Realization

"Papa, come down here!" the little girl shouted so he would hear. She was on the grass, waving at him. He was looking out the window of their house. He smiled.

The girl was blonde, with her hair tied back. She looked very innocent and full of life. Her white dress made her look like a princess, contrasting with her sparkling red eyes — almost like jewels. The man came down the stairs and stepped out of the house to meet her.

"Look, papa, over there!" She pointed her finger at a distant mountain. "Why is it always winter there?"

He crouched to meet her eye level. "Winter?" He narrowed his eyes, trying to understand her logic. "Oh, is it because the peak is snowy?"

"Of course, Dad!" She raised her fists and bounced up and down, like an excited child. "It only snows in winter, right?"

He chuckled softly, amused by her innocence. "Not necessarily, my dear. I don't know exactly why it always snows on the mountain peaks, but it isn't because of winter."

"Really?" She tilted her head, confused. "Then how is it possible? Does a god do that?"

"That's what common sense says, but..." He stood up and and looked at the sky. "...it’s not wise to always attribute strange events to mystical beings. They probably do exist, but not everything is controlled by them."

"Hm?" She furrowed her brow, concentrating and trying to understand his advice. "Then how are we supposed to find out how things work?"

"I don't know. No one knows at first." He pointed at the mountain. "Many years ago, I climbed a mountain with someone. She said it was a test of endurance and training. We couldn't breathe properly up there."

"Did a god take the air out of there?" She rested her finger against her lips, thoughtful.

He let out a little laugh. "No, it's nothing like that... probably. But it was really cold and there was snow everywhere. Do you see any connection?"

"No..." she said, letting out a sigh of disappointment. "Oh, wait!" Her eyes lit up with hope. "Maybe the snow god and the breath-stealing goddess were working together!" She placed her hands on her hips and smiled smugly, proud of herself.

"I'm not sure if they even exist..." He scratched the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. "What I mean is, maybe the cold has something to do with the lack of air."

"I see!" She struck her fist against her other palm, determined. "Wait, I don't get it..." Her gaze dropped again.

He crouched down and patted her head, smiling kindly. "Don't worry, Lily; you don't have to understand everything right away. What I meant was that I never would have discovered the lack of air if I hadn't gone to a mountain at least once. I had heard about it, but I couldn't be sure until I tested it. That’s why experimentation is important!"

"Experimentation?" She tilted her head, a finger resting on her lips. "I like experimenting with things!" She jumped for joy, and a lock of hair sprang up along with her.

"That's the spirit!" He gave her head another pat, unable to resist her cuteness.

Suddenly, she noticed something behind him and pointed at it, smiling. "Mama!"

He turned and smiled at the blonde woman. She had eyes as blue as the sky, a ponytail that exuded elegance, and was wearing a medieval peasant dress. 

"Cliff, Lily!" she shouted, waving to them. "Lunch is ready! Come serve yourselves!"

"How about we start experimenting with her cooking, hm, Lily?" he said, smiling serenely at his daughter.

"Mm-hmm!" She nodded and ran off, happy.

Everything distorted, as if it were all a distant dream.

"Is he fine?" a female voice echoed in his mind. It was soothing, yet laced with a tone of desperation. "Please, say he's fine..."

It was dark. He slowly opened his eyes, suffering from a severe migraine. He couldn't feel any part of his body; he could only faintly see the distorted image of a sky. Everything was so nauseating that he felt he might vomit at any moment — if only his body would respond to his commands.

"What are you doing, Index?" echoed another female voice.

"Fixing your mistake!" the first one shouted, spewing out her anger.

"Mistake?" the second asked, indignant. "I thought you had agreed with my judgment."

"I never did, you know that!" the first one blurted out. "You forced me to do it!"

"I... forced you?" the other murmured, sounding betrayed. "We are one being, Index; we make the judgements together! If you had said no to my suggestion, I wouldn't have objected!"

"Of course you would!" Index retorted with a sigh. "Besides, it's my job to judge; I am the Goddess of Justice, not you!"

"That is not the proper way to treat your older sister, Index," the other replied with venom. "And you do not have permission to bring a demon into our domain."

"It is your fault that he became a half-demon in the first place!" her sister retorted.

One of them came into view. The man could vaguely make out her silhouette. She had vibrant yellow hair and blue eyes, and wore a silver tiara. Her bangs were swept to her right. Her long hair cascaded over the man's chest as she wept silently.

"Hey! Don't let it recognize your face!" the second one commanded.

"'It'? He is a human, not a thing. And bringing him back demanded a huge portion of my power," Index replied, glaring at her sister while weeping. "Don't tell me what to do."

"You're not —" the second one objected. "Don't tell me you plan to release that thing back into the world!"

"I am exercising my authority as the Goddess of Justice," declared Index. "You cannot contest this, sister. Let me stay within my area of expertise, and you stay within yours, Fiducia."

A blinding light appeared around the man's body, extending toward the sky.

"Listen to me, Index!" she insisted, despite everything. "You are violating the rules of the divine realm! You will be stripped of your rights as one of the divine counselors! I am trying to protect you!"

"You're only saying that to manipulate me even further, Fiducia," the younger sister said wryly.

"Wh— How dare you?! I am your older sister; you have to obey me—"

The light became more intense, blinding the man who was lying down. A sound also left him deaf for a time.

The light began to fade, until only darkness remained.

Cliff! Come home; let's have dinner together!

"Martha...?" he murmured, before slowly opening his eyes, still feeling a severe migraine.

All he could see was a ceiling and a window beside him. Sunlight streamed in majestically, like a divine ray. Apart from that, however, it looked like a very ordinary room. Now able to move his body, he looked around.

It was a large room with several beds. People were lying in some of them, wearing a simple garment; others were empty.

An infirmary...?

The door opened, revealing a woman dressed in white with her brown hair tied back. "He's in this room," she said. "If I may ask, are you a relative of his?"

A nurse? What am I doing here?

He looked at his legs — surprisingly, they were intact.

"Yes, I'm his wife..." another woman entered, following the nurse. She was blonde and wore a simple peasant outfit. 

The brown-haired man’s eyes widened, thinking she looked familiar. "Martha?!" he blurted out, intrigued. Upon closer inspection, however, he realized he didn't know her.

They stared at him in silence, surprised by his sudden outburst. After a few seconds, the nurse tilted her head, confused. "Who are you?" she asked.

They stared at each other in uncomfortable silence. The peasant woman stepped back, startled. "Hey, what is that on his chest?" she murmured, so the man wouldn't hear.

"You aren't Mr. Strauss, are you?" the nurse asked.

"No... I am Cli—" Suddenly, his mind was flooded with memories. His identity clashed with his demonic side, causing him to clutch his head in pain.

"Hey, what the hell is wrong with him?!" the peasant exclaimed, horrified.

"I don't know either..." the nurse replied, just as confused as everyone else. "Mr. Strauss was the one who was supposed to be lying there, not him."

"What?!" the blonde woman shouted, intrigued. The other patients slowly began to wake up at all the noise. "What happened to my husband?!"

"Please calm down, miss," the nurse tried to defuse the situation, even though she was nervous herself. "We'll find out what happened in a matter of seconds."

She turned to look at the man and asked, "Who are you? Have you seen Mr. Strauss?"

The man gathered his thoughts and took a deep breath to focus. "My name is Cliff. I don't know any Strauss, nor do I know how I ended up here."

The two women stared at him in silence, trying to comprehend the situation. "What language is he speaking?" the peasant woman asked the nurse in a low voice. "I have no idea..." she replied.

Huh...?

Cliff remembered the blond adventurer who had cut him in half. He didn't seem to understand his words, either.

But I am speaking Siffren's language, the same one I grew up with... could I be on a different continent?

He clutched his throat, trying to understand why his voice was so low. He made a deep, steady sound, feeling the vibrations. He realized his vocal cords felt different than when he was human. They were more... ticklish? As if the inside were filled with tiny, soft points.

"What the hell is he doing...?" the peasant muttered. One of the patients screamed in terror, cowering in bed. "That’s one of the demonic languages! I heard it on a scroll about the war between humans and demons!"

"What?!" the blonde woman recoiled again, even more desperate than before. "He's a demon?! He ate my husband?!"

"Stay back!" the patient exclaimed. "Don't get any closer to him!"

Furious, the woman refused to listen. She grabbed a nearby chair and hurled it at Cliff. The nurse tried to contain the chaos, but it was already too late.

The man leapt from the bed and out the window, landing on the cobblestone street. He rolled a few times and came to a stop just steps away from some children playing with a ball. They paused to look at him. As he was facing the sky, they came into his view to take a closer look.

"Hey, unc!" said one of the children. "Wanna play with us?"

That simple gesture of kindness touched his heart. He knew what it was like to have a child, so he felt happy — something that hadn't happened since he had become a monster. Trying not to scare them, he stood up and shook his head, without saying a word. Then, he walked away.

As he rounded the corner and entered an alley, he felt something tugging at his mind. There were various whispers and screams of agony. He clutched his head, trying to isolate each signal. Suddenly, he sensed a presence. It was far away, yet intense.

A middle-aged man appeared on the pedestal where Cliff had been lying. Surprised, Fiducia stopped advancing on her sister. "Who is that?" she asked, still irritated.

"He was from Siffren," Index replied, "and the timing of his death was convenient."

Fiducia, her eyes habitually closed, scratched her forehead and frowned. Except for her bangs — swept to her left — she was identical to her sister. "Did you really have to swap that thing for a dead patient? How cruel can you be?"

"Cruel?" Index replied with clear indignation. "It was the least harmful way! The only cruel and irresponsible one here is you!"

"You prick..." Fiducia muttered furiously, clenching her hands like a spoiled, petulant child. "I am older than you... and yet, you underestimate me... I’ll make you pay."