Chapter Text
Dottore tightened his grip around Sandrone's throat. "Any last words?"
Sandrone suddenly recalled that four hundred years ago, Alain had once asked her if she had any wishes. At the time, she had simply replied, "Nothing in particular."
But there was a second half to that answer—one she had never spoken aloud: I've always known exactly what I don't want.
She absolutely did not want to lose anything again.
In the past, she hadn't wanted to lose Alain—but she hadn't realized it then.
Now, she didn't want to watch a pure white dove be shot down.
Dottore was deeply dissatisfied. The woman before him had actually started to drift into a daze. This silent contempt was utterly foolish, yet also infuriating—so he deliberately tightened his grip, intending to crush that infuriating expression.
The pain of suffocation was a threat, but Sandrone only smiled instead. The closer she came to death, the closer she came to success. She let out a mocking laugh: "Go to hell, Dottore."
Dottore was disappointed, yet not surprised. He waved his right hand with casual indifference. In an instant, the power of the Moon coalesced into a sharp prism, piercing straight through her core, annihilating everything in its path, leaving behind a massive hollow void.
The mechanism that had once played a harmonious symphony of tightly interlocking parts was suddenly hollowed out—like a heart torn from a person's chest.
Blood burst forth and trickled down slowly, like all the passions never put into words, leaving only a splattered arc with no sound to accompany it.
Consciousness faded, but Sandrone felt no fear—only a hint of triumph. It's alright. Just like before, even if I never had the chance to say it out loud, my actions have already said everything for me.
Besides, I only ever say harsh things anyway. Maybe it's better that I didn't speak...
Still, she silently apologized to Columbina in her heart—I'm sorry. I wasn't there when you left.
The Tsaritsa's grand plan, her own future life—all of it had become trivial the moment she learned that Columbina had sacrificed herself and voluntarily stepped through the Moon Gate. She hated herself for being absent.
Her only wish was for the dove to return to the sky—even if it was a sky she herself no longer inhabited.
Though, long ago—before Columbina had ever latched onto her—she had already foreseen that this woman would inevitably bring her some kind of unimaginable trouble.
Hah~ Just as I thought! That troublesome woman still needs me to bring her back.
——
Columbina held the broken body in her arms, but could no longer hear the familiar, slow ticking of gears—nor could she sense even a trace of a soul.
Even the Moon's authority could not grasp it.
In an instant, Columbina reviewed the life Sandrone had lived before joining the Fatui—a life that had also been unhappy.
Yet in the future, she could find no trace of her presence.
A wordless ache filled her heart. All the clamor and splendor of the world came to a standstill. Columbina refused to say goodbye, stubbornly holding Sandrone in her arms, day after day.
The Traveler and Laurama both came to pay their respects, but neither could erase the grief etched between her brows.
It wasn't until Arlecchino, on the verge of departure, came to visit: "Columbina, Sandrone once instructed me that after her passing, she wished to return to her homeland—to be sent back to Fontaine. Now, it is time to go."
Only then did Columbina look away, reluctant yet weary, as if finally accepting the truth.
"Let's send Sandrone home together."
Arlecchino did not know what to say. She had faced death countless times and had even sensed it coming—but when it truly arrived, it still cut deep into her heart.
Sensing this suppressed sorrow, Columbina smiled softly at the thought of Sandrone—like a dove shaking its feathers back into place.
"Let's sing her an eternal lullaby together. Since Sandrone wished for this, we must do as she said."
Arlecchino lowered her gaze and nodded. "She will live forever in our hearts."
Columbina followed Arlecchino as she entrusted Sandrone and Pulonia to a group of Fontaine's mechanicians—people who carried the same faint scent of machine oil and tea as Sandrone.
This was indeed her homeland.
Soon, Arlecchino had to leave due to pressing duties.
Even the young, research-obsessed mechanicians, dense as they were, could not ignore Columbina's direct gaze. They finally asked, "What relation are you to Teacher Sandrone?"
"Me? I'm Sandrone's best friend. Can you fix her?"
Faced with the young woman's hopeful gaze, the mechanicians all looked down and avoided her eyes. "Though the Master of Clockwork left behind many autonomous mechanisms, Teacher Sandrone's body is unlike anything we've ever encountered. At most, we can restore her exterior—but her internal systems will be very difficult to reconstruct."
"I can travel through time. If you need any materials, just tell me—I'll go ask Alain."
The mechanicians were astonished, exchanging glances before a realization dawned on them. "Teacher Sandrone once instructed us—if a blind woman who walks floating in the air ever came looking for her through time and space, we were to tell her not to do that. Though you are not blind... you must be the friend she spoke of."
Columbina froze.
I'm sorry, Sandrone. I've already searched for you through time. If you knew, you'd certainly say plenty of harsh things, wouldn't you?
"Very well. I understand. Then... please do your best to heal her. I'll come back to visit her. Goodbye."
With that, Columbina used the Moon's distance power and fled. For some reason, she could no longer bear to look at Sandrone.