Chapter 115
Ten years ago, remembering the day they had first shared drinks, twenty-six-year-old Einhart smiled with his now-rugged face.
It was debatable whether the three of them had really hit it off that day, but at the very least, Einhart had taken a liking to the kind, earnest prince and the contrary delinquent mage.
"It's been a while since we've met like this in private. Was the last time just before Louis became one of the Seven Sages?"
"Mm. Four or five years ago."
Since then, whenever Lionel or Louis came to the Empire on business, or Einhart visited the Kingdom of Riddle, he would invite them out for drinks whenever their schedules happened to coincide. Of course, all their meetings were kept secret.
Once, he had dragged Louis, who loudly proclaimed that he had eyes for only the woman he loved, into the red-light district, only to be treated to a roundhouse kick.
Another time, while helping disguise Lionel, he had recommended women's clothing to Louis, only to be treated to a flying kick.
And once, after a drunken Einhart vomited on Louis's clothes, he had received an axe kick...
"Wow, in my memories, I spend almost all my time getting kicked by Louis."
"He mellowed considerably after getting married, though."
"Come to think of it, he got married, didn't he? I heard he had a child, too."
"Yes, a daughter. Leonora."
Upon hearing the name of Louis's daughter, Einhart stopped and burst out laughing, clutching his stomach.
Lionel furrowed his thick brows in bewilderment at Einhart's sudden odd behavior.
"What suddenly came over you, Einhart?"
"Because you... Hahaha! No, it's just that she really, really loves you, doesn't she?"
"...Hmm?"
As Lionel tilted his head, Einhart casually said, "Nothing, nothing," and waved the white flower in his hand.
Lionel tilted his head suspiciously and asked Einhart:
"By the way, Einhart, where are we going?"
Since meeting up with Lionel, Einhart had been walking in the exact opposite direction from the restaurants.
The sun was already beginning to set, and the sky was dyed with the colors of dusk. Night would fall soon.
Einhart raised one corner of his lips in a sly grin, his face that of the mischievous boy he had been ten years earlier.
"Why, I thought I'd introduce you to an exceptionally fine woman."
＊ ＊ ＊
Tsetsilia stood before the mirror and pulled open the front of her gown.
Her skin was white as porcelain. A pale violet mark floated above her left breast. It was the contract mark that appeared on the skin of someone who had formally contracted with an ancient magical artifact.
Some ancient magical artifacts required a new contract each time they were used, while others remained contracted to their user until the user's death. The Mirror of Bern, which Tsetsilia had contracted with, was the latter type.
This mark would not disappear until Tsetsilia died. Through it, the contract holder was connected to the ancient magical artifact... or so it was supposed to be.
──I don't like it, I don't like it. That face of yours looks just like the man who let my dear Constanze die.
──You brandish your weakness and force those with power to make sacrifices for you. How base and vile.
──You pitiful little girl. In consideration of Constanze's blood, I will enter into a contract with you. But...
Tsetsilia hung her head, drew the front of her gown together, and hid the mark.
The voice that had once denied her clung to the depths of her ears and would not leave.
(Doing exactly as Big Brother says is the right thing... but...)
Tsetsilia parted her tightly pressed lips and murmured.
"Lionel-sama..."
Merely saying his name brought his image to mind.
A rugged, unmistakably warrior-like prince... yet one with gentle eyes.
Just recalling his calm smile and low, gentle voice warmed her heart.
The more she came to love him, the more her guilt tormented her.
Monica Everett, the Silent Witch, had once said:
If you treat your own feelings carelessly, you will end up treating even the kindness given to you by someone important carelessly, too.
That was why she wanted to cherish the feelings she had for the person she loved.
(...I want to be that way, too.)
She wanted to be able to say proudly that she loved him.
She did not want to treat the feelings budding in her heart carelessly.
(As long as I keep this secret, I won't be able to hold my head high. I won't be worthy of Lionel-sama, who is so sincere. But if this secret comes to light, I'll become a woman utterly without worth.)
Tormented by not knowing what to do, Tsetsilia hung her head, then noticed the shadow of someone behind her reflected in the mirror. Perhaps one of her maids had come to see how she was doing.
Tsetsilia raised her head and saw the figure standing behind her in the mirror, then drew a sharp breath.
"...Huh?"
Standing behind her was a petite maid with light-brown hair.
She could never forget that charming face, with dimples that appeared whenever she smiled.
Nor could she forget the blood-stained face of the corpse who had shielded Tsetsilia.
"...Mia?"
When Tsetsilia slowly turned around, the petite maid lifted the corners of her lips and smiled.
It was a sneer—the sort the girl in her memories had never shown.
'It was all, all a lie, wasn't it, Princess?'
Mia's face and body slowly turned red with blood. Heavy drops dripped down, staining the carpet.
'The person I gave my life to protect was a false saint.'
Drenched in blood, Mia came closer, one step at a time.
Tsetsilia stood frozen, forgetting even to breathe, as Mia extended a blood-covered hand toward her.
Her lovely face twisted with malice.
'You understand, don't you? Deep down, everyone wants you dead. If you die, they can choose a new saint.'
As Tsetsilia wheezed in ragged gasps, the bitter expression on her grandfather Duke Achenvar's face flashed through her mind.
──If things were going to turn out like this, perhaps I should have forced her to take her own life.
'You know what you must do, don't you, Princess Tsetsilia?'
＊ ＊ ＊
"M... Monica!"
Someone was calling out to Monica, who was sleeping face-down on her desk. It was the voice of someone she knew well.
(Ah, this voice...)
Above Monica's head as she dozed blissfully, the person irritably muttered, "Good grief." Usually, an angry shout followed this "Good grief."
Just as Monica expected, the person raised his voice.
"How long are you going to sleep? Monica Everett!"
"Eep!"
When Monica pushed herself up from the desk she had been sleeping on, she found herself in a familiar classroom.
Looking down at Monica was a slender young man with silver hair and blue eyes.
"...Cyril-sama?"
Cyril was wearing Serendia Academy's uniform. Since he was a student at the academy, there was nothing strange about that.
And yet, why did it feel so strange?
As she tilted her head in confusion, Cyril raised his slender brows.
"What is a student council officer doing taking a nap in the classroom!"
"I-I'm sorry..."
As Monica bobbed her head repeatedly, Cyril gazed intently at her face.
His slender brows were drawn together ever so slightly. The expression, which looked both angry and concerned, belonged to the Cyril Ashley Monica knew so well.
"...You aren't feeling unwell, are you?"
"I-I'm fine! I'm perfectly healthy!"
"Good. We have a meeting in the Student Council room after school today. Don't be late."
"Y-yes!"
After confirming that Monica was nodding eagerly, Cyril left the classroom.
Watching him go, Monica murmured.
"...It's Cyril-sama."
"Honestly, what are you spacing out about?"
When Monica turned at the voice from beside her, she found Lana looking at her with exasperation.
Lana propped her chin on her hand and pointed at Monica's bangs.
"You've got bedhead."
"Oh, yeah..."
While fixing her bedhead, Monica checked her clothes. A white dress with a bolero, along with a familiar pair of white gloves. All of them were part of Serendia Academy's uniform.
(Nostalgic?)
Why had she thought the uniform was nostalgic? Monica was a student at this academy.
As she stood there perplexed, the classroom door opened, and a girl with orange curly hair burst in. She was Isabelle Norton, the daughter of Count Kelbeck.
Isabelle ran to Monica's desk, then said with a radiant smile on her adorable face:
"Big Sister! Let's go eat lunch together!"
"Y-yes!"
Overwhelmed by Isabelle's enthusiasm, Monica nodded while thinking in a corner of her mind:
(Wait, was it okay for me to eat lunch with Isabelle-sama?)
Lana, who had been propping her chin on her hand in the seat beside Monica, gave her a wry smile and said, "You two are as close as ever."