How many times had Kirika seen this same dream? The maddened form of her servant, his hands wrapped around her neck, screaming at her incoherently, as the worms crawled about under her skin, festering, devouring her from the inside? Every night, it seemed, that her mind would plunge her into this nightmare, with her only escape coming with the breaking of dawn and the scent of breakfast rising up from below.
The only good part about this torturous repetition, it seemed, was that in this hellscape of choking black and swirling crimson, she still had her legs. Not that they did her any good, with Berserker effortlessly lifting her more than fifty centimeters off the ground, her legs dangling helplessly beneath her as they struggled in vain to find perch against a ground that was more than a third her height out of reach.
"̵̖͔̙͈͔̒ͅȈ̴͓͈͐́́͒̀̓̋͛̐̆ ̶͔͖͍̠̮͔̀͂͒̈́̂̄̒̉̕͠a̸̛̙͉̥͚͉̓̾̾̂́͊͗̐͌͝͝m̴̼̟̤̺͔̂̎̍̒́̔̕̚͠͝ ̵̨͈̊̋̉͐̂̄͋͝t̶̡̢̨̤͇̳̟̱͔̎̈́ͅh̸̛͉͓̗̮̯̖͖̾͗̏͛̐͜è̸̢̜̩̪̠̠͖̥̠̇̓͂̄̓̒͝ ̷̧̣͈̀͊̓́́͛̏̊̈́ạ̷̺̈́ļ̸̛̛͓͐̔͑̂̅̔̀̓͆̚í̵̢̧̥̣̖̩̩͍̜͍̬̾̿̌͑̈́͆͋̿͂̚͜ē̶̺̟̰̦͎͎̟̂̓̈́̇͐̂n̷͈̭͙̦̦̭̰̆͋̑̐̄à̶̟̯̪̬̲̪͚̙̪̠̝̠t̸̨̢̡̛͈̪̼̖̹̦̝̟̱͑̆̀̉̏͘͝͝ȅ̷̪̋̑̔d̷̬͆̎͠͝͝,̶̢̡̡̽̽̃̀́ ̵̢̻̠̥͐̊͆͒́̔̋́̕̚t̷̛̼̳̟͖̓̉̈̀͊̂̽̒̎̕͠h̵̢̡̡̻̬̝̭̭̘͔̄̈̄̇̀͝è̴̛̯͈̙̲̓̈́͗͘ ̶̢̱͕̖̉́́͠r̶̨̝͈̩̻̟̬͒ͅi̸̢͎̼̱̟̣͉͙̠͔̺͊̄͌͐̂͛̊̀͘̚ḑ̵̼̯̮͕̥͓̫̈́̂̒̀́͜͝i̵̫̰͓̤̹̿̂c̸̥͎̫̫̹͉̃͋̔̏̐̈́́͝͝ư̶͕̻̘̫̗͜l̶̲̘̜̮̟͙̤͖̊͋́̃͋͠ͅe̵̝̫̙͒ḑ̵̲̤͆,̸̮͎͂ ̸͕̗̘͇̞̳̱̭̣̈́̓̃̋̅̊͜ṱ̵̲̞̤͖̖͙͍͆̄h̶̗͚͉̀͂̉̽͆̍͂̽͗̀͘e̷̡̨̳̣̩͌͌̓̈́͜ ̴͙̻͕̩͖͖̱͐̈̒͌̈́̽̕͝͝d̶̝̯͉̰̙̣͑e̶͍̹͕͎̥͉͐͆̋̀̏̍̊͆͘ș̷̢̧̣̗̱̳̝̗̌̉p̸̨̹̖̖̗͕̖̼̃̀̆̔͛͜i̴͕̝̤͔̒̎̒̈̋̂́̕͘͠͝ś̴̝͋͒͗ę̵̳̜̳̙͒̊ḋ̸̛̯̟̼̦̭̣̈́̋͂͊͂͋̂͆͜.̸̡̬͙̩̪̺̰̘͕̳̦̿̈́̓ ̵̙̣͔̘͓̘̗̑̾̔̄̿͝Ņ̸͖͍̞͚͇͍̹͙̪̖̒̉͑͆́͐̋̎͊̀̂͝o̸̧͙͉͙̳͉̘̺̭̺͛̉̿̾̀̈́̊̂̽̚̚͜ ̷͓̏̀̉̌͝ñ̵̝͎̩͉̋̄̿̓ͅe̷̠̮̮̱̭͔̪̮͙͎̮͂̒̐͒̂̋̚͜e̶̡̨̺͍͓͔͉͍̣̖̦͙̓̎̎̓͛̑̚d̵̛͖͚̤̰̒̑̈̑͊̇̃̀̌̈́ ̶͚̥͆̍͛̔͗̀̂́̅͐t̴̨̳͉̜̩͙̖̜̠̣͕͎͛̓̑̊ợ̶̠̻͉̫͔̰̦̖͈́̃̈́́͠ ̸̢͓̜̲̥̗͚̠̹͌̄͂̈͗̊͆̊̅͠͝p̶̱̜̄͠͝r̴̦̮̞̩̖̙̲̈́̓͂͂̿a̶̡̹̼̳͛̂̓͐̂̊i̸̬̞͇̼͍͈̓́̀̾͌̈͌̕͠ͅs̶̡̭̭̱̜͙̟͓̙͉̮͋̊͜ȩ̸̖̼̬̭͚̞̯̟̈͘ ̸̨̤̺̭͈̩͎̍̈́̾̔̄̓̍̕͠m̸̧̮͕͍͎̩̥̤͚̈̀͂̌̎͂̒̾͠y̸̨̹̳̩͎̒͑͆̏͗͊̽̾ ̸̡̛̛̬͓̜͙̬̻̼̥͖̣̘͛̾̆͒͋͊͝ǹ̵͍̝͓̠̜̙͉̤͖̻̑͑̽̑́́̊͗͘a̴̡̭̹̗̓̀́̈́̑̄̓̀̓ṁ̸͕̗͈͉̭̗̣͒͌̇̆͛̈́̚͝͝ͅë̸̩̌͑̂̒.̴͖̳̩̄̓̄͂̿̏̿̾̐͆͌͘ͅ ̴̧̧̡̼̦̰͇̺̖̫̯̂̌̕͜N̸̡̨̤̖̣̩̲̦̪̝̝̍̽̀̀̄̀́̐̑͐̀̎o̷̩͇̪̞̼͉̱̥̓̔̃̏ ̷̧͖̺̰͕̩̜̙͍̓̎̑̉͆n̵̙͂͐̍ĕ̵͔͎̾͌͗͒͗͌͐̂̄́̄ę̵̢̮͍̐́́̈d̷̪͂̓̒̔̔͛̉̊̚ ̴͎̪̠̦̬̊̈́͒̅̅̒t̵̨̀͆̑̈̕ọ̷̲̊͂̏̇̈̈̉̆̀̋̈́ ̸͓͖͈̮́̐͆̓̓̓́͂͋͠e̶͙̊̿̍̈̆͐̈́̚̕̚͝n̶̨̼̗͚͒̿̊̑͛́̅̚v̸̥͇͇̰̳̻̯͕͔̥̹̋̓͛̀̇͆̕͝ý̷̛̘̠̠̳̀͂̍̄̈͘͝ ̶̞͓̤̮̱͔̮̭̰̀̍͑͌̎̔̕͝ͅm̶̟͙͉̗̼̩͍̖̟̆̓͋̃͑̽̿̆̄̏͠ý̶̝̮̪ ̵͚̟̠͎̫͉͈͇͋͛̉͗͛̈́̂̾̕ͅb̷̢̼͎͇͔̺̼̓̋͆ỏ̸͕̆͗̈́̂̂̈́̌̏̆̿̏d̶̢̡̟̖̝̩͎̾y̶̡̞̤͔̺͇̭̐.̴̲̩͓̞̬̫͎͎̘̩̋͝"̷̡͕̫͇̯̻̤̤͍͗
Why?
"̸͉̹͇̫̬̼͔̪̘̗̮͂I̸̢̛̞̤͈͆̽̂͗̏̅͘͝͠͝ ̴̥͓͙͙͖̼̆̉ȃ̴̲̣̩̯̝̙͘m̸̦͇̪̃͂̊́̐͛͗͋̅͛̚ ̵̢͍̫̘̹̭̔́ẗ̷̢͚͙̘̼̜̳͈͈́̒̊̌̀̎̈́̂́͊͜ḧ̵̨͎͕͍̻́̋͐̏̒e̴̡̪̝̰̰̯̗̹̪͕͊̆͑̎͂͐̈̒͜ ̷̡͔̤̤̰̫̦̘̤̖̟̆͗̌͗͌̚̕ͅs̶͔̺̽͛̄ͅh̵̨͙̟̯̝̊́̓a̷̢̖͇͈̥̗͎̬͌̍͗̓͑̿͌̾͘͝d̵̼̰̦̄͝ơ̶̥̰͕͚̥̫̣͓͆͜w̴̡̢̘̼̰̞̗̎̌̈́́͝ ̴̫͋͐͊́̃͌u̴͇̳͎͙̦̳̞͐̏͊̎̈́̐̅n̸̢̮̯̱̬͌͋̄̍̿̌̿̀͑̅͜͠͝d̴̡̺͉̱́͌̀̉̚e̶̛̮̯̅͗̎̔̽̚̕r̸̼̦̖̪̦͙͆̆̿͗̊͘ͅ ̵̢̢̲̝͚͕͕͈͑͊͛̈́̅̚t̴̨̖͑ḩ̷̜̻̖̲̭̊̓͋͒͑͑̑͑̆̕ę̸̧̨̹̥̟̳̗͈̻̌͂̈́̂͌́̏́͒̈͜ ̵̱̟̽̎̅̃̓̓̚͝r̷̝̓̿̑̾͗̓͊̀͝ͅa̶͖͂͋́̓͑̉̓̋̉̈́̐d̵̖̤̦̗͓̳̲̳̞̽͒̎͌ĭ̴̧̖̪̑̎̈́̓̎̏̅ȁ̴̮̪̹̞̤̮͕͈͙̎̿͜͜n̵̥̞̼͕̤͈̹̻̪̞̦̆̿̒͌̓̂̊͠c̷̺̱̈́̊̋̈́̐͑͂̏͆̚͘è̷͙̻̟͛̎͜͝ ̵̨̢̧̦̰͈̱̗̺̱̠̔̉̍͗͗̓̈́͌o̷̧͈̖̱̯̟̼͈̟̹͒͛̐f̵̝̑̉͋́̆̐̚͝ ̶̧̮̗̯͈͚̰̖͍̫̮̩̑̃̔ȟ̴̡̹̙̬̻͇͔̪̥́͜ͅe̶̤͇̪̥̟̊̀͊̑̒̄̈́̎͂͝r̵̙̼̭̈̒̏͝ơ̵̡̰̖̗͖͚̭̤͋̓́̉̍̋̈ͅî̶̙̤̥̠̟̙̊̆̿̃̇̈̅̎c̸̛̮̼͓̼̹͓̟̙̳͚͉͊̏̈́́̉̚ ̸͎̤̾̌̽̂̈̍̌̓s̶̛̰̝̟̅̔̂p̷͕͌̈̿̿̄͆̀̏͝ĭ̶̮̖̘͍̓̎̋r̷̼͎̜̤̱͎̯̘̩̅̓̉̐̊̽̀̚͠ͅị̵̢͍̫͔͖̫̞͎̥̞͉̈́̐̕ṭ̴̨̩͈͔̭͔͖́̍̈́̔s̷̢̢̛̛̥̩̞̩̄̇̃̌̂.̸̠̟̋̈̌͂̂̍͌̂̏͘ ̸̡̭̻̘̦̼͔̰̰̦̙͜͠B̶̛̜̪̋̿̐̿̕̕i̶̜̺̮̙̋̅̄́̊̌͗̕͘̕r̷̦̙̺̖̙̺̹̯̟̳̽͒̌̂͂͋̿̆̿ͅͅť̷̙͍̼̘͔̖̐̈́̃͜ḩ̴͖̼̿͘ͅȇ̶̲̩͚̭̆́͝͠ͅd̷̨̢͇͔̪̣̙̙̬̙͋̓́̈́͛̕͜ ̴̗̰̞̥̪͙̦̰͍͎̦̐͌́̔͌͛̅̑̿̄͘ͅǫ̶̧̳̜̀̅̿̅͑̓̔͝f̷̨̡͚̲̬͙̩̾̅̐̎̅̉͗͠ ̶̟̗̼̼̀̿̇̎̓̇̑̓̿͑͘̕ͅt̸͉͚͎̦̫͎̬̦̱̟̂̔̐͜h̷̡̛̻̳̭̭͈̰̙̼̹ͅȇ̶̡̧̛͕̬̖̤̥͙̠̇̈́̏̑̀̔̔̚ ̸̨̥̰̲̝́́́̕͝͠d̴̢͍͓̟̥̣̭͍̬͚̲̀͌̾̐́̈́̒̍̚ã̶͉̖̲̖̻͎͛͒̌͂̓̍r̷̨̢͙͎̟̤̹̖͛̔̓̌̽̆̕͜k̸̩͖̳͛̀̿̈͐̍n̵͈̖͌̐͐̈́̾̕̕͜ę̷̛̟̯̥̽͌̊̋̏͑͐̃͑ͅͅs̵̲̖̖͙̙̮͎͎̳̘͋̐͆͜s̸̠̩̓̒̿̉́́̈́͂̋͆ ̴̝̝͉̳́̾̽̓͋̈̄́͘̚͜͝o̴̱͒̏̅͋̈́̿̓͝f̷͖̺͉̺̹̅͗͠ ̸͇͈̆g̶̛͓̤̻̊͑̑̓̊̍̌͊l̵̬̿̋̐̓ó̶͎̹͎̆̐͝ͅȓ̸̢͉̟̘̭̥͇̖͖̭̞͎̆̽̈́̌̀́̋ỉ̶̡̗͖͎̱͈̗͔̄̈̽̓̌͋̈́͊̃̉͐ͅo̶̗̼̦͕̮͍̊̾͐̐̉̈́̿̽͒̈́͜͝͝ų̶̨̢̰̤̪̫̖̳̬̈̇͝ş̵̛̮̭̙̃͆͗͂̎̅̚̚͝͝͝ ̵̦̭̱͎̖̅̒̽́̊̊͑̈͘͘ļ̵̛̣͈̰̞͂̄̌̌͑̈͝͠ę̴̣̫͉͉͎̲̫̥͛̋̽͐͒̉̚g̴̦̗̤̘̤̳̃̀̇̿̾͝͝͠͝ẹ̵͓̜̰̝͕͇̹̩͙̝̜̓̒̅̊́̑̑̈́͂̽͐n̷͈̅͐̌̔̾̃̕̚͠ḑ̶̛͖̗̪̯̮̣͉͚͕͇̩̓.̴̗̼͎̘͍̋̉̌̈́̔͂͒̍̃́̀͝"̵̲̗̼̹̭̜̣͓̋̇̌͂͊
Why did she have to endure this, night after night?
"̶̯̱̤̣̏̿͛̒́́̈́̂͝͝Á̵̢̘̻͉̬͓̳͈͚̼̝̈́̉͜n̵͎̟̳̻͕̖͔̓̂̔̈́̊͑̂̏̿̋̆͜͝d̴̯̣̋̓̔̀͊̂̈́̈͜͜͠ ̷̹̥͙̫̭̟͙̤͕̹̊̊́̓͋͛͝s̵̢̡̹̥̝͖̀ơ̵̖͖̭̲̤͔̖̝͛̃̋̇͒́̒,̷͎̺̹̳̻̮̙̘͙͓̤̿́͋̅̍̒̌̐̐͝ ̵̢̪͋I̵̳̙̘͂͠ ̴̢̢̛͕̥͚͍̱̹͉̯̽̌͜͝h̸̰̩͗̏͋a̶̧͕̞̲̍͑̌͐̇͊͘ṭ̶̡̢̧̛̟̫͖͍̥̘̖̈́͗̀̆̉̚͝ē̷̩̳̣̫̩̦͖̜͈̠͕̊͐̑̍̿̈́͆͝ͅ,̶̛̺̻͖̮̪͙̠̘͙̈̈́͐̉͠ ̷̛͓̌̊̓̍͆̓I̴̗̜̣̮̝͙͓͆̓͘͝ ̸̢͉̗̜̣́̄͆̊͘͜r̸̬̭͐̓́́e̷͕̫̓̋̍̓́̐̃̀͘̕̕s̵̢̧͙̭̩͔̞͍̬̳̯̗̉́e̵̥̤̼̞̥̫͖̿̓̉̄̄̂̏̓̈́́̔ņ̸̮̲̪̅t̸̢͚̤̹̟͍͉̱̯̐͌͗͗͂͑̚.̶̧̛̬̺̬͙̮̞̝͔͔̗̟͊̏̄̅͋̿ ̸̧̨̪̪̥̹͙̌̀͘͜͝N̵̘͔̝̼̳͇̊̓̊͌̄̓̊́̔̚͝ͅö̴̙̗̘͓̪̫̭́͑̃͜u̷͇͎͒̔̃͂͑̽̆̏̇̑͝ř̵͈̦̟̱͕͌͠ͅi̸̞̭͙̗̤̿́̃͗͌̊͋͠͝s̴̥͕̞̪͕͑͆̄̓̿h̵̨͓͙̣͖͉͈̯̯̏̅̂̃͛̾̚̚͝ͅe̴̗̞̫͕͈̱̓̍̏̔̄̌͛̈̕ͅd̸̬̓̇̈́͌̒̾̋̅͝ ̴̩̤́̃̈̒̿̑̕b̵͇̩̣͓͕̻̭̤̖̖͗͑̈́̓̈́̓̕ͅý̵̢̯̲̬̩͓̟̩̻̮̹ ̸̡̡̛͚̻̟̬̙̦̙̪͓̋̐̀͘͠ṱ̷̛͖̝̬̟͕̩͎͎͎̼̅͊͌̈́͂͊̊͠h̶̢̛̫͕͉̥̼͕͔͐̓̐̽̔͋̃̒͝e̵̮̳͆̽͘ ̵̡̬̟̜̲̮̰͉̘͚̫̔̎̅̐͛̒̏̑͠͝͠s̶̡̱̜̓̂̾̑̇ĩ̸͖̱̤̹̣̝̘͗̋̌͗̕̕g̷̙̲̳̖̠̞̋̀̍́̉̍̈́̾͆̂̈́͜͠h̵̨̏̏̾̿̆̈́̚̕ŝ̵̜̘͎͍̙̼͙͓͓̗̺́͋ ̷̜̺̫̹̘̗́̈́̐̀̂̕o̴̜̝̥̯̦͂̂̑͝ͅf̵̟̤̰̞͎͔̼̙̟͖̪͚͑ ̵̼̭̫̭̣̠̬̦̿͆̑̈̏̾̓̓͘ẗ̵̢̧̛͓́͗̈͂ȟ̸̲̯̺͇͖͙́ͅė̸̛̪̲̮͙̉̓̄ ̶͎̠̳̊ͅͅp̵̧̛̰͎̥̰̘͍̋́̽́͆̊͠e̷͔͙̐͒̇̆̽̀͊̕̕͝o̶̧̡̤͈̩̣͈̎̅p̴̫̼̩̯̳͖͈͖͍̣̹̄́̎̿l̶̢̥͍̟͓̣̬̋̇̾͑͋͐͗̆̕͘̚͜͠e̸͕̦̥̦͖̯̦̓̀̐̚ ̶͈̩͂̒p̶̜̙̰̏́͛̑̿͂̾̈́̊̈͆̚ȑ̵̗̬͈̜̟̍͝͝ê̴̠̙̬̠͙͖̥̹̩͖͒͗̀ͅc̵̛̩͔͕͈̹͉̫̜̮̀̐̓̿̏̐͐̽͝ï̵̡̞͓̟̈́̌̓̍͑̽͐̎͝p̷͇̦͎͓͔̗͋̑͛̈́ͅi̷̧̨̲͉̼̬͔͇̠̟̾t̶̢̢̖̙͍͍̻͓͓͛̒̇́́̔͑̊̚̚͝a̴̧͈͓̬̺̯̠͓͐̍͆͑͝t̶̢̧̙̣̻̱̩̑̃̐́̂̓͋̓̀̾̎e̵͍͖̒͗͛̀̏͊͘̚͘͝d̵̨̛̮̖̭̫̰̋͗͒̿̈́̈́͒͒̌̔ͅ ̵̠̪͔̪̓̓́̆͛͒͊̄ͅw̴̢̛̛͚̦͙̫͖͚̖̺͆̑͒͂͛̋̌̈́̌͝í̴̫̮̣̬̭̻̯͇͍̺́̓͗͊̅͛̌̊͜ͅt̵̫̎́̃̎h̶̬̼͈͙̦͕͋ì̶̡̫̦̦͕̈́̇̈́́̅ͅň̶̡̰͍̰͓̦͚̦͍̺͔̻̍̒̾́̋͗̀̀ ̵̛͖̯̙̘̹̝͎̥̹̌̿̀̑̌͆͋͘̚͝ͅt̶̞̩̳͒̌h̸͚̮̳͇̤͎̤̅̓͂͗̾́̓͘͠ę̶̨̧͙̼̪̯̪͒̈͗͛̏̑̓́́ ̸͚͙̮̬̭̤̝́d̴͍̮̣̹̲̣̫͔̜͓͎̟̽̉̍͝a̴̢̨̼̣̭͉̖̪͌̓͑́̎̈́́̓͘͘̚͝ͅr̵̹̞͉̮͍̞̣̳̽̓̊̑͐͗̾͛̌̀̚k̵̙͍̰̺͕͛̍n̷͎̹̠͉͇͂͋́̃̋͋͜e̸͓͑̂͛̑̀̚͠ş̶̧̱̯̭͚̍͐͝ş̵̳̼̞͇̣̪̙̣̞͉̫̔̈́̌͒̍̾͌,̷̻̠͙̯̌͊ ̵̥͌́̿p̷̨͔̫͍̙͑̂͂̓̿̐͝ë̵̛͓̬̺̝̗͈̤͉̮͚̖̙́̾̍̓̿͋̽͛͘ơ̷̥̮̐̀͂̂͊̓̄͊͒̉͝ͅp̶̟̫̣̯̗̳̦̀̾̑̉l̶͖̲̲̦̬̜̑͜͝é̸̼̲͎̪̺̲͈̠͓̏͘͜ ̸̨̯̓́̕t̷̜̲̦͔̞͒̃̍̓̚ḣ̴̛͍̦͙̱͙̉͐͗̃́̇̇͛͝á̵̧̞͈̼̳̹͕͕͚͙̝͖t̷̢̧̧̛̥̻̗̮̩͑́̀̒̋͑̋͜ ̴̨̛̫̪̮͉̯̥̥͜͠c̸̡̢̲͇͇̬͇̲̭̔̆̈́̚͠u̶̼̩̹̻̣̰͌̂̃͒̎̇͑͌͐̂̊̿r̵̛͍̠̹̻͓͍̱̭̭̔̈́̔̓̒̅͋͒s̴̭͙̤͖̯̗̈́̋̅͐ĕ̶͈̣͒̓̓̉̑͠ ̶̗͍͚͔̮̝͔͖̈́̾́̅̐t̶͎̫̜̪͑h̷̨̳͇͍͔̠́́ͅe̷̟̹̗̣̮̩͎̫̮͗̔́͋͊̾͌̒̿̚͜ ̷̡̖̱͇͍͚͐̍̌̑̆̈́̈́͜ͅl̶͕̙͉̃͐̈́̌̽͊̎͛̚͝i̷̮̫͋̉͒͌͗͒̆͝͝g̵̨̫͇̖̞͔͈̜̼̤̏̄̉́̎̓̚ͅḫ̴̺͉͌͌̀̈́͑͜͠ẗ̵̨́͐̃̃̆̆̓̇͛̉͜͠.̸̡̝̖̹͈͙̦̇̐̃͆̾͒͐͠ ̸̡̢̮̝̙̺̮̙̂͒̓̏T̵̺̦̝̰̎͌̐͌̎͐́̀̎h̸͇̣̓̒̀̀͐͂͑̇͘̕̚í̸̭̬̦͉̘̈́s̴̢̡̳̖̑͗̒͆̄̎̂̄͑ ̴̼̪̂̀̅̈̅̄̑͛ȋ̵̠̀̾̍̂s̶̹̼̦̩͊̉ ̴̨̡̗̹̟͇̣̬̩̀̈́͌͊͒̕͜͜͝m̵̢͖̭̼̯̗̳̥̎̈͌̓͜ÿ̸̨͚̣̤͐̒̇͋ ̸͓̀̑͂̿̍̐̉̕ḏ̵̢͚̠̹͍̗̼͍̪̫͉̆ỉ̶̛̺͍̭͇̈́̋̋̓̍͊́͘s̶̡̻͙͖̰̦̦̲̟̟̀̓͐̋͌̈́̚ͅg̷̝̼̿̏͊̎̏́̉̚͝r̸̳̝̣̺͇͚̆̀́̏á̴͕͇̹̐c̸̛͚͔̺̟̣͚̞͔̝̥͚̿̿̅͆̓͆̽͐ͅe̵̡̝̞̹̠̦͇̓̀̉ͅͅ.̸̢̡̨̖̱̟̯̾̂͛̔̐͋͒́͠ͅ"̵̢̬̥̺̪̫̈́͑̽̋
What has she ever done to deserve to suffer like this?
"̴̖̗̝̻̏͆̽̿̽͌B̵͎̯̤̦̬̝̃͋̽̇̎̐͘̚͜͝ȅ̷̹̘͎͇̋͂̕c̷̝̩̯̼̟̺̱̭̮̼͐a̶͕͒̈̔͛̇͒̋̕͝͝ư̴͚̺͙͓͚͔͓̪̆̓͂̈́̇͒̂̑̓͝͠s̸̛̘̖͍̈́̽̽́̅̿̿́̚͠e̷͕̞͊̔̏͊̌ ̵̡̣̺̰̼̹̟̇̚̕ǫ̴̜͊̓̀̎͛͋̐̆̉f̶̡̨͎̘͓̦̙͆ ̴̨̟͎̰̦͓͖̬͓̦̂̑̏͆̊h̴͍̥̰̳̒͌͐̌̉͝e̶͎͝r̴̻͙͉̘̦̞̰̿̋͗͊͆́̍̅ ̸̮̞̳̰̲̥̘͍̳̉͌̕͠ư̸̭̞̝̾̓͋́̐͊͊̆́n̶̛͕̅̏̈́͛̔͘͝s̸̨̟̥͍͉̹̒̈́͝u̴͈̣̫͔̳̇̌̉̍̊̏̏́́̽͜͝l̴̡͎̜͖̤͖̀̓̐̏͜ͅl̷̺̰͖̉̌̽̈́͆͑̈́̄̚͝͠ͅi̷̧̼̗̟̼̓̋́̐̈̾̑̋͘͘ḕ̵̡͚̭͕̼͇͓̺̹̮̖̍͗͋͝ͅḑ̴̲̹͖̻̼̭͙͒̑̈̆͐͂̈́͛͘͘͜͠͠ ̵̡̜̲̥͉̦̱̺̥͕̽͌͌̈́̓͠ģ̵̙͕̫̹̮̩̃̍̊̏͆̽̉̽l̷̝̐̆͂́̓̂̊̀͆̃͂ŏ̸̩̓̿͠r̷̨̘̮͈̙̺̼̞̺͍̪̱̈́̈́͐̍̆̌̀̓̈́̓ý̸̡̧̮̫͖͚̑̓̈̿͗̈̂͝͠,̴̥̯̑͋ ̷͚̱̈̓͠I̸̛͍̬̬̽͆̓̕ ̸̧͚͍̭̤̯̫̝͕̗͉̥͂̑̓̈́̈́̈̇̂͋̔͂̕ṃ̸̟̙̺͈̞̩͛̚͘͘̚ͅù̸͔͔͕̫͇͊̈́̂͐́̓ͅs̵͈̰̖͎̓̈̒̐̈͝ţ̷̛̙͖̺̹̑̿͋͆̈͛͑͂͒͝͝ ̵̰̠̣̭̎̂͗̂f̵̦̖̝̻͋͑́͗̎̓̔̉̕͝ͅȏ̸̧̩̯͖̣͍͕̹͔̩̰̀̀̆̈̍͂̂̾͑͌r̶͉͔̘̱̒͆̈́̎̍͘ḙ̷̡̱̬̳̗͖̇v̵̡̨̜̥̯̠̗͇̈ẽ̴͙̝̃́̿̀̓̃̐r̵̡̭͔̒̆́̑̆̋̊ ̸̧͙͓̩͇̯̗̪̩̪̿͛͛̔̓̂͋̅͆̾͘͜͝b̸̨͖͔̦̥̭̹͕͔̿̌̂̃͐̋͆̑̕͝͝͝e̷͍̟̤̿̔̉̎̃ ̶̨͔̩͍̔̑̒̂̈́̋̚͝ḇ̵̙̳̱̳̗͇͇̤̰̫̰̈̈́̀̽̋̃̍͠ḙ̷̡̩̞̩͙̿̌̾͘͝l̸̺̺̳͓̲̟͔̱̠͕̥̂͆̒̉͗ͅî̶̝̟̘͍̻̜̣̾̍t̷͎̰̏̓ͅt̷̘͎̗̃͂́̈́̄̌̀́̊̌̿̚l̶̤̘̗̞̃̈́͒͂̿͐e̵̜̜̪͈̦͎̟͑̈́̈́̓͜͝͝d̴͓̺̝͍̣̒́͆̊̏̈́̇͑̏͝͠ͅ.̸̨̹͚̳͉̙̮͎̍̇̓̔͊̋̍̚"̶̰̦͓͎̦̻̺̱͖̗͛̿̈́̃͗̽̕͜͝͝ͅ
All she had ever done was followed Oriko's orders! What was so wrong with that!
"̵̘̮̒̐Y̵̛̜͚̣̗͚͍̭͚̖̯̘̾̄̽o̴̝̼̯̓̀̃ṷ̵̡̧͔͚̘̝̺̯̬̟̽̑͗̒̌͗̓̀ ̷̲̠̝̀̀̋̉͑̍̔̂̎̕͠a̷͚̜͈̠͖̦̅̈́̀͛̑͗͝ͅr̵̜̈́̇̓e̸̛̜͎͇̮̜͓͑̀̈̐͆̍̂́̈́̈́͘,̵̻̠̭̒̎̽̾̽̊̄̆̈̅̈́ ̵̜̙͓͓̹̞̓ṯ̷̩̺̝̪̥͖̳̟̔̆̈́̊͑̋̅̌̉͋͝͝ͅẖ̷̰̻̩̰̞̪͉̙͑̀͆̋̿͛͒̃̿͝e̷̝̹͖̖͙͔͗̽̊͂̎ ̸̛̛̮̣̦̊̑̈͆̑́̊̑͠͝s̸̨̛̝͍̝̦͙͔̘̈͆͊̇̏̓͊å̴̧̘̠̥̗̩͈̌̂c̷̖̹͎̮̙͕͑̒̽́̔̕ŗ̴̘̳̭͍̻̊͒̿̊̈́͊̿͑̒̚̚͠í̴̗̱̭̟͈̮̂͊̅͐͗̇̋͝f̴̞͉̣̝̙̏̊̃́͛͑̿̏͑í̷̡͚̳̞̄ç̶̼̱͇̫̹̣͓̑̆̅̔̽̀͜͠ę̸̨̛̯̗̹͉̩̰͓̫̪̉̐͒͘̕͘.̶͎͚͚̗̟̟̭̹͎̈̑͑͛̈͋̀̌ ̷̨̢͈̳̰͍͕͙̯̖̄̎̂̀͂̔̏͝͝ͅĢ̶̡̥̥̻̖̖͔̰̲̰͊̈́̅̒̈́͆̈̕͜o̴̥̤̗̳͇̞̻̹͇͒͛̀̿͋̔̉͘ơ̸̢̧̨̛͓̖̗̱̣̜͍̞͐̉͆́̎͗͋͌̂͜d̵̲̘̯̦̞̹̝̲̽̏̈́̇̍̒́̾̇̽̈́,̵̡͍̫͚̺͈́͛̄̂̅͛̓͂̑͐͘ͅ ̶̠̈́̐͑̏ǵ̸̖̼͔̲̤̲̰̟͍̝̩̌̈͗̃̃̈́͊͂̾i̵̡͖͇͍̬̍v̸̩̟̳̤̽́̊̎́͗̈́̉̿͗̏̒e̶̜͇̳̼̮̩̞͂ ̴̜̘̥̦͚̜̮̺͓̩̬̃̈͐̾͗̈́ͅm̶̫̗͔̯͉̗̭̎̎̓̿͆̀̈́̈́̽̃ę̷͓̬̺̙̜̗͚͔̺͓̿͊̒̐̔̄͠͝ͅ ̵̞̘̞́͒̈́͐̈́͒͂͐͘͠͠ͅm̷̞͚̲͖̰͉̱͓̃̇̊̀͛̃̉͘̕͠͝ͅò̸̺͉͚̽r̵̯͍̘̹̻̩̀́͑͒̍͌̊ȩ̸͙̘̟͉̜͇͔̼̺͇͎̄̓̿̓̄,̸̡̌̽̈́̏̆̋͘ ̶̡̨̠͈͓̗̰̩̫̗́̈́̑͐̓̂y̴̛͈̹͎͚͛͆̈́̒ȏ̴̘͕̟͖̟͙̹̆̀͂̋̑̕u̵̠̽̎̔͗̑̌͜r̴̟͖̫̱͈̼͉̦̈́ ̴̹̹͎̳̣̻̩͍̼̙͍͖̿͑͌̀͛̌͛̍̃̕b̶̢̨̯͎͉̠͕͖̟͓̯̠̐͊̇͗͝l̵̳̫̩̀̋͊͘͜ǫ̵̼̥̙͎̫͇̞̫̫̩̀͆̽̌̅̒̀̂̄̍͘͝ò̸̭̤̜̘͇̘̹̞̺̪́̌́̕d̵͙̬̱̤̺͔̱̾̓̃͐̏̓̆̄ ̴̲͔̺̤͗a̴̛̹̬̯̩̙̖̯͆̏̈́͌̀̀̄́̀̃n̶̮̬̪͓̜͎͗̓͐͝͝d̵̗͎͍́̎̋̽̒̈́̈́͂ͅ ̶̢̛̛̘̤̝̣̞̮͎͎̃̔̓̆̓f̴̜̥̫̎̓͌̓̊͋͒͘l̶̪̰̟͖̫̟̞̇͜ė̷̢͕̣̫ͅs̷̳͖̀̑̽͆̃͠h̵̢̯̦̪̩̖̾̄̀̄̾̅̓͊͒͂̐,̵̣̰̜̺̞̈́͂̈̾́̌͑̂̊̏̚̕ ̶̡̡̠̲͈̝͕̈́̌͊́͛͋́͂́͝ý̷̧͓͖̑̃͆̕͜o̶̡̺̦͙̬̪̻̦͓̳͚̊̓̿̿͂̋̈̾̕̕u̵͓̤͖̯͉̬̺̻͇̇̿r̵̮͙̗̻̬̟͛͌ ̵̜̱̦̼̫͓̓̐͐̋̒̀͗̐͘l̵̨̳͙̥͉̱̅̈̒̔́̅̏͠í̴̻͊̉̀͒͜f̶͔̩̫͉̥̞̘̗̗̊̇̏͊̍͑̎͘ͅē̵̠͎̪̆̈͊́͗͆͝ͅ.̶̡͝"̷̨̧̺͙̱̼̖̒̀̄̇̃̉̌
Berserker was her servant, wasn't he? So why? Did he really hate her that much?
"̸̨̢̡̛̯̖͕̪̜̪̟͒̓̅̆̀́̚͘̕L̴̗̳̰̘̮̠̣̖̱̏̔̒̚̕̕e̶̝̠̎́̾̉͊̔̑̔͠͝ť̶͖̹̌̏ͅ ̴̘͗̋̓̑̏̅̈͒̕͠͝t̴̥̫̮͙͓̾̆̓͘h̶̟̥̳̎̋͑͗̓̃͘e̶̢̧̨̤͎͖̮̜̩̓͂̈́̿̓͘͝m̵̳̪̺͎̰͎͇̺̫̝̏́̑͒̂͒̂͘͝͠ ̶̢̖̞̪̻̺͋͗͐̒̄͑̑́̎͘͘ḯ̸̜͇̠͕̮̍̋̔͜g̸͙̘̝͑͛̐̓̐͑͆̈́̽͠ņ̵̛͚͙͎̭̯͎́̔̃͋̎̕͘̕ī̶̢̧͉̲̹͖̰̇͋́̀̈́̀̿t̸̢̧̢̝̘̥̱͙͇̟̫̳͋͒̌̈̾e̵̢̠̠̱̖͙̺̣͒́̕͘͜ ̸̡̲͉̮͎͍̼͕̉̆̍̃̽̔́͘͝͝͠ͅm̸͖̈́͗̎̑̀̈́͊̕̚͜͝ͅy̴͖͚͕̖̬̤̪͕̲͑͆̕ͅͅ ̷̥̥͓̙̊͂̓́͐͌̆̄͝͠ḧ̷̛̙̦͉̖̗̻̤͖́͛͊͐̑͌̍̉͋͌a̴̩͚̟̯͕̭̤̽͐̆̀̾̏̐̿̕͠t̴͉̬̩̠͇̪̘̣̗̳̍̈́̾̇̒̇̅͑̇̒͋̚r̸̛̠̹̙̱̺͗͘͜ͅͅę̸̢͚͓͚͍͎̯͓̈̿ͅd̴̨̟͍͉͊̃͌̎̉̐ͅ—̷̡̧̨̻̘͇̰̗̯̤͚̣͋̐͛̈́͗͗͒̒͊͗̕͝!̵̛̙̈́̄̓!̶͓͝"̵̨̧̛̫̯̲̪̫̊̈́͗̒̀͑͝͠
Kirika's eyes snapped open, and she lay there in bed for several minutes, struggling to calm her sharp and ragged breathing. Drenched in sweat, Kirika threw off the baggy black shirt that she slept in, and reached over to Oriko's side of the bed to grab one of her pillows, clutching it tight to her chest. That side of the bed was cold, something that Kirika had been forced to get used to ever since that day; but the pillow still smelled like her Oriko, so even without the real thing beside her, she could calm herself.
Kirika lay like this for a few minutes, until her mind had calmed enough and she realized that something was amiss. No light came in through the curtains, and the scent of breakfast was nowhere to be smelled. Reaching over to the alarm clock on Oriko's nightstand, she saw that the time was barely after four-thirty. She hadn't even gotten three hours of sleep.
Oriko was by far the smarter of the pair; Kirika knew that, accepted it, and happily lived with it- What did she need to think, when Oriko could do the thinking for her, had always been her way of living. But Oriko wasn't here now, and judging by how cold her half of the bed was, hadn't been for some time. Reluctantly, Kirika put on her thinking cap and her shirt; now, it was her turn.
With some difficulty, Kirika managed to drag herself out of bed - falling flat on her face as she momentarily forgot that her legs were missing when she tried to get up - and headed towards the master bathroom. Even though a trip to the bathroom shouldn't have taken long enough for Oriko's side of the bed to grow cold, Kirika knew that Oriko had had trouble sleeping lately. If she had just fallen asleep on the toilet...
But no; there was no Oriko to be found in the master bathroom. The kitchen could be instantly ruled out by scent - or the lack thereof - alone, but there were plenty of other places Oriko might be. In her legless state, Kirika had grown accustomed to being carrying up and down the stairs by Oriko; bridal-style, and frequently accompanied by a kiss. She would have to make due without those comforts.
Carefully, Kirika crawled down the stairs. Her hand missed a step, and she was sent tumbling down the rest of the way, smacking her face against the floor for a second time. She didn't let that stop her; she wouldn't; she couldn't. Determination and love turned her blood to a burning frenzy as she dragged her body across the floor, checking the living room, the study, everywhere she could think to check, all the while calling out "Oriko! Oriko! Where are you?"
A trip out to check in the garden brought with it a layer of dirt coating her arms, shirt, stomach, and underwear; but still no Oriko. Kirika wasn't sure how long she had spent searching, but by now it was clear that Oriko was nowhere to be found. Oriko - her Oriko - was gone. All she could do was lay her head down and cry.
Lancer found her in the garden some time later, still laying in the spot where she had given up, the tears having dried up long ago. "Mistress Kure, is something the matter?" Lancer asked, picking Kirika up and brushing some of the dirt from her body. "I heard you calling for my master; is everything alright?"
"She's gone!" Kirika screamed, burying her head into Lancer's chest as the tears returned in full force. "She's gone she's gone she's gone and I can't find her anywhere!"
Lancer sat Kirika down in one of the garden chairs, and crouched down until she was at eye level with her master's lover. "It is true; she is nowhere to be found inside the mansion. But you need not cry, mistress. We can still find her."
This was the first bit of good news Kirika had received all night. "We can?" she asked, wiping away her tears with the less-dirty of her hands. "How?"
"One of my runes can be used to aid in tracking, do you remember?" Kirika nodded. Lancer smiled, and pulled something out from the inside pocket of her jacket- A phone in a soft, silver-coloured case. Oriko's phone! "And, I believe you will find the hunt much easier if you have other people assisting you."