit through His Highness's anatomy lessons growing up. But, after all, I'm not an official doctor. You should make sure not to do anything reckless."

She nods, still occupied in confirming each limb functions like they used to.

"Are you finished?" Ro calls from outside. He was standing watch.

"Yeah, we're good!" Leda calls.

The door creaks open.

Almost immediately, Ro blushes and slams it shut.

"Y-you're not wearing any clothes!"

Leda places her hands to her hips. "Well, duh. It was gone when Hadey salvaged it."

She can imagine just how much redder he's gotten. Utterly unfazed, she heaves.

"Stop getting so embarrassed over skin. You're a grown man. Besides, I also saw you naked when you were incapacitated, so consider it even."

Granted, she could barely make sense of his body.

Ro's quiet for a bit. Then, "I will carry this shame to my grave."

"You pampered prince. It's not that serious." Rolling her eyes, she looks to Hadey. "Does this room have anything I can wear?"

"I found something earlier," she excuses, extending a bundle. She stalls a beat. "Prince?"

After squeezing into the black shorts, Leda muffles, "Oh, you didn't know? Ro's a prince."

It takes her a hot minute to process. "Of... Edaps?"

"Of Edaps— Dang it, the top's too tight."

Cue more stunned eyelash-flutters. Her eyebrows crease a thin line across her forehead. "You... truly are one of a kind, Adel."

She tilts her head. Hadey dismisses it with a head shake. Once fitted into her attire—a cropped shirt and shorts, as well as other designs that leave her abdomen and legs exposed—she props her hand at her side. Ro reenters when she calls him in. He isn't very welcoming of this appearance of hers either. Though, considering how flushed he is, and his inability to look at her, Leda's quick to brush it aside as him being bashful.

"Are you sure about this, Hadey?" Leda asks.

Hadey half-snorts. "That question is far too late. I've been marked for death the moment I helped lead Prince Ro to you." Thinning her mouth, she continues, "True, I was once unsure about my conviction. But, after reconvening with you, I finally made up my mind. Even if the future ahead of us isn't bright, I'm tired of hiding behind falsehoods to survive. Anything is better than the Straeh the Queen rules. And if it means I can help dispose of it, I'll gladly forsake my life."

The hum that Leda releases lodges Hadey's voice in her throat.

"Ro," Leda says thereafter, "is it me or did I hear something pretty insensitive right now?"

Arms crossed over his chest, eyelids shut, he replies, "I heard two."

Hadey's jaw unhinges. "What do you—"

Leda flings her index finger at her face. "The future ahead of us isn't bright? We've damn known that from the beginning. But we have no choice but to make it bright. Failure isn't an option. So burn it into your damn mind that there's no way in hell I'm losing anymore of my friends and forfeiting the lives of the Edaps citizens to some psychotic, vampire witch and her mad dog guards!"

Wide-eyed, Hadey can't camouflage her shock. She stands, stock-still, and utterly jaw-slacked.

"Do you get it? 'Forsaking your life' isn't an option. It never has been. If you hate Queen as much as you say you do—if you sincerely despise the current Straeh—abolish it. Create a Straeh that gives a hybrid like you the right to exist. Then live in it." Leda folds her arms, fuming. "What the heck is with you damn Hearts, anyway? Giving up your lives so easy, without a single afterthought. You've learned to love others so much that you've forgotten the most important thing. How to love yourself."

"Leda..."

Her lips upturn, glad to have gotten through to her. "Everybody has a flaw or two they can't get rid of. They have things they want to treasure—goals to pursue. They want to whine and be selfish, display jealousy and insecurities, be kind to those who deserve it. Hell, they're even stupid enough to plunge into enemy territory with the intent to survive no matter how much the odds are stacked against them. So what? That doesn't make us any less strong. Everyone dies someday, that's a given. But it's exactly because of that you have to make the most of the time you're alive."

Ro exhales loudly. "If you ask me, you're a bit too selfish."

"Call it a gift," Leda remarks.

Hadey bites her lip. "Is it... really all right to wish for something like that? To live proudly when Estan couldn't. For... a Straeh to encompass all of which you mentioned... Is it truly possible?"

Leda raises her arms. "Dunno."

Hadey recoils.

She grins from ear to ear. "So find a way to make it possible. Oh, but leave the brainstorming for later. We're kinda on a time crunch right now."

While Leda erupts into a fit of laughter, Ro heaves, again.

"There's no use trying to hold a proper conversation with her," he warns Hadey. "Not a shred of rationality exists within that head of hers."

"Hey, Ro, are you calling me dumb?" Leda demands.

"No. I am merely pointing out the fact that you do not think."

Leda scratches her head in defeat. "Can't deny that."

Hadey titters. Now, the reaction excites Leda more than it surprises her.

"I'll do my best to aid you, Leda," she says, cheeks flushing from her timid smile. "Please allow me to."

Brimming with enthusiasm, she chuckles.

"How adorable. But I'm afraid that isn't an option."

Their blood freeze. Somehow, unbeknownst to them, another individual has entered the room.

His deep laugh resounds. "I can't allow you to disturb the conclusion I've waited all these years for."

Leda swivels on the balls of her feet. Ro unsheathes his sword. Both him and Hadey defensively move in front of her. The malice is thick, and suffocating, but the sight stalls Leda's heartbeat in her chest.

His balding blue hair clings to his scalp. Bandages shield his arms and neck, peaking through the fabric of his heart-patterned blazer and pants. His broad smirk and glass eye are enough to recognize him.

Which makes this all the more confusing.

"Nixon?" Leda drawls, eyebrows high.

"It's great seeing you're doing well, Leda, Your Highness," he says as lightly as she remembers. "I was worried you might've already succumbed to the Queen."

Hadey lowers her guard. "Is he another one of your companions?"

Leda whips her head up and down in response. Then, she glistens. "Nixon! We were so worried about you! In fact, we were on our way to get you!"

She makes the move to race up to him only to be stopped when Ro extends his arm to block her off.

Puzzled, Leda shifts her gaze to him. "Ro?"

His caution hasn't dropped.

"What's wrong, Your Highness?" Nixon muses. "You're glaring at me so ruthlessly. And here I thought you'd be overjoyed to have your trustworthy Jack of Spades back at your side. Don't tell me you've gone and hated me for being apart from you for so long?"

Ro's arm lowers, and his glare falters, only for a second. Rooted to her spot, Leda can only watch his anger rise.

"Jack Nixon, what is the meaning of this?"

Nixon tilts his head, amusement plain as day. "This, as in?"

In that moment, palace guards charge the room—surrounding them, and hovering behind Nixon like a wall of intimidation. Leda's shoulder knocks against Hadey's, her mind spiralling to understand the influx of Hearts.

"The Numbers?" Hadey recognizes them.

"The what?" Leda demands, eyes darting to and from Nixon. "Huh? Wh-what's—"

"It seems I can't lie to you," Nixon tells a scowling Ro. "I've taught you everything myself, so I shouldn't be surprised, huh?"

Fists balled, eyebrow twitching, he broils with rage, and undeniable bewilderment. "You're betraying your own kingdom?"

"Betray? What a funny word coming from a man who's father does nothing but."

The Numbers advance. Nixon, towering over them from his height, cackles beneath his breath.

"Though, I'll admit," he continues. "It was quite pleasurable duping you and your family for so many years, Ronan III. But it appears today will officially be the last. I hate to you be crude but, will you and your companions please die for me?"