Fantasy Writers 1860

Lily saw that look in her eyes again.

Terrified, and worse than that.

That moment of stillness was like a scratch left by a thread on the surface of glass; an invisible but real crack, deep within the glass, in the thick, transparent barrier between lines of sight.

"Are you alright, my child?" Earl Lockhart quickly regained his usual gentleness, as if the terror he had felt just moments before was merely an illusion.

Cleopatra is a werewolf, and her innate reaction speed makes it impossible for her to deceive herself into thinking it's an illusion.

That moment was deeply imprinted in her pupils and became a nightmare that haunted her ever since.

For example, right now.

"Damn it, is it that dream again? Or is it an illusion created by the enemy?" Lily found herself standing in front of a mirror. The person in the mirror was wearing an elaborate long dress, and the bulky crinoline made the person in the mirror look like a magnificent clock.

She tried to see the face in the mirror clearly, but found that the outline in the mirror became more and more blurred, until finally only a pair of inhuman eyes were left, emitting a dim light in the darkness.

Those were her eyes.

Those are the eyes of a wolf.

When she was seven, she was crammed into a carriage with three unfamiliar demi-humans, even younger than her, huddled together, shivering. The carriage was filled with the smell of hay and rust, and the bumpy ride of the wheels over the gravel made her teeth chatter.

She didn't know where she was going to be sent this time, she only knew that the woman in the last "home" waved to her after counting the money, as if shooing away a fly.

The carriage stopped at the market, and someone lifted the curtain, letting in a sudden burst of sunlight that stung her eyes. Once her vision cleared, she saw countless faces, countless eyes, and countless fingers pointing at them.

"This one is too thin."

"That look is too wild; it probably won't work."

"They're practically human, yet they're mixed-race, and they still have the nerve to charge such a high price?"

She learned to lower her head in the face of those gazes, to let her eyelashes cover her pupils, to press her ears to her hair so they wouldn't tremble, and to breathe so lightly that they were almost non-existent.

Even though she knew it was just a dream, Lily couldn't help but gasp when she saw the old man.

"Mr. Lockhart..."

He stood in the rain, holding an umbrella, his gray hair neatly combed, wearing a black tuxedo, a white scarf, and a dark red cane topped with a deep blue gemstone.

The old man looked at Lily, who was still very young at the time, as if he were looking at a very distant place, at someone from a long time ago.

She later learned that the Earl of Lockhart was actually looking at her daughter, who had recently died of a fever.

Perhaps I really am like her.

"Mr. Lockhart!" Lily called out, but he remained unresponsive, as if he hadn't heard a thing.

She climbed onto the roof of the carriage and jumped off, trying to escape this dream that only brought her pain.

thump—

After a loud bang, Lily opened her eyes and saw a huge manor with fireplaces, carpets, soft beds, hot food, and a room where she could close the door herself.

"Look at me," he said, "how am I any different from you?"

"They all have two eyes and one nose. They all need to eat when they are hungry, drink when they are thirsty, get wet when they get rained on, and get sleepy when it gets dark... They are all the same."

"I know, everyone says it's different..."

"...Because you're not human enough, others don't treat you like one. But things like this are things you can learn."

"As long as you are elegant enough, proper enough, and act like a respectable person, you will earn everyone's respect. There is no difference between demi-humans and humans."

He turned around, and the sunlight spread out behind him like cream.

"I can teach you."

"Then, I learned, and I learned very well." Lily chuckled wryly, weakly giving up on breaking free from this damned dream.

Letters, syllables, grammar, etiquette, history, geography, poetry, art, gait, accent, foreign and ancient languages, the tightness of a crinoline, the way one holds a knife and fork, the angle of a fan...

At first, Lily hated those elaborate and difficult-to-wear dresses, but she quickly fell in love with them. Because these fabrics, which symbolized the civilized world, could cover up everything that shouldn't be seen and mold her into the shape a human being should have.

What did you learn this week?

"Iris language, Earl."

"Say a few words to me."

Lily fluently described the garden scene in Iris language.

It was just simple spoken language, yet the Earl listened with rapt attention.

"Alice also learned Iris language," he said. "Your Iris language is just as beautiful as hers, but unfortunately she didn't like it very much..."

"...It's becoming more and more like them."

Who does he look like?

Does it resemble a person? Or does it resemble his deceased daughter, Alice?

"She should look more like Alice... It's a pity I've never met her..." Lily now answered her past self's question.

Lily was fourteen when the young lawyer Edmund Grey first came to the manor.

He comes from Lentinion, claims to be a progressive, advocates the abolition of slavery, advocates for the equal rights of demi-humans, and believes that all people, including demi-humans, should enjoy equal dignity.

"Count Lockhart, you are my role model. You never treated demi-humans as tools, but as equal beings, which is the vision we should strive for."

"I'm doing some work to push for legislation that protects the basic rights of demi-humans. There's a lot of resistance, but someone has to do it."

Mr. Gray's gaze fell on Lily, who was young at the time.

"And this is...?" he asked.

"Lily Lockhart, my daughter."

This was the first time Earl Lockhart had said in front of outsiders that Lily was his daughter.

After that, Mr. Gray became a regular visitor to the manor.

He always brought new books, new ideas, and new concepts.

He and Lily quickly became inseparable friends. They talked about history, art, law, poetry and life, the flowers that bloom in spring, and the world as will and representation...

"One day, demi-humans will also be able to enter parliament, give speeches, vote, and stand in front of the crowd so that everyone can hear their voices."

"You can do it, Miss Lily. You have such dazzling talent, such extraordinary wisdom, such a beautiful soul... You just need a small opportunity."

Lily stood at a distance, facing this story whose ending she already knew, facing her own past self, so naive as to be foolish:

"Soul, oh, soul."

It was dusk, and the two walked side by side in the garden of the manor.

The roses are in full bloom, and the air is filled with an cloyingly sweet fragrance.

Mr. Gray had just finished recounting his recent experience, delivering a profound sermon for the subhuman liberation movement during a street speech.

Lily stopped in her tracks.

He is so egalitarian, so progressive, and so devoted to the soul. Now that things have come to this, he will surely be able to accept his true self.

for sure.

"Mr. Gray," she said, "there's something... I think I must tell you."

"What is it?" he asked with a smile.

She took a deep breath, took off her hat, and let the wolf ears that had been hidden in her hair and hat peek out from the top of her head.

"I am a demi-human," she said. "I am a werewolf."

At that moment, Lily waited for Gray to show a relieved smile; waited for him to say in a nonchalant tone, "Yeah, so what?"; waited for him to give her a hug and whisper in her ear, "Now, we're really comrades."

She didn't wait.