Chapter Text
One week after the events of the Tower of Sweet Chaos...
Prayers could be heard in an empty chapel. A young woman with lavender and golden hair was found kneeling before the altar. Her fingers tightened with each repeated prayer.
"In the name of the Witches... Please, make me forget..." she pleaded.
Her voice trembled.
Since her expedition to purge the sacred place, Pastry had been tormented at night by past memories. Her true purpose: to be eaten.
How could such supposedly benevolent goddesses actually create her only to be devoured?
No prayer could stop the churning in her stomach with each whisper of the divine name—Witches.
Although always trained to follow her faith without questioning a verse from that book, it was impossible.
"How can profane creatures think, have feelings?" she wondered to herself.
And that man... He was like me! He feels, he thinks.
— It doesn't make sense... My head hurts...
The veil that fell over her shoulders seemed heavier than her guilt. It was as if the air of the chapel and the fabric oppressed any thought she might have.
Pastry began to back away to sit on the chapel bench. One hand held her head.
— Well, what a pleasant surprise…— A soft voice echoed from the altar. — Praying in the early hours of the day as always, Pastry. I see you are heeding my advice.—
A woman in her forties walked elegantly through the chapel. Her incense, chained to the floor, emanated a sweet, yet suffocating aroma.
The devout young woman stood up in a start, maintaining a firm, rigid posture—like a soldier.
Seeing the woman approach, she lowered her head in reverence.
— Yes, your generous advice always illuminates my path…
Who are you trying to fool, Pastry?
The woman approached, smiling.
— An exceptional student as always, Pastry.— The Reverend Mother cupped her cheek. — Tell me, how has the sweet silence of your mind improved with your prayers? Are they helping?
Her hand cupped Pastry’s jaw, making her look at her face.
Pastry never really liked making eye contact, especially not with Reverend Mother.
She was strangely tall. Furthermore, she cast a shadow that covered Pastry's face. Even if it wasn't intentional, Pastry couldn't help but feel her body wanting to escape.
Her mind was far from quiet.
Luckily, thanks to her arduous training, the young woman had learned to hide her facial expressions well.
But even an irregular heartbeat could be a problem.
— Yes, Reverend Mother, I feel much better. Our secret remains intact. — Pastry smiled confidently.
Of course, the secret was well kept; she didn't even have anyone to talk to about her worries.
— Very well, you always bring me great results, Pastry... Finish what you need to finish. — The lady smiled.
The clicks of her heels echoed through the temple. Upon reaching the double doors, she turned.
— Oh, and take a day off. I know the incident overwhelmed you. Rest, my beloved child.
With that, the suffocating smell of incense left the young woman's lungs. Reverend Mother was no longer there.
Pastry placed her hand on her chest, clutching the white fabric anxiously.
— I really need some air...
...
Meanwhile... in the deepest crevices of darkness.
— Red Velvet...!
A snotty voice was muffled by the wooden door, causing whoever was inside to squirm in bed—a groan of pain followed.
— Red Velvet!! I know you took my hair dryer and conditioner. Do you know how long it takes to get these dreadlocks to look presentable?! Give them back already! It's not my fault if your damn dog keeps breaking yours.
More knocking.
The person inside the room finally sat up in bed—rubbing their hand over their face.
— As if dark rags were presentable clothes, Licorice...
The so-called "Red Velvet" finally gets up, completely ignoring the knocks on the door. It was just some borrowed hairdryer and conditioner after all.
Even if it's without asking first.
His absence made a small, cake-shaped hound wiggle one of its little paws—the one who was said to be to blame for the whole situation.
Red Velvet walked towards the bathroom, but, for some reason, he felt an intense pain in his right shoulder. Even holding his arm to ease the pain didn't help. Had he slept in a bad position?
On the way to the bathroom, he could see himself in the mirror's reflection, even from a distance. He was—in kind words—a mess. His body was covered in makeshift bandages, deep dark circles under his blue eyes, and hair that resembled a bird's nest.
But nothing compared to a huge bloodstain on his right shoulder under his shirt. Was his bandage not done properly?
His arm also seemed to be a little lower than normal…
Red felt an adrenaline rush up his spine, time seemed to slow down—he couldn't even hear the knocking on the door, only his heart.
He quickly unbuttoned his shirt just enough to throw it aside and reveal his shoulder… Falling off his body?!
His eyes widened, finally the pain manifested itself like the weight of a ship. He contorted his face and gripped his shoulder as tightly as he could.
— Shit…! Why only now?!
— Red Velvet, I swear, I'm going to break down this door…! — Licorice's muffled voice was interrupted by a loud groan of pain.
Red Velvet felt as if all his veins were screaming with blood gushing out. But enough of him reacting too.
— Ah… Licorice! Open this door already AND HELP ME!
Licorice noticed that the door was only unlocked, turning the doorknob. He was about to start another round of complaints — but the words died before they even became sound. The heavy smell of blood filled the room; it was heavy, wrong.
His eyes returned to the door frame, where he found Red Velvet — his best friend — with his back against the wood.
His face contorted in horror at the sight of his desperate attempt to stop the red liquid by holding his arm against his torso.
— F-For DARK ENCHANTRESS!!
The boy with braided hair wasted no time and walked around the room. Licorice quickly caught the red-skinned body that was about to collapse to the floor.
— Ugh! — Licorice recoiled. — Hold on a little longer, man! You're too heavy! Sit down. Now.
Red Velvet simply obeyed—not willingly, but out of sheer exhaustion—letting himself fall onto the edge of the toilet, his breathing short and irregular, as if each breath required a great effort.
As he stepped back, Licorice froze at the sight of his bloodied hand and Red Velvet's condition.
— This is bad... I-I need to call...!
As the young man turned to leave, he felt his arm being pulled. Too firmly for someone on edge, as expected of a general.
— No... — his voice came out low, almost inaudible over his breathing. — Don't call anyone... Please. Especially Dark Enchantress.
Licorice opened his mouth to protest, but again, the words made no sound seeing his condition. He kept his head down and his face contorted—it didn't seem to be just pain, but something even heavier.
Licorice found himself cornered, but he took a deep breath.
He pulled open one of the drawers in the cabinet with his foot and spotted the medical kit Red Velvet kept.
— Next time, I'll put on my curriculum that I'm a nurse.
And so, with blood on his hands, Licorice drew a circle on the floor, followed by sigils.
With three licorice servants—one of whom rushed to close the door—Licorice could finally begin the procedure.
It was far from a quick process, and not at all painful.
Red Velvet was using a white towel as a gag to contain his screams. His flesh reacted with each puncture of the needle and thread; he had never experienced this before. Licorice also remained brave. All he wanted was to apologize for every mistake he made, which caused Red Velvet to suffer even more.
It was torturous.
— All done... You'll need to keep that arm resting as much as possible until the stitches heal — Licorice said, washing his hands. It looked like a scene from a horror movie.
One of the servants stroked Red Velvet's thigh, as if trying to calm him down as best it could. The other two servants delicately cleaned the floor and the materials used.
It wasn't one of the best bandages in the world—he felt discomfort with the bandage tightening around his arm, but until it healed, he wondered how he would hide the real reason.
— What the hell really happened, Red Velvet? Why didn't you tell us, me?! — And there goes another one of his complaints. Unlike before, his tone of voice was more trembling, careless.
Red Velvet no longer had the strength to answer. He was now resting his head against the wall and staring at an invisible point—it wasn't the time to ask questions.
Just as Red Velvet was about to make the effort to open his lips, they heard small scratches on the door. Licorice turned wearily and turned the doorknob.
It was Chiffon, Red Velvet's best friend.
He whimpered and panted, barking as he tried to jump into his owner's lap. With trembling hands and a purposeful look, he stroked behind the dog's red ear.
Licorice sighed; the image of the two of them calmed his heart.
— The bathroom is too small for the two of us... and four creatures. — He gave a sloppy smile, trying to use the cute moment for a bit of irony.
— Lico — Red Velvet called by his nickname, his tired blue eyes meeting the amber ones.
Licorice sighed. He couldn't help but look at the puppy-dog eyes he was giving him, even unintentionally.
He didn't need to continue; Licorice already understood. His face was serious, his eyebrows furrowed—not his usual expression.
He looked at the sink and spotted what he was looking for: his hairdryer and conditioner. He reached out and retrieved his items.
— Don't take my things anymore. Buy them yourself.
Licorice left with the servants, closing the door carefully. Red Velvet turned his gaze to the small piece of cake still crying in his lap.
— I'll make it up to you, Chiffon. Let's go for a walk...
Licorice finally left the boy's room in red. He closed the door, but felt a heavy presence approaching at the end of the hallway.
He turned towards it and jumped slightly, startled.
It was Pomegranate, the woman considered Dark Enchantress's right-hand. She had the power to observe everything in her mirrors—except for the bedrooms.
Some even say she's much closer to Dark Enchantress than Red Velvet himself, whom he considered a mother figure to the sorceress.
— May I ask the reason for the fright? Are you hiding something?
— Since when you're up for a gossip? I only argued with that big-dog-boy over there about my things. Jeez, stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, that's a lack of privacy!
Licorice twitched his nose and turned away. He always had that snotty brat personality. But even though he confronted and turned his back precisely on Pomegranate, he felt her gaze pierce him from behind.
He tried to quicken his pace before she noticed the sweat dripping from his forehead.
...
The light filtering through the leaves of the trees danced in circles across the green grass.
Although the view was beautiful, no light illuminated Pastry's deep well. The weight on her shoulders was an endless burden.
She moved far enough away from the church, from the entire service—it seemed as if she were returning to the tower if her footsteps hadn't stopped beneath a tree.
She held onto a glimmer of hope that her sighs wouldn't be heard, but the moment she rested her back against the tree trunk...
There was a noise. It wasn't birdsong, nor any animal.
Truly, her head was at stake in this stupid spiral between belief and reality.
She closed her eyes and ran her fingers over the crossbow strapped to her wrist. Although her fingers were protected by the fabric, she still felt some punctures as she touched the sharp blade.
The sounds of the forest made her close her eyes.
It was too careless to sleep, but for her...
Dying in such a peaceful place would at least ease her guilt.
Just as she was about to drift off, she heard a small rustling in the bushes. Instinctively, she turned her head toward the sound, which grew louder.
Even though she had thought about her death, something inside her made her stay in her position. Was it instinct?
She activated a button on her bracelet, revealing her crossbow. She knelt down with only one knee on the ground and waited.
Ready to shoot.
— Book of sa... — her conjuration was interrupted by a small cake hound jumping out of the bush.
It barked happily until it noticed Pastry.
Pastry recognized this hound somehow.
The little one was startled by the arrow pointed at its head. It tried to back away, whimpering softly. Pastry's eyes widened, and she put her weapon away.
— I'm sorry... I didn't mean to scare you. — the girl extended her hand.
She hadn't expected the dog to come towards her. Not every animal would approach after having a gun pointed at its head, even if she hadn't yet recognized who it was.
In fact, it was a clever little thing, clever enough to understand the intentions of others. It stared at Pastry's hand as well as her face — for a moment, it remembered the dark circles under its owner's eyes, the same as hers.
It sniffed the glove and then began to lick it. Pastry laughed involuntarily; she needed this.
She removed the cloth from her hand, revealing her skin. She stroked the dog's white icing, as well as the light beige color of its belly—seconds after the creature rolled over.
Pastry felt a warmth in her chest as she watched the puppy enjoy her light touch. Pastry frowned slightly as she noticed a medallion hanging from it.
— Are you lost? — her fingers brushed against the silver medallion — Chi... Wait a minute.
A bitter memory flashed through her mind. The image of that man standing before a mere little cake... Pastry held the tiny piece in her hands and lifted it to look it in the eyes.
— Is that really you, Chiffon?
— Chiffon... Chiffoooooonnn!! — that was her confirmation, a call from within the woods. A voice not deep, but whoever was calling the hound was clearly weak — Where are you, boy?
A figure emerged from within a bush. He was tall, his hair was black with some crimson highlights. He held a serrated sword — almost his own size.
But the size of the blade mattered little.
That crimson arm...
A deformed arm, striped with red and cream, pushed the bush aside with difficulty. The boy looked up and sighed in relief as he saw his best friend running towards him.
He held the little one by his weak, albeit somewhat calloused, arm. As he stood up, Pastry could better see the man.
There was no doubt who he was: his clothes were red with tight white pants. His skin wasn't an usual color; it had a reddish tone, a contrast to his sky-blue eyes.
That man... What was his name again?
The boy's blue eyes shifted his attention from his friend to something further ahead. His eyes widened as he noticed the woman.
She should have left as soon as he noticed her...
His relief turned to anger. That woman, the same one who shot him in the arm, causing him days of pure torture... Right there, in front of him.
He wasted no time.
The man grabbed his cake hound against his chest by the monstrous arm while pointing his blade at Pastry as a threat.
— What are you doing here? What did you do to him? — He approached with heavy, yet calculated steps — As General of the Monster Guard, I DEMAND an explanation. And no funny business... This time I won't hesitate to saw through your throat...
Pastry, as always, stood firm. She always knew how to read others, she immediately sensed that something was wrong with that man — his threats sounded more like a bluff now.
She could silence his threats right now...
Pastry slowly stood up and... Her hands too?
The nun stood with her hands above her head in front of the man, dangerously vulnerable — even Red Velvet hadn't expected this reaction, especially coming from someone like her.
— I don’t want to fight — she said in a tired but still firm tone.
Red Velvet raised an eyebrow.
— It’s very dangerous to say that with someone pointing a sword at you… princess.
Pastry smiled slightly, as if she had nothing to lose.
— I just feel pity for you being weak since our only battle… Am I wrong?
A vein bulged beside his temple; clearly his ego had been wounded—but it was the truth. Red Velvet’s eyes scanned every inch and curve of the girl, still with her hands above her head. He calculated every breath, every second her eyes blinked.
He might be weak, but he was certainly ready to advance at any second.
His blue eyes paused on a silver bracelet she used to activate her crossbow.
— Then throw away your bracelet…— he said, closing the distance, but still with his sword raised.
— I don’t think it’s necessary-
— Throw. Away. YOUR FUCKING bracelet! — His tone became more aggressive, interrupting the girl — I'm being too merciful to you just wanting to listen to you.
— And what's your guarantee? — She tilted her head to the side, still maintaining a tired and firm gaze.
Silence. Neither of them seemed to set aside their pride to listen to each other.
Except for...
Chiffon cried in its owner's arms. Red Velvet glanced at him only out of the corner of his eye. He noticed that his little dog was more than fine — in fact, he seemed to want to get out of his arms and run to the nun.
— I'll throw my knife away too. — he proposed, turning his gaze back.
She really had no interest in fighting. Pastry then slowly brought one of her hands to her left arm. Red Velvet let out a low growl at the unfamiliar movement. She ignored it.
She pressed a latch on the item and it made a "click" sound. Pastry slowly began to pull it out as it loosened.
— On the three, we both throw it away.
Even before she asked for confirmation, Red Velvet sighed and threw his sword away. Pastry didn't want to break her promise and followed, throwing the bracelet away.
— I'm not a dog to take orders.
A distant sound of clashing metal was heard.
Chiffon was already out of patience, struggling against the boy's injured arm. He contorted his face in pain and released the little dog. He ran to Pastry's feet begging for more affection.
She knelt down and continued to pet him while the man approached, looking down.
— What did you come here for? — he held his shoulder. This behavior was strange to Pastry.
— I came to get some air... My head is full.
Red Velvet nodded. It was fair enough, he was convinced, it was also the same reason for taking Chiffon for a walk anyway.
Speaking of witch, it seems he's the only one enjoying all this.
—You saw too much, didn't you?
—I just...— she breathed anxiously, still holding Chiffon on her lap — It's hard to accept that I was created to be food for deities I lived to serve.
Red looked away at his shoulder, which was already starting to ache. He thought the effort of holding Chiffon in such a sudden movement had affected something. But observing his hand reminded him of his sobs, the smell of blood and burning.
The Witches' Feast, the greatest horror a child could witness. It was a painful truth.
Red Velvet watches the girl lean against the trunk of a large tree while Chiffon followed her. He couldn't help but feel a warmth in his chest seeing Chiffon so happy—trusting someone like her. The man timidly pointed with his claw to an empty spot not too close to the nun—it was no longer necessary to be so proud.
Pastry simply nodded before watching him sit there.
Unfortunately for him, the adrenaline wore off. He frowned as he sat on the ground. He let out a low groan of pain, hoping she hadn't heard—what a shame.
— Did I hurt you that badly? — Pastry asked, to his dismay.
— Tell me yourself. What was in that arrow?— He said impatiently.
Pastry was confused until she smelled something strange coming from him. Red also sensed something was wrong and just muttered a curse.
— What happened? Are you okay?
— ...No. — He tried to sound as gentle as possible, but as he lowered his coat to the side and saw the severity of the wound, he clicked his tongue.
Pastry left Chiffon slightly aside and turned almost completely to the boy. He recoiled a little, seeming afraid to show weakness. But she didn't care. She pointed to the boy's coat with her bare hand.
"Why is she caring so much?"
She continued trying to meet Red Velvet's eyes, who was trying to avoid any contact. Any contact except physical.
Maybe deep down, he's enjoying the fact that she cares.
Red Velvet tightened the fabric slightly, taking a deep breath before it gave way so Pastry could see the injury.
— By the Witches, what happened!?
— Let's just say I woke up today and this arm of mine was detaching from my body. — he confessed.
— What!?
The naturalness of the answer startled her. She excused herself, and Red Velvet allowed her to carefully run her hand over the area. The sleeveless turtleneck made it easier to see.
— Holy witches, I thought the Final Judgment was just a sweet and silent ending, like-
— You were really deceived, weren't you? — his face contorted in pain, but he still managed to maintain a mocking smile. It seems the effect he took before coming is wearing off.
Pastry's breathing quickened along with her heartbeat. How is this possible? Her arrows, meant to end the suffering of many, were actually the opposite!?
This time Pastry turned completely to the boy. The sudden movement even startled Chiffon. Red Velvet noticed the despair on her face, but didn't know how to react.
"I wish she wouldn't feel sorry for me... That face doesn't suit her at all."
He shook his head, trying to banish any thoughts.
— Please, I'm immensely sorry for what I did...— She held his human hand firmly.
Red was startled by the touch.
"Have her eyes always been this big and blue...? She also has freckles..."
It was the first time they had faced each other so closely without being in combat. When she gazed into his eyes—especially his darkest eye—she felt the abyss staring back at her.
She glanced briefly at the boy's wound.
— The cakes... You're just like me. Especially you.
Red Velvet's heart pounded so hard he forgot the pain in his shoulder. His eyes softened for the first time.
—You don't... need to do all this. It's clear you regret it.
— No — She squeezed his hand even tighter — I'm willing to make amends with you... But that doesn't mean I'll become part of your group, if that's what you were hoping for.
Red Velvet looked away. Fair enough, he really thought about that.
— Betrayal is unforgivable. If you were in my shoes, you would understand too.
— I understand that... But just helping a monster like me is already betrayal, girl — he murmured, rolling his eyes.
— You're not a monster — she insisted. — You're just like me.
If his heart was already pounding, this made him completely lose his composure.
Red Velvet felt a heat rising in his cheeks, as if he were about to explode. This was getting ridiculous. First, she wanted to kill him a week ago. Now she's saying he was just like her while holding his hand.
And to top it all off: he was even redder than he already was.
He looked away.
— You... know how to sew? — he murmured, almost inaudibly. — I think my arm... is falling off again.
Pastry's eyes widened.
— What do you mean, 'falling off again'?! Why didn't you say so before, idiot!
Before he could explain, he swallowed hard. Pastry was already almost invading his personal space.
— I didn't mean to sound dramatic... — he forced a cocky smile that fooled no one.
Pastry frowned.
—Yeah, especially since having an arm almost falling off because of ME is dramatic.
He sighed, defeated. Red Velvet released his hand from her touch and took something from an inside pocket of his coat.
It was a cloth wrapped with a needle and thread.
— I brought it in case of emergency... I thought I could do this myself.
— You're unbelievable — she murmured, taking the item from his hand.
She carefully gestured for him to remove his coat. He hesitated for a second, but ended up obeying, lowering the fabric over his body. The sleeveless shirt made it easier, but he also pulled it towards his neck.
It was too strange to be so exposed like that in front of her.
Pastry lost her breath for a moment.
— It looks awful...
Carefully, she approached the boy to get a better look, and without realizing it, she leaned on his thigh for balance. Red Velvet felt the touch like an internal shock through his body.
— Sorry...
— It's okay. Just do it quickly...
She ran her fingers over the "fabric" that seemed more damaged against his skin. Her hand was cold, which made him shiver occasionally.
— I think I just need to fix it rather than do it all over again... But still, it's going to hurt a little.
Clicking his tongue, Red Velvet already understood what he needed to do. He took off his leather glove with his teeth and made an improvised gag, as if preparing for a battle. Red Velvet held his own knee.
— Whenever you want.
Pastry took a deep breath and began...
To Red Velvet's relief, it only lasted a few short minutes, and it hurt less than this morning.
Pastry carefully helped him bandage his arm with a bandage she found in her own pockets.
— Can't you ask for a few weeks off? It's too serious for you to push yourself to the limit.
Carefully, Pastry helped the boy put on his coat.
— Ow... — He let out a low groan as he felt the velvet fabric touch his skin. — Yeah, I'm really going to need to make up a good excuse.
Red Velvet turned his head and noticed his little hound lying on his leg. Pastry couldn't hear properly, but it seemed like he was talking to the creature.
She gave a small smile at them, but something made her nervous.
How long had it been since she left?
— Oh, damn...
She stood up quickly and ran to get her bracelet with its embedded crossbow. Red Velvet saw her carrying his knife with one hand resting on the hilt and the other below the blade. Pastry bent down and placed the knife beside the boy, who raised an eyebrow.
— What kind of ceremony is this?
— I should already be back at the church. I think I've spent too much time here... — She put on her gloves.
Red Velvet stood up carefully and held the hilt of his knife.
— Better not waste your time with me then.
— Look, I don't think I've made much progress. I need to study more about it.
Red Velvet saw Pastry looking around nervously.
— You... come here often? — He also started looking around, but it seemed he was studying the place more than trying to hide himself.
Something clicked in the nun's head.
— Tomorrow. At the same time we met. Preferably bring clean water so I can clean up and...
— Chill, I already understood — he laughed at the hurried girl — By the way... What's your name?
Pastry thought about insulting him for his rudeness, but it was true: they had never properly introduced themselves.
— Pastry...
— Red Velvet.
— Okay, now I really need to go — she said, taking steps back, only looking over her shoulder to avoid falling — See you tomorrow, don't forget what I asked you!
With that, Pastry turned and dashed away. Red Velvet had a slight déjà vu witnessing her speed again, even with her size.
— Remind me never to make her angry again, Chiffon... I don't want to be the prey. Let's go back.
Chiffon only barked in response.