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when i couldn’t leave my room, i would stare out the window, and i would look up at the night sky.
my sleep schedule was irregular; some days i would actually manage to sleep through the night, only to wake up starving and cold. afraid of leaving my room, i would spend the day sewing. the fabrics i had found in the trash didn’t smell the best, but it’s not like i deserved sweet-smelling clothes anyway.
my skin was sticky, my hair was greasy.
this was just life.
i pricked my finger with the needle, but i licked away the blood, and continued my work. this was my futile resistance.
when evening came, i would lower my head and stare at my clothes, at the little patchwork stars i’d sewed over the holes in the discarded fabrics. i seldom spoke to that cruel man; i chose my words carefully. if i made even one mistake, surely he would yell at me, after all… or maybe even worse…
i quickly finished my food, and scurried back to my room.
some days i would spend doing nothing but sleeping, if it meant avoiding my uncle’s harshness. and the nights i could spend roaming the house without worrying about him were nights of joy. my bare feet slid effortlessly across the wooden floors, though i was careful to step lightly. they were the nights i could spin around in the clothes i made. i no longer had to dream of the stars and moon, merely imagining them up in the sky when i looked down at my clothes. the time i could spend away from him was time i could spend looking up at the real sky instead, through every window. what star was that? sirius? betelgeuse? i couldn’t see that one through my own window, could i?
as i leaned against the sill, my hair fell into my face, and the grease shone in the moonlight. i blew the wisp away, only for it to fall right back to where it was before. suddenly, my heart pounded in my ears, and i whipped around. how many times had i mistaken that anxious beating for footsteps? i knew what his angry stomps sounded like. and yet… the prospect of knowing i could be caught was frightening.
i hurried back to my room, and was met with a perfect view of a full moon. i was safe here, in her gaze. she couldn’t save me from everything, sure; but that was okay. my heartbeat settled, and i spent yet another moonlit night studying astronomy.
in that hell, she was the only thing that kept me sane.
there was only one night that she couldn’t protect me. as much as i relied on her, she was but the moon in the sky, far away, far, far away. i couldn’t reach her, no matter how many times i did in my dreams. she wasn’t so magical as to let me fly, i couldn’t grow wings and soar across the sky towards her. when she couldn’t protect me, i had to protect myself.
i didn’t value my life. what worth did it have? pathetic, miserable, useless. i didn’t deserve anything. i was a bother for my damn uncle, i was beat up at school. nobody believed a word i said. if i asked for something, i didn’t get it. i didn’t deserve anything. i was selfish to want anything at all. the only way i could express my wishes was through my words, and they carried no weight. i didn’t deserve anything. definitely not someone to listen to me…
who would verify my words as fact? it didn’t matter if i lied in court. i had to do it to protect myself, too… if everyone else is happy, surely, there’s something out there worth seeing. there’s something out there that would make my life easier. maybe there was more than just the great moon in the sky? i never saw anyone else talking about astronomy. what brought them joy? there was a whole world out there! there were things to see, people to meet…
i never learned the victim’s name. i walked through a foggy life, i lived in my head. there was a house, there were artificial plants. there was my uncle, there was the moon through my window on the night i felt myself starving. but when i looked outside, i saw blood, splashing out in the moonlight.
the moon protected me, but was she merciless to everyone else? i felt tears rushing down my face, a scarlet reality searingly bright in front of me. i ran away, i had to protect myself. he’d kill me. my heart pounded, i trembled as i sank to the ground. please, please… i’m so sorry…
i was taken to court to testify… and i lied. i lied.
…i realize now that my words carry more weight than i know. after all, i’ve seen the way your eyes widen when i make my deductions. when i’m sure of something, and say it, knowing it’s the truth? they carry weight. my words do matter. so when i testified about the murder i had witnessed, my selfish lies were seen as fact, and my uncle was found innocent.
haah… what a chilling word to use to describe him. the moon had saved me, protected me with her silver gaze. but it could not save the three people that fell victim to his knife.
…please, no more. no more. i’ll become a detective, so i’m more self-conscious of what i say. i’ll study hard, i’ll stop living in my head and pay attention to the world around me. i’ll choose my words carefully, i’ll make everything clear. everything i say will carry weight. please, i’m so sorry… i’ll save more people. i’m not strong, and i never will be, but i can find the truth! i will lie no more…
i’ll go to bluebell, i’ll go to that big city. i’ve only heard about it, but i’ve heard nothing but good. there’s so many people there! there’s countless truths to be uncovered, and i’ll be the one to bring them to light. i’ll be a detective, someone could write a novel about me!
i’ll go to bluebell, and show the truth, rather than hide it.
i’ll be the moonlight that will protect the innocents.
what i’m doing is good.
i’m not doing anything wrong! i want to be here. i told myself that over and over, repeating the words in my brain. copycat described black gear as an organization that saved her and her sister, after all. how could i hate it? i managed to kill the man who killed my parents. i’m not a sinner, and copycat is practically a diamond… so this place was good. this was a good place.
copycat loved it here. she dressed up in cute clothes, her golden dress at the foot of her bed. the flowers she kept growing in the room were golden, too. she hid her face behind a mask, so all i could see were her eyes. and they were a bright gold; a dazzling sun, a little candle that lit up my days here.
despite us being together almost every day, i felt like i knew so little about copycat. all i had was her codename, her fake voice, and her shining, golden eyes. who was she beneath the mask? would we ever meet outside the organization? we were both built by black gear, who were our real selves?
justice ii practically made me, after all. purity came to my rescue, and saved me from my past anguish.
sure, i was doing fine before. maybe nothing was particularly wrong, per se.
i feel my head going dizzy. my eyes water.
i’m not doing this again.
she appeared on the other side of those iron bars on a sunny day, her eyes dark, but her smile warm. her hair curled around her body, her glasses reflected the flowers around me. she knew about my past, she knew about my parents. she saved me, she gave me a new name.
luna wyndell was the weak child who hid behind her best friend’s back. she was the mute girl, who people laughed at because she couldn’t speak.
serenity… that was the girl who was strong. the best member in black gear. she overcame their tough training, she could take down any opponent in a heartbeat. she was silent, calm, cool-headed. she made the world a better place the more she worked her magic with her knife. but she was no murderer, she was no sinner. everything she was doing was right. serenity was practically created by purity and justice, after all. and they were pure and just.
the two of them saved me. they made me strong. they showed me what it felt like to obey orders, they praised me with every life i took.
despite all of those positive words -- even from my roommate, copycat -- i found herself wracked with anxiety come every night. i found it hard to breathe, hard to fall asleep. i woke up the next morning dreading the day, yet i had to be agile and strong. i had to leap across long distances, chasing down my target. with every criminal slain, lives are saved.
…no. this is wrong.
i can’t think of myself as “serenity” anymore. i’m not as calm or collected as they made me out to be. she and i are different. the parents who showered me with love, told me it was okay that i was mute and taught me sign language… they raised a shy girl named luna, who had a strong sense of justice. i’d avenged them, as serenity, but i wasn’t satisfied with it. what serenity was doing was far too much.
i don’t know why i left so suddenly. something just felt… wrong, one day. every day up until that day had felt fine, even if anxiety-filled. wasn’t everyone like that?
shaking in their sleep, waking up covered in sweat, and not knowing why.
that was just life.
that was reality, that was normal.
but something was wrong, regardless.
copycat helped me, and i escaped. when i took off my gear for the first time, when i looked at myself in the mirror and told myself i was “luna wyndell,” i felt so dizzy i had to sit down.
this was me? this beaten-up girl, her hair loose and her eyes dark? but i wasn’t serenity. i was a murderer, i was guilty.
guilty, guilty, guilty. how many futures had i stolen? how many of those people had had a reason for their crimes? i was a criminal, too. i was guilty, i deserved to die. no, no, no, how could i move forward at all…?!
i’m going to bluebell on a mission. if you feel lonely, come to that city…
i’ll have to be the one to recognize you.
my first impression of you was the moon that didn’t shine that night.
i met you on the dimly lit midnight express. i was on my way to make my dream come true in bluebell, all on my own, without causing trouble for anyone. when i woke from my rest, the train was dead still, and there were no stars out the window. there was no-one around… no-one but you.
your hair shone in the low light, and your eyes were wide and curious. your expression was neutral, your mouth in the shape of a curious letter O.
…maybe i needed no moon.
i offered you a polite smile, and suddenly found myself rambling. you were silent, but you listened to my tales. mystery novels, famous detective neil lawton! a strange train in the middle of the night. a locked door, a puzzle, a riddle! a key? a password? you smiled back the whole time, before i realized i hadn’t asked your name.
and that’s when i learned you were mute.
i felt a little guilty. i’m the talkative type — when something’s on my mind, i have to say it aloud to process it completely. i can never believe it until i hear myself saying it.
maybe the reason for that is because i was forced to be silent for so many years. i’ve met many people on my travels, learning about the world, though they were but… what’s a good way to describe them? butterflies, perhaps? the wind called their name, and they left my side. even if it was for a fleeting time, they listened to me, they let me speak freely. and now that i can listen to my own voice without feeling bad about it, i’ve started doing it a lot.
it’s nice to be able to just… speak. to be able to say whatever i wish. of course, i don’t say anything rude; i don’t want to, anyway. but it’s nice to be able to talk without worrying. hearing myself helps me stay in the moment. it makes me feel real, in a way. i got too used to dissociating when he was there with me.
you wrote your name down on a little notebook i gave you, and that’s when i learned that you were the playful type. you drew a little moon next to your name — an artist! i, on the other hand, was a wordsmith… or so i liked to think. how vain of me!
…you see, luna. i thought that you were just another butterfly. sure, this was a strange situation, i’d never encountered anything like it in my past. (then again, how was i supposed to? i travel now to make up for all of the world i never got to see.) but i thought you would be a passing acquaintance, someone who i would maybe spend a couple of minutes with trying to figure out what on earth happened before we separated once more.
that notebook of mine, however, became that notebook of yours; filled with your simple, strong handwriting, and your small doodles with the pencil. i didn’t imagine we’d ever have so much to talk about. how did we click so easily? i’d never even heard your voice before.
as we walked around the car, we were met with a locked door. i was the type to go searching for the key, or to solve the mystery behind it. you, on the other hand… were the type to break the window.
i had no idea what was to come at the time. but i had a lot to learn from you!
my first impression of you was sherlock holmes.
a small thing, really, as the train rumbled beneath our feet. you were asleep, and you looked happy as you dreamt. i couldn’t get myself to sleep with all this noise, on a seat i was unfamiliar with…
not to mention, i was still on edge.
my first impression of you was the book you kept beside you, the thick “adventures of sherlock holmes.” i’d heard of the famous detective before. he noticed small details, picked up on everything, and used it to deduct out an alarming but resounding truth. that was my first impression of you, though i never knew it would end up being so strong.
as i walked, the floor rattled beneath my shoes, and i rattled in perfect rhythm. when suddenly, there was a piercing noise, and the rattling was gone. there was no longer the sound of the train, there was a deafening silence. i wandered through the suddenly darkened cars, finding there no-one else here to help me.
no-one but you.
you were still asleep. how? how was it that you were the one asleep, when i was certainly the one dreaming? this train had become a living nightmare.
i walked away from you, wondering if there was anyone else who could assist me, only for me to turn around and see you looking out the window, into an empty world. just a moment ago, i’d been staring out like that just a moment ago as well, thinking about bluebell… and how i could escape my past…
hm. i focused on you instead, silent.
“oh, hello!”
you smiled at me, you talked a lot. i’d met a lot of people like you, people who liked to talk, and among them were many who instantly bored me with their words. you, however, with your inviting smile and shining golden eyes, made me feel fuzzy.
your eyes… golden. just like hers.
i signed my name for you, and i expected you to leave me right then and there. most people i introduced myself to did, after all. “a girl who doesn’t speak? sorry, little lady,” and leaving without saying anything more… or something like that.
you, however, offered me a notebook, and said i could communicate with you this way.
this was a first since escaping that place…! i’d never met anyone who was so understanding outside of there. of course, copycat and justice and purity understood me well. i didn’t have much need to speak to them; only to listen and obey. i’d been doing nothing but that since i was a young child, it was nothing new or difficult.
copycat, especially. she knew minimal sign, but it was enough to maintain basic conversation. she couldn’t tell me much about herself anyways, considering she was of the investigation team, hiding her identity to scope out information…
she wasn’t someone i needed to obey, but she understood me so well. her bubbly personality with my seriousness was a healthy balance, and she was a partner i could trust.
you reminded me of her. the tactical type, with a flustered face and a heart of gold. you weren’t as confident as she was, but you were cute…! i quickly wrote down my name, even putting a little moon next to it. you made me feel safe…! i wanted to become closer to you.
you were really smart, too. your mind worked like a detective just on instinct, even without any prompting from anyone. where i found myself lost, because i didn’t know what to do, you opened the way.
i had a lot to learn from you.
dear traveler, dear bold moon, dear angel, dear luna.
how is it that we only knew each other for a day? with every passing second, i find you don’t leave my mind.
did i ever tell you how much i hated clocks? tick-tick-tick. time passes by so slowly. how long did i have to spend in that room, listening to everything that went on outside? to my uncle, opening up another bottle of wine, to his crashing around the house as he knocked over the artificial plants?
how long did i have to go to that school? ha-ha-ha! i’m disgusting, i smell because i can’t bathe. my clothes are dirty, my hair flies in multiple directions. they’ll talk about my situation, their words will fly across the wind. the truth is twisted to rumor, and suddenly, i’m either ignored or ridiculed. who cares about some miserable, pathetic, useless boy? his clothes have stupid little stars and moons on them. how old is he? six? grow up, take a look at reality!
how long did i have to feel this pain? how many days would i have to come home, rush up to my room, and wipe the tears from my eyes? damn hypocrites. they were the ones ignoring reality.
yet, they were right about one thing. i would be weak and small forever.
it took me years to overcome these self-deprecating thoughts, and i was still suffering from them the day we met. of course, how could i let that show? in the beginning, i felt like i owed everyone an explanation. i talked about my abuse a lot. but as i slowly got over it, i found it easier to keep it silent.
i was developing my own sense of self. i was more than useless, pathetic, and so on. i remembered the times i spent with my parents, pretending to be a detective. pointing to my father when the brownies we’d been saving for tonight’s dessert had mysteriously disappeared: “the culprit is you!” of course, i always went back to mystery novels. but this time, as i read through the adventure of the blue carbuncle, i realized how much i wanted to pursue justice like that.
the blue carbuncle isn’t my particular favorite of sherlock holmes’s adventures, but it still holds a special place in my heart, somehow. i’m sure you haven’t read it; but i must say “a literal wild goose chase” would be a good summary. in the face of such a whimsical story, and holmes’s nonchalant pursuit of the truth in spite of it, i found that i wanted to be like that again. my first “case”, after all, was the adventure of the missing brownies…
what would that feel like on a larger scale? if there was a greater justice to chase after? how many other people out there were trapped within a small house’s four walls, with nothing but the great moon in the sky to protect them? with only fake stars upon their clothes, trapped in a hell of alcohol and yelling and breaking glass?
aaah… i’ve been reminded of it too much recently. it’s been years since i’ve been in that house, yet within this prison, i feel as though i’m a little boy again, not strong enough to object to my uncle’s words.
useless, miserable, pathetic.
you were bold and strong, you didn’t deserve to be held back by me and my pity. (and yet, within the first few hours of us knowing each other, how many times did i make you come back and save me? as hard as i tried to bite it back, my naïvety came shouting out, huh?) even with all of my flaws, however, you made it clear that i was valued.
you valued me.
“you can do anything if you put your mind to it.” you believed in me.
“i’m glad i met you.” you thought i was important.
i close my eyes, to force myself not to look at the book in front of me.
“my… name… is… N… E… I… L.”
i sign it out to the air, as if someone is actually watching me. as if someone who could understand me is actually there, in the darkness of this prison.
the alphabet, along with basic sentences like this, was where i decided to start. it was where this little book of sign language started, anyway. you aren’t around anymore, so i can’t look at the little doodles you drew of us anymore, either. i can’t see outside, what day is it? how long have i been here? i miss the moon and the stars.
i try to imagine you there in front of me. it’s dead silent, after all — isn’t that the greatest indication that you’re here next to me? i try to imagine your hair, and the one strand that has never quite behaved like the rest of them, sticking out before the bow of your ponytail caught and secured it. i try to imagine your blue eyes, wide, shining like the moon. your thin figure, your light skin.
you’re blue, i’m red. you’re light, i’m dark. you’re silent, i’m talkative.
i miss you. when will i see you again? i don’t know what you’re doing, but i’m positive that once i escape from here, we will reunite. in the face of my past, i promise, luna, i will fight. i won’t give up, so we may meet once more.
…dear detective, dear defender, dear dreamer, dear neil.
you introduced me as a traveler, and yourself as a detective apprentice. and apollo called me a traveler, and he called you a detective. admittedly, i was a little jealous.
i remember when we sat down in that minecart, after all, you saying that it would be good for us to rest our legs. but then, you immediately retracted the statement, saying i must be used to walking around? as if i had gained all my stamina from traveling. i bit my lip, and i sat down anyway, even though i wasn’t tired. i wish i could say that i had gotten my strength from traveling around this beautiful world. i’ve been trapped inside four gray walls for the majority of my life.
then again, you had, too. so how was it that we came to such different conclusions?
you assured me that i was a victim. a victim. i was traumatized. yet, how could i be anything but guilty? you told me that you stole two futures, and that was enough for you to want to become a detective. your sense of justice was stronger than mine, or anyone at black gear’s, had ever been. i stole 108 futures. 108 lips, forever silenced, not to tell another tale.
they were all criminals, yes, but that didn’t excuse it. i’d never seen you look so frightening, after all; so determined to damn the one in black gear who had killed him.
in the half-year between leaving black gear and meeting you, i’d never even thought of that. we had such a similar childhood, such a similar upbringing. yet you’re so much… stronger. you didn’t look it at first, but now, i see that you are nothing but strong. i tried to kill myself, over and over, right in front of you. and it was because of that silly mentality, that you’d be better off without me mentality, that you couldn’t get on the train with me. it was in that sorry state that i broke my pocket watch, and you gave me yours, so i could escape. you’re… so strong.
i love selene, i miss her to bits, but you threw me into the train to uphold your promise with her… please, we both broke the promise we made to each other!! when i think of that smile on your face, your voice, how much i found comfort in your voice when we were together, my chest tightens, and i start to cry, just a little.
“become a detective with me!”
…did that count as a promise? when you said that to me, i nodded my head, i stood up in front of you. i smiled again, hopeful. but did that mean i promised you that we would become detectives together? is that another promise i couldn’t keep?
i sigh. no more studying, i can’t focus. in the end, i had decided that that “promise” (if it could even be counted as one) was worth breaking. we hadn’t solved the mystery of the midnight express yet, but you had taught me to be stronger.
you had a habit of calling yourself pathetic, and so on. you accused yourself of not being able to do anything, saying that i’d be better off without you. sure, i was strong physically. i could run fast enough to catch any criminal. i had to be agile, i had to be fast; in order to serve a twisted sense of “justice.” but you see, it was when i was alone, and not together with you, that i was at my weakest.
i pull my capelet on tighter around me, as if it’s keeping me warmer on this cloudy night. bluebell is a beautiful city; considering how long you’ve been considered a ‘criminal’ in black gear’s eyes, i imagine you’ve never been here before.
the stars shine so bright here. no matter how many times i look up, i’ve never been able to get used to the sight. there’s couples walking around, holding hands, laughing beneath the moonlight. there’s still shops and restaurants open, and music from their old jukeboxes rings out. my steps have always been silent, but i find myself wanting to strike my heels down just a little more, to assist the pianos and saxophones in their rhythm. to watch the flowers at my feet swirl in the wind i create. for my ponytail to swing against my back, for my capelet to sway in perfect tempo. if bluebell is this beautiful when i'm alone, it makes me wonder, what will it look like when you're here to see it with me?
i pass by a little confectionery, and they still have chocolate strawberries on the front row. i nod to the shopkeeper, offering a smile, and the he wishes me a good evening.
even though the two of us know each other somewhat, i’ve never actually had a chocolate-covered strawberry. they look delicious in the cold lights of the confectionery, and i find my mouth watering a bit when i look at them. however, i hold myself back. becoming a detective, catching criminals, and solving mysteries was something i felt i needed to do immediately, but there were many experiences i wanted to save for when you returned. this was definitely one of them.
making a big feast was another. i don’t go out to eat much, and i never make myself much. but i’ve bought cookbooks, and i try to practice making something new every day. when i asked you about chocolate, you said you thought dark chocolate was too bitter. so i’ve made sure to mark the sweet recipes! you’ve mentioned your love for chocolate, so i’ve been trying to learn how to make fudge, too. it always comes out a little too hard, or practically liquid… but i’ll keep trying!!
we only knew each other for a day. isn’t that right? that time we spent together, in those prisons, wasn’t much longer than 12 hours. yet, i felt as though you were the freedom i needed, like we’d known each other for years. i’d had many friends in my life, countless people i needed to depend on, because i was small, i was weak, i needed to be protected. i’d never had a chance to do the protecting before. i was going to save you, i was going to keep trying.
you haven’t left my mind since that day. my motivation to keep going, to keep catching the guilty and letting them serve their sentence, letting them truly repent for what they’ve done… if not for you, i never would have made it here. i never would have found the strength to take down black gear. i never would have gotten a reputation as “the silent detective.”
and i certainly never would have found that place i’d been looking for.
when the midnight express from ravenwall shouted out its arrival, the brakes scratching upon the shining metal rails, i waited, and waited, and waited.
every night was spent patiently waiting, my mind on my studies, and on chocolate strawberries, and on the matching capelet i wanted to get for you, and the mystery that had been teasing me for the past year. i rush to the front of the platform, watching the groups of people, watching the couples. the conversations fade out, the laughter dies down.
eventually, the last train comes, and the station empties. it’s dead silent, and i’m all alone.
i miss your voice.
none of them have returned today either…
i stare at the window for another moment, as if in the moment i look away, you’ll suddenly be there, and i’ll have missed you. wasn’t that how we first met? the second i turned away, you woke up, and we had our first conversation.
you’re so talkative. you think out loud. can i hear your thoughts again? please, don’t let me miss you.
“i’m sorry i woke you up, but you were still sleeping when we arrived. be more careful next time.”
your voice, neil. i miss it. i want to see you again…
“s-sorry… it’s been a long time since i was able to sit on something so comfortable.”
…!
“there’s nothing to apologize for, i’m here to make sure that passengers have a good experience during the trip.”
“it was an unforgettable experience, that’s for sure… haha…”
“are you sure you don’t need any more help? your appearance concerns me. i can call a doctor, if you want.”
“i’ll be fine. thanks for your help.”
“as you wish. if you change your mind, i’ll be on the train.”
and with that, i turn around. someone is stepping out of the train. who is it? who’s there?? who sounds just like you, who sleeps on trains?
whose spiky hair is that, whose tired eyes? but your milk-chocolate skin, your golden eyes. your suit, your red tie. your fingerless gloves. it’s you.
i stifle a gasp behind my hands, i try not to cry. i can’t cry. your voice, i can hear it… you're in front of me again.
i run up to you, and after a moment, i grab your hand.
chocolate strawberries and mystery-solving.
moonlit nights spent chasing down criminals.
matching capelets, red and blue!
dear angel; dear dreamer.
we’ll stay together forever!