125. The Pure White Maiden

Great Britain, the capital city of London, a little after noon.

A girl with waist-length golden hair stood expressionlessly in the room, arms outstretched as another strikingly beautiful blonde girl fussed over her from head to toe.

The girl’s orange eyes gleamed like crystals, seeming capable of reflecting the very colors of the sky. Her features were as exquisite as a doll’s—and as devoid of emotion.

“All done, Mashiro. The exhibition is about to begin. Shall we go?” The blonde girl finished what she was doing and took a few steps back, looking her companion up and down with satisfaction before speaking.

The expressionless girl gave a slight nod. “I know, Rita.”

The girl named Rita smiled and nodded in return. Then she opened the door and waited for the girl whom the outside world called “the maiden who fell from the heavens into the mortal realm” to leave the room.

Beyond the building, amid the constant stream of people, a notice board by the entrance announced the event about to take place there.

“Genius Painter Shiina Mashiro’s London Touring Exhibition—Third Stop!”

That was what the notice board proclaimed.

Among the people passing through the entrance were elderly men and women, newlywed couples, and, of course, warm and affectionate families.

One child among them stood out conspicuously. Not because he was doing anything strange. While the other children curiously examined their surroundings or played with one another, he sat quietly on a bench provided for visitors in the lobby, staring intently at the book in his hands.

After the speeches by the organizers and the local officials had concluded, the lights in the lobby dimmed. The visitors, who had been whispering from time to time, fell silent in an instant and turned their expectant gazes toward the center of the stage.

The child on the bench was forced to stop what he was doing as well. He closed his book and glanced around, bored.

A moment later, the host’s figure vanished into the darkness, but her voice spread throughout the lobby through the microphones.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and all our lovely children, thank you for attending Miss Shiina Mashiro’s London Touring Exhibition—Third Stop.”

“I’m sure Miss Shiina Mashiro’s name is familiar to everyone here today. As a world-class genius painter, Miss Shiina Mashiro is only sixteen years old, yet her works have already earned widespread acclaim throughout the oil-painting world. Renowned painters from every country believe that Miss Shiina Mashiro will one day create masterpieces that will go down in history…”

“...But enough of the formalities. Next, let us welcome Miss Shiina Mashiro to the stage!”

As her words faded, gentle yet unending applause rose from below the stage. A powerful spotlight instantly illuminated its center, where Shiina Mashiro made her grand entrance in a white evening gown, expressionless as she looked at the flashes suddenly erupting all around her.

Once the barrage of flashes had subsided, the host’s voice rang out again.

“I’m sure everyone is already somewhat familiar with Miss Shiina Mashiro’s personality, so let us allow our genius painter to rest for a while. Finally, I hereby announce the conclusion of the exhibition’s opening ceremony. From this point onward, please feel free to browse the lobby at your leisure. Detailed information about every painting is provided beneath its frame. Should you need anything, please speak with one of our staff members. We hope you enjoy the outstanding works Miss Shiina Mashiro has brought you today!”

The lobby, which had been dim only moments before, suddenly brightened. The motionless crowd began to move once more, like a film that had been paused and was now playing again.

Shiina Mashiro followed her teacher, Adair Einzbern, her phoenix-shaped eyes narrowed slightly as if she were thinking about something, though her expression remained as cool and distant as ever.

“So, Mashiro, why don’t you walk around on your own for a while? I’ll accompany this gentleman and show him around.” Apparently sensing the boredom hidden beneath her impassive exterior, Adair affectionately patted Mashiro on the head and smiled.

Shiina Mashiro nodded to show that she understood, then turned and walked toward the eastern wall of the lobby. With nothing else to do, she intended to make a circuit of the hall and look at the paintings she had long since memorized by heart.

“I want a baumkuchen... Where is Rita?” After making it halfway around, the girl touched her stomach and murmured softly.

Shiina Mashiro began searching for the figure of her roommate and best friend. Before long, however, she noticed a child sitting in the corner.

Unlike the adults around him, who gathered around her paintings and exclaimed in admiration, or the other children, who regarded them with curiosity, he sat quietly in the corner, absorbed in a world of his own.

Mashiro tilted her head, puzzled. Though she had held many exhibitions, this was the first time she had seen someone show absolutely no interest in her paintings, choosing instead to curl up in a corner and occupy himself with something unknown.

After a moment’s thought, Shiina Mashiro walked over and asked in her usual cool voice, touched by an indefinable quality, “What are you reading?”

The child returned from his private world and turned to look at her in surprise. He had heard her speaking Japanese.

“Are you from Japan?” Lowering the book in his hands, the child looked up at Shiina Mashiro curiously. He had come here on holiday with his family, but judging by his manner, he seemed to have little interest in the exhibition.

Mashiro nodded and repeated her question. “What are you reading?”

The child paused, then opened the book in his hands. “It’s a comic.”

Looking at the black-and-white lines on the pages, Mashiro’s confusion did not lessen. If anything, it deepened. She stared blankly at this thing called a comic and asked, “Is it interesting?”

The child nodded vigorously. “It’s really interesting!”

“Oh.”

With that, Shiina Mashiro turned and walked away. The child watched her departing back in confusion, shook his head, and then sank once more into the world of the comic.

...

“Ah—Mashiro! So this is where you were.”

The blonde girl finally found the person she had been searching for throughout the lobby.

The girl in the white gown turned around. Looking at the blonde girl before her, she said seriously, “Rita, I want to draw comics.”

“What? What did you say?” Rita stared at Shiina Mashiro in bewilderment, clearly wondering whether she had misheard.

“I want to draw comics.”

The pure-white girl stood beneath pure-white lights, still wearing that same expressionless face and speaking in that same cool tone. Yet somehow, her words carried a stubbornness and earnestness unlike anything she had ever shown before.

Rita’s eyes widened as she looked at the girl hailed as “the world’s genius painter,” the girl who had always lived under her care, the girl who had crushed her confidence utterly and completely...

A despicable thought slowly rose in her heart:

If only she could fail once...

...