Chapter Text
The Circus gleamed like aquariums in oceanariums. It was shrouded in a mysterious blueness, yet vibrant, multi-colored fish glowed within. And tonight, just for this night, two fish came out to swim—two who hadn’t watched the frozen lake in so long. They watched it, speaking in their own tongue, so close to one another, far away from the sharks circling them. But one of them, the one of a green hue, grew tired of simply basking in admiration for the other. She wanted to swim away, to a place where the other could do nothing but watch her from afar. So that now, on the lake beneath the Moon, she could only see the glints of lost intimacy. Her life-colored fish remained with her only like lake stars on her saddest days—the days she allows herself to slightly crack open the trunks, if only for a moment, and release the rusty gold into the open waters. Before the disgruntled sharks arrive, complaining about the pollution of their reservoir. To them, she would never be able to prove that this wasn’t rust, but a blend inherently made that way. On days like these, all she had left was to ask her reflection in the gloom: could she have stopped her fish from swimming away? Away to where she could no longer secretly admire her, where poems and serenades to the piano no longer played for her first and most wounded love underwater. Why does a fish still strive to drown in the ocean following another—the one that, perhaps, isn't even waiting? For it is impossible to achieve when the gills still breathe, and the severed fins keep swimming. What else is left for her to do then, if not swim toward the Moon? But what if the Moon, too, suddenly abandons her tiny world? After all, she stands at the very bottom of her aquarium floor, watching as everyone else swims ahead.
Ragatha pulled her knees tightly to her chest and stared at the lake, reflecting on what she had been returning to all too often since Pomni’s arrival. She had let down everyone she possibly could: her parents, by allowing herself to live a different life, not the one they wanted for her; they had wanted a stable job, a marriage that was happy only at first glance, obedient children, and a loving husband—all while an audience watched. Her friends, whom she could no longer understand. Her colleagues, because even among people who shared her spirit, she still felt different against their backdrop, more of a stranger. The boyfriends who could never find a lasting place in her heart. And the girlfriends, to whom she handed the hammer so they could shatter each other’s hearts. And now, she was on the verge of letting down her own soul.
----
When on earth would Caine just let them leave? It wasn't as if she could just walk up to Ragatha in front of everyone and say, 'Hey, Ragatha, I got the feeling you wanted to confess something to me. Let's just go to your room together, totally inconspicuous. Or better yet, let's just screw everyone else and cling to each other on the couches like last night. What, what about my aversion to touch? I’m sure your most honest kiss will cure that problem. Honestly, I’m not lying.'
Instead, Pomni just stood there, tap-tapping her foot nervously.
"ANYWAY, I’VE RUN INTO SOME TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES IN MY BATHTUB, SO TOMORROW I SHALL LET YOU SLEEP IN, MY DEAR ONES..."
"Sc%$um!#bags!"
Bubble interrupted Caine’s speech, standing right beside him, looking smug and well-fed.
Caine sighed heavily, popped the pesky bubble, and continued.
"AHEM! AS I WAS SAYING, YOU ARE ALL DISMISSED. GOODNIGHT, EVERYONE!"
And with a wave of his cane, he vanished, turning day into night. The circus performers, realizing that this day was officially over, let out a weary sigh.
"Goodnight, everyone—even you, Jax!"
Zooble shouted, and without waiting for anyone to return the sentiment, they headed toward their room.
"We’re not done yet, Zoobles!"
Jax managed to call out to the retreating figure.
Zooble merely turned around, flashed him a censored gesture, and left in silence.
And there it was—the chance. Pomni, catching Ragatha’s gaze, intended to step forward—no, to run toward her new reality. But... taking that single step toward her, she realized she had mistaken her realities. Because in this one, Jax was walking up to the rag doll with a smug grin, placing his hand upon her soft shoulders, and whispering something to her that Pomni couldn't catch. And just like that, they were both walking away from her. No, she had allowed one of them to remain in her own escape, but the other was clearly running toward her just the same, and she couldn't leave her without a finish line.
"Hey, where are you two off to?"
Pomni asked, sounding as innocent as humanly possible while crossing her arms—arms that were not trembling in the slightest.
"Oh, Dollface and I just need to discuss a little something tête-à-tête."
And while Ragatha’s gaze held nothing but fear and bewilderment, Jax looked at Pomni as if he were handing her a revolver loaded with a single bullet, daring her to pull the trigger. Whether it would be a lethal shot was an entirely different question.
"This late? We literally just finished an adventure."
Fine, Jax, I’ll play your game, Pomni thought, keeping her smile firmly in place.
"Don't you fret so much, Pom-Pom. Who better than you to know that sleep doesn't matter around here? Besides, we’ll be quick. Now, respect our boundaries and run along."
Ragatha remained Pomni's last chance for salvation, but she merely offered a guilty smile and said softly:
"We’ll talk tomorrow, Pomni. Go get some rest."
Was that a bullet tearing through her right now, or just the agonizing ache of disappointment? How could she tell her to rest and fall asleep when all her thoughts belonged to her angel, her Sun—who shone so desperately to warm her, only to accidentally blind her in that very same instant?
"Oh. Okay. Goodnight."
"Yeah, yeah, goodnight and all that jazz. Let’s go, Dollface."
Yet Pomni remained rooted to the spot, watching the sunset fall. She didn't dare take a step forward, as if staying still could somehow turn back the hands of time and bring her back.
"Goodnight, Pomni. I hope you two get to talk."
And with those words, Gangle walked away, leaving her utterly alone. Pomni couldn't even find the strength to answer; she could only hope that Gangle understood the full tragedy of her situation.
Criminals usually return to the scene of the crime. Perhaps this time would be no exception.
----
And so she stood there, waiting for Caine to finish yet another one of his speeches. It felt as though over all these years, Caine had been repeating the exact same thing like a glitched program, slightly tweaking the code but never changing the structure. She was so terrified of looking at anyone—especially at one bright jester—as if they had all somehow found out her secret and were ready to stage a witch-burning. But she could no longer fear the inquisition and the churches; once in the past, she had been frightened of them and had surrendered, but now she refused to fall to her knees before them. She would only kneel before the one she thought of so unholily. And just as she was about to seize the jester in her arms, begging her to never stop shining for her in the dark, Jax walked up. With a touch so hauntingly familiar yet long-forgotten, he placed his hand upon her, whispering:
"I want to continue the elevator conversation right now. Otherwise, I’ll change my mind."
And she couldn't bring herself to refuse him, even as she saw how desperately, and in mute plea, those multi-colored spirals she had grown to love so much were staring back at her. Once they had walked far enough away, Ragatha decided to ask where exactly Jax was leading her.
"Sooo...where are we going, Jax?"
Jax, looking only straight ahead, strode thoughtfully, holding the doll by her hand not for the sake of connection, but rather to ensure she couldn't run away. It was as if he no longer trusted a single word that came out of her mouth. Yet, he answered anyway.
"You'll see."
And hearing this was like returning to a house where you were no longer welcome, yet somehow mockingly allowed onto the porch, left to stand there in hopes of an open door while staring at your own reflection in the windows. Ragatha had known Jax for a long time now; she could tell by his tone that he wouldn't utter another word until they reached their destination. And if she dared to shatter this rare silence, she would essentially be signing the demolition order for the building herself.
And so they walked arm in arm, beneath the Moon that shone down, watching over them. Yet, a single glance from her made it clear: she understood this was no date between two lovers, but a voluntary execution. She would have quite a story to tell her friend, the Sun—who was so fond of the gossip the Moon had been gathering all these years. After all, for some reason, the Sun is the one people always hide from.
They reached the circus lake—the one they used to swim in whenever they caught a spare moment, or whenever they grew so sick of their clothes clinging to their bodies that they just wanted to strip them off. For those who practiced nudism, of course, such a problem didn't exist; quite the opposite, by doing so, they put on the clothes that granted them the familiar morality of human beings. So that’s the perk of being genderless: at least you won’t get busted for walking around naked. Though if Ragatha could roam around like that, she was certain she would experience something far worse than prison. Still, it was better to do whatever it took to remain human. Even if feelings hurt and drove you mad.
But tonight, Jax chose to keep his avatar unchanged, and so did Ragatha. He let go of Ragatha’s hand and sat down on the sand, waiting for the rag doll to join him. Catching the hint, she sat down beside him, keeping her distance. Ragatha stared ahead at the lake, stroking her own arm with slow, hesitant movements, not daring to shatter the silence. Jax stopped smiling, staring out at the water with that same brooding expression. And then, with unusual quietness, he broke down the door.
"What did you tell the new staff?"
Ragatha had expected anything but that question. Could she have accidentally blabbed too much again, without even realizing it?
"What are you talking about, Jax?"
Right then and there, that was her gravest mistake. In that very instant, Jax’s feigned composure vanished; he stood up, stepped a bit further away, and then, flinging his arms up, clutched his head and screamed:
"Stop lying, Dollface, and pretending you don't know a d%$a!#mn thing!"
Ragatha stood up as well, but she didn't dare step toward him. Frightened, she stammered:
"I truly don’t understand what you mean, Jax. I... I thought you wanted to talk about the elevator, but I swear to you, I didn't tell her anything. I..."
But Jax cut her off, as if every single word she uttered was nothing but a blow to his fragile ego.
"HA! You think I’d believe you?! Then why did our precious little jester go and say that I’m connected to a pathetic creature like you?!"
And right then, Ragatha realized that one of them had to act as a guide, steering the ship of truth through this storm of secrets.
"I...Jax, I truly don't want to hide this anymore!"
Jax burst into laughter, as if it were the funniest thing she had ever uttered. Even though it was the solemn truth.
"Ha-ha! And there's the proof, Dollface!"
But Ragatha was determined to break the sitcom rules this bunny had spent so long building.
"But I didn't tell her anything! Not about us, and not about..."
"DON'T YOU DARE UTTER THAT NAME!"
It was a miracle that nobody else heard it—nobody except for her shattered heart and his ragged breathing.
"Jax, it can't go on like this. I was wrong to think that my promise would help you—I can see that everything is only getting worse."
Why had she been so compliant, such a coward, so immature, so...naive?
"Don't you dare tell me what's good for me and what isn't. You are nobody to me, Dollface, and it has always been that way."
For some reason, hearing this from him again cut just as deep as it did the very first times.
"I know. But listen, it will be easier for both of us if we just talk about it."
They say talking helps. So why couldn't it be a lifeline for them, too?
"Easier for us? Or maybe just easier for you?"
Jax said in a scathing tone, looking at her with a contempt he no longer bothered to hide. When he was with Pomni, he had briefly allowed himself to feel a pang of resentment that Ragatha was trying so hard—but now he realized his mistake. She wasn't trying hard enough.
"For both of us, Jax!"
Ragatha said, making no effort to hide that she was on the verge of a breakdown, barely holding herself together. But Jax didn't appreciate her efforts.
"Pfft, yeah, sure."
And then, something inside Ragatha snapped. She had heard his indifference a thousand times before, but right now, standing on the sand, feeling the grains pool around her feet and drag her down, it reminded her of how someone had once buried her in it—as if she were a mermaid interred upon the shore.
"Jax, why won't you just say what happened to her?!"
Jax could have made a snide remark, telling her that she had seen what happened with her own eye. Instead, he chose to say something far worse.
"Because it's none of your business."
Ragatha never allowed herself to feel anger toward anyone... but, f%$u!#ck, Jax was always the exception.
"You know what?! I’m sick and tired of your stubbornness! I listened to you once, I... I stood by and did nothing once, and you know exactly what that led to. I’m breaking our agreement... for your own good!"
Caught completely off guard, Jax whispered in a trembling voice:
"You better take those words back, Dollface, or else..."
But because of the absolute silence surrounding them, she caught his words, and now she was paying him back in kind.
"Or else what? You’ll tell Pomni about my feelings for her? Just like you wanted to tell..."
Ragatha didn't get to finish the name. Jax suddenly threw her down, locking his hands around her thin, puppet neck. And just like that, Ragatha felt like nothing but a frightened little girl again—one who feared violence far more than drowning. In trembling, unconcealed terror, she managed to gasp:
"J-J... Jax?"
Jax didn’t even seem to notice what he was doing or how it was affecting the doll. It was as if he were operating and thinking purely on the adrenaline her words had triggered. As if her words posed a direct threat to his very immortality.
"If you tell her, I will never speak to you again, and I will hate you."
Feeling a sudden wave of déjà vu pierce through her fear, Ragatha knew she couldn't bear to feel it anymore.
"Why do you think that would change my mind?"
To this, Jax merely whispered right into her face, his breath ragged and uneven:
"Because we both know you want to be good so badly, you can’t stand the thought of anyone hating you."
Ragatha blinked, making no further attempt to breathe, and said softly:
"Jax...I hate it...when you're right."
And finally, Jax allowed his smile to return to his once-expressionless face, looking down at her with that same sweet, cartoonish visage—as if he hadn't just been choking and threatening her a second ago.
"So, I know you’re trying to make peace with me, and if you tell her, you’ll never get that chance again... And we are stuck here, Dollface, remember that."
The moment he stopped choking her, she allowed herself to inhale a breath of life once more. Her hair, which had stood on end, fell over her face... and Jax decided to brush the strands away, one by one, continuing to whisper:
"So, it’s up to you whether to speak or not... whether you’ll fail me again."
Having cleared the locks of hair, he could now look her straight in the eye and say:
"Whether you’ll choose me over anyone else."
And with those words, he stood up and hastily walked away, without a goodbye, and certainly without wishing her a good night. Ragatha was left lying at the scene of the crime. Even the Moon was no longer looking at her... only the ripples remained.
----
Pomni lay on the blue couch, wondering if she would manage to fall asleep tonight—or even just catch a peaceful breath. She lay with her eyes closed, either hoping for sleep, or hoping that the quiet serenity of the circus would be shattered by someone's sudden gasp and the patter of hurried footsteps, rushing to embrace her joyfully and promising to never let go again. Why did she need a hug so desperately right now? Meanwhile, the silence had no intention of leaving; it remained her sole companion, coldly ignoring her disappointment that it was the only thing there, and not the one she was so foolishly waiting for. Maybe she should have followed them and eavesdropped. Maybe she should have gone searching. Why did she decide to give up tonight, after a whole day of breaking boundaries and hunting for the truth? It was ethical, but it wasn't logical.
As if suddenly sensing that she was about to suffocate, Pomni made a choice to at least create the illusion that she had left the circus, her fears, and her hopes behind. She dragged herself up from the couch and trudged toward the tent's exit. Usually, Caine didn't appreciate his performers overloading the world with their active presence during sleep mode, but—god, she couldn't give a flying f%$u!#ck what he appreciated right now. She stepped out of the tent and headed toward her favorite spot to lie on the night grass. And there, out in the fresh air, she let her mind drift to everything and anything in the world—rather than a single, specific doll.
There Pomni lay, looking as though she had surrendered her very immortality. And it could have gone on like this indefinitely, until some stray thought made her violently cover her face with her hands. When she pulled them away and opened her eyes wide, she saw the Moon staring down at her, her gaze filled with sadness and sympathy. Driven by a sudden surge of emotion, Pomni abruptly yelled:
"Why are you looking at me like that?!"
The Moon, caught off guard by the fact that she was no longer just a bystander without any dialogue, looked at her in surprise. Yet, she remained calm, as if she had been coded to be exactly that way, and said:
"Because I understand you."
Pomni only let out a nervous laugh at that statement: what could they possibly have in common—a foolish human and a digital Moon who was so... fond of them, the ringmasters?
"Heh, yeah, right. You're just programmed to love Caine... What do real feelings even mean to you?"
Pomni spoke as if she were merely talking to herself, assuming that no one would actually talk back...but she was wrong.
"I truly do love Caine, and unlike you humans, I don't hide it."
The Moon spoke in that same calm demeanor, as if she were dictating a divine truth to a scribe.
"Pfft, of course, what's there to hide? You have a set program you can’t fight against, but I... But we humans are completely different."
Pomni said sarcastically, as though this dialogue meant nothing and was just a pathetic attempt to drown out her own thoughts. To this, the Moon, true to herself despite her underlying surprise, calmly asked:
"What do you mean, human?"
And this tone was so soft that it reminded her of someone. Someone she was already so tired of thinking about. With a weary voice, she answered the Moon:
"Tell me, why do you love Caine anyway? He’s loud, annoying, throwing tantrums like a prideful child who craves attention and never listens to a soul."
The Moon, making no effort to defend her beloved, simply said:
"I love him because he exists, and because he lets me shine for him."
And for some reason, this time, the true meaning of this dialogue finally clicked for Pomni.
"Pfft, and what, that’s enough? Even when he keeps so much from you, keeping a distance between you two?"
The Moon, as if understanding what Pomni was actually talking about, replied:
"That is the very purpose of the Moon—to shine in the dark."
Masking how deeply those words had pierced her own philosophy, Pomni asked:
"You saw her, didn't you? How is she?"
The Moon, knowing exactly whom Pomni was referring to, answered her:
"Tonight, Pomni, you must not shine for her. She must handle the darkness on her own."
Pomni didn't understand what kind of darkness the Moon was talking about, and it filled her with such anxiety that even the Moon, noticing her reaction, continued:
"Go to sleep, Pomni. I will watch over her."
And somehow, those words managed to soothe the nervous jester. After all, who was she to argue with her? She always lost her arguments with the Sun; why should the Moon be any exception?
"Oh...okay. Thank you."
"Good night, Pomni."
Pomni didn't say another word. She simply waved her hand in farewell and headed back toward the quarters. Ragatha had said they would talk tomorrow. She had to trust her—if she wanted Ragatha to trust her back.
----
Having changed in the magical dressing room, Ragatha now sat on the sand in her swimsuit, letting the cold lake water wash over her feet. And while in reality—where she had skin instead of fabric—this could have made her sick, here, you could only feel a phantom sensation, as if the piercing cold were throwing knives at you. But Ragatha wasn't expecting any warmth from this night anyway.
Sifting the sand through her palms and staring without a smile at the lake, where all the fish had long since swum away, she could only ponder her next move. No matter how exhausted she was tonight, letting this night slip away was far more terrifying than any sleep deprivation. Tomorrow, amidst the noise of the circus, she would have to make a decision upon which not only her life depended, but also the lives of those around her. Was she ready to take such a risk? What was the worth of a truth that had missed its flight?
After sitting by the water for a while, Ragatha stood up and went to dry her feet against the sand—sand that felt warm only at a first glance. Reaching it, she sat down and pulled her knees tight against her chest. Now, all that was left for her to do was to tremble all over, watch the calm water illuminated by the Moon, and think...think so very much.