The Three Musketeers - 7. Chapter 2 (2/6)

“…The temperature dropped quickly after the sun went down that day. And since our fur was completely soaked, it didn’t take long before we started shivering from the cold.” I couldn’t stop trembling, and with my teeth chattering nonstop, speaking clearly was difficult—but I did my best. “When I couldn’t walk any farther, Leo carried me on his back. I can still remember the warmth from his body spreading to the skin on my chest through our contact.”

Porthos had me sit on his lap, keeping me off the cold, puddle-covered floor. At first, I felt a little awkward about this chest-to-chest position, but after five minutes, the only thing I wanted to do was hold the spotted dog tighter.

“When we got back to camp, we…” I sneezed. “…we got scolded. Mom checked us over immediately—luckily, she had brought a portable scanner. In the end, we were just mildly hypothermic, nothing too serious.”

“Sounds gentle,” Porthos said, though I could hear the trembling he was trying hard to suppress in his voice. “One time I got caught in the rain, and I was so tired I fell asleep without showering. The room ended up smelling like a wet dog. When my mom found out, she beat the crap out of me and chased me all over the house.”

“Oh, uh…” The image was hard to picture. “I’m… sorry to hear that?”

My response made Porthos chuckle.

“Getting swept away can count as that year’s little mishap. Otherwise, it wasn’t much different from my usual birthdays.” A wave of fatigue washed over me, and I yawned, closing my eyes and leaning against Porthos’s shoulder—only for him to flick my ear hard. “Ow!” I immediately protested with an unflattering hiss.

“Sorry, I can’t let you fall asleep,” he said, showing absolutely no remorse. “Not until you’re a bit drier.”

I huffed through my nostrils to show my displeasure, but deep down I knew he was right. If I fell asleep before my fur dried enough, there was a good chance I wouldn’t wake up again.

Those twisted golden retrievers probably wouldn’t let us die so easily, but I really didn’t want to gamble with them on something that involved even a sliver of morality.

“And then?” Porthos prompted, trying to coax me into continuing.

I understood that talking about himself would risk revealing too much and giving the golden retrievers more information, but still—having to do all the talking was tiring.

“Not much else. Like I said, everything else went the same as usual. We had a bonfire party, some singing and dancing—basically everyone had a good time.” I took a deep breath and continued. “If there was anything that broke the routine, it was probably a few weeks later when Leo and some of the other family members enlisted.”

It probably wasn’t my imagination—Porthos was tensing up more and more frequently, and I could even hear a faint rasp in his breathing. But aside from pretending we were just casually chatting, I couldn’t think of anything else that might ease his discomfort.

“Still, it wasn’t anything that unusual, really. The Viera House is a mercenary group, after all. I only found out later that I hadn’t been given any training because Dad had firmly opposed it. Otherwise, combat skills, survival training… all of that was probably a shared memory for every young fox in the Viera House.” Maybe to chase away the silence that was starting to weigh on us, I forced myself to keep talking, digging up memories I really didn’t want to face—the start of everything. “Even swordsmanship was something Leo taught me behind Dad’s back. I think Leo didn’t want me to feel too alienated from the rest of the family.” I never directly asked Leo or Dad what they really thought—maybe I was too scared of having to pick sides. “Anyway, that day was perfectly clear, just a few patches of altocumulus clouds…”

I cautiously poked my head out the window, spying on the fire foxes posing for a group photo on the lawn out front.

They were dressed in chrome-green uniforms, the metal decorations on their shoulders and chests catching the harsh sunlight, gleaming brazenly in sync with the radiant pride on their faces.

Even from this distance, I could hear their boisterous laughter as they shoved and pulled each other, eventually tumbling into a pile on the ground.

I quietly withdrew back into the room and sat down at my desk.

There was a faint, sour feeling in my chest.

I tapped the desktop twice to wake the terminal, opened the browser, and scrolled through the Cloud to see what was new today—a tabby cat had uploaded a video of herself playing the piano, and it had already racked up tens of millions of shares in under an hour.

I clicked the link. There didn’t seem to be anything particularly special about it, but I didn’t mind listening to Moonlight for a while. I was curious to see if there’d be a twist at the end.

By the time I heard a knock at the door, I realized I’d been staring at the looped video for over an hour.

“Zorro, you in there?” Leo’s voice came through the door, slightly muffled.

“Nope,” I called back loudly, making sure he could hear me.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Leo said in a mock pleading tone. “Don’t you want to give me a good hug before I leave?”

“Cut the crap,” I muttered, shuddering instinctively in an attempt to shake off the cringe.

“Come on, just a quick one,” Leo said, his voice clearer now—he was probably pressing his face against the door. “I’m coming in.”

“Whatever,” I said with a deliberately indifferent tone, eyes still on the tabby cat starting her piano piece from the top again.

When the door opened, I forced my ears not to twitch—but I still couldn’t stop them from giving two small, involuntary flicks.

“What are you watching?” Leo asked, resting his chin on the top of my head.

“A piano performance… or something like that?” I wasn’t really sure anymore. As the video progressed, it seemed like the tabby cat was wearing less and less—maybe she was just getting too into it and overheated? “Nothing special. Pretty ordinary.”

“She’s got over a hundred million shares, and you still think it’s ordinary?” Leo chuckled. “Well, why don’t you make a similar video and give her some competition?” He poked at the piano app icon on my desktop. “You write music too, don’t you? Why not give it a shot? You might find someone who shares your passion.”

“It’s just… not fun anymore,” I said, swiping the tabby’s video away and shoving aside some bitter memories of naïve courage. “No one to share it with—it gets dull. And the Cloud’s full of trolls anyway. I’d rather just share it with my imaginary friends.”

“I don’t really know how to appreciate that stuff, but I still think it’s amazing—you can play and compose,” Leo said as he got up, ruffling my hair. “Anyway, I should get going.”

“I want to go with you…” I said softly, not even sure if it was how I truly felt or just a childish outburst of resentment at being left behind.

“You’re not old enough yet,” Leo said, laughing awkwardly. “And… there’s no way Dad would allow it.”

I opened my mouth, wanting to say something—anything—but in the end, nothing came out. Because I knew Leo was right. And I couldn’t come up with a single reason to defy our father.

Just then, Leo’s terminal chimed a few times, breaking the heavy silence.

“They’re rushing me,” Leo said with a sheepish scratch of his ear, letting out a dry laugh. “I really have to…”

Before I even realized what I was doing, I stood up and hugged him tight, the metal bits on our uniforms clinking together.

“Heh, it’s okay,” Leo said gently, patting my head. “Don’t worry, new recruits from the Viera House don’t get stationed outside the legion’s jurisdiction. Besides…” He lightly pushed me away, drawing a thumb over the family crest pin on his chest, just above his heart. “Adamantine is forged in blazing flame.”

“I never really understood what that meant…” I mumbled, staring at the family motto etched on the badge.

“It’s something like, ‘adversity forges strength of character,’ or something along those lines,” Leo said with a shrug, a sliver of fang peeking out from his smile. “Well then… see you around?” He took the cap that had been tucked under his arm and put it back on, adjusting it carefully.

Maybe it wasn’t until that very moment that I finally realized Leo really was leaving—and that he might never come back.

But I didn’t know what to say to express the swirl of thoughts and emotions inside me, so I just nodded hard, forcing myself to stay calm—that seemed to be how everyone did it.

It wasn’t until the sound of Leo’s boots on the wooden floor faded completely that I finally let myself wipe the sting from my nose.

"…Don't fall asleep!"

It took me a moment to realize I'd just been slapped.

"We’re only getting started."

A searing sting spread across my cheek and the tip of my snout. I blinked hard, trying to clear my blurred vision. The dimly lit room had only one light source—a desk lamp shining directly into my face, harsh and unrelenting. I squinted toward the golden retriever crouched in the shadows, unsure if he was even real anymore.

According to the clock—which Porthos had absolutely tampered with—I’d been forced to stay awake for over forty-eight hours. If this could still be called being awake.

I couldn’t even remember when the golden retrievers had changed shifts. All I knew was that the one sitting here now had a way of sipping his coffee that made the sound burrow into my brain like needles, scraping wildly inside my skull.

"Let’s start from the beginning," the golden retriever said, his voice as flat as ever. Judging from the clack of plastic and a soft shift in the air, he was setting a tablet terminal down on the table.

"I’ve told you everything I know—over and over again. And everything else, I don’t even understand what you’re talking about. Or what you want me to say." I pressed both palms to my eyes, elbows on the table. My nerves were so frayed and taut they felt like brittle wire. I was absolutely certain I couldn’t “start from the beginning” again.

"…You encountered Colonel Smith on your way to Matamoros." The flatness in the golden retriever’s voice made my headache spike.

I let out a growl of frustration I couldn't suppress. "No, I met Smith after I arrived in Matamoros." I’d lost count of how many times I had corrected that exact point.

"That contradicts your previous statement," he said, as if I were the one wasting his time.

"Probably because I’ve been awake for forty-eight hours!" I shouted, jabbing a finger toward the clock on the wall.

"Hostile behavior won’t help your case," he replied, in a tone somehow even more flat than before—if that was possible.

I slammed my forehead against the metal table a few times, groaning through clenched teeth.

"…Let’s start from the beginning." That phrase, repeated like a cursed mantra, nearly drove me over the edge.

I hit my head against the table again—harder this time—unsure if I was hoping to knock myself unconscious or if this was just the least awful sensation available right now.

The golden retriever’s nauseatingly flat voice, the ticking of the second hand on the clock—they echoed in my ears like amplified screams. The walls around me seemed to press inward. A weight settled on my chest, making every breath a labor. Everything became a blur, hard to make out—but within the haze, the sharp sting only grew more distinct.

Tick. Clack. Clang.

At last, all the noise, all the confusion, all the contradictions—collapsed into darkness.

"Let’s start from the beginning."

A sharp pain shot through my nose, jolting me fully awake. Realizing I had actually fallen asleep, my ears instantly burned with embarrassment—even though there was no one else around.

Rubbing my snout to ease the ache from hitting the desk, I glanced at the mug—empty for ages—and weighed whether I should get more energy drink.

That was when I noticed the beams of light outside piercing through the darkness, along with the sound of engines running.

I jumped to my feet and dashed out of the room. Hiding by the staircase, I found a spot where I could peek through the gaps in the railing to watch what was going on in the entrance hall.

The main doors slid open, followed by the thumping of many boots on hardwood.

Greetings, laughter, and a few calls tinged with emotion that sounded almost choked.

I wasn’t sure whether Dad would be mad if I showed up now, so just to be safe, I decided to stay upstairs and keep my distance from everyone.

After the flurry of activity began to settle down, I saw a familiar figure heading toward this side of the house. I fought the urge to rush down immediately, gripping the railing tighter and silently counting the vibrations in the wood to gauge how close he was.

“Leo!” I flung myself at the surprised fire fox, hitting him square in the chest.

“Oh!” Leo froze for a second, then chuckled once he realized what was happening. “You’ve gotten a bit taller, Zorro.”

I hugged Leo tightly without answering. The metal badges on his chest clinked near my ears.

Aside from a faint tang of sour sweat, I also caught a strong scent—harsh and sharp, a bit like engine oil or ash, though not exactly that unpleasant. But I didn’t care. I just buried my snout deeper into his chest.

“Dad still doesn’t want to see me?” he asked, patting my head a few times. His tone was light, joking even, but I could hear the bitterness underneath.

“He hasn’t left his room since yesterday. Maybe he’s just not feeling well? Mom went in and out a few times, probably to check on him,” I said, trying to give a vague answer. I didn’t really know how to deal with the question.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s got to come out to eat eventually—let’s talk about it tomorrow morning,” Leo said quietly, his voice laced with resignation.

Suddenly, I felt myself being lifted by the scruff of the neck.

“Hey! What the heck?” I squirmed a bit in protest.

“That’s what you get for scaring me,” Leo said, ignoring my complaints. It seemed like he intended to just carry me back to my room like this.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” I finally worked up the courage to whisper the thought I’d been holding onto as we reached the door to my room.

“Oh...” He paused, clearly a bit surprised by the request. “...Sure.”

When I was younger, there was a time I used to sneak into Leo’s bed in the middle of the night, but that had been years ago.

The door unlocked with a hiss as the AI verified Leo’s voice, and a wave of stale air washed over us.

Leo gave a tired but satisfied sigh, tossed his large backpack into the corner, plopped me onto the bed, then walked over to the wardrobe and tapped the control panel a few times.

I didn’t want to bother him—he looked exhausted—so I just watched silently as he changed clothes.

But when he took off his undershirt, I couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath.

There was a massive, twisted scar across his back, stretching diagonally from his right shoulder blade to his left side. The fur around it had started to grow back in short, fine white tufts.

“It’s not as bad as it looks. I got treatment almost immediately—there’s way less scar tissue than a typical burn,” Leo said casually as he changed, like it was no big deal.

“I thought you said new recruits wouldn’t be sent to the front lines,” I murmured.

“I said ‘new recruits don’t get stationed outside the legion’s jurisdiction.’” He found a pillow and handed it to me, then shut the wardrobe and returned to the bed. “But nobody saw it coming—those grazers launched a long-range suppressive bombardment that lit up the sky like it was raining fire.” Leo shrugged as he sat down.

Up close, the tangled scar looked even worse—like a wound violently torn open. It was closed now, no longer bleeding, but would never truly heal.

“So you got hit?” I asked, recalling some pictures I’d seen of shrapnel survivors. Leo must have been impossibly lucky.

“No. If I had, they’d be shipping me back in a can.” He gave a bitter chuckle and slid under the covers. “The shell hit our barracks. I just happened to be outside. Some people ran out completely engulfed in flames.” Leo closed his eyes and continued in a calm voice. “Before I even realized it, I was already charging into the burning building, trying to drag out some of the guys who’d passed out.”

“That’s terrifying,” I said, unable to shake the vivid images forming in my head. “If I saw something like that, I think I’d freeze up completely.”

“The sights aren’t the worst part—it’s the smell that really hits you. There’s this harsh, burnt stench, kind of like sulfur.” Leo let out a long breath through his nose. “Anyway, I went in and out of that place over and over, pulling everyone I could out. A piece of red-hot metal sheet landed on my back—that’s what did it.” He reached out from under the covers and casually pointed at the chrome-green uniform hanging in the wardrobe. “That got me a Bronze Star.”

“Oh... Are you okay now?” I tried to push the image of the wound from my mind, ignoring the tingling itch that crept up from the tip of my tail.

“There’s nothing a dermal regenerator can’t fix.” Leo chuckled softly, placing his right arm over his eyes. “Sorry. I’m really tired. Gotta sleep now.”

I whispered a reply, forcing myself not to show my disappointment.

Listening to Leo’s steady breathing, I slowly shifted closer, leaning gently against him. His body warmth grounded me, calming the storm of unwanted images still lingering in my mind.

So, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift into sleep.

“…The next morning, Dad and my brother had a huge fight. I think the whole mansion could hear them. I honestly don’t remember what exactly they were arguing about, but from that day on, they refused to speak to each other.” My eyes were already too heavy to keep open, but my fur was still too wet, so I kept talking to stay awake. “I always hoped they’d reconcile, but hoping was all I could do. Every time the topic came up, Leo’s mood would take a dive, so I gradually stopped mentioning it.” Slowly exhaling, I fought the urge to tremble. “During the last few days of Leo’s leave, the only thing I could cling to was curling up next to him at night.” My fingers twitched, unconsciously stroking the short fur on Porthos’ back.

It felt a little strange—but in a good way.

“There are seven siblings in my family, and when we were kids, we always fought over that tiny bit of floor space to sleep on.” said Porthos. I thought I could hear a hint of amusement in his voice. “So the day I got my own bed, I kept rolling back and forth from the headboard to the foot, like I wanted to claim every corner of it. I felt like I’d really achieved something—stepped into a brand-new stage of life.”

“Oh...” I replied, a little embarrassed, suddenly aware that maybe my experiences weren’t all that universal.

“But when I woke up the next morning, I found myself curled up on my side, back pressed against the headboard.” he said softly, giving my back two gentle pats. “Maybe part of me missed that cold, crowded floor without even a blanket. After all, being alone... can get pretty lonely.”

I felt like Porthos was trying to comfort me, trying to smooth over that awkward moment caused by my clueless remark. Whether or not I was right about that, I was grateful.

But another question soon surfaced in my mind.

“Do you think I’m lonely?” The question came out like a weighted sigh, formed more from feeling than from actual inquiry. It sat in my throat, heavy and awkward, like something stuck there.

“Whether it’s a fox in a huge mansion or pups crowded in an attic, I think loneliness is as easy to recognize as your own shadow.” Porthos’s breath warmed the side of my neck. “And you... you’re the different one.”

“That obvious?” I said with a self-deprecating laugh, then remembered I’d already said something like this before. “And you? Are you the different one too?” Maybe it was the familiarity in the spotted dog’s voice, or something else, but I blurted it out instinctively. Even though I realized it might have been a bit rude, it was already too late.

“I’m kind of tired. Gonna sleep now.” Porthos yawned wide as he spoke, voice sluggish and muffled. But when I gave his ear a flick, he yelped instantly. “What the hell was that for?”

“Sorry, I can’t let you fall asleep.” I grinned wickedly. “Not until you’re a bit drier.”

The spotted dog’s body went stiff, and then he burst out laughing, gasping for breath and tugging at the fur on the back of my neck.

After a while, Porthos seemed to calm down and gently patted my back. But he didn’t seem eager to speak again, so I kept going.

“After I got a bit older, I started to realize that Leo was actually dodging the issue in his own way—dropping hints that he didn’t want to talk about it.” I murmured, thinking that maybe I should’ve figured that out sooner.

“Avoiding things... yeah, that’s something everyone’s familiar with,” Porthos said, then let out another big yawn.

The spotted dog must’ve been truly exhausted—after another round of long, sleepless interrogations, I doubted he had any energy left to fake it—so I didn’t say anything more.

In the quiet lull, I looked at the black metal bars nearby, and the buried sense of unease inside me began to rise again.

“I know you said we shouldn’t worry too much about time and all that, but still...” I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d had a proper meal. If we weren’t getting dunked in water constantly, those twisted golden retrievers didn’t seem to care if we were even drinking enough.

“They’re more desperate than we are,” Porthos said softly, gently but firmly cutting me off. “The fact that they’re escalating their interrogation methods means the pressure’s working. If this keeps up, they’re more likely to make a mistake.” His tone sounded much more worn out than before, but pointing it out wouldn’t help. “And like I said, time is on our side.”

“I want to be optimistic too, but it’s hard to feel confident when I am completely in the dark...” I kept staring at the bars, forcing myself not to count them—though it was getting harder and harder not to. And where the hell did his confidence come from, thinking we were the ones applying pressure?

“Just wait. When they start trying the extreme measures to crack us open, that’ll be the sign that victory is near.” Porthos said, sounding absolutely certain.

“Great. That’s not creepy at all,” I muttered, not the least bit curious about what exactly he meant by “extreme measures.” I was pretty sure things were already way past my limits as they were.

Which made me wonder: how on earth had Porthos endured all this torture?

The only reason I hadn’t given up any useful information was because I didn’t know anything. But that spotted dog—how had he managed? Could anyone really hold out under this kind of horror?

Or maybe... maybe he really could see some kind of hope in this incomprehensible nightmare?

“Please stop flicking my ear. I’m about to pass out,” Porthos murmured, barely audible, before flopping over onto my shoulder.

“No problem. Go ahead and sleep.” I whispered, and for some reason, found the courage to gently pat his head. “I’ve got you.”

The spotted dog chuckled twice, and his body seemed to relax, losing the tense stiffness from earlier.

Before long, he was snoring softly, his breathing a little lighter.

I glanced at the metal bars again and realized my emotions felt a little more settled now, no longer haunted by the relentless clutter in my mind—bars were just bars again, and the shadows they cast were just shadows.

So I closed my eyes, and finally allowed myself to sleep.