christ

Leave that thief on his ill-gotten throne; stay far away from that murderer whom you have no power to resist...!

Go now! Quickly...

—Mother, no, no, Mother...!

The queen's hand drops onto the floor, splashing into a pool of blood.

The prince cradles his mother lying in her own blood. He looks at the cat on the windowsill, and She returns his gaze.

Then, he looks at his uncle—the throne thief, his mother's murderer—who has already regained his composure, his face bearing a smile.

My child.

I know not how it unfolded. I heard a noise and hurried over, only to see this.

Poor, unfortunate child. I do not mind your ominous reputation or the bad luck you bring upon others. I trust I can overcome and dispel your misfortune, and I pray you can become my son.

This way we will become a perfect king and his heir. What say you?

You—!

The black cat watches it all unfold from up high.

Hrrh— hrrh—

How... how did things turn out like this?

Only silence answers his question.

He hears the wind blow.

He hears fowlbeasts flapping their wings outside, blowing away the night mist, allowing the moon to illuminate the room he hides within.

Despair, grief, and enmity overwhelm the prince, and he finally succumbs to fatigue, falling asleep on the damp and freezing ground.

Father... Father? Ugh... Father!

Is that really you? Is this a dream, or has your ghost finally appeared to me?

I am a ghost wandering between realms, only under the cover of night able to share the secrets known by none.

Listen closely to what I am about to tell you, my child. Do not let tears occupy this precious pocket of time we have—

If anyone tells you it was an insect that took my life, his words are false, and you must remember this—he is the murderer who took my life!

...Sunlight, dawn, I sense a scent that belongs not to me. I must go now, my child...

Do not forget my words...

So that's what happened, I see how it is! But who else can I go to for proof? How else can I prove it?

How I wish to carve all of this onto the stone beneath my feet, so it might remember for eternity that it was my uncle who killed my father and mother, and blamed it all on me...!

Unnoticed by the prince, the black cat walks into the room, sitting on the towering windowsill.

Mrow?

What should I do now?

Naturally, the black cat does not respond to him, and simply sways Her tails, silently waiting for him to speak again.

My prince, His Majesty has asked me to bring you fine jewels and luxurious clothing, as well as an ample feast to sate your starving stomach.

He asks that you accept it all, then to consider his prior proposal.

(Whispers) ...What... should I do...?

(Whispers) The ministers and citizens both believe I am an ill-omen. Father is dead, while Mother told me before she died to abscond far away, because I lack the power to seek vengeance...

(Whispers) Could I play the fool, pretend I am ignorant as to my parents' murderer, and accept his invitation?

(Whispers) Or should I draw my blade, and kill him at any cost?

(Whispers) What should I do? Who can answer me? Who?

(Whispers) Perhaps... perhaps...

The prince extends his trembling hand towards the door lock.

The black cat's head tilts with curiosity, Her twin tails tapping against the windowsill.

(Whispers) I...

His Majesty also mentioned he will allow you to address him as 'Father'.

(Whispers) 'Father'?

—'FATHER'?!

The prince quickly withdraws his hand.

'Father', a word he regards as synonymous with 'god'. He will absolutely not use it to address that man!

The prince sneers, draws his blade, and with a single swing slices the door open, along with the finery carried by the messenger standing behind the door.

The black cat stands, excited to see the sword-wielding prince. Her eyes light up, a rare sight, flashing a blue as deep as the night sky.

—No, no more mulling over this!

No more will I ponder over whether you are truly a herald of love and joy, or misfortune and disaster made manifest!

The answer I have been searching for has never lain with you, but in me!

I WILL slay that ignominious man!

The messenger long gone, all that remains scattered on the floor before the entrance is tattered finery concealing chains, linked to iron weights prepared by the new king in case the prince had refused.

He planned to shackle both my limbs and life in iron? Then I shall use them to destroy his life in return.

Immediately!

The black cat leaps down from the windowsill, showing an unprecedented level of interest. The morning light casts Her figure as a huge shadow on the ground, as if guiding the prince where to go.

All the way to the palace.

What's this about? Why has he rushed here with sword in hand? Where is he going? Someone, stop him!

Heavens, from where does he draw his strength...?!

The prince does not say a word, only dashing ahead with his head tucked down.

He runs out from his little hideout, across the garden he frolicked in as a child, past the courtyard where his parents accompanied him during swordplay training, and through the hall where they met their demise.

He runs, until he reaches his usurper uncle.

You've come, my child. Do you agree to my proposal?

No, that's a sword in your hands. You—

—Perish!

The prince whips the iron chain originally meant to bind his own hands around the usurper's neck.

He uses the iron weights meant to encumber his own feet to viciously pound the splendidly-dressed murderer's chest.

His fate was to be fixed with lies and malice by the one before him, so he uses the same method to rewrite the man's fate instead.

He thrusts his sword deep into his enemy's body.

A-Agh—S-Someone...!

...Quick... anyone... help!

Quick, protect the king!

Protect the king!

—Say—goodbye—to—your—life!

No one manages to loosen the tightly wrapped chains, until the king's neck is snapped, his limbs and body smashed, and his rigid corpse slowly slips from the throne he was clinging to and crumples to the ground.

The prince finally lets go of his blade, and smiles with satisfaction.

Ha... hah...

But he also notices the blood on his own body—

The soldiers have pierced his limbs and torso with their weapons, sending blood spilling onto the floor.

The prince chokes, and looks up at the blue sky.

Mrow.

He sees that black cat once more.

He hears all sorts of voices.

It's the Black Cat, isn't it? She enticed him, turned him into a madman... Not only did She kill his parents, She even killed his uncle who wished to take him under his wing!

But didn't the prince say it was the current king who killed the former king and queen? He's avenging their deaths!

Who's to say if that's true or false? Perhaps he suddenly went mad, and conjured the entire story to appease his own mind, to excuse the misfortune he brought upon himself.

Regardless, he's about to die... The former king and queen, and our current king too, they're all dead.

Is there a point in wagging our tongues any further?

Indeed, what's the point?

Mrow.

The black cat slowly approaches the prince, and sits down.

The prince uses the last bit of his strength to look into those azure eyes.

...What do you think...

...What I've done, did it mean anything?

The black cat still does not respond, and only watches him silently.

'...What I've done, did it mean anything?'

Lucian closes the screenplay.

The mysterious and beautiful creature sits on a distant windowsill enjoying the sun. She does not move when she sees Lucian looking up from the script, but only glances at him with a trace of curiosity.

Mrow?