Chapter 56: A Breakthrough!
I've grown accustomed to crutches.
Hilda's footwork has also been ingrained into my veins, albeit my body was too awkward to pull off the moveset.
Or perhaps I simply do not have the talent.
That was a factor I ignored for the sake of my mental health; on the odd chance that I'm a hopeless case with a zero percent chance of approaching mother's, or the personification of madness's level of power...
Let's not think about it.
Spreading the sheets across the desk, I read the foremost paper's title:
[To Our Dear Customer, A Comprehensive List As Requested]
A list containing all information on Flamm's, a grand total, as written in the table of contents, of 59 highly condensed pages.
Around 20 minutes of average reading time per page, so basically 20 hours...
Let's split it into 4 days, to make sure I don't miss any crucial information.
Peeling my mask to the side, I flinched as I rubbed my scalp. These days, the headaches were more common than usual; they started just over three weeks ago.
I'm still not sure on the reason behind them, but whatever.
It matters not.
I can handle it.
Safely securing the mask back on, I yawned, stretched my fatigued, cracked limbs, and cracked on with the task at hand; heh, get it?
"..."
Anyways.
I have some reading to do.
---
Knock. Knock.
"I'm coming in~ Little dummy~"
Clicking the door shut behind her, Hilda carried a tray filled with cookies and sweet orange juice in her left hand. Finding the little dummy seated at her desk, Hilda quietly walked up to her side and set the tray down.
Seeing her already small body seated in a chair fitted for the average-sized little girl, the tiny little dummy looked even smaller.
Like a baby.
She could probably wrap around her body with just one arm.
Spotting her shoulders occasionally quiver, and hearing the noise of teeth quietly chittering through the mask, Hilda hopped over to the little dummy's wardrobe and plucked out a blanket.
Covering her shoulders with the blanket, she patted the little dummy twice and stepped back.
"Pst~ Little dummy, snack time~!"
Groaning, the little dummy cracked her neck, stretched her arms over her head with concerning crunching noises, and responded:
"Mhm, thank you."
Picking out a cookie, she deftly pulled up the mask, took a bite, and pulled it down.
Hilda still had no idea why the little dummy wore that mask; it looked so uncomfortable to have to wear it all day, every day.
Sip~
Slowly drinking the mildly cold orange juice, the little dummy's throat flinched-
"Ugh!"
-sputtering, she tilted her head to the side, coughing out bits of blood mixed with juice onto the floor.
Wiping her mouth, she pulled the tilted mask back down.
Biting her lips, Hilda carefully walked to the little dummy's side.
It hurts.
Watching the little dummy be in so much pain.
It hurts.
Knowing how painful it must be, yet the little dummy never complains.
It hurts.
Seeing the little dummy in this state hurts.
Hesitantly lifted her right hand, Hilda steeled herself and-
Smush.
-she tenderly smothered the little dummy's head, rubbing her scalp and feeling the smooth, soft strands tickling her fingers.
She caressed her, massaged her, just in hopes that...
"Pain, pain, fly away... Spring comes to melt the pain... Harvest season, birds awake... Singing hymns, heal the pain..."
Mommy's song.
Whenever she was hurt, Mommy would hug her, rub her head, and sing.
"May your wings flutter in the light of day."
Moving her hand down the little dummy's head, she moved her arms around her neck, wrapping the tiny, fragile little girl in her warm embrace.
"...You can rely on me, little dummy. I'll do whatever you say, after all."
Hilda nuzzled her cheek into the little dummy's scalp, inhaling her empty scent in all its glory. That unique scent seemed to contain a twinge of sorrow on this bright day.
Lowering her arms further down, Hilda lay her palms on the little dummy's abdomen; she playfully tickled her, chuckling in her ear, "Feel better now?"
Then, quietly, but solemnly...
"Mhm."
The little dummy accepted her warmth.
"Good."
Patting her tummy one last time, she cheekily poked it, then backed off. The warmth mingling between their bodies drifted away, leaving Hilda feeling momentarily empty.
This time around, she stayed close to the little dummy.
If anything happened, she'd comfort her again.
---
July 22nd, 91st Year of the Ellis Era.
Sir Hugh Flamm recognises a pattern amid irregular cases spread far and wide along the Domain of Light.
September 2nd, 91st Year of the Ellis Era.
Sir Hugh Flamm officially grants the disease the title of 'Flamms', the first officially recorded case was of a 7-year-old girl with a paralysed left arm that would flare up with burning pain every so often.
Within 3 years of her diagnosis, she would be put down due to the unbearable agony.
That girl was Sir Hugh Flamm's daughter.
Marianna Flamm.
The first officially recorded victim.
By the 94th Year of the Ellis Era, over 400 new victims would be recorded and taken into his Clinic, the then Ellis Doctrine Church, and now known as St. Neuvae's Clinic, rebranded after a well-regarded Doctor who was granted the title of 'Saint'.
Sir Hugh Flamm connected many new patterns over the 3 years dedicated to the craft.
The first, and perhaps most important pattern: all victims are children.
Flamm's disease, not even once, could be detected in anyone over the age of 18.
And now, the second most important factor:
"The life expectancy of Flamm's is 17. None have ever reached the age of 18 to be recognised as adults, not even in the 300 years since Flamm's was first officially recognised." Tapping the sheets beneath my fingers, I leaned back, quietly contemplating the flow of information.
Yulei doesn't have long left.
But this isn't what I'm looking for.
I need a more comprehensive understanding of the disease itself, perhaps a pattern in the victims. Or maybe a recording, a diary of sorts, from a victim with a crucial link to the source of it all.
Flipping through a couple of the documents, I landed on a couple of sheets of papers containing the names, diagnosis, and the specific impact Flamm's has had on them.
There are thousands of names.
Digging my rigid thumb into my scalp, I loosened the tense skin and took a deep breath.
This will take a while.
I began the search.
---
7 hours.
That is how long I've been going through these names for.
I've read through them all thrice over, enough times to remember some of the most notable cases.
Those cases being...
"Hoo..." Stretching my limbs:
The ones where Flamm's flared up in the head, shortly ending the victim's life.
There is a pattern.
January 1st.
February 1st.
March 1st.
...
And so on.
The first of every month, since the beginning of the records till the latest dates, there has been a victim who has passed away on the 1st of a month from a case that originated in the head.
There's a clue here.
Is it the brain?
Is it their consciousness?
Their soul?
Their thoughts?
Once is a happenstance, twice is a coincidence, and thrice is enemy action.
But this isn't just three times.
This is hundreds of times.
Every single 1st of every month, there has been exactly one case of a victim passing away whose primary source of Flamms was in the head.
If so...
I tossed a couple of papers aside, rustling and crunching any useless information until I landed on the latest dates.
If, per chance, one of these victims left behind information...
It will have been recorded recently; old records won't be in this pile, most likely lost to the sands of time. But new records, new journals, new information-!
A smile crept onto my lips.
Now this is what I'm talking about.
Staring at the latest records, I read the name of the latest victim.
[Arin Himlet]
[Male]
[13 Years Old]
[Physical Description: Brown hair, dark eyes, short, malnourished, and a mole beside the left eye. Fragile.]
My eyes rushed past this basic information, I locked onto the 'Important Notes' section-
Shiver.
Ba-dump.
A noose tightened around my throat, constricting the life out of me.
Goosebumps lined my skin, and the world around me darkened; only the words written on the page remained.
Gulping, I re-read the 'Important Notes' section.
"..."
I re-read it.
"..."
And again.
But the words didn't change.
Taking a deep breath, I read the next sentence aloud.
[Important Notes: Complained of a white haze? Unknown source, most likely hallucinogenic-related. However, this is the 21st complaint of a white haze.]
The white haze.
The white fog.
The ever-present, soothing, smoke-like substance overlapped across every aspect of the palace grounds and Luminary City.
...I wasn't the only one.
It said that this was the 21st record, so I quickly rushed through every one of the most recent records, double-checking for any more mentions of the white haze.
And, lo and behold-
"It's real."
I found it.
The breakthrough.
"What's real, little dummy?" Hilda's ever-curious head poked out from the side, entering my field of view.
"Forget that, what day is it today, Hilda?"
"The 30th."
My heart skipped a beat.
"Does this month end on the 30th or the 31st?" I prayed for it to be the latter; this day was already almost over, and there was no way I'd get the permission to visit St. Neuvea's Clinic overnight.
"The 31st."
Yes!
"Okay, pass a message along to Lily. Tell her I want to visit St. Neuvea's Clinic in the early morning of the 1st."
"Um, but-" Hilda hesitated, obviously due to worry for my health.
"Do what I say."
"-okay..."
Pouting, Hilda stepped back, defeated.
Time to go to St. Neuvea's Clinic, again.
Ba-dump.
My pounding heart exposed the anticipation rising from the depths of my abdomen.
Ba-dump!