Chapter 33
Today's party organizer, Mary Harvey, the 〈Star-Seer Witch〉, reclined on the sofa in a private room and gazed up at the sky with dreamy eyes.
Her pale-blue eyes reflected not a sky full of stars, but the blue winter sky.
Was looking up at the sky a habit of hers as a star-seer, even when she could not see the stars during the day?
As he considered this, the guest summoned to the private room—Isaac Walker—asked the 〈Star-Seer Witch〉 a question.
"Lady Harvey. May I ask why you summoned me?"
The 〈Star-Seer Witch〉 slowly returned her gaze to him and looked at Isaac with unfocused eyes that seemed half-asleep.
Her moist lips parted, and she spoke in a soft voice.
"I have read your star... your destiny, you who once wished to be a false star."
Even after hearing words hinting at his true identity, Isaac was not particularly surprised.
The 〈Star-Seer Witch〉 was the oldest of the Seven Sages and an adviser to His Majesty the King. It was hardly strange that she knew Isaac's identity.
As Isaac fell silent, Mary tilted her head slightly and smiled wistfully.
Her long, loosely wavy silver hair swayed softly and spilled over the sofa.
"You were born beneath the star of loss. Blessed with talent overflowing... and yet nothing precious will remain in your hands."
All expression vanished from Isaac's face.
The 〈Star-Seer Witch〉's words were true.
Isaac Walker had already lost his parents, his little brother, and the master to whom he had sworn loyalty, who was also his best friend... In the end, he had even lost his own face and name.
What remained here was a ghost who had even lost his obsession.
Even so, Isaac did not believe that he had nothing left in his hands.
Someone had reached out a hand of salvation to him, even though he was destined to be executed.
The small witch who had reached out to Isaac despite losing so much herself had allowed him to remain at her side.
As Isaac pictured the innocent smile of that girl in his mind, the 〈Star-Seer Witch〉 told him with a sorrowful expression,
"I, Mary Harvey, the 〈Star-Seer Witch〉, hereby prophesy. False prince, born beneath the star of loss... your losses will never end."
The kingdom's greatest prophet proclaimed
the cruel future awaiting Isaac Walker.
"──One day, you will lose half of the world reflected in your eyes."
＊ ＊ ＊
Isaac's footsteps were heavy as he left the private room.
He knew that no matter how talented he was or how desperately he struggled, there were countless things that would never go as he wished.
(The star of loss, huh...)
The 〈Star-Seer Witch〉 was right. No matter how desperately Isaac clung to the things precious to him, they always slipped between his fingers and fell away.
His parents, who had died in a dragon attack; his little brother, who had wasted away; and──his best friend, who had fallen from a roof and died.
He did not want to lose anything else, yet according to the 〈Star-Seer Witch〉, Isaac would lose something else yet again.
──You don't need a reason to help a friend, Aik!
At times like this, the girl who had saved Isaac was always the one who came to mind.
This time, he wanted to protect her. But a fate of loss awaited Isaac.
(Should I keep my distance? But if something happened to Monica somewhere I couldn't see her...)
Ordinary tragedies always strike suddenly, out of the blue.
Should he keep his distance, or watch her even more closely than before so danger would not approach?
Since he did not know which choice was correct, he had no way to prepare for it.
Dragging his heavy feet along, he eventually arrived at the party venue.
Honestly, he was not in the mood to attend the party, but as an invited guest, he ought to offer at least the minimum courtesy of a greeting.
As Isaac approached the door, stifling a sigh, he noticed three men huddled beside it, peering into the party venue.
Isaac knew all three of their faces.
They were Raul Roseberg, the 〈Thorn Witch〉; Ray Albright, the 〈Abyssal Curse Mage〉; and Cyril Ashley.
"What are you doing over there?"
When Isaac called out to them, all three spun around and stared at him.
At once, the 〈Abyssal Curse Mage〉 collapsed to his knees, looking as though he had just witnessed unimaginable despair.
"Oh, this is the worst... Another handsome man... Handsome when I look right, handsome when I look left—where am I supposed to look to get through life? The ground? Is this a sign that I should spend the rest of my life staring at the floor...?"
When Isaac looked at Cyril, asking him to explain the situation, Cyril wore an anguished expression.
"Your Highness, there's a deep reason for this...! No, that's no good. I can't lie to Your Highness... I'm sorry, Your Highness, there is no deep reason at all. Not even a little! If anything, it's so shallow and foolish that it's embarrassing to explain...!"
Apparently, Cyril was reluctant to explain that "foolish reason."
Isaac looked at the 〈Thorn Witch〉 last.
Raul Roseberg, the 〈Thorn Witch〉, spoke in a cheerful tone.
"Hey, Your Highness, don't get in the way. Monica's doing her best right now."
"...Monica?"
Isaac looked toward the party venue. There were relatively few young female guests today, so he quickly spotted Monica.
Monica was walking through the venue with the hem of a bright-red dress dragging behind her, her unsteady steps little more than a totter.
(That dress... It wasn't chosen by Miss Collet.)
The color and design were one thing, but more than anything, the dress was the wrong size for Monica. The skirt's hem dragged on the floor, and the shoulders were on the verge of slipping down.
What on earth were they making Monica do? In a situation like this, the best thing was to ask her directly, right away.
Just as Isaac stepped into the party venue to go to Monica, someone clung to his waist. It was the 〈Abyssal Curse Mage〉.
The 〈Abyssal Curse Mage〉 shook his purple hair wildly, his pink eyes blazing as he groaned with desperation written across his face.
"Stoppppppp... Don't let handsome men into the party venueeeee... And he's a prince, too, the kind all girls love! All girls fall for princes, right? They do, don't they...? Damn it, then I'll have to curse any prince who sets foot in this party to turn into a pig...!"
The 〈Abyssal Curse Mage〉 was muttering something terrifyingly dangerous.
Watching him with a cool gaze, Isaac calmly wondered whether it was time to charge him with lèse-majesté.
＊ ＊ ＊
Dragging the bright-red dress behind her, Monica searched for Ray's fiancée.
Ray apparently did not know his fiancée's face or name, but Raul had looked into it beforehand.
Ray's fiancée was named Frieda Blanke.
She was a tall woman with distinctly Imperial features.
(Oh, there she is...!)
Frieda was easy to find.
She was a woman with short blond hair, dressed in a subdued dark-green gown.
She appeared to be unaccompanied, so this was probably Monica's chance to speak to her.
Monica took several deep breaths and reminded herself what she had to do.
From this point on, Monica had to bully Frieda in order to play a villainess. Then Ray would rescue Frieda, making himself look cool in the process.
(But what does it mean to be mean...? W-what am I supposed to do...?)
Monica had been bullied ever since childhood and had more than enough experience with being treated cruelly... but naturally, that did not mean she could do it herself.
(In times like this, right... I should use Lady Isabelle as a reference.)
Back when they were at Serendia Academy, Isabelle had explained in detail to Monica what it meant to be a villainess.
...Looking back, that experience had all been for this very day (probably).
(It's all right. I can do it. I can do it.)
Monica encouraged herself, huffed through her nose, and took one step forward...
"Eek!?"
She stepped on the hem of her dress and nearly fell.
But someone's arm swiftly caught her as she tipped.
"Are you all right?"
The person who caught Monica was, of all people, her target, Lady Frieda.
"Ah, th-thank you!"
As she bobbed her head repeatedly in thanks, Monica broke out in a cold sweat.
What should she do? She had been completely thrown off before she had even begun.
(I-it's all right. I can still recover... probably!)
Monica straightened her posture and faced Frieda.
Frieda Blanke was much taller than Monica. The petite Monica looked up at her and opened her mouth.
"U-um!"
"Yes?"
"G-good day...!"
"Yes, good day."
At least she had cleared the first hurdle—the greeting. "Good day" was the most basic of basic greetings for a young lady.
Just managing to say it made Monica feel as though she had grown a little.
Ah, the young-lady education she had received at Serendia Academy had not been a waste after all... Monica secretly savored her sense of accomplishment.
(N-next... Um... What does a villainess do...?)
Monica recalled Isabelle's villainess lecture.
(That's right, cover my mouth with a fan and give a mean little giggle...!)
A laugh as loud as Isabelle's was beyond her, but merely hiding her mouth with a fan and giggling seemed like something Monica might be able to manage.
With clumsy, unfamiliar movements, Monica opened the fan, covered her mouth, and then...
"...H-heh... ehehe..."
She laughed awkwardly, her face stiff.
Anyone could see how unnatural it was; it was nowhere near a giggle.
...Yet Monica cheered inwardly.
(I did it! I did it! That was so villainess-like! I looked mean!)
While Monica's lips squirmed behind the fan, Frieda continued staring intently at her.
Then Frieda opened her mouth, looking as though she had thought of something.
"Are you feeling unwell, perhaps?"
"...Huh!?"
Monica broke out in a cold sweat. That was not the response she had expected.
(W-w-w-what do I do? What should I say? What would Lady Isabelle say at a time like this!?)
As Monica turned red, then pale, and trembled violently, Frieda approached her and reached out a hand.
"Excuse me."
"Eep!?"
With astonishingly natural movements, Frieda scooped Monica up into her arms.
Then she called out to a nearby servant.
"There's someone feeling unwell. Is there somewhere she can rest?"
The servant looked startled, but nevertheless led Frieda onward.
Carrying Monica effortlessly, Frieda strode through the party venue with a dignified gait.
The novice villainess, swept up in her target's arms, could do nothing but flail in panic while clutching her fan.
(I'm so sorry, 〈Abyssal Curse Mage〉-samaaaaaaa!!)