12 O'Clock Marionette

Chapter 36

At Cruello’s question, Amy blinked in surprise.

“A wish? Oh... yeah, I did say that.”

“Then... can you stay by my side forever?”

“Are you proposing already?”

Normally, he would have turned red at her teasing, but Cruello was serious.

Losing even a small cat had hurt.

He barely remembered the loss of his parents, buried under the weight of time, but there was still an emptiness in his chest, like a hole had been carved out.

What if Amy disappeared like that too?

The mere thought made his vision go blank.

Of course, most of the tragedies in his life had been accidents. Amy’s promise might mean nothing in the grand scheme of things.

But Cruello needed even the smallest certainty.

That was his wish.

And yet—

“Um... Roy.”

Amy’s face slowly clouded over.

Looking at her expression, Cruello suddenly realized something.

His anxiety wasn’t just because of past accidents.

Whenever the future was mentioned, Amy always made that face.

Now that he saw it clearly, he almost didn’t want to hear her answer.

But Amy’s lips finally parted.

His heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst.

And then—

“My goodness, you’re still in the training hall?”

A passing butler spotted them and hurried over in alarm.

The strange atmosphere shattered in an instant.@@@@

Amy casually took Cruello’s hand.

“Let’s go inside.”

Unlike the warmth when she had embraced him, her hand was ice-cold.

As if her answer was written in that small palm.

Maybe, even then, you already knew.

A wisp of cigarette smoke curled into the air.

Sitting idly in the middle of a motionless carriage, Cruello stared blankly into the void.

Amy Royalsand.

His first fiancée.

Maybe she had known all along that things would turn out this way.

Strangely enough, Amy, who hadn’t been frail before, had grown weaker over time.

She wasn’t sick, but her condition deteriorated nonetheless.

Even when priests were called, nothing helped—but Amy remained unshaken.

As if she had expected it.

Cruello had been constantly on edge, fearing she might die at any moment.

Yet, in the end, her death was far worse than he had ever imagined.

Amy drank poison in his place.

The monster venom that had settled at the bottom of the teacup.

It had originally been intended for Cruello’s tea—out of sheer malice.

“Roy, your tea looks better. I think I’ll have that one.”

It wasn’t a lethal dose, but with Amy’s frail condition, a new tragedy was born.

He barely remembered that day.

The shock had been too great, and he had cried too much—most of the memory had simply vanished.

When he had finally calmed down enough to reflect on it, one question always lingered in his mind.

Had Amy drunk his tea on a whim? Or had she known?

Of course, he always told himself it was the former.

If it had been the latter... surely, she would have visited him in a dream, at least once.

“...Do you resent me, Amy?”

He threw the question into the empty air.

Then, like a madman, he laughed to himself.

Because of that trauma, Cruello had developed the habit of stocking up on every kind of monster venom antidote.

His storage was overflowing with them.

Antidotes he neither needed nor intended to use.

And yet, for the first time, one of them had found a purpose—here, in the Bonetti estate.

Cruello glanced outside the carriage.

The rain poured down like a waterfall.

Just like the day his cat died. Just like the day Amy died.

He didn’t want to place the Count’s death in the same category as Amy’s.

He let out a short chuckle, flicking away his cigarette.

A simple gesture—and the carriage was left spotless, without a trace of smoke.

"Mm... sorry. It’s just... you remind me of someone. Maybe my sickness is acting up again."

Muttering something incomprehensible, Cruello bent down.

Folding his long legs, he met my gaze.

Then, casually, he asked,

"So? Feeling any better?"

What do you think?

I threw the question back at him with a look.

Cruello only shrugged.

"I wasn’t trying to provoke you. Someone did this for me when I was struggling."

"What?"

"Speaking of which, I forgot something."

Cruello pressed his thumb against my chin.

Before I could react, something was pushed past my lips.

Sweet. Round.

The moment the candy hit my tongue, I felt my energy trickling back.

Silently, I rolled it in my mouth.

Moving to clear the mind.

A piece of candy on a rainy day.

Even before he handed it to me, I had known what he was thinking of.

But this wasn’t the same as back then.

I wasn’t struggling.

"Do I look that exhausted?"

"You’ve looked like a corpse ever since you found the Count’s body."

"That’s absurd."

The Count’s death was hardly worth agonizing over.

I knew by now that he had wronged more people than just me.

"Really?"

His voice dropped a note.

Cruello propped his elbow on his thigh, resting his chin in his palm.

His narrowed eyes made it clear he didn’t believe a word I said.

Ugh.

"Fine. It does bother me. Just a little! ...It’s because he died because of me."

"And yet he was found in your waiting room?"

"The Count wasn’t the only one who could’ve entered. It could’ve been... Gavotte, for example."

"You must be quite attached to him."

Cruello smirked.

"I’m jealous."

Ah, he still spoke fluent dog.

"He’s a good person. I don’t want him to get dragged into this mess."

"So you wanted to leave Bonetti, but it didn’t go as planned?"

"How do you even know that?"

"Because you’re still here."

It was an irrefutable point.

I sighed.

Right.

I wasn’t grieving the Count’s death, but I couldn’t say I felt nothing either.

Gavotte had sobbed at the funeral like his soul was leaving his body.

Minuet hadn’t outwardly displayed her sorrow, but her turmoil was evident.

Beyond them, I didn’t care about anyone else.

But they were a problem.

Watching those siblings mourn in their own ways made me realize something.

I had grown more attached to them than I’d expected.

In my past lives, I never let myself grow close to anyone.

No, it was more accurate to say I couldn’t.

Amy’s only family had been Sir Royalsand.

Viga had been an orphan.

There had been no one else to be close to.

If anyone had been my person, it had been Cruello.

But the Elders would never kill him.

Only now did I understand—having people close to you wasn’t always a good thing.

"Keeping my distance is probably best."

Even without considering the risks, it made sense.

I would have to leave eventually and return to the temple.

But Cruello didn’t seem satisfied.

"That’s all?" he pressed.