Haibara was the sort of person who rarely dreamed.
They say people with more imagination and sensitivity tend to dream, but she probably wasn’t one of them.
For as long as she could remember, once she fell asleep she would sink into darkness—quiet and cold—until the following morning’s dawn lit up her slumber.
But after acquiring the memories of that gray-haired magical girl, she gradually began to dream—sometimes of that woman’s childhood, sometimes of a wondrous, fantastical magical realm.
In her dreams, that magical girl lived a life utterly unlike her own.
By comparison, her own life could only be called ordinary and dull.
The gray-haired girl could hear the voices of nature—the breath of Wind and Moon, the songs of Flower and Bird.
When she was downcast, rain would fall from the sky like weeping; when she was joyful, a rainbow arc would streak across the blue heavens.
Yet that magical girl was not made happy by any of this.
For some reason, Haibara felt that person was probably just like herself—disappointed with such a life.
She had received all the love in the world, yet she could not love everyone in return.
Flower has its time to wither, and Bird too has its day to pass; Wind blows off into the distance, and Moon will sooner or later fall, replaced by the sunlight.
Her life was far too long, while all other things seemed so fragile and fleeting.
If only eternity existed in this world.
Just like a Snake shedding its skin…
…
It was a somewhat chilly morning when Haibara woke from her sleep.
She always woke naturally, never needing to set an alarm.
She curled up for a while before reluctantly crawling out from under the covers.
Climbing out of bed, she first rubbed her eyes, but ended up mussing the loose bangs on her forehead into a tangle, which felt a little itchy.
She had no choice but to run her fingers through her sleep-tousled hair to smooth it out a bit.
With a yawn, Haibara began recalling what she had to do that morning.
First she needed to wash up, then make breakfast and lunch—though most of the time she didn’t feel like making breakfast and would head off to her early class on an empty stomach.
She went to the bathroom and simply brushed her teeth and washed her face.
Other female teachers might do their skincare and makeup as well, but her skin was decent enough, and no students were looking at her anyway, so there was no need for that.
In truth, Haibara wasn’t nearsighted at all.
Though her glasses were thick, they had no prescription whatsoever.
After taking off her glasses, she started washing her face, but once she splashed the cold water over it, the person in the mirror was no longer herself.
In the mirror, a woman with gray hair draped over her shoulders was washing her face with an indifferent expression.
Though her features were so exquisite that they needed no further grooming at all, that had nothing to do with Haibara.
The gorgeous gray-haired woman made exactly the same movements as she did, giving Haibara a sense of dissonance.
And yet somehow nothing seemed wrong about it.
Haibara hated this feeling, so as soon as she finished washing her face, she wiped it with a towel and put her glasses back on.
Her own reflection resurfaced in the mirror—she couldn’t tell whether what she felt was disappointment or relief.
Having finished washing up, she stepped out of the bathroom.
She was in no hurry to cook; instead she went to check the glass tank in her living room, where she kept her pet, Xiaobai.
Xiaobai was an albino Texas rat snake—commonly nicknamed a “White Lady.” It looked like an adorable little snake of pure, flawless white, a bit under a meter long, and Haibara had been raising it for several years now.
Snakes of this kind were beautiful, with a lifespan of about a decade or so, but correspondingly they had fiery tempers and liked to bite people.
But Xiaobai had never bitten her.
She opened the tank, reached in a finger, and teased the little white snake, and it affectionately nuzzled against her finger.
At times like this, Haibara’s mood would lift just a little.
She liked snakes.
They were pretty, quiet, and not very smart.
A snake’s brain was too dull to form any real attachment to a person—at most it could remember that someone was keeping it, and so it wouldn’t bite them too often.
If she could, Haibara would have liked to keep a bigger snake, but that kind was too expensive.
A small snake always looked like it might get killed by accident at any moment.
She closed the tank again and headed to the kitchen to cook—her morning’s remaining time was just about used up.
Haibara’s home wasn’t far from the school—a ten-minute-or-so walk would get her there.
It would be faster by bicycle, but she wasn’t very good at riding one, so she usually just walked.
Along the way, students would occasionally greet her, and she would respond in her flat, offhand way.
She wasn’t particularly passionate about this job; it was just fairly stable, with steady holidays and no overtime.
Aside from having to deal with a bunch of problem children, it counted as a job she was satisfied with.
Right—if only there weren’t those problem kids, it would be even better.
As usual, Haibara walked into the classroom.
The students inside quieted down considerably—though of course some, knowing she wouldn’t bother to intervene, kept right on chatting.
For her, there was a troublesome matter to deal with today: that super problem child was returning to her class, probably this afternoon.
To this day, Haibara still hadn’t figured out why the principal had crammed such a heavyweight figure into her class.
But that was none of her concern.
All she had to do was make sure this problem child showed up for class every day.
While sitting in the classroom, Haibara was looking at her phone.
She actually preferred sitting a bit closer to the classroom door.
It gave her some faint sense that she was alive.
Since the seats had just been rearranged, Kirishima Ai of the front row was now right beside Haibara.
This kid, too, only ate breakfast after arriving at school today.
It looked like she was having a croquette.
Paying no further attention to Kirishima Ai beside her, Haibara scrolled through her phone when she suddenly received a new text message.
Iyaha [The new Snake-type Monster has already evolved into its mature stage—should we send it out to fight today?]
It was from Shaqina.
Her avatar was a “Usagi.”
After that incident, the two of them had exchanged contact information.
As for the Kite Monster’s attack on the school last time, that had nothing to do with them—it was probably the work of some other Black Death Cult executive.
Haibara was about to reply when Kirishima Ai beside her poked her on the shoulder.
Startled for a moment, Haibara turned her head to look at Kirishima Ai, unsure what this little girl wanted.
Then Haibara saw the little girl bashfully holding out a croquette to her, watching her cautiously.
“Teacher… would you like some?”
Haibara felt an uncommon flicker of confusion.
Why suddenly offer her a croquette?
Did she really look that much like someone who hadn’t had breakfast?
She glanced again at Kirishima Ai, who was gazing up at her…
Then she remembered what had happened earlier—it seemed she had given this child her bento to eat.
So now the girl was sharing a croquette with her in return?
Haibara found this little girl rather amusing.
Though her face remained expressionless, she calmly said:
“Thank you.”
She hadn’t had breakfast anyway.
Haibara took the croquette from Kirishima Ai’s hand and casually bit into it—it was still quite warm.
After that, the two of them said nothing more, each simply eating her own croquette.
Haibara glanced once more at Shaqina’s text on her phone and, while eating the croquette, typed a reply one-handed:
Magical Girl Lily-chan☆[No rush—let’s nurture it a while longer.]
For now, she’d let this little girl beside her rest a while longer.
Haibara wasn’t all that invested in this job either; besides, she was in a fairly good mood right now.
Still, the croquette seemed to have quite a bit of cheese in it—a little too sweet for her taste.