Intel
The bodyguard at Eibon Antique Shop does not say much, always standing quietly beside everyone else. She seems to have a nickname, "Daff," which Hotori occasionally calls her. Whenever Hotori calls her that, Daffodill looks away, her ears turning completely red. As for the others… if they want to be cut to pieces, they are welcome to try using that name.
Daffodill owns many eyepatches. Though she wears them less now, she still keeps up her collecting habit. Nobody can tell the difference between those eyepatches, but she firmly believes in her taste. Leather ones, patterned ones, ones with especially neat stitching… she carefully sorts them by category and places them in her small collection box.
Daffodill was not born with poor vision; rather, it was the price of her Esper Ability. At nineteen, cruel truth burst into her eyes like a kaleidoscope, and since then she could see through anomalies to perceive layers of essence across time and space. Sometimes, glimpsing the truth is not a good thing. She learned about her parents' cause of death, about her own wishful emotional attachments, about needing and being needed… and lost the faith she had relied on for survival. The red-cloaked hero in the picture book silently turned her blade toward Mother, toward that hateful, beating heart that had once falsely given her warmth. If the goddess of vengeance wanted to punish her for this… then so be it.
Daff longed for a happy, beautiful place, and so accidentally embarked on a journey full of metaphors.
So then, what about the ending of the story?
Her life until now was one monopolized by lies. It was a life in which no one needed her… there was no point in continuing. That was what Daffodill had been thinking when she met that slightly tipsy woman. The woman talked about a daffodil growing in the center of the lake, proud and aloof, seemingly impossible for anyone to pick. She naturally needed that flower too, but would not pick it.
A strange woman and a strange flower. What reason did that daffodil have for growing alone there? It must depend on something. Surely it grew that way because it was rooted in others' need for it. When the wind rose, Daffodill heard a different sound of rustling leaves than before.
Why not follow the woman and seek answers in the life ahead?
The Woman in Red Gloves
She pushed the door open and went inside. The rust-red sea climbed up to her feet and dizziness soon followed, like staring into a kaleidoscope.
At that moment, a pair of hands wearing red gloves covered her eyes.
Ms. T, who happened to be visiting, witnessed the tragedy of her parents alongside her. In her heartbreak, she offered to adopt Daffodill as her daughter. The beautiful girl had lost both parents, and no other relatives would risk being implicated by taking in a child of misfortune… She had always been the one who was not needed. Only Ms. T reached out her hand to her, so she gratefully took her place by Ms. T's side.
Mechanical March - I
The trials were cruel. Even though Daffodill was an exceptionally talented child, she still ended up covered in wounds.
Madam T said that, compared to other children, Daffodill could feel pain closer to death itself, and on some level that brought her closer to her parents. The injuries she suffered were more valuable than anyone else's.
Besides, Madam T needed her.
Daffodill did not like pain, but Madam T's words gave her a reason to suffer. She forced herself to believe in Madam T and held her words as truth, devoutly throwing herself into the trials. Once she was ready, she became Madam T's blade, moving through various gray area missions.
Mechanical March - II
"Mother, are all charities like this? Like wolves in sheep's clothing from the stories?"
"People have many sides. The brighter the light shines, the darker the shadow becomes. That is the real world."
"They… they cry so often. They wish Mother would not make them hurt so much."
"My flowers have no one to depend on except me. I am willing to provide nourishment, and all I ask in return is to select the one that survives longest and blooms most beautifully… it's only reasonable."
"Besides… crying is only temporary. Look at them, silly child. Are they not smiling now?"
Daffodill looked up and saw the girls laughing together, clustering around Madam T and herself, as if they were embracing a mother they truly loved.
Sisters
They would rest together on Madam T's lap, one on each side.
Before sleep, they would clean each other's wounds from the day's trials or quests, like two small animals grooming one another.
But sometimes she would wonder… was she the same as Zankou? Did not resisting the trials and quests mean she was enjoying them?
No. What she enjoyed was the feeling of being needed, and from that lingering warmth, her thoughts drifted towards parental dependence…
Perfect Garden's Truth - I
Inconsistent patterns, wall marks with slightly broken lines, a subtle 3-millimeter gap from the bookshelf, a tilt angle differing by about 3 degrees… there was surely a hidden door here. Her eyesight had always been sharp, so she could perceive the truth more easily than most. She could see massive, spectacular, densely packed information files, including personal records of Daffodill and her parents.
They were detailed enough to make one's hair stand on end.
She saw scribbled notes beside her own photo: "beautiful collectible," "important tool for missions."
Perfect Garden's Truth - II
Using newborn Daffodill as leverage, Madam T forced Daffodill's parents to spend years away treasure hunting.
Finally, one day, they could no longer bear it.
"Even if we're forced to wander with our daughter, we must tell her the truth… a family must stay together."
However, the controller was watching everything. Daffodill had reached the right age to bloom, and the hunter couple had done all that she wanted. Rebellious pawns were useless. Better eliminate them.
Daff
She had never known that a daffodil grew in the center of the lake. She had never seen it as a child. Had it grown after Ms. T took her away?
The woman smiled and raised her wine bottle, inviting her to toast. Daffodill looked at her swaying, carefree manner and felt inexplicably angry.
"I have already lost everything. What exactly am I supposed to toast to?"
"Do toasts need reasons? Well… then… to the despair of having nothing, to skies never witnessed. And to the one and only daffodil in the center of this lake."
"…Do you want to pick that flower too?"
"Mmm… I need that flower. But I will not pick it."
Meeting Daffodill's look that clearly said this was contradictory, the woman tapped her forehead with the wet tip of her umbrella.
"Who decided that needing something means you must take it? I only need it to exist, so I can drink something fine while admiring it like this. That is enough for me."
When the wind rose, she heard a different sound of rustling leaves than before.
Perhaps… there really was a daffodil growing in the center of the lake.
