Ophelian Morality

“Things tend to twist and turn, don’t they?” A feminine voice called out from the darkness.

‘Each time I rest, it’s all I can do to sit within the shade. There is no light in this vast expanse, isn’t there?’ Lumière thought. ‘The sun has set so long ago.’

Curled up within the darkness, he watched as the tentacles arose within the churning darkness. He knew that the space was just a dream. He had far come to that conclusion. Now, his nightmares were just an opportunity to think. Nothing alike to the sights before him were scary anymore.

“Things tend to let themselves fall away from your control, until all you can do is watch them from a distance.” The voice spoke once more. “Do you regret that you couldn’t become the main performance?”

“Always.” Lumière replied, still gazing off into the distance. “Who wants to sit off to the side when they far expected to be on the main stage? Why would I want to be saved by that man- whoever he was?”

The voice had sounded out from behind him. The feminine voice felt like warmth on his back. He knew well who it represented. It was the cure of his nightmares, someone who had always been solace for him to confide in.

“I’m sorry.” Lumière spoke softly.

“Why are you sorry?” The voice replied.

“I’m not sure. I just am.”

“Then it’s fine. You have nothing to be sorry for.” The warmth embraced him. It felt as if the sun had enveloped him entirely. All his worries and anxieties seemed to melt away- a familiar feeling.

“I want to kill them all. Everyone who was behind it- no matter who they are.”

“You don’t have to do that much, not for me.” The voice spoke once more.

“I’m not sure that it’s entirely for you. I think partly, it’s also for me.” Lumière replied. “I think in some way, I want closure for you, but I also want to soothe some remnant guilt in my heart. I know I’m not at fault for the actions of others, but I still feel as if I could have done more. It’s some idea that if I wasn’t so useless, I wouldn’t need to imagine you’re here when you’re really not. Do you think it’s delusional for me to seek the death of others to soothe my own worries?”

“I don’t think it is at all, at least not in this scenario. If you think it will help you, then you should do it.” The voice spoke soothingly. “However, I think you should prepare yourself for the outcome where killing them will bring you no resolution. It is the greatest cliché to think that revenge is the end-all solution to your problems.”

Lumière ignored her last sentence, and continued ruminating as he stared at the writhing tendrils in the distance.

“Elise, I think I’ve decided on my morality moving forward. It’s been the biggest problem churning in my mind to decide on what equates to ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. I think that discovering that morality fosters madness was a big driving factor in my thought process. It was necessary for me to come to such a conclusion.”

“And what is it that you’ve decided?”

“I’ll call it ‘Ophelian Morals’- after the character from that one author. It’s like the name of the Demon I pretend to be- one driven by madness.” Lumière smiled. “Sometimes, I want to burn it all away- this Empire, this land that drives the lesser to the earth where the rain collects… I think those people are the only ones I hold dear.”

“So what will you do? Protect only them?”

Lumière nodded. “I’ve decided to protect those that cannot protect themselves, and use the ones high above as stepping stones to achieve my goals. I don’t want to treat people as equals when they themselves decide not to do the same. Isn’t this just a perfect rebalancing of society’s scales?”

“I think that’s fine. As long as you yourself don’t feel bad about it, then this set of morals shouldn’t have any problems as it pertains to madness or morality.”

“Well, even if I did feel bad about it, all I would have to do is lie to myself until I believe in it.” Lumière chuckled wryly. “Isn’t that the perfect opportunity for a career liar?”

“And what about those that block your path?”

“I’ll be ruthless.”

“Can you be?”

Lumière’s smile curled up slightly, painfully. “I can try my hardest.”

“Then go.” The voice that sounded like Elise Alinde’s gradually began to fade away. The warmth in the darkness dissipated, and soon Lumière was left alone once more, gazing off into the distance where massive midnight tendrils thrashed around in a hazy sky. Lumière let out a deep, exhausted breath, and as he closed his eyes, his skin began to feel cold. When he opened them once more, the sun broke through the curtains draped upon the windows, the room around him bright and vibrant.

From time to time, it would grow harder for Lumière to distinguish a dream from reality, as if they were constantly intermingling within his mind. To him, an illusion had the possibility to become real, and so nothing could be completely real or fake to him. Reality was never certainty. He reached his hand out, idly tracing his gaze upon each individual line on his palm. Still, whatever waking world he found himself in, he was going to move forward with his plans.

He had awoken in the warm grasp of the main cathedral of the Goddess of Thorns, which lie deep within the middle borough. The section of the cathedral Lumière had woken up in was a section of the hospital ward where the Heaven’s Roses who were injured in duty were often taken. The solemness- the quiet, it reminded him of home. It wasn’t ‘home’ as in the cathedral, but as in the place where he felt safe. It reminded him slightly of Elise.

The various patterned-glass windows dotted near the ceiling beams allowed morning sunlight to pour in- despite the fresh sheet of rain plastered against them. Happy vibrant plants in clay pots were hung from the ceiling, and ivy spilled from the rafters above. Bird chirps echoed through the curving halls of the hospital ward, almost signaling the arrival of summertime.

‘This is the main cathedral, isn’t it? I can’t remember much after I was thrown to the ground. I’m glad those Red Roses and that man arrived in time. However…’ Lumière’s gaze darkened considerably, shadowed by self-doubt and loathing. ‘I wish I had been strong enough to defeat him myself. My lies weren’t nearly enough this time…’

Lumière’s entire body ached a dull, unending pain. In certain parts of his body, especially his shoulder, he knew he had broken several bones. This was because in several places where he had not received lacerations, his skin had been tightly bandaged, indicative of fractures. He raised his shirt up to reveal that his ribs and shoulder had been wrapped in tight white bandages, letting out a sigh of both pain and relief. If it was only to that extent, he would heal fine. His eyes widened suddenly as he came to a realisation.

He slipped out of his bed and began to glance around. Next to him, besides the open window above his bed that revealed a soft blue sky, there was a drawn white curtain hung up by wooden posts. He pulled the curtain aside to reveal several other beds that were occupied by patients. Among them, the White Rose team members were lying in various states. Cornifer was incessantly fiddling with his golden pocketwatch, and he looked terribly addled, but he wasn’t any worse off besides that. Midas had been speared by the bones of one of the Nameless, and so his chest was wrapped in bandages, but he too was conscious and had recovered. In order to save Cornifer, Ramses had lost several fingers, but he didn’t seem too bothered by it, lost by the notes he had been scrawling in a leather-bound journal with his good hand. Meraline had been killed, and Father Benedict, despite having accrued several injuries during the fight, was nowhere to be found.

Lumière’s eyes dulled as he glanced at the figure who lied on the furthermost bed in the row. Wrapped in bundles of bandages stained red with dried blood, Nicole Auirore looked the worst out of the group. He was still unconscious, and his breaths were shallow and uneven. As he stared at the boy, his mind raced.

‘I promised to protect him, didn’t I? If he wakes up, will he understand this as a failure of my promise? No, perhaps he’ll jump to the conclusion that I was lying all along. Then, he’ll realise that my understanding of his abilities and my strength actually come from being a servant of an evil god. Should I pray to the Sinner that he dies from his injuries?’ Lumière grimaced slightly. ‘No, this is a bad way to think about my comrade… still, if this is how he begins to think, then I will truly lose…’

A slight, mischievous grin curled up Lumière’s lips. ‘No, this isn’t how a performer thinks. If I want to put on a good performance- as always, all I have to to is lie.’

Unknowing of Lumière’s awakening, the White Roses who had their gazes distracted suddenly turned towards the churning beside them. Covered in bandages and dried blood, Nicole suddenly shot up in bed, his face filled with a mixture of anxiety and sadness.

“Mr. Demon!” He cried out. He looked around, and found the gazes of his comrades. Nicole’s expression softened slightly, and his anxiety abated. Tears dripped down his cheeks, and his staggered breathing became calm. Behind the White Roses, he saw the silhouette of the Demon of the Garden, whose gaze had darkened significantly. Then, the silhouette spoke aloud.

“Demon? Who’s a demon?”