The weather… it's growing ever hotter.
Though June had only just begun, the Desert City was already asserting its dominion, proclaiming its might through sweltering heat. It was as if the city sought to remind all within its sandy windswept walls that, despite enjoying the illusion of four seasons due to a slightly more fortunate geographical location, it remained, at its core, a child of the desert.
Summer cicadas had begun their song ahead of schedule, and passersby were now flinging water over the earth in front of their homes in a futile attempt to cool the scorched ground.
Shops remained open, just like the year before. The suffocating heat had not driven the townsfolk into hiding, nor had it curbed their daily routines. Perhaps they had long since grown accustomed to the ferocity of summer's blaze—indifferent, unbothered.
The fool moved as always, his limbs bound, clad in that heavy sweater designed to weigh him down. In his right hand, a broom; in his left, the tiny palm of Little Bun. As he swept the academy grounds, the days ticking toward summer break, he realized he had now been in this place for an entire year.
The cicadas screeched and screamed...
"Mm... mm-mm…"
The heat had taken its toll on Little Bun. Her steps faltered, her eyes drowsy with exhaustion, her tiny frame swaying as though the sun itself pressed down on her. Time and again, her legs buckled mid-step, and each time the fool caught her just in time, sparing her from curling up and falling asleep on the sunbaked ground.
This... won't do.
He halted, cradled her gently, and carried her to the shade of a tree, giving her some water to drink. Last summer, he had only been tasked with filling the pool—though the work was long, he hadn't needed to care for Little Bun then. But now, sweeping all over the campus, he couldn't possibly leave her unattended. Leaving her home alone wasn't an option either—not when she'd learned to walk. Who knew where she might wander, what danger she might stumble into?
Sigh…
The fool let out a quiet breath, tied her securely to his back with a cloth, and glanced at the time. Just three hours remained until Quelin's lecture began. If they could endure until then, she would finally get to rest.
"Mm-mm…"
Nestled against his back, Little Bun at last succumbed to slumber. Her soft pink hair tickled his neck, making him itch.
She's finally comfortable...
The fool glanced up at the blazing sun overhead.
Then... back to sweeping.
But just as he retrieved his broom and began dragging the trash bin behind him, someone suddenly stepped into his path.
"..."
"Seems like you're still holding up decently."
Principal Kampa loomed above, his expression dark and unreadable.
"…Mr. Kampa." The fool paused, then spoke in reply.
Kampa gave a brief nod and shifted his gaze, no longer fixed on the fool, but rather the small child resting on his back. Something flickered in the old man's eyes—perhaps a memory stirred. After a brief observation, he gestured silently and turned away, striding off.
The fool set aside broom and bin and followed.
In no time, Kampa led him to the northeastern sector of the academy—the Research Complex—and into one of its buildings.
This was the domain of the academy's science and engineering students, where countless inventions and weapons had once been conceived. The fool had no idea what Kampa intended, but followed nonetheless. Through long corridors they walked, until they arrived at a room filled with medical equipment.
The air inside was significantly cooler. Little Bun's breathing had eased, her slumber deep and content. Kampa switched on the lights and motioned for the fool to sit on a stool by the wall. Only once he'd settled did the old man take a seat opposite him.
"I've asked you here today because there are things I need to confirm."
He gestured for the fool to relax, then pointed to Little Bun.
"No need to keep her on your back—hold her in your arms instead."
The fool obeyed, remaining silent. If Kampa wanted to speak, he would. If not, no question would change his mind.
Kampa nodded, poured a glass of chilled water from a nearby dispenser, and handed it over.
"Let her drink. Try to wake her up."
The fool hesitated, then did as he always did—taking the first sip himself to ensure it was safe. Only then did he bring the glass to Little Bun's lips.
The cool moisture roused her. As she realized the air around her was no longer blistering, she giggled and cooed with delight. Perhaps still full of post-nap energy, she didn't drink but squirmed instead, eager to climb down.
The fool let her go.
She slid clumsily down his leg and plopped to the floor, then stood and began curiously examining the unfamiliar room.
"Mm~ mm-mm~!"
The strange machines captured her full attention. Just as she toddled toward one particularly large contraption, the fool pulled her back.
"Mm! Mm-mm~!"
She looked up in protest, only to meet a pair of cold, stern eyes. Instantly, her excitement deflated. She allowed herself to be picked up again and sat obediently on his lap.
Kampa watched it all with a quiet sigh. Then, leaning forward until he was eye-level with her, he called out gently:
"Little Bun~?"
She tilted her head, curious. Upon seeing Kampa's face, she chirped cheerfully.
"Can you say 'Mama'?"
"Mm… mm?"
"Ma—ma. Come now, say 'Ma—ma.'"
The fool looked on, puzzled, unsure what Kampa was trying to achieve.
Little Bun blinked at him with those wide eyes. Her lips moved, then stretched into a delighted grin as she let out another joyful cry.
"Mm~! Mm-mm-mm~!"
Kampa's expression darkened. Rather than joy, his face was shadowed by a somber realization.
"Alright… now try 'Papa.' Say 'Pa—pa.'"
"Mm-gu! Mm-ah~!"
That was enough.
Kampa sat back slowly, his eyes settling on the silent boy before him. He exhaled, then spoke each word with deliberate weight:
"It's confirmed. This child… cannot speak."
The fool remained still. No expression, no reaction. He simply held the giggling girl in his lap, voiceless. Perhaps he simply didn't know what expression would be appropriate. This was far beyond anything he'd been prepared to comprehend.
Kampa stood and moved to activate several machines. As the devices began to hum to life, he spoke:
"I had my suspicions since the Holy Night Festival. No matter the time or circumstance, this child only ever makes 'mm-mm' sounds. Her hearing's fine—she responds to voices—but she simply can't speak. An eighteen-month-old who can't even say 'Mama' or 'Papa'... It's a serious concern."
The fool lowered his gaze. Little Bun turned her face toward him too. Her bright smile remained, and she reached up with tiny arms, babbling happily.
"What... does this mean?"
His voice was low, lacking its usual chill. It was something different—quieter, heavier.
"Finding out what it means... is precisely why I brought you here."
The machines had powered on. Kampa approached and instructed the fool to lay Little Bun on the central platform. As he complied, two circular, floating mirrors began to spin rapidly around her. On a nearby monitor, her skeletal structure appeared. Kampa adjusted the display, zooming in on her throat.
"Yaaah~!"
The spinning mirrors fascinated her. She stood and reached out, eager to touch them. But just as her fingers neared the devices, a faint electric current surged up from the platform and stunned her.
"Mm… mm-mm…"
It wasn't painful, merely numbing. She collapsed onto the platform, wide green eyes fixed longingly on the fool. Fear flickered there.
She was frightened now.