This time there were no strange dreams—no crimson-sun skies, no unsettling demons staring into the distance across a vast, shadowy desert full of dark hands reaching upward. So when she woke up, Bonnie felt like she'd slept well, considering how few hours had actually passed.
She opened her eyes to that same uneven wooden ceiling. She sighed, sat up, and pressed her fingers to her temples.
'…My head is killing me.'
Right—she'd been drinking last night. As if that weren't enough, the headache was something else entirely. It was like a constant, painful drumming inside her skull, beating against the bone with no intention of stopping.
It took her a few seconds to make peace with the morning pain. Once she did, she got to her feet and looked at the satchel the bartender had given her.
'I never even checked what kind of clothes he left me.'
She didn't hesitate to find out. As luck would have it, the satchel held some practical clothing: a pair of black trousers, a white long-sleeved shirt, an old but serviceable hat, a pair of worn boots—which weren't much use since they weren't her size—and a few accessories that might come in handy.
Bonnie looked everything over carefully before a small smile crossed her face.
'I can work with all of this…'
She glanced toward the window, half-expecting some nosy onlooker to be nearby—but seeing no one, she took off her dress and everything else except her undergarments. Then she put on the new clothes, adjusting them so they didn't hang too loose. That's what the accessories were for: a belt to keep the trousers and shirt in place.
She pulled on the boots, set the hat on her head, and finished by buckling the revolver belt. Then she folded her dress, the necklace, and the bracelet into the satchel alongside the boots that didn't fit.
'I wish I had a mirror to check myself. I'm sure I still look cute—but I'm not completely sure.'
She laughed at that thought.
'The real Bonnie really did love looking adorable. I guess that feeling is mine now, huh…'
It was a curious thing—the way Bonnie's tastes had layered themselves over Samuel's. At this point they felt like a single person rather than two separate beings. Sometimes her thoughts leaned toward Samuel's side of things, but most of the time Bonnie's emotions were the ones running the show.
That got this… person thinking. Reflecting on identity while living in someone else's body felt like a kind of disrespect in itself.
Setting that aside, Bonnie organized all her belongings before getting ready to head out.
'Alright—that's everything. I just need my money. She's not going to leave without paying me, is she?'
Evelyn was an outlaw. What reason would a woman who had already broken the law have to keep a promise? Bonnie was starting to think her own naivety was beginning to look a lot like stupidity.
She smiled crookedly at herself, barely believing this was already the second time she'd done something this careless. But all those thoughts scattered the moment someone knocked twice at the door.
Bonnie opened it—and on the other side stood Evelyn. She looked considerably better than the night before. Her face was a little pale, but she no longer seemed to be actively dying. She was also wearing clean clothes similar to her previous outfit and had two black revolvers on her belt.
"Good morning, darling. I made you a promise yesterday, and here it is," said the outlaw, holding up a handful of coins and paper notes.
Bonnie held out both hands like she was receiving a donation and accepted the money: six Crowns. That was considerably more than she'd expected from a woman of crime.
She looked at Evelyn, surprised.
"What? Did you expect a pittance? Please—I'm not that low. Sure, there are people who would've happily left you waiting like an idiot, but I'm not one of them. Keep that in mind going forward. I'm a bastard who's killed and stolen, but that doesn't mean I don't have my own code."
"Oh… Of course. I understand."
What a relief.
'I guess I misjudged her for a moment.'
"Good. That's everything I owed you. I'll be on my way now. My girls are probably out looking for me as we speak, so I don't have time to waste. Goodbye, Bonnie. Maybe we'll cross paths again someday."
Evelyn was about to leave—but Bonnie couldn't let that happen.
"Wait!"
The outlaw stopped. She turned to look at Bonnie with a faint, curious smile.
'This is my only chance. I have to do this!' Bonnie thought.
Knowing what she needed, she said:
"I… wanted to ask you some things. And, well—I was also wondering if I could ride with you to the next town. Since you know the desert better than I do, if you could help me with that, I'd be really grateful. And you wouldn't have to pay me back for the bandages and alcohol."
Evelyn brought a hand to the back of her neck with a doubtful expression.
"Oh, Bonnie… I don't think I can do that. Remember, I was running from someone before I got here. If that person finds us, you could, you know—end up full of holes just like me."
That answer hit like a bucket of ice water to the face. Bonnie felt the disappointment land, and looked at the floor like an abandoned puppy.
"I see. That makes sense. Sorry for asking something so foolish."
Evelyn shook her head.
"Don't worry about it. Although—if you don't mind dying, you're welcome to come. I have nothing against brave women who put their lives on the line out there. I am one, after all."
That sounded good—but what about the danger? It seemed reckless, and yet Bonnie had already accepted that moving forward was going to be dangerous. A very dangerous cult was potentially on her trail, after all—that alone was already enough. So was running into another outlaw really that much worse?
'So far I've been lucky enough not to run into anyone too dangerous. But if I keep going alone, the danger will find me anyway and I won't be ready for it. Going in blind by myself is no different from moving forward with her.'
That was her thinking.
"Then, if you don't mind—I'd like to come with you."
Evelyn sighed with a small laugh.
"Okay. If that's what you want, it's not my place to stop you. We're outlaws—freedom is our creed. Besides, having one more gun at my side wouldn't hurt."
Unable to hide the smile of relief spreading across her face, Bonnie nodded.
"Then I'll go get my horse ready."
"And you're going to have to help me up onto mine. Because if I do it alone, the stitches my grandmother put in are going to tear."
'Fine. That's the least I can do in exchange for learning from someone who actually knows what she's doing. Now I'll finally be able to—'
Bang!
A gunshot rang out across the entire town. Bonnie's shoulders flew up in shock, while Evelyn looked straight at the door the instant it happened—as though she already knew exactly what was going on. In fact, both her hands went to the revolvers on her belt.
Then came a thick, raspy voice from outside.
"Thieving Cat! I know you're hiding in there! Come out and show your face so I can put you in the ground!"
Evelyn clicked her tongue in irritation.
"Damn. He found me…"
"He found you? The one who shot you?" Bonnie asked.
With a sigh, Evelyn moved toward the door. Waiting there, as though she had been expecting it, was her grandmother—this time with genuine anger burning in those deep-set eyes. Her hands were clasped behind her back, and the boy was standing just behind her, shotgun aimed at the door.
"Grandma, what do we do?" the boy asked.
"I don't know. Why don't you ask your sister? She's the one who's good at this sort of thing."
'Sister… So they were related after all. Wait—that's not what matters right now! There's a madman outside and he's armed!'
Bonnie's blood ran cold with fear, but she forced herself to stay calm.
Evelyn pressed her fingers to her forehead in pain.
"None of you have to do anything. This is my business and nobody else's. I'll go out and settle this myself. Don't come out until either I kill that idiot or he kills me."
This woman seemed to feel no fear whatsoever, because she pushed the door open and walked out like nothing was happening—before Bonnie could say a word to stop her.
When the door closed, the old woman and the boy went to one of the rooms, where a small window facing the street gave a narrow view of the scene outside.
Bonnie followed and peered through the thin crack in the wooden shutter.
Outside walked a man who looked old—somewhere around forty. Greasy black hair, a big nose. His tanned, weathered face could generously be compared to that of a toad. He wore a black hat and a matching poncho that barely revealed the plain revolver on his belt.
His boot spurs rang with every step he took.
When he spotted Evelyn, his eyes lit up with fury.
The two of them stood a few yards apart between the buildings, staring each other down.
The wind blew, and sand lifted off the ground like dust.
"Looking for me, Wild Dog?" the woman said with a defiant smile, fighting through the pain in her torso.
The old man spat something dark onto the ground.
"You're disgustingly slippery. I'm amazed you're still breathing—but I've come to finish the job."
"Oh yeah? You think you can just put me down like it's nothing? You only managed to shoot me because my horse was exhausted. Now that neither of us has a mount—you know what that means, don't you?"
The old man let out an arrogant laugh.
"It means you can't run this time."
"We'll see," said Evelyn, her hands drifting toward her revolvers.
Bonnie felt the tension like a physical weight. This was like watching one of those classic gunfighter duels from the old Westerns on TV. And yet—something about this moment felt different.
'She's hurt. There's no way she can survive this.'
She glanced at the revolver on her own hip.
'If she dies, I lose my only shot…'
The old woman noticed where Bonnie's eyes had gone and let out a low growl:
"Don't do anything stupid, girl."
Bonnie reluctantly stood down. Interfering would be stupid—and what if she became the target? She'd be cut down before she could blink.
Outside, the two gunfighters held each other's gaze.
Every business on the block was shuttered, and behind the windows of countless other buildings, frightened faces watched in silence.
Whoever drew first and hit their mark—that was the winner. That was how a duel worked in the Old West.
Silence…
A cold, unreadable look hid whatever Evelyn was feeling. Then both of them moved at the same time. They raised their weapons and fired in an instant.
Bang!
The bullets flew—but neither one fell.
Evelyn smiled.
"Like I said—you know what this means, don't you?"
Both of them had shifted their weight slightly to one side—and Bonnie had seen exactly what happened.
'I don't understand…'
In the moment they both fired, they had tilted to the side in the blink of an eye, dodging the bullets with inhuman speed.
Wild Dog cocked his revolver again—but Evelyn broke into a sprint toward one of the nearby alleyways just as the shot rang out.
Bang!
She rolled across the ground and pressed herself behind the wall, the bullet having just grazed her cheek.
Right there, the shadows of both gunfighters—thrown across the ground by the light of the rising sun—trembled as though they had a life of their own. And Bonnie, completely bewildered, found herself watching a duel unlike anything she had ever seen before—because this duel contained something she already recognized, at least in part.
That was…
Supernatural power.