The Girl Who Fell from the Polar Star

The girl who fell from the polar star - Chapter 13: On the Brink

November 11, 2022

Stella woke up earlier than she had intended, with a loud noise coming from the store. She looked at the clock and saw that it was before sunrise.

. . . Ugh. Someone has a lot of nerve, to disturb my sleep like this.

It couldn’t have been Rye or Marie. By elimination, that left two idiots—a man and a bird. Which one is it?

Still in her sleepwear, Stella headed toward the store on sluggish feet, where she found Rye and Clever, the former angrily stepping on someone and the latter with a triumphant smirk on his face. The someone was a man with multiple feathers sticking out of his back. A thug, like any other.

Stella was unsure what was happening. She saw Marie nearby and asked, “What’s happening here?”

“Uhm, it seems he’s broken in to steal our profits.”

“. . . Interesting. Very interesting. But he really shouldn’t have come this late at night. He’s robbed me of my precious sleep time.”

Stella approached the man, who was groaning in pain. His wounds were far from fatal; they’d been intended to stop him from escaping, not to kill. If Clever had meant to kill him, she would have come across not a man but a pile of minced meat. What a lucky man. But that’s about to change.

“The heck’s up with this bird?! Dammit, it hurts! Get away!”

‘Keke! Figured you’d want to see ’im, Master, so I caught the man alive! What ya gonna do, eh? Execution time?’

“A talking bird?!”

‘Yer just dreamin’, pal! A final dream before ya die! I ’ope you don’t mind being dismembered, eh? Keke!’

The man’s eyes widened as he started thrashing and yelling. “Quiet, thief!” said Rye, knocking him over the head. “Trying to make off with the fruit of our hard work, huh? Unbelievable! This town is hopeless, absolutely hopeless!”

“So, what now?” Stella crossed her arms and pondered. “I’d take a look inside his head, but I don’t want his wonderful brains all over the store. Cleaning that up later would be a nightmare.”

That seemed to take Rye off guard. “Uh, wait, you’re joking, right? . . . Right?”

“I was wondering if he was different from us on a biological level, but oh well. What do you think we should do?” Stella was quickly losing interest. She wanted to go back to sleep, not to discuss some scoundrel’s future.

Rye thought for a moment and said, “No point in taking this to the city guard. That lot’s just like him.” She sighed.

No one in this town cared about helping the weak. Handing this man over to the authorities would accomplish nothing; he could easily buy his freedom.

“Well, then. Beck, tie him up and give him over to Mace’s men. He’ll figure it out for us.”

Killing or no, it would be up to Mace to decide. Stella just wanted the man gone.

“Whoa! You think you can just kill me like that? I’m the Palpud Union’s locksmith! They’ll get you back for this!”

“Ah, so that’s how you got inside,” said Stella. “Getting past the lock must have been a breeze for you. But well, look at you know.” She stretched and yawned. “You’ve ruined my sleep. Take him away, Beck.”

“Beck, you know I’m right! The Company and the Union, we’re not supposed to fight, tell her! Don’t leave a friend hanging, man!”

“K-Knock it off! I’ve never seen your ugly mug before! Shut it!” Beck kicked the man in the face, and again when he screamed.

“. . . Beck, who is this man?” Stella asked.

“Who? I—Gee, I don’t know! Haha . . . Anyway, uh, where’s the rope? Let’s get this over with!”

He was definitely lying, but Stella was too tired to drag the truth out of him just now. I’ll do that in the morning, though.

Stella looked around and saw a coil of rope on a nearby shelf. It was technically one of the articles for sale, but it was probably never going to find a buyer anyway. She made to grab it. “Here, use this—”

The moment she was about to close her fingers around it, Stella’s vision went dark. Her heart started pounding in her chest, so hard it could burst. There was a terrible ringing in her ears. She had never experienced anything like this before. Something was being torn away from her body. She tried to catch it, to hang on to it, but it slipped through her fingers like smoke.

“Huh?”

“Miss Stella?”

“Stella?!”

She heard a scream, but couldn’t see the screamer. Her vision was gone. A flap of wings approached, and Stella let go of her consciousness.

She heard voices.

“. . . She’s in a very weakened state, but I’m afraid I can’t say what’s caused it. For now, you should let her rest and recover.”

“You sure she’s not sick with anything? She just fainted out of the blue, that can’t be normal!”

“The symptoms don’t match any of the most widely spread contagious diseases. She must have collapsed from physical and mental exhaustion. That is the only diagnosis I can give.”

“. . . All right. Thank you for coming this early in the morning. How much do we owe you?”

“No need to bother yourselves with the bill. I shall take it to the Stock Company. Take care.”

The moment the doctor went out the door, Stella sluggishly sat up on her bed. “What time is it?”

Rye yelled, looking at Stella as if she were a corpse rising from her grave. It was simultaneously amusing and irritating.

“Would you please not yell at me like I’m some monster?”

“Miss Stella! Are you feeling all right?” said Marie, unusually agitated.

“I’m fine. I even have a good idea of what caused this.”

“Y-You do?”

“It’s just psychological trauma. The death of my parents seems to have left quite the mark on me. No, actually, I think the real culprit is the memory of my mother trying to kill me. That rope reminded me of it, so trying to touch it caused my psyche to crumble, dragging my body down with it. It’s as simple as that.”

“. . . Uh, how come you’re so calm? You scared the heck out of me! I was worried you were dead!”

Stella giggled. “Well, I’m glad you were worried. Now tell me, what time is it?”

“S-Six o’clock.”

“Hmm. Thank you.”

“. . . You sure you’re okay?”

“It’s hard to be completely sure. I feel pretty weak. I might just take today off to sleep, it’s probably for the best.”

“I mean, it is . . .”

Rye still looked worried as Marie started wiping Stella’s sweat with a towel.

“What about that cat burglar?” asked Stella.

“We left him with the Stock Company when we asked for a doctor. Mace said he’s gonna come check up on you, by the way.”

After a curt nod of acknowledgment, Stella closed her eyes. A will to live, and a longing for death—both feelings coexisted inside of her, swirling like a vortex. That inner conflict might be damaging her soul, whatever that was supposed to mean. It was still too early for Stella to die, but some part of her subconscious seemed to think otherwise.

This pain was a new experience—a valuable one, in a way. Rather than resist it, Stella decided to embrace it. It wasn’t certain whether time would heal this wound, but in any case, she’d best avoid entering that sealed room again. Something told her that doing so would be suicide.

Well, then why even stay here? She played with the thought in her mind, but didn’t feel the least inclined to actually do it. This place was important to her—that was why she was still drinking that awful coffee instead of throwing it away. This sort of irrational behavior must be evidence that she was, in fact, human.

Stella remembered a certain stubborn woman. Would she laugh at me if she saw me now? she wondered in self-mockery. Or just be disappointed, as usual?

With that in mind, she silently drifted into sleep. Today she would rest and recover. Tomorrow would be a new day, and she needed her strength.

After a full day and night’s sleep, Stella woke up feeling refreshed. She had never felt this good in the morning. The time spent had been well worth it.

“Good morning,” said Stella. “It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

“Good morning,” said Rye. “Are you feeling better now?”

“How are you feeling?” asked Marie.

“Yes, I’m feeling perfect. Like I said, the reason was mental, not physical. I’m still weak, but just the regular amount.”

“You sure? You never really looked healthy, so it’s hard to tell.”

Rye seemed to be finding it hard to accept, but it was the whole truth. As yet, Stella was still free from disease. I should work on raising my immunity. “I know myself better than anyone,” she said. “But it seems I’m more mentally vulnerable than I thought. I have to work on it, train myself to stay in control of my mental state at all times.”

“Seriously, how can you be this calm? You look far from mentally vulnerable to me. You know, when you fainted, my heart almost stopped. How do I put it . . . you were like a puppet with its strings cut.”

So that scream was hers. It would seem that Rye’s true personality—in other words, her feminine side—showed through in times of panic. Considering her age, there was nothing strange about that.

“Self-awareness is an important skill to have,” said Stella. “Without it, our short human lives would feel even shorter.”

‘Keke! Master never changes! Yer tongue and moves are as sharp as ever, eh?’

Clever jumped at her, elated. Too clingy. His feathers were getting on her nerves, so Stella brushed him off. “Give me some space.”

‘Gah! Not nice, Master! I don’t deserve this sort of treatment, eh! Only slept four hours today, what with bein’ worried to death!’

“And how much do you usually sleep?”

‘Five hours, no more, no less! I’m an earlier bird than Master, eh. Nothing like stretchin’ my wings at the break o’ dawn, eh!’

“Hmm.”

It went in one ear and out the other. Stella regretted asking. What do I care how many hours a bird sleeps every day? She seriously doubted that useless piece of information would ever come in handy.

“By the way,” said Stella, “there’s something important I forgot to ask. What were all those guards doing when the cat burglar got in? Not their job, surely, or he’d never have made it to the front entrance.”

Maybe he could have slipped through the back entrance without opposition, but he had used the front door. If not for Clever, she would have been robbed; the bird was more aware of his surroundings than he let on. And he could take care of most anything that came in, short of bird-eating monsters or actual armies.

“. . . Oh, them? Drank themselves into dreamland,” said Rye. “Beck was with them too, for some reason. I kicked him awake after we caught the thief.”

“R-Rye, why—! C’mon, I told you so many times not to tell her! You know what she’s gonna do to me!”

“What, you think I wouldn’t tell on you? Go get the scolding of your life, see if I care. You deserve it for offering alcohol to the guards, that was dumb.”

Stella turned to look at Beck. He tried to play it off with a smile, and ultimately averted his eyes. That’s Beck, all right.

‘Keke! I saw everything, I did! Beck was drinkin’ like ’e was king of the night. And I saw ’im draggin’ the guards into it too. “I’ll get my revenge on ’er one of these days,” ’e said, but not with me around, ’e won’t! Master is forever safe with me, eh!’

Beck had nothing to say to that.

Stella couldn’t help but look at the ceiling in utter defeat. The man was useless, which was fine—she knew not to expect much from him. Now, however, he was going out of his way to cause problems for her. How does his brain even work? She was sorely tempted to open his head and take a look. He would hardly survive it, though.

‘And tha’s not all, eh! Why, the thief was Beck’s acquaintance! I know all the details, eh. My eyes and ears never miss a thing!’

“Would you care to elaborate?”

‘Beck told the man everything ’e knew, then fell for ’is smooth talk and went drinkin’ with the guards! Dumb move, eh?’

“You stupid little chicken! No, wait, ma’am, you don’t understand!”

“. . . Quiet.”

The words came out with difficulty. Not because she was tired, but because she was trying her best not to explode. Throwing a tantrum now would only be a waste of time.

“Please, I beg you! Anything but c-castration!”

“I want you gone until sunrise tomorrow. Go clean the sewage canal for all I care. Just get your ugly face out of my sight.”

Bodies were thrown in the canal all the time, where they were stripped of their belongings by vagrants and had their flesh eaten by crows and stray dogs. Sometimes the Church would hire beggars to clean it up. Word had it that for each body brought to shore they demanded a donation from Greggs. As a citizen of this town, Stella felt that she should help them out a little.

“Ma’am, please, forgive me! This time it wasn’t my fault, I swear! It was all him, he—”

“—Shut up. Every second spent trading words with you is wasted. I’ll say it again—Get out.” She waved him off like she would a bug. Just as I start thinking that maybe he deserves some credit, he does this. His incompetence was unprecedented. But this was Beck; she shouldn’t be surprised.

“P-Please!”

‘Aren’t ya lucky, Beck? But don’t get any ideas, eh? You try to run, I’ll take yer precious balls! With my beak, eh! Kekeke!’

Clever jumped at Beck, who dashed out the door.

“Now it’s much quieter in here,” said Stella.

“I swear, Beck’s a lost cause. I don’t think he’s really a bad guy, though.” Rye thought for a moment. “Wait, no, he used to be a debt collector, right? Yeah, forget what I said. He’s a pretty bad guy.” She stuck out her tongue.

‘Master, are ya not gonna punish ’im?’

“I didn’t think it’d be worth my time.” Stella was tired. She pressed her fingers to her eyes.

“Uh, you sure you’re feeling better now?” asked Rye. “You’re not just pretending?”

“What would be the point of lying about it to faint again five minutes later? I didn’t expect to faint from trying to pick up some rope, though. That much is true.” Rye was suspiciously quiet, so she added, “Look, whatever you’re planning against me, give up. It won’t work.”

“What? I would never!”

She seems to be telling the truth. Whoever had brought her up had done a thorough job, because Rye was disciplined—stubbornly so. Despite being frequently rude toward Stella, she never forgot her table manners and always kept herself presentable.

“. . . Uh, why’re you staring at me?”

“I’m human-watching.”

Rye’s face froze. “I think you should keep that to yourself. Yeah.”

“I’ll do my best next time.”

Stella was good at watching people’s facial expressions; she had always been. People often found that unsettling, shunning her for it. Stella couldn’t blame them. Being stared at by a sickly child like her was hardly something that would make anyone happy. Her father had been no exception.

“In case you’re wondering, I’m not actually afraid of ropes. Look, I’ll show you.”

Stella nonchalantly picked up the rope on the nearby shelf and started swinging it around. As long as she steeled herself for it, she wouldn’t faint.

“Wait, what?”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you. Now you can’t tie me up while I’m sleeping.”

“I told you, I’d never do something like that. ‘You should never do unto others what you don’t want done unto you.’ Father used to say that all the time.”

“What a good little daughter you are. Well, in any case, if anything happens to me, my Magic Crystal will just blow up and take this whole town with it. I’m the only one keeping it under control, you see.”

“What?”

“You can try it if you don’t believe me. But I’d advise against it.”

“I’m not going to, but . . . you’re joking, right?”

“Am I? Care to find out?”

“I told you, I’m not gonna do it!”

Stella laughed at Rye’s angry reaction. Teasing her never gets old. Her reactions are always worth it.

Mace appeared shortly after, with a bouquet of flowers and a sack of fruit, to check up on Stella. While she knew that he just wanted to get on her good side, it was still quite nice of him. She gratefully accepted his gifts, but not without complaining that his men had been absolutely useless. Mace humbly apologized and promised to find more reliable replacements.

According to him, the cat burglar had been properly dealt with. Mace had acted before Leroy could interfere. “Trying to avoid a full-scale dispute by avoiding conflict altogether is a terrible idea. The Union will make doormats of us. Father has grown too soft with age,” he’d complained. “As long as we’re collecting protection money in our territory, we must protect those who pay from harm. It’s the entire basis of our existence. If we start making exceptions for who gets punished and who doesn’t, we won’t be taken seriously ever again.” Stella admired his conviction, but she knew he never did the dirty work himself. Would he be able to, if put on the spot? she wondered. Now there’s something I’d like to see.

In any case, this went to show that she needed to find her own guards. Mace’s “more reliable replacements” might well be just as bad as the people they were going to replace. She should count herself lucky this time; none of her things had been killed or even hurt. That would have been infuriating. I need to improve security as fast as possible. But what’s the best way?

If possible, Stella would like a fighter with a combat power of ten Becks—but the gangs were always on the lookout for strong fighters, and they were unlikely to be available for the taking. The slave market, then. They might not have what she wanted—like last time—but she decided to go on the morrow and see for herself.

Stella asked Marie for a cup of coffee. For now, she would take her time and think. Her exercising and magic training weren’t getting anywhere, but it was just as important to solve the problem at hand.