Warm, witty, and careful not to judge others hastily—why would soone like this resort to petty theft?
Seeing her toss a tip to the bartender, it didn’t seem like she was short on money.
Shirone: "Um... I’m not sure if I should ask this, but I’m too curious not to."
Marsha leaned back in her chair.
Marsha:"Phew, I was wondering when you’d bring it up. But Shirone, a woman’s asurents aren’t sothing you hear—they’re sothing you see with your own eyes."
Shirone: "No! Not that! Why did you steal the porcelain?"
Marsha: "Huh?"
Shirone: "You don’t seem like the type to do such things. And you clearly weren’t lying about money. It wasn’t even sothing useful, so why...?"
Marsha:"Hmm."
She propped her chin on her hand, lost in thought.
Marsha: "I just... wanted to steal it."
Shirone: "What? How is that possible?"
Marsha: "It is. It’s called kleptomania. A chronic habit, though it wasn’t always like this. I’m an orphan. My parents abandoned when I was four. A man from a rcenary band picked up and raised —he beca my foster father."
Shirone, too, had been abandoned by his birth parents, so Marsha’s story didn’t feel distant.
Marsha: "Comfort was never part of my life. rcenary bands are crawling with strange n. When I was eleven, one of the most brutal among them tried to lay hands on . Luckily, my foster father found out first and beat him half to death."
Shirone: "Of course. Any parent would do the sa."
Marsha:"Heh, you think so?"
Shirone: "Huh?"
A flicker of sorrow passed through Marsha’s eyes.
Marsha: "After that day, he changed. All I got was a single loaf of bread and water each day. No clothes, no sweets, no accessories—nothing. Once, I stole an apple and got caught. My foster father ca and paid for it without a word."
Shirone’s brow furrowed.
Shirone: "That’s cruel. If he could pay, why not just buy it for you? Did you ever beg him?"
Marsha: "No. Never."
Shirone: "Why?"
Marsha:"...It’s hard to say out loud, but think of it as a twisted mind ga. What he wanted was my submission—but I couldn’t give him that. My only rebellion was stealing. Every ti, he’d compensate the victim, then take the item back from at ho. Days like that piled up. Eventually, the despair grew so heavy I gave up on everything. So I told him—"
Her gaze drifted to the ceiling.
Marsha:"’You can kill if you want.’"
Shirone’s chest tightened.
Marsha:"I’ll never forget the look on his face that day. After that, those words beca a kind of spell. Every ti I stole and got caught, I’d say it: ’You can kill if you want.’ And he’d storm off, furious. That’s just... how I lived. At twelve, at thirteen—until I left ho at seventeen."
Shirone: "That’s around my age now."
Marsha:"By then, I understood. At first, I thought he was sick. But the truth? He was just weak. Torn between a father’s conscience and the desire to cross the line—unable to choose either. So he tornted instead."
Shirone fell silent.
Marsha:"Pathetic, right? If he’d just picked a side, things wouldn’t have gotten so ugly. No courage to cross the line, no will to stay within it. Know what cowards like that choose instead? Hypocrisy. A shield for the weak. While he wavered, I was losing my mind. How was I supposed to face him? It felt like my blood was drying up."
Shirone couldn’t speak.
Marsha:"At so point, I started carrying a hidden knife. The older I got, the more obsessed he beca. Life didn’t feel like life anymore, so I finally said it: ’You can hold if you want.’"
Shirone:"...What happened?"
Marsha:"Heh. Strangely, stories like these never have twists. I had to use the knife. Stabbed him in the throat. Felt nothing, honestly. After that, I left. Drifted from place to place until I washed up here."
Shirone:"I see..."
The mood grew heavy, and Marsha forced a smile.
Marsha:"But it’s fine! I make ends et now. Though the stealing habit’s hard to shake. It’s gotten in trouble more than once. Ugh."
Shirone said nothing. He couldn’t begin to judge her entire life.
Just then, the bartender erged from a back room. Though the exact system was unclear, that room seed to gather all sorts of information.
Bartender:"Gamos’ alert is lifted. He’s throwing a party at his mansion—seems he found a woman to his liking."
Shirone exhaled in relief.
Shirone:"Good, we’re not too late."
Marsha:"Hmph. That eager to get away from ?"
Shirone:"Hah! Not at all. My friends are waiting, that’s all."
Truthfully, Shirone was reluctant to leave too. No matter their backgrounds, conversations with soone who understood were always precious.
Shirone:"We’ll et again, right?"
Marsha:"Of course. Unless you plan to flee mid-ocean? Drop by if you’re bored. I’ll be here a while."
That was a relief.
Shirone:"Alright. I’ll go now."
As Shirone left, Marsha ordered a strong drink, her expression unreadable.
Just as she’d expected, two n who’d been watching her approached.
Thug #1:"Sent the kid away, huh? We lost money waiting. Booze ain’t cheap."
Marsha didn’t even turn her head.
Marsha:"Scram. Unless you wanna die."
Thug #2:"Feisty. You think this is funny? Do you even know who we are?"
Marsha sighed, then flashed them a smile.
Marsha:"Fine, let’s take this to a room. But—you two really enough? Bring more."
Thug #1:"W-What?"
Marsha:"Ten? Twenty? I don’t care. We’ll play all night. But I hate being interrupted. Don’t disappoint ."
The n paled.
Thug #2:"The hell? She’s insane. Let’s go."
Thug #1:"Ugh, of all the luck..."
Marsha watched them leave with disdain, then turned back to the bar. Her drink waited. She downed it in one go, fire burning down her throat.
Marsha:"Now that’s liquor. Bartender, another."
Instead of handing her a glass, the bartender approached and poured it himself.
Bartender:"...You’re that Marsha, aren’t you?"
Marsha:"Heh. There another Marsha I should know about?"
Bartender:"The Magic Association’s got a bounty on you. Surprised you’ve lasted this long. Planning to stay?"
Marsha:"Nah. Just tidying up loose ends. I’ll be gone soon."
Bartender:"Keep it quiet. Soone like you causing chaos would destabilize the island. We don’t want the Accord broken. Cooperate, and we’ll let you stay awhile."
Marsha:"Pass. Never planned to linger."
The bartender polished a beer glass until it squeaked. After a long silence, he spoke.
Bartender:"Not what I heard. Lying for that boy? Unusual."
Marsha:"...He helped ."
Bartender:"Helped you?"
He looked genuinely surprised. If this was Marsha, she wouldn’t need help even if Gamos himself ca knocking.
Marsha:"Know what he did? He offered to go with to the guards. Pretty faces are troubleso. Though... maybe it wasn’t just that."
Bartender:"Hes a good kid."
Marsha:"Yeah."
Suddenly, she shuddered and hugged herself, staring at the ceiling. The emotions she’d felt toward her foster father surged back, vivid as reality.
Marsha:"How could anyone be so revolting?"
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