The moth, just about to argue further, locked eyes with the creature in front of him.
Why… why is there hellfire trapped in those bright blue irises?
“Yeah. I’m not totally sure how, but it used materials I’ve never seen before and rebuilt my wing.”
“…Is that true?”
“You think I’d lie? My right wing was completely torn off. Look at it now—it’s not just intact, it’s even sturdier than before.”
…Then maybe my stinger too… The bee’s pale, hollow blue eyes looked terrifying as he muttered to himself. He looked like he was in some kind of trance. The moth had been backing away, but froze when Blaine suddenly closed the distance between them again with heavy, purposeful steps.
“W-what?! Didn’t you hear me? I told you I was unconscious and woke up there!”
“Goddammit, then you must’ve come back from there somehow, you idiot!”
“I was high on painkillers! And what… what did you just call me?! Idiot?!”
The moth, indignant, tried to grab Blaine by the collar—only to freeze with a frustrated and confused expression. How the hell am I supposed to grab a collar on that? Sure, objectively speaking, those pecs were pretty impressive, but was it really necessary to parade them around like this? Wasn’t this a bit too much? He must be completely self-absorbed.
But before he could figure out how to deal with that problem, Blaine had already grabbed his shirt collar and yanked it upward.
“Anything. Anything at all that you can remember—just say it. Even the tiniest detail. It’s important, okay?”
“Ugh—! Why do you sound so rude when you’re asking for a favor?! Try being a little more—”
Rrrrrip!
Before he could finish, the shirt Blaine had clenched so tightly it looked ready to burst finally gave out. Threads snapped loudly, and the moth let out a guttural wail, eyes wide in horror, as he smacked Blaine’s hand away in desperation.
That was my favorite shirt!!
The size difference between them was clear, but Blaine hadn’t expected the hit, so he stumbled back. W-whoa?! He flailed, trying to catch his balance, but it was too late—his feet were already off the ground. There was a strange, weightless feeling, a floating sensation like he was being pushed into a vacuum. As panic set in, he grabbed blindly at whatever was nearby.
He didn’t realize until too late that what he’d latched onto in his oversized palm was the stem of the very flower he’d been admiring earlier.
“Huh…?”
Pfft, pfft, pffsssshhht!
The six petals, tightly clustered and trembling as if they’d been holding something back, suddenly released a powerful spray. Liquid burst from the flower head, more than four or five cups’ worth, spewing out in high-pressure bursts.
In an instant, chaos struck the lush red Adonis flower field.
One drenched honeybee lay sprawled out on the ground, his face, chest, and lower half all soaked in pale, sticky honey. A moth clutched his head in horror. A single flower, the culprit behind the mess, trembled as it drooped, releasing a few final drops of white honey that fell like tears.
It was a disaster no one could laugh at.
Blaine hadn’t wanted to prove gravity still worked or confirm the laws of physics in this particular way. But now he felt a throbbing pain in the back of his skull and a sharp burning sensation in his right eye. He blinked dazedly with the other.
He must’ve slammed his head on the ground and gotten a squirt of honey right into his eye.
“Aaaaagh! This is insane! Do you have any idea how rare that was?! My precious, precious babies…!”
“Puh—phuhuh—!”
Blaine tried to speak, but with translucent honey coating his face, all he could do was splutter and flail like a drowning animal. The goo had invaded every facial opening. And not just in his head—now the increasingly translucent liquid was still flowing into his nose and mouth.
He couldn’t breathe.
“How could this happen? What a nightmare—!”
The moth frantically tried to scoop the honey off Blaine’s body. It was way too much for just one flower to have produced. He was trying to gather it all with his bare hands but stopped, hands hovering uselessly midair, unable to figure out what to do.
“Uh… mmff… ugh…!”
“Y-you bastard! Don’t you dare swallow that! Put it in a jar or something! You honey thief—!”
To anyone watching, it was obvious Blaine wasn’t eating the honey—more like the honey was invading him, seeping into every pore, nostril, and airway. But the moth couldn’t see any of that right now. In his head, all he saw was how much money that honey was worth. Just one cup sold for a fortune—and Blaine had practically bathed in it. The moth was so furious he could tear him to shreds.
“Pay for all of it! I want every single drop reimbursed!”
“Phuh—phuhuh!”
Blaine, still half-submerged in honey, choked out a gurgling protest—something like “It’s not even your land, so why should I pay?” But it didn’t get through. The moth, still thrashing about, stomped so hard the ground trembled, sending fresh waves of pain through Blaine’s skull.
Eventually, Blaine sat up, still sputtering. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, finally allowing his features to start functioning again. The sticky feeling was incredibly unpleasant.
“Anyway, like I was saying before—”
“What do you mean ‘anyway’?! What could possibly be more important than the fact that you just robbed me?!”
“Ugh—it is more important! It’s more important than anything right now!”
At this point, they clearly needed a third party. The two of them were just shouting over each other, neither listening nor backing down. To an outside observer, it might’ve looked like some deranged bee and moth doing a bizarre dance—or having a meltdown—in the middle of a flower field.
In the end, the first to give out was the moth, as frail as his slim frame suggested. He collapsed on the ground, panting. Blaine, equally exhausted, looked down at him with a drained expression, then exhaled a long sigh to regain his composure.
“Alright. Here’s the deal. I admit I ended up consuming the honey, so I’ll pay you for it. However much you want. But on one condition—you tell me everything you know about the creature that fixed your wing. Everything. Deal?”
The moth had no energy left to argue. He just stared at Blaine for a moment, then gave a silent nod.
He focused as hard as he could, trying to pull up whatever memories he could from that time.
But all he could recall were vague, fragmented images—someone in a tattered, patchy cloak holding a lantern, a sense of warm comfort like being wrapped in his mother’s arms, eating something that made the pain disappear, and a pleasant hallucination of dancing with a red jellyfish. The surroundings had been dim and foggy, with thick mist clouding his view.
Blaine looked visibly disappointed.
“B-but—my antennae did tell me it was east of here!”
Blaine gave him a look like, wow, that’s helpful, clearly hoping the moth would take offense.
And he did.
“What, you bastard wasp! I told you everything I know! Now pay up!”
“…Fine. Just wait a second.”
Blaine sat up straight, dusting himself off. His clothes were still a mess from their scuffle, but he tugged them into place. As he turned his head from side to side, his neck and shoulder muscles flexed, making crack, crack sounds like a threat.
W-what the hell? Is this guy trying to intimidate me?! What is he, a thug?!
“So, how much?”
“…What?”
“How much do I owe you—for all of it?”
Oh, right.
The moth lowered his head, pretending to calculate the value of the spilled honey. He had been the one to say, “I’ll take as much as you can pay,” after all. Now was the time to name his price. His mouth curled into a sly grin.
Like most simple-minded creatures, Minchosky genuinely believed he was a natural-born con artist. He took great pride in his little schemes, thinking of them as the brilliant plots of a master strategist.
What was the perfect price? Not so outrageously high that Blaine would freak out or refuse to pay, but just high enough to rip him off nicely.
His brain spun at full speed, calculating. And just when he raised his head with a wicked little smirk…
He saw Blaine, already halfway down the path, sneaking away.
“….?!?!”
“Oh, uh—thanks for the info! Take care! Don’t forget to register with the association!!”
With that shouted goodbye, the bee turned on his heel and bolted like the wind, disappearing over the horizon in seconds.
