bena

Yes. Very sweet.

That's good.

Let's sit here a little while longer, and then we're off to Rhodes Island for a grand adventure, okay?

Alright.

But before that, there's something you need to do, Bena.

(Takes out check)

That's the... check, that... Grandmother sent me.

Yes.

Give Grandmother your reply.

Are pranks the sort of thing you reply to, now...?

Yes.

Fine, then, let's—

I forgot to ask. Little lamb, what's your name?

I—I don't know... they call me things like little wretch, or bastard girl, or Caprinae imp...

Those aren't names. Forget about those.

From now on, if anyone dares bully you again, use the Arts and the self-defense Granny's taught you to sort them out.

But, Granny, you haven't... taught me yet...

Ho-ho-ho, all in due time, little lamb, all in due time. Granny will teach you everything.

For now, let's give you a name.

Hm... how about... we call you 'Bena'?

Be... na. Bena. It sounds pretty. And... rings a bell.

There was once a pair of dearly close children who were soon to part, who entrusted to Granny a letter to safekeep.

Should they be wed, their letter would be returned to them on the day their child was born, care of the Castle of Dreams.

It was the most complicated request I'd taken in a long while.

So, did they marry each other?

They did, little lamb, and they gave birth to an adorable little girl, and on that letter was written this girl's name.

'Bena'.

But—they wouldn't know how many children they were going to have. What if they were twins?

There were a great many names on that letter, little lamb.

So if—if they had a second girl, what would she be named?

'Annie'.

You see, little lamb? This is the work Granny does.

Someone has to be watching. Someone has to make good.

But Granny's old, now, and can't keep up with it anymore.

Little lamb, would you like to learn? To take on a little of Granny's work for her?

Of course, Granny. Am I learning to post letters?

No, little lamb, that you needn't learn.

'The art of safekeeping'. That's what I'd like you to learn.

'The art of safekeeping'?

To preserve an item untouched, unchanging over decades and centuries, to be returned to one's hands just the same as when it had left.

Would you like to learn it?

Yes, Granny.

Wonderful, my studious little lamb.

Then allow me to commence the first lesson.

Everything, with no exception, has to begin from a wish.

Come make a wish, little lamb. Preserve a thing for future you.

What would you like to leave, to your future self?

I... I want...

I want money. Lots and lots of money.

Then I can search for my mummy and daddy, and I can have an even nicer life.

A fine wish, little lamb. Truly, a fine one.

Granny will gladly fulfill this wish of yours.

Will you? Thank you, Granny!

But Granny would like to wager with you, too.

To wager whether, on the day you get it, you'll wish it was something different, something even more precious.

What's more precious than lots and lots of money?

Something or other, little lamb.

(Takes out check)

This is a check.

Granny will sign it now.

When the day comes, hmm... how long away do you want it?

Umm... five years?

Very well, five years.

Five years from now, the moment it reaches you, you write on it however much money it is you want, then take it to a bank, and the money will be yours.

I'll be looking forward to your answer.

Harrumph...

Do you remember now?

Yes...

Ah! You did this, didn't you!

Annie's done a lot of things.

That funny lucky doll business with Morte, that was you!

No.

Shamare's trying hard to turn her curses into blessings.

Annie borrowed it for a bit.

So you wished to have me remember to reply to Grandmother?

Yes. But it didn't work very well.

The wish became something else.

The apple, I imagine...

It was Annie's fault.

Mnnn... never mind. It didn't matter too much anyhow. I forgive you.

Thank you, Bena.

Now, let's put our heads together and think up our response to Granny.

Alright...

How much money do you want, Bena?

Money...?

Annie, is money very useful?

It's useful, and useless.

Even if we were able to buy up all of Rhodes Island, or the entire Castle of Dreams, or the whole of Victoria, I feel like what's bound to happen would happen anyway. Especially the bad things.

Mm.

Ah! I know!

Seeing as I thought it was a prank in the first place, we'll prank her right back!

Fetch me a pen, Annie.

I have it right here.

Now get some apple juice. I hear apple juice can write invisible letters. This way, I can really play a joke on Granny.

I just squeezed some from the leftover core.

You <i>do</i> understand me.

Hmm... what do we write in this box, now?

Numbers?

Let's go with this—

Eat apples... smile everyday... fool about...