No Safe Haven Chapter 11~Epilogue(翻訳下書き)

Chapter 11




I could not be more proud of you. Knock them dead!


With all of my love,



Stuart stared at the note, previously been tied to the finest guitar Stuart had ever seen, with a smile. Evidently, Clovis had taken the previous guitar they had used for practice, and replaced it with a expertly crafted, black guitar with a fine silver trim. The guitar's finish had been so pitch black, it had made its surroundings seem bright in comparison. It were as if the guitar had been devouring the surrounding darkness to make way for the light.


He lifted the guitar. It felt intense in his hands; light, but powerful enough to move mountains. He stroked its strings to tune it, but it seemed that Clovis had already beat him to it. The sound it spoke was sweeter than honey, but thunderous. Triumphant, perhaps was the right word.


He had been nervous, but the excitement he had had for the moment took over any feeling of anxiety he may have had. Knowing that Clovis was in all likelihood hiding within earshot made Stuart feel so much more calm about going on stage. He wasn't the main attraction, of course, but to be in the position he was in now was more than enough.


The performance before him was, in terms of quality, decent. They had stumbled a few times, their footing was occasionally misplaced, and there was a point where the lead singer's voice sounded slightly off-key, but they recovered well and no one seemed to notice their mistakes. Stuart watched them exit the stage past him.


"Congrats, they really loved you tonight!" Stuart began, still somewhat anxious about going on in a matter of seconds.


"Thank ye kid, break a leg," one of the group members said walking past.


"Thanks I- Wait what?" But they didn't seem to hear Stuart's question, as they kept walking forward.


The announcer began his announcement, "Ladies and gentlemen, raise your glasses and put your hands together for our very own, Stuart Hayward!" He had to go, no time to question their wishing Stuart to break his leg, or the leg of anyone else. That probably wasn't meant to be taken literally anyways, they probably meant 'good luck' or something similar.


He emerged anxiously from the back stage's curtains and looked towards the audience. It was a busy night; Stuart had a clear view of every table, and he couldn't find a single one that was unoccupied. The audience gave a mild applause as Stuart found his seat. He took a deep breath, and began to lightly pluck the strings and sing out with the softest voice he could give.


He wasn't afraid any longer. He stopped caring about whatever the audience had been thinking about his performance, the only thing that mattered was his song. The words were soothing, even to Stuart as they escaped his throat; his guitar serenading the usually rowdy audience into silence.


Stuart was happy, content with himself as he approached the song's final verse. After his song had ended, he took a deep breath in and instantly remembered he was performing in front of an audience. His body became rigid as he sat and gazed into the audience, silent as the grave. Stuart stood to take his leave, and in doing so, the audience roared with excitement, cheering him on as he flinched at the noise suddenly exploding around him.


He was taken aback from the praise at first, not knowing whether they were exclamations of joy or outrage, but as he took his bow, he the audience practically deafened by their applauses and whistles. He grabbed his guitar and made his way off stage. The manager would probably want to see him.


Stuart made his way past the crowded tables and to the kitchen, and found the manager observing the crowd's reactions.


"Uh, sir? Did I do well?" Stuart began.


"Hmm? Oh, kid, you were great! They ate you up like nothing else! Looks like you're gonna be a regular if you keep this up!"


"R-really? That's… blazes… That's great!"


"Yes it is. You're gonna bring in people from all over!"


Stuart laughed nervously "Haha… I'm glad I'll be helping you out… Does this mean I'm going to be given a regular time slot from now?"


"Several! You're on your way to being a star, kid!"


"Oh thank you!"


"I'm telling you kid, keep this up, and they'll never forget your name!"


"Hahhah… Thank you… Would it be much to ask for a specific time?"


"Hm? Well, depends on the hour I suppose…"


"What about Sundays at ten o'clock?"


"Sure, you want that night, you can have it. Whole day's empty, really."


"Oh, not at night. Ten in the morning."


"… Why would you want that hour? Everyone'll be in sermon by then."


"I'm aware," Stuart said with a smile.


"… Well okay… You can have it. You'll be missing the sermon on work leave, but that's your business I guess. Any other hours?"


"Hmm… The last spot on Saturday I suppose. That aside, I'm just fine with any night you'd like me. Later the better, really."


"Well, I'll have to set up some better hours on top of those… May I ask why you want them?"


"I know that some people would like to see me by then, in time."


"… Well, I lose nothing out of it, so if that's what you want, you can have them."


"Thank you! I appreciate it very much."


"No problem. Now go on, go play."


And with him dismissed, he left the bar, guitar in tow and confidence in his stride. Daily, he'd play for the First Hound, just for a song or two, if only to advertise for his larger shows. He left the audience wanting more each time, wanting to hear more than just one simple song, just as Clovis had advised.


But each weekend, he gave his performance his all. He caught many of the attendees Father Morgan's sermons on their way to pray to the false preacher. The differences in the crowds seemed negligible at first, with Father Morgan's communion outnumbering Stuart's audience by a hundred to one. However, week after week went by with Morgan's attention dwindling to only the families who had asked to be healed. The Manager of the First Hound had even begun to commission Joey to draw advertisements for Stuart's showings, which almost seemed to compete with those advertising Father Morgan's.


Meanwhile, Morgan sat at Freddie's desk, undisturbed.


"So, we've been getting less and less donations each week. Everyone seems to be going to see this… Stuart kid."


"Huh… And here I thought you were never going to bring that up." The Wolf mused.


"Never really mattered. I get a cut of the First Hound's profits, so more or less, I'm making the same amount of money as I did before. If not, more. I might have him to play more."


"… You're treating the end of our contract rather well."


"… What?"


"I suppose you forgot? The contract states that you, me, or our creations must be making the majority of your monthly income in any long-term monetary venture we are part in. You, or a machine we built. Not Stuart. Your fake sermons and our power plant systems made roughly thirty percent of Haven Harbor's profits last month. Now, you're an estimated twenty, while the First Hound, specifically, is making about twenty five."


"… What?!"


"I'm afraid so. By the end of this month, assuming the profits don't start flowing our way again, the contract'll end. Then I'll be free to do as I please."


"… I… Why didn't you bring this up sooner?"


"You only just now brought it up… and I'm not exactly your biggest fan."


"You dirty mutt!… You did this on purpose! You were supposed to be honest with me!"


Fredrick growled faintly at the preacher's insult. "The contract only states that I simply can not lie to you, and you never asked for advice. May I remind you that I'm physically incapable of breaking the rules?"


"Shut up, and tell me how to fix this you fucking mutt."


Fredrick suppressed his anger and tried to keep a calm demeanor. He did not want to advise the ingrate, but he had to give him his best. "Would you like a full summary?"




"The child has been using magic to attract his audience exactly as you have, but for reasons unrelated to this conversation, he's better equipped to perform it than you. His work is of better quality, and he does not require material components to carry it out. He's purposely using an enchanted guitar to aid him in stealing your audience away from you."


"He's… He's using magic too?… So… What if I confiscated this guitar of his? Would that fix everything?"


"Not in time. Assuming he didn't create another one, he'd be slightly less popular, but he'd still have most of your people."


"… What if I… Had him treated?"


Fredrick paused, cursing to himself. He knew very well what Morgan was suggesting, and what's more: he knew he had to tell him. "… Yes. Without him playing his show, most audience members would opt to see you instead. More so if his shows stopped entirely."


Morgan gave a sigh of relief, and smiled. "Thank you. That'll be all for now. I'll have to ask Espen to see if it will fetch him for me… Well, no better time for that than the present. Have a good day Fredrick."


Soon after saying this, Morgan had left the dog to himself, alone, hungrier than before.

Chapter 12



Stuart jumped up from his makeshift bed. At first, he thought that he was still dreaming. The figure standing before him didn't seem to belong. He groggily looked up to see Espen looking down toward him.


"E-Espen? Blazes… How… How long were you standing there?"


Espen gave no response.


"… Do you do this to other people? This is the second time I caught you watching me sleep… That's not very considerate you know…"


They were still silent.


"… Where's your bear? I thought you brought it everywhere… Wait, why are you wearing your mask? I thought you only wore that for work…"


They stook out their hand, obviously intending for Stuart to grab it so they could lead him somewhere.


"… What are you doing?… No, I'm tired. Tomorrow's Sunday, I have a show… I don't want to go anywhere right now…"


They stook out their hand again, more aggressively than before.


"No. Go away." Stuart pulled the covers over himself and turned his back to them. Soon after doing so, he heard a loud thunk centimeters away from both sides of his head. He opened his eyes to see himself between the blades of a large pair of rusty scissors.


"C-Clovis! Help!" Stuart screamed.


He didn't have to say anything: Clovis was already on top of them, throwing the bearless child across the room, landing on the generator.


She checked to see if he was alright while she had the time.


"Stuart, are you okay? Did they hurt you?"


"N-no, I'm fine."


"Alright… Stuart, sweetie, listen to me: get out of here. I'll handle them, you just run, okay? Run!"


Stuart nodded, quickly gaining his composure and bolting for the door as he ran past the child, who was still trying to get back to their feet. He threw open the door, and sprinted through the hall, only to collide with a large, haired mass. It was only in-between the time it picked him up by the neck and when it cracked it that did he realize that he ran face first into the Wolf. It carried Stuart's limp body over its shoulder like a sack of flour.


By the time Clovis had subdued the child, neither Stuart nor the Wolf could be found.



Everything around Stuart was a void. He could not breathe, his heart seemed to have stopped beating, and strangely, he felt well enough. The pain in his neck was annoying him, but he had other problems on his mind. He tried moving, but he was practically numb all over. He began to think that he may have passed until he heard a loud "SNAP", and the pain in his neck had begun to fade. His heart began to beat again, practically pounding in his chest compared to what it was previously.


"I see you're alive… Pity."


Stuart heard the voice from somewhere around him, but wasn't sure of where it came from, or who it belonged to. It was a miracle he could make out the words at all.


"Then again, I suppose it's for the best. It's easier to deal with you alive and dumb than dead and… well, dead… I'm joking."


Stuart's eyes fluttered open, but his vision still swimmed. He wasn't thinking very clearly, but he could easily tell who the voice was.


##blue|"Father Morgan?" Stuart mumbled

"Well, you aren't brain-dead. That one really is a shame. See, that's probably going to make this harder on you."


"Wh-what?" Stuart asked groggily. He looked down, and saw himself stripped of his clothing and strapped to a gurney.


"Hmm… Still a little out of it… Well, I don't think you'll be much confused when it happens. You should understand it soon enough if you haven't already. Well, I'll keep this brief; I'm expected on stage soon. I wanted you to know that I knew what you were doing, and you were, at most, an annoyance. Once you're out of the way, everything will return to normal, I'll still be receiving profits, and it'll be as if you never existed. Sorry, old boy." Morgan turned and walked for the door. "Well, I'd say that just about covers it. You'll have Espen to keep you company for now. I'll be seeing you shortly."


And with that, he exited the dark, closet-like space. Stuart didn't even know that Espen was in the room until Morgan told him of their presence. "Espen?… Where are you?"


They didn't respond. They simply moved into his sight, and sat against the wall.


"… You don't have your bear, do you?"


They were silent still.


"… I guess that's a no." Stuart briefly wondered if Espen told Morgan anything about Clovis, but remembered they don't speak much without it either. It was then it came to him. "…Where's Clovis? …What did you do with her?"


There was no response.


"… She's alive. I know she's alive. She's an angel. She's my mother… She's my mother… You didn't kill her, I know you didn't."


They remained silent.


"… If you hurt her, I swear, I'll… I'll kill you…" His threats were pointless, and Stuart knew this very well. He knew what Espen did to him before his capture, but he found it difficult to truly blame them. Without that bear, they were mearly an extension of Morgan. They are currently a tool, if anything. It wasn't them that attacked Clovis, it was Morgan.


Soon after Stuart spoke, Espen approached. Despite Stuart's protests, they fastened a large metal brace to his head, and tightened it so he couldn't turn his neck. It was then Stuart realized why he had been restrained like he was.



Espen hauled Stuart out of the room, the outside light blinding his eyes. The child pushed Stuart's gurney down the hall and through the large doors of Morgan's chapel. All Stuart could hear when he entered the chapel was the sound of the organ, filling the room with hymns. As Stuart was moved down the aisles, the church-goers all shifted their gaze directly toward his, many recognizing him from his performance at the First Hound. Morgan stood front and center behind the podium and in a butchers smock, looking as enthusiastic as Stuart had ever seen him.


"Today, we have a very serious case," he began. "Today, a boy you all might recognize, Mr. Stuart Hayward, has been showing a very dark side of himself as of late. Ever since the child arrived to Haven Harbor, it was very clear that there was quite the devil inside him. In fact, he has even been accused of selling his own eternal soul to one!"


The crowd gasped, utterly rapt in the preacher's laundry list of accusations. "No! I did no such thing!" Stuart responded.


"Hush child!" The pastor continued, prying Stuart's left eye open. "Your pain will be over soon… Today, we're going to see if we can't revoke their little pact. We shall erase the Devil's hold on this poor boy, and he will know true happiness on this earth, and the next! Can I get a hallelujah!?"


The crowd celebrated, praising the preacher's actions. Stuart futilely pulled at his restraints, unable to delay or provide any hindrance to what was set for him. Morgan placed his hand on the boy's forehead, raised his pick, and preached to the crowd before him.


"Then it shall be, in the name of our Lord and Master, our King who made the great fire and oversaw the creation of our world, our universe, and ourselves! I. CLEANSE. YO-"


Stuart's vision went to dark red. He felt a heavy blunt force collide with head, and a sharp pain across his eye. As his mind began to shut itself down, the last things he could remember were frightened screams, and the lick of nearby flames.



Time seemed to slip by quickly for Stuart. The day or two after things went black seemed like mere seconds, but the last few hours before he woke felt like days. He caught brief glimpses of the room around him, and dark figures walking around him. His surroundings seemed very unfamiliar to him, but it at least didn't appear to be Haven. He began to stir, and saw a large, burly figure facing away from him.




The figure turned around. "Stuart? Oh, don't get up, don't get up. It's me, Dr. Unsworth. You're safe, just lie down. You need to rest."


"U-Unsworth?… A-am I back home?"


"Ha. You haven't stopped calling this town home… Good… You're in my office now, don't worry about anything. Do you feel alright? Any blurred vision or headaches? Places that feel burned?"


"… I feel like the dead."


"You've suffered a moderate concussion, some second-to-third degree burns around the torso and left arm and leg, and a deep cut along the left side of your face. You should be back on your feet eventually, but I'm not convinced you'll come out if this without scarring. More importantly, are you… Thinking clearly?Everything okay?"


"I… I don't know."


"Clovis told me of the procedures up there. I didn't see any scarring in your eye socket, but it helps to be sure…"


"Clovis… Where is she?"


"She… left you a note. I want you to rest for now, though. You've been out for a good while."


"I want to read it."


"Stuart, I-"


"Why would she leave a note instead of just telling me herself? I want to read it… Please."


"Fine, alright… I'll read it to you. Just… Lie down for me."


"Alright… Thank you."


Unsworth nodded and reached for the note on Stuart's bed stand, carefully removing the seal and clearing his throat beforehand. He began.

親愛なるスチュアートDear Stuart,

When you read this, I will be gone. I have trusted your care to Dr. Unsworth, who has agreed to take custody of you until you're of age to make your own in this world. You won't be in any danger with him. You will be safe. I promise.
I'll try to leave you with as few questions as I can. It's the least I can do.
The reason I have left is because I need to aid the Wolf. I wish I can tell you their name, their identity, but… that's something I am bound not to say. I can tell you they were not in Haven Harbor willfully. I can tell you that I am their daughter, and I can tell you that they were not what you encountered below. That was the Wolf in the same way that Morgan's slave, Espen, was not the child. I set them free.
There is a reunion coming, a day where our crafts will meld with theirs, and I am still not sure whether that day will be one of celebration, or of Armageddon. They still need my help for it, and so long as I'm alongside the Wolf, I can try and prevent the latter. I hope you understand.
I don't know how much you remember of last night. I followed you when you were abducted, but you were under heavy guard. I couldn't get to you without making myself known, so… I did. I threw one of the lit ceiling lights at Morgan, square in the face… Unfortunately, it hit you as well, and Morgan succeeded in harming you… I'm sorry. If it's any consolation, at least he missed your eye…
Everyone saw me by then, so I played the monster and howled at everyone to run. Most did, but a few stayed trying to fight me off. No one got hurt too badly, don't worry about that. Most of them were focusing on prayer, so I only had to throw them out the doors.
They were all too willing when the Wolf entered. Apparently, Morgan's terms were rendered null when the attendees saw a devil trespass on their holy ground. As I understand, since the terms were based off of Morgan's success, and there was no way Morgan could have recovered from what I did, the Wolf let themself loose, and set fire to the chapel… Which you were caught up in.
The Church of Haven lies in ashes now. Do not worry, no one was hurt. Almost everyone made it out of … All but one. Morgan belongs to the Wolf now. I want you to know that this was planned, and I'm sad to say that this was just a start. You needed to come into being securely, the wolf needed to come into being properly, I needed you to know how to perform, and just… so, so many other things. You wanted a life of your own, and by interfering as I have, I have denied that from you. I am sorry.
##blue|I love you so, so much. Please, never forget that. I swear, I will see you again, I promise you. I hope when we see each other again, we'll never have to leave again.""

I love you,



I left something for you. Much of Acacia's work is gone now, but I've been saving a few pieces of my own. I want you to have this one, if you would like it. Acacia made this before you were even an infant. Dr. Unsworth knows where it is. You were such an adorable little thing… I love you.

The doctor sighed as he finished. "… Do you need some time?"


Stuart lied in his bed, staring in space. It took him a moment to reply. "I… Yes, I do… Thank you."


"Alright. Would you like me to get anything for you?"


"I… could I have some water?"


"Of course… Clovis mentioned one of Acacia's drawings…?"


"I'd like that too, if it's alright."


"Of course," the doctor said before quietly stepping out of the room. Stuart sank deeper into his bed, his eyes beginning to water. Within a minute later, the doctor came in, and silently laid a glass of water on his nightstand, and propped up Clovis's gift up so Stuart could see. "Is there anything else?" the doctor asked.


"No… I'm fine. Thanks for everything…"


"Don't mention it… Try to get some rest, Stuart."


"I will…"


Unsworth left with a nod, leaving the child to himself. Stuart turned his head to see what Clovis left behind for him. He stared at it for what seemed like an eternity, trying not to cry. He thought he preferred his solitude before, the quiet, but now… he felt truly alone, his chest feeling as if it were crushed.


"I love you too, Mom… I love you too."


The toribami's portal does not exist.

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  1. portal:4282173 ( 23 Jun 2018 01:53 )
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