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raiha-storm65557 · 3 months

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❝ In Blood and Uniform, We Devote Ourselves ❞

Note: Since I won’t be using “hero” and “villain” as their names, here’s how to differentiate between them: hero as the female spy protagonist, villain as the female kitsune (tw: harsh language, slight discriminatory remarks, indications of violence, wartime era background (1943 to be specific)).

꒰ ⨾ ꒱ Total word count: 2,617

᪥⚘ Taglist: @linsyfelisyya, @raiha-storm65557, @kitcathhhh, @dumdumpew6

ʚᰔɞ Prompt by the lovely: @raiha-storm65557 🌷💕 (i tried my best in cooking up smth by blending history with mythological/folklore creature(s)).

╰ ✧₊˚⊹ “Don’t move,” her voice was so gentle despite everything. Even if Hero wanted to disobey, they couldn’t. All they could do was shiver in the cold wind. Why? What’s happening to them? They wanted – no needed - to run away but it felt like their lungs would collapse the second they would move. “You’ll be alright,” Villain whispered in their ear.

*ੈ𑁍༘⋆

A Japanese. She recognized the language all too well, alas not from the mysterious voice speaking.

To trust the words of an enemy is akin to jumping into a tiger’s lair unarmed; you are just asking for a dagger to be plunged into your own heart, her instincts whispered.

“Um, excuse me, miss. I’d like to pass through,” her teeth clamored as her quivering voice uttered indifferently. The shivering figure gave the source of voice a clumsy head bow and gripped her coat and scarf tighter, the action did little to stave off the frigid air and hunger of that day in the bitter winter of the year.

She considered her options: if she was getting mugged, she could probably use the dagger. If the stranger was a mere senile woman, she’d best leave her be. If—

Her chin was angled up by fingers less freezing and less shaken than her own.

The young woman caught the lady looming over by her eyes first: raw sienna and upturned. Her middle to lower third ratio possessed a high nose bridge followed by a sharp cupid’s bow on full lips ending with the narrow point of her chin. She felt a certain sense of unease by how her features looked so serenely taut as if pulled by a string, yet the aura emanating from her was uncanny, like it would snap any second.

Ink black hair pulled into a simple neat bun revealed an elegant neck draped around by a rich blue kimono seamlessly flowing down akin to a river at midnight, a maroon obi tied at the waist and an intricate obidome on the obijime. White camellia etchings intertwined and separated in a whirlwind of dance on a sleeve and continued their way down the fabric in a perpetual luscious stream.

Silence perambulated by while both women were still as statues.

The lady hummed softly as her eyes narrowed and her lips reduced to an indiscernible frown. “Such delicate features…” She spoke quite strangely, each word enunciated sharp and constricted, her breaths merely condensed to an imperceptible foggy mist, “At one glance, one might say that you are a huntsman or — likely — a poacher, fleeing away from some sort of conflict.” Nails dug into the young woman’s chin, rotating her face gingerly from side-to-side, deep in scrutinization.

Panic flared and she thought of running. But running seemed more like a wish than a will as her boots were kept rooted in the heap of snow. The desire did not falter since the lady continued regarding her icily, “Times like these make people very desperate to take up such jobs to suffice for their family or themselves, you know? Strange however, since your eyes tell a different story.” She gripped her chin firmly, bringing it front to a stop and stared into her soul. “You do not possess the carnage nor the experience that they carry. So what are you, if not one?” Then, conspiringly, “Are you perhaps a spy?”

Shit. She knows. How did she know? She caught the lady’s wrist in her trembling gloved grip, firmly pushing it aside and backed away with a long stride.

“You ask a lot for somebody who dresses haughtily as such,” scoffed the young woman.

“At such a young age too. How old are you?”

She gritted her teeth, jaw clenching while a shaking fist curled itself and waited just for another slip out of the lady’s lips. Famished and fatigued, her mind was traversing nowhere and everywhere all at once as her patience stood on thin ice.

“I assume you are not one to talk, are you? Ju-ri,” the last two words crawled coolly out of her lips.

Her glare upon hearing her true name being spoken blatantly mitigated, causing angry brows to soften as her fist ceased trembling at once. Her brows flickered uneasily, eyes widening first in shock, then migrating to wonder before finally settling on fear. The air suddenly felt more frigid as her sense of alert woke up.

Not a word once more, only this time, it was heavily tangible.

The lady’s placid sigh broke the wall of frost between them before reaching into her low-hanging sleeve. Manicured fingernails painted in red held the recipient the piece of paper upfront. Slightly torn around the edges with marks of it having been folded repeatedly. The young woman’s quivering hands snatched it.

It was a letter. A home address scribbled and a date: December 20, 1941. Dear Nam Ju-ri, … From, beloved brother Nam Ju-young.

Two years ago, he marked his presence with the faded black ink, two years later he was still never again heard from.

“You dropped it,” the lady’s voice sounded again, only now, her words carried the barest trails of Ju-ri’s mother tongue. The usage nigh gave the young woman some sort of odd comfort from the familiarity. Nigh.

It must have fallen out of her coat pocket since she did not recall ever holding it. She cursed herself internally for not being more vigilant as her fingers fastidiously folded it into the tiniest piece she could manage before shoving it deep into her breast pocket.

“Apologies for the impropriety. You may address me as Lady Yōko. In return for your name through spontaneous means, you shall receive mine.”

Ju-ri’s surge of adrenaline peaked itself on tiptoes through blinds when her tongue reciprocated in Hangul, “Cut the formalities, yeah? I don’t need it. I never gave you mine willingly, you took knowledge of it upon yourself.”

Miss Yōko vacantly eyed her. “I have been met with many people coming from various different backgrounds. Be it swindlers, crooks, perverted soldiers, bastards, whores, so many more. Compared to the majority of them, a lowlife from Joseon smuggling her way out to Japan does not make it any special.”

The young woman’s lips twitched instinctively in aggravation as wry laughter wrung itself out of her lips. She cursed. “You know what I hate the most about people? It’s their sense of knowing-it-all. If you don’t learn to tone that grating pride I swear—” A fist was raised that was meant to be a threat; though, she flunked it too close to the lady’s cheek instead.

She caught her wrist mid-air feasibly. “Was it merely my “pride” or are you just too cowardly to face the truth?”

Ju-ri shifted awkwardly and planted all her strength into wrenching her wrist out albeit the lady’s punishing grip only tightened the more she tried as her fist trembled and trembled. Why… is she not wearing gloves? Is she not afraid of frostbite? The thought slithered idly into the young woman’s mind merely during that slip of the second.

“Why?” mused Miss Yōko. “One man’s blood does not equal another man’s burden. I wonder imploringly why you view us the same way even if some of us may not have taken innocents’ blood on our hands.”

“It’s different when it’s agreed upon by one nation and not because of that man himself!” She dared to glare upon her opponent’s eyes and caught the last second of her pupils dilating and constricting akin to slit pupils of a predator, a dark brow raised prolonging the unspoken question.

Imminent fear surged through her hollow being heavily as her heart palpitated in her ears. Her pride was dragged six feet under as a soft gasp escaped, her fist going limp from the incessantly futile struggle. Miss Yōko looked… terrifying. Predacious, even. Quite fury outlined her usual stagnant features. It began to hurt. It hurt. If she wasn’t wearing a coat perhaps the lady’s nails would’ve dug through her wrist and drew blood. The young woman dipped her head and grimaced as her mouth articulated a strangled noise of surrender so subtle she was almost certain it went past her ears.

The fingers that clamped on her wrist loosened their grip almost immediately. Ju-ri sucked in a breath and moaned softly in pain several times as she staggered back and cradled her aching muscle. “Crazy bitch,” she exhaled harshly through gritted teeth in-between breaths.

The lady’s gaze was on the glimmering snow. Breathing slowly. Eerily still. “He was right after all. You do have a short temper and the tendency to put up a rather undesirable fight.”

“Huh? Who?”

A heartbeat of palpable quietude.

Miss Yōko side-eyed her, “Maeda. He left the inn two years prior. One of my former patrons. You came here for him, did you not?”

Her brows furrowed as the foreign syllables danced in her brain.

“Mae… da?”

The lady flicked her gaze up. Ju-ri blinked, her pupils back to how they were. She held her gaze while nimbly fishing into her collar’s slip and handed a sheet to the young woman, faced down. “Take it,” she prompted, tilting her head when Ju-ri made no further inclination to. “It is yours. He told me to give it to his little sister one day if I ever encountered her searching for him. Seems as if today has finally marked that day to be bountiful.”

A grayscale photograph. Dirt with a suspicious hint of blood speckled sparsely on an upper corner of the flimsy faded sheet. White lines veined from several crinkles yet the implications were crystal: A little girl in a hanbok to the left of a boy a tad taller in height. A hand was across his temple in a salute and the military uniform was too loose-fitting for his small shoulders. Both had wide toothy grins.

They did not have much nevertheless it never was the reason they weren’t content. Father would still come home. Mother wasn’t too ill. She remembered that day so many years prior when the photograph was taken yet never saw it for herself until… her vision stung, either due to the extreme weather or she traversed too close into memory lane.

Maeda… is Ju-young. Ju-young was here before? What a fucking small world they lived in.

Realization dawned upon as the back of her hand was pressed to her runny nose and the other grasped the photograph near her heart. “It should’ve been me…” she whispered, her knees met the snow. “It should’ve been me…” Her figure hunched over while she fisted the crumpled sheet tighter, loose dark hair grazing the snow. “That fool. He could’ve done so much more with his life…”

Several soft exhales passed when she felt a warm weight pressed on her quivering bicep and shot a glance up to find Miss Yōko kneeling in front of her. The lady’s gaze was fixed on Ju-ri’s shuddering cupped fists while her palm worked on to soothe the tense muscle. She flinched away from the touch without a thought. The lady retracted her hand gingerly in return.

“I-I didn’t know. Um—” the young woman sniffled to hinder the weight of her congested voice. She wiped her nose on a sleeve, blinking her eyes away and biting her lip, embarrassed under the scrutiny during her vulnerability. “It’s just that… I never expected him to wear the uniform for real and to be out there on the battlefield, fighting for your country. Unwillingly. He was only fourteen when he left. He could’ve turned twenty-three this year—”

“I never said that he was gone,” elaborated the lady, her stature kempt. “I merely stated that he had left the inn. Although, I have not heard from him again either for a good while.”

“Again? You two write to one another?”

Her long lashes lifted to meet Ju-ri’s while a brow raised itself high. “How should I keep him in touch on whether or not I’ve encountered his other blood?”

“…You mean it? You’d really help him even if he’s… even if we’re…?”

Her gaze softened, a soft exhale escaped her nose. “It’s only a matter of good business. I am also a woman of my word. Naturally, he had a small price to pay in exchange for my aid.”

Ju-ri felt her heart fall to her stomach.

“I consider myself a collector and a tradesperson for that matter. With favor, comes a price. Whatever one has given or traded with me, I shall help them to the very best depending on the amount presented as a remuneration.” She craned her head back, scanning the frosty surroundings and clicking her tongue, “Even we ought to delve ourselves in human affairs when the economy is undoubtedly precarious during the war. It does not matter whose hands I shake, what matters is the art of a chase. The hunt. The thrill of it.”

We? Human affairs? Ju-ri thought it best instead to not question the lady’s peculiar choice of vocabulary.

“But, I do not have anything valuable as of now to give you.”

Miss Yōko kept still, shifting a moment later to lift a knee to stand up feasibly, back facing her. “Perhaps your shocking presence in and of itself should be enough for now. It’s better than finding your rotting corpse engulfed in maggots instead,” she muttered, her head craned imperceptibly but not facing Ju-ri, “He talked of you. Highly. He said that he was sorry for not being able to come home to see you grow up.”

Soft flutters of snowflakes twirled and whirled around them as her zori shuffled several steps forward with shallow crunches, palm reaching out slightly to catch the flakes. “Isn’t it nice to have someone care for you dearly? I fail to fathom how humankind holds one another in such high regard despite their lifespan, in such a gruesome era too. Fascinating…”

Ju-ri endeavored her best to make sense of the lady who might be the only chance of finding her lost blood and as her lashes drifted downward, she caught the lady’s shadow looming over… except it didn’t look quite right. The silhouette was not reminiscent of the lady’s. She scaled the shadow nearly up to its head when the lady swiveled three-quarters around.

“Ju-ri, let us leave.”

Her head shot up directly and a soft “Huh?”

“We have to make haste. I sense an abnormality in the weather. It’s subtle, but it is there. A blizzard at best, if my senses are correct, it’s arriving early.”

“How in the world could you tell?”

“I cannot explain everything as of now, however I’ll only say that I’ve spent longer winters in all of its bitterness. I run an inn several paces away. You ought to warm yourself up and eat your fill. Then, we can talk more inside.”

“Why should I trust you?”

At that, Miss Yōko’s lips twitched, bemused. “The choice however, is always yours, for I do not own you and I believe you might be harboring some sort of prejudice against me. But know this, your brother would not leave traces of him behind without knowing you’d search for him. Either way, you need to stay alive for that, it seems.”

Her zori marked the snow with dense footprints threatened to be covered by capricious winds and snowfall. Ju-ri had to choose, and to choose quickly. But, even options were scarce. She swallowed the heavy lump in her throat and sniffled as she watched the lady walking further away without a glance behind.

The photograph was shoved brashly in another pocket. Gloved palms pressed on snow momentarily and a forefinger twitched before her leg made the first inclination to stagger up. She wiped her eyes and nose on a sleeve before fixing her scarf and sniffling. Her boot slumped heavily to stumble after the lady.

What hope — or unlikely — trust, meant for Ju-ri she never knew, but the figure shrouded by snowflakes a few feet away may be her very first flicker in almost an entire decade of desolation.

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raiha-storm65557 · 3 months

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Injured Love

Word count: 1226

Requested by @rivalriotrenegade

Continuation of: Prompt #20

Tag list: @shesadollette @kaiwewi

“Villain! what the hell happened?” Civilians’ reaction was exactly what Supervillain had warned them it would be, eyes glancing between bandages, bruises, the cain and their face. But still, they stumble over their words, “Oh- I… well I just kinda...” The criminal overlord places one hand on each of his lovers’ shoulders, drawing their attention to him. “They got in a fight.” His expression is stoic but a harshness hides in his eyes. But was this really the time to tell Civilian the truth about their jobs?!

They waned to protest but if Supervillain thinks it’s right then… Civilian looked like a deer in headlights and Supervillain took the silence before a realisation to continue. “Some lowly criminal tried to rob us! But Villain saved us and our money.” His tone was a little less stoic than usual… he’s putting his strongest theatre performance in this, which isn’t much but enough to make Civilian believe it.

“You-!” Civilian sounds both impressed and stressed, “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I just wanted to protect Supervillain!“, Villain quickly stammers out, just going along with the lie, “And the bastard ran away!” but the worried stare of Civilian persists. They won’t hear the end of it for a while… from both of his partners.

“But what if you had lost? What if they had a weapon or power?” both of the criminals possess both things and have yet to tell Civilian… there are so many things they have to keep a secret. “Villain you’re not a hero don’t act like one!”

Both froze hearing those words, Villain from a hurt rage and Supervillain from a long-forgotten grief which still lingers in his heart. Both know that their partner means it from a place of care, they just don’t know. The two decided long ago it was for the better for them not to.

Supervillain took Civilians hand, trying to keep his composure “Let’s not scold them too much, sweetness. I already talked to them.” There’s a noticeable edge to his voice, one that even their oblivious love noticed, “We should get to the restaurant soon, or we’ll miss our reservation.”

The car ride was silent.

As always, Civilian is the one to go talk to the hostess about their reservation while the two criminals wait by the door. They think the two are shy but in reality, it’s just to spot anyone who might recognise them from work.

When Civilian returns to them, they’re ready to go sit down but they shake their head. “The restaurant is running late on some tables so we have to wait a little longer. I gave her my number so she’ll call us as soon as our table is ready and we can go somewhere in the meantime.”

“Are you fine with walking, darling?” Supervillain asks Villain gently; he’s trying to not glance at their leg but it’s obvious. “Yeah, but let’s just walk a little slower.” Supervillain smiled, “Then let’s go to the park, it’s not that far away and there are benches us to rest.”

“The one with this nature fountain?” Civilian asks, recognition in their voice. “Yes, sweetness! The one with the fish and frogs and- “, Supervillain stops himself before his voice becomes too loud from excitement, “Y-yes.” A small blush graces his cheeks.

Civilian giggles and nods, “Alright let’s go.” They offer their arm to Villain, who quickly hooks their own onto them. The three walk out together into the slightly chilly spring wind. The park really wasn’t far away, only a few minutes that fly by when talking with your loved ones.

“Just look at this place, isn’t it amazing?” Supervillains voice practically sparkled, just like his eyes. Despite all the complications today Villain was able to dropped their tense shoulders just by looking at their adorable man.

“Yeah, amazing.” they said still watching him glow. If there is one thing that always made him smile its beautiful architecture that welcomes mother nature. The architecture he made before he became a criminal. He missed that kind of life, no matter how much he tries to hide it, Villain can tell. The life he had before he knew Villain and Civilian.

The two unhook their arms and Civilian saunters over to Supervillain, who is already explaining the tiniest details of fountain. This was his passion, no matter what. The felon would love walking around with them while learning but their legs are getting tired. Maybe it be better if they had a few more moments to themselves.

They lean onto the cain a little more. Supervillain gave it to them before they went to meet Civilian. It was complete over kill, in their opinion, it’s not like they broke anything. It was just some deep cuts from the claws of that good for nothing sidekick Superhero always has by her side… but they would be in a world of pain without it. They’ve been keeping their wight on it for most of the day. It was almost as if their body unconsciously accepted the thing as a third leg of sorts. Why did Supervillain even have a cain like this on hand? Was this once a part of one of his many, many identities?

Civilians’ words still brew in Villains mind but maybe it’s for the best to put it aside for now. They know they didn’t mean it like that but it still hurt. They’re whole life they had witnessed the corruption inside of hero organisations. Sure, not all of them are bad, honestly only a few of them but they have too much influence. ‘You’re not a hero’ they’ve heard these words before from their former mentor. Back then Villain was a sidekick…

Sometimes they wonder what would have been if they had stayed. They’d have never meet Civilian, maybe Supervillain but as an enemy. The same person who sliced their leg up like it was nothing would still be their best friend. Maybe they would still be Heros sidekick, maybe they would have become some hero themselves… the thought makes them feel disgusted but equally empty.

Before they could think any further on the subject a familiar ringtone pulls them out of their mind. They look over to its source and just as they thought it was Civilians phone and their two lovers start to walk back to Villain while the non-combative talks with whoever called them. Probably the reservation.

Once they stood before him and Supervillain carefully took their hand into his own and kissed it, being mindful of the bandages that wrapped around Villains hand and fingers, up their arm and shoulder. “Shall we, my love?” he whispers against their knuckles.

“Yes, let’s” Villain couldn’t help but smile at the gentle gesture. The crime lords hand falls back to his side but he never let’s their go. Wordlessly he reaches a hand to Civilian and they accept the offer.

“I love both of you…” Supervillain says while they walk, “more than anything in the world. Never forget that” he squeezed both of their hands just a little too firm. Villains’ hearth tightened a little and he squeezed back, they made the right decision. Even if they had the chance to go back, they’d still want to live the exact same life. The love they had found was worth all they had endured.

#hero x villain community #heroes and villains #villain #civilian #villains and heroes #supervillain #villain x civilian #supervillain x civilian #villain x villain #villain x supervillain #poly relationship #tw injury

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raiha-storm65557 · 3 months

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dude I was about to sent you so much love you would drown. Call me any time you need

sometimes i feel lonely. it happens often on fridays or after school. albeit i have a lot of friends, i still could feel lonely at times. i don’t think getting a bf would help at all since i’m uninterested in dating and it wouldn’t be the best solution rn. guess some things are just unexplainable such as moods. okay, i guess i’m THAT lonely that i was literally talking to a tumblr bot that gives generic responses .･ﾟﾟ･(／ω＼)･ﾟﾟ･.

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raiha-storm65557 · 3 months

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Prompt #261

Henchman had never seen this group of criminals before. They’d heard whispers of a new team, but they hadn’t expected them to seek out their Villain so soon.

“The heist is at midnight,” one villain, dressed in navy blue, said. “We could really use someone of your expertise on the job.”

The others chorused in agreement, and Villain puffed under the praise. “Yeah, I can—”

You can’t go.” Henchman interrupted.

Villain blinked at them in surprise. “Why not?”

“Besides the fact you don’t even know these people, let alone how they operate? You already have a job at 7 tonight and another at 3 in the morning. If you add another at midnight, you’re going to be exhausted.”

“I’m fine though,” Villain said.

“Yeah, you’re just a henchman,” one of the other villains said. “Why are you bossing them around.”

“No, hey,” Villain said, spreading one arm in front of Henchman as if that did anything to defend them. “They just care about me. But I can go.” They glanced at Henchman. “You’ve been here all day, so I’ll see you at the morning heist.”

Henchman gritted their teeth. They could feel the other villain’s stares on them, ranging from triumphant to smug to annoyed.

“Fine,” Henchman said, pulling themselves up straight. “Do whatever you want.”

#someone is sleeping on the couch tomorrow

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raiha-storm65557 · 3 months

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Prompt #43

Supervillain couldn’t believe his luck. Normally it would have taken months to find a healer, let alone the money he would have had to spend on hiring them. But when he had Villain cornered for breaking their agreement, that honourless fool actually offered one of his subordinates as pay for an ‘alliance’, also known as ‘please don’t kill me’.

This subordinate is Villains (former) Medic, someone able to heal people by touch. But Supervillain is no fool. The young man has just been betrayed and essentially traded like in some card game. Worst of all, Villain expected his employees to life at their layer, so the healer lost his home. A raise and more benefits won’t fix that.

Tag list: @shesadollette

Let me know if you want to be added :)!

#hero x villain community #heroes and villains #writing prompt #supervillain #medic #Villain x medic #supervillain x medic #villains and heroes #short prompt

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raiha-storm65557 · 3 months

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— 🍡 ; ꒰ 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 ꒱

here is an exhaustive list of all one-shot works i’ve cooked up .•°

1. 𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦 ; (hero x villain shenanigans)⚡️💥

❝ Between Fine Lines of Morality ❞ // gn x gn

❝ Gosh, How I Wish I Could Just Murder Him! ❞ // f x m

❝ Remember Me Within My Most Memorable Shade ❞ // gn x gn

2. 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 ; (original separated stories)🌷🫧

(wip. stories coming soon !!)

— ♡ !! will be updated so its best to reblog the pinned masterlist on my profile instead :3

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raiha-storm65557 · 3 months

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@shesadollette this just describes our relationship

Writers, please consider aroace man who is a poly woman's platonic fake husband.

#no writing #i love my mutuals

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raiha-storm65557 · 3 months

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𓍊𓋼𓍊 Total chapters: 4

𖡼𖤣𖥧 Taglist: @raiha-storm65557, @linsyfelisyya

Ⱄⱄ. 𓆏 .ⱄⰔ

II: The Curious Events

(➳ Chapter the First)

It then unfolded from there on. The peacock instructed her to tend to the ones who were going to knock on her gates that afternoon.

The time arrived when the gates were knocked by a few poor children begging for a penny or a grain of rice. For a moment, she thought of getting rid of them when she recalled the promise she had made with the pheasant.

At last with a heavy heart, she ordered her servants to cook simple yet satiating meals for their stomachs and also gave them several small bags of pennies that might suffice for the whole family.

‘They were just simple meals accompanied by several bags of pennies. It was nothing worth of importance,’ she reassured herself when she saw the tears of joy streaming down the children’s sooty cheeks; their innocent, wide grins; and their little voices as they thanked her over and over again.

An odd, warm, and fuzzy feeling suddenly began forming inside of her heart for the very first in a very long time. She dismissed it of course, calling it the euphoria of doing something quite opposing to her usual self.

By the evening, she strangely felt ridiculously hungry and shuffled to the pantry to grab something to fill her aching stomach. Upon entering the dining room, she was beyond aghast that her dining table was flooded with a grand banquet. Spices and other thick fragrances filled the room, silver plates and platters decorated the table with all of her favorite delicacies forming a pageantry. It had been a while since she had been cooked meals as such.

However, the kitchen was eerily silent as her servants were nowhere to be found; during dinner the heiress would always eat her fill and the leftovers would be given to her servants and only then they’d clean up the dishes. They’d always be away from the dining area around 6 o’clock to prepare for bed meaning that somebody or something must have cooked her all these unbeknownst to her and the servants. The peacock was nowhere to be found too, much less its trail of feathers. She found it incredibly strange and was undoubtedly dubious at first, but the rumbling of her stomach said otherwise and she began digging in.

Days passed and the peacock instructed her with yet another request: she was to donate and sell some of her belongings to the ones in need.

Of course she wanted to protest, she felt as if those belongings had been her lifelong property in the mansion; generations of family heirlooms being passed down from countless of wealthy figures before finally being inherited to her.

Yet again, she recalled the promise with the pheasant. She wanted pure happiness more than anything in the world. More than the temporary one those treasures brought her.

So she searched her vanity, her cupboard, and her chambers. Scattered piles of old boxes and chests being brought out and opened. High and low she and her servants searched every nook and cranny for old and unused jewelry, garments, and even considered selling her personal collection of perfumes and cosmetics that still have a potential value to be sold to the market or donated to others in need.

She then wrote to her distant relatives that she would be needing help in distributing some of the belongings to the local marketplace and charities: ‘The belongings I’ve given away ought to be enough to make a struggling family manage through. Nothing more, nothing less,’ she again reassured herself as she wrote word after word in the letters to her relatives.

Then came the day when she ordered some of her servants to send those letters, again that same feeling of euphoria overcame her and she dismissed it strongly and thoroughly.

In the evening, as she entered her chambers stretching and yawning widely about to lie down her eyes were blinded by the mountain of gold, jewelries, and other whatnots taking up half of the room.

She was stunned, however this time, she was certain there had been someone or something doing all of this for her. Before she could go through all of the possibilities, fatigue had conquered her mind and she flopped onto the bed and fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

The next morning, she immediately rushed to the garden after getting dressed and having breakfast, determined to confront her servants and unwillingly, her little pet bird about the strange events. As silly as it may sound, she hoped that it at least knew about who or whatever might have been the cause…

➳ Chapter the Third

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