Chapter 93
The sensation of something fluffy tickling her cheek woke Monica.
"............Ngh."
When she lifted her right hand to rub her eyes, she realized that it was wrapped tightly in bandages. Her wrist in particular had been secured especially firmly.
As Monica lay there, she patted at the bandages on her right hand with her left. Then something soft and fluffy landed on her face.
The downy, fluffy thing felt pleasant to the touch, but it lacked the warmth characteristic of living creatures.
Wondering if it was some kind of fur, she touched the thing covering her face. Then she heard hushed voices above her.
"She's awake."
"She is."
"Then say it now."
"Wouldn't it be better after she sits up?"
"Then wait."
The thing swaying fluffily over her face felt pleasant, but it was also a little ticklish and made it hard to breathe.
As Monica wondered what to do, the fluffy thing was whisked away, and her vision brightened.
"You're in the way, you clueless weasels."
In the now-unobstructed view, Melissa was holding up one small weasel in each hand.
The weasel in her right hand had snow-white fur and golden eyes, while the one in her left had pale golden fur and violet eyes. Monica recognized those eye colors.
"Big Sis, and... um, could that weasel be..."
"The White Dragon and the Ice Spirit. I had them disguise themselves as animals so we wouldn't waste money on lodging."
Melissa tossed the two weasels carelessly onto the floor, then sat down in the chair beside the bed.
Looking around the room again, Monica saw that it was a small, cozy bedroom. The view outside the window was familiar. It was Yauschka, the city just before the Vilraya Autonomous Region.
When Monica sat up in bed, Melissa grabbed her right hand without a word, removed the bandages, and applied fresh medicine.
Her right hand was covered in cuts. The palm, which had gripped the vines tightly, was especially painful, with a throbbing heat spreading through it.
Her wrist, which had been pulled forcibly, had turned dark red, and even bending it slightly caused severe pain.
"The wrist especially needs to be immobilized properly, or it'll take longer to heal. Don't use your right hand at all today. If you disobey me, I'll slather on a foul-smelling ointment whose stink will cling to you for a month."
"Y-yes!"
When Melissa finished wrapping the bandages, the two weasels jumped onto the bed.
The pale golden weasel—the Ice Spirit Ashelpike—looked up at Monica with round eyes and opened its tiny mouth.
"I'm sorry."
"............Huh?"
"Cyril said that when you've done something wrong, you have to say you're sorry properly."
Apparently, Cyril had already begun teaching his contracted spirit human common sense.
As Monica blinked in surprise, the white weasel—the White Dragon Toure—looked up at her face and spoke.
"And thank you, too. Thank you for saving me."
Though a weasel's face was not as expressive as a human's, Monica could almost see Toure smiling gently with a human face.
"Um... you're welcome."
When Monica replied with an awkward smile, Melissa snorted as she put away the bandages.
"There are plenty of things in this world that 'sorry' doesn't make okay. If you aren't satisfied, punish them. That's social education, too."
"N-no, that's not necessary..."
When Monica shook her head, Melissa glared at the two weasels with her green eyes.
"You should thank Cyril-sama. If you weren't contracted to Cyril-sama, I'd skin you and make a scarf from your fur..."
Before Melissa could finish speaking, the door opened without so much as a knock.
The one who strode in without the slightest hesitation was Raul. Cyril was right behind him.
"Big Sis! Is Monica awake?"
"This is a lady's room! Knock first! Excuse me, Lady Melissa. How is Monica's condition...?"
Melissa instantly wiped the dangerous expression from her face and smiled sweetly at Cyril.
"Oh, Cyril-samaaa. Yes, Monica just woke up. I've finished changing her bandages, too."
Cyril let out a relieved sigh at Melissa's words and approached the bed.
Then he narrowed his blue eyes and stared intently at Monica's right hand.
His expression grew darker and darker, and a deep crease formed between his brows.
"Um, Cyril-sama..."
".................."
Cyril pressed his lips into a sullen pout and glared at Monica—or, more precisely, at her right hand.
Monica fidgeted aimlessly with her free left hand, then opened her mouth, feeling that she had to say something.
"Um, how are you feeling, Cyril-sama...?"
"Worry about yourself, not me."
Cyril's voice was low, and anger clearly colored it. The force of it made Monica flinch and her shoulders shake.
As the two of them fell silent for a while, Raul, who had been playing with the weasels, spoke in a carefree tone.
"Cyril's angry that Monica overdid it, but since she did it to save him, he can't say anything, so he's got a crease between his brows!"
"Don't speak for me!"
After shouting at Raul, Cyril awkwardly cleared his throat toward Monica, who was staring at him with wide eyes.
Then he continued, his expression bitter.
"...No, that's right. Raul isn't wrong. Besides, I'm not angry at Monica... I'm angry at my own incompetence."
Cyril knelt beside the bed and laid his hand over Monica's right hand, which was wrapped tightly in bandages.
Silver hair fell softly across Cyril's lowered profile, hiding part of his face.
"Please don't ever do anything this reckless again... I was worried."
Cyril's voice was hoarse with pain, and it clearly grieved over Monica's injuries.
Feeling terribly sorry, Monica lowered her eyes and hung her head.
(What am I doing...? I meant to save Cyril-sama, but instead I made him worry... And when it mattered most, Melissa and Raul-sama had to save me. I couldn't do anything...)
Monica had let her emotions take over at that moment, used her mana recklessly, and run out of it in an instant.
To top it all off, she had made Cyril worry... She was unfit to be one of the Seven Sages.
"...I'm sorry."
"I'm not blaming you, so don't apologize. Otherwise, what would that make me—the person you saved?"
"So please look up," Cyril added in a troubled voice.
When Monica cautiously raised her head, Cyril's jewel-like blue eyes gazed at her gently.
"I'm grateful that you saved me and lent me your strength. Thank you."
Cyril, who was always arching his brows, tilting his chin up, and acting haughty, was now lowering his brows and smiling faintly.
The instant Monica saw that smile, her heart began pounding as if she had just finished sprinting. Her face grew hot.
When Monica instinctively pressed her left hand to her cheek, Cyril blinked in confusion.
"...Does your cheek hurt?"
"N-no! That's not it! I mean..."
As Monica held her cheek and kept opening and closing her mouth, Cyril suddenly leaned toward her.
"Could it be a fever...?"
"N-no, it's not that...!"
Cyril's hand touched Monica's forehead.
At that moment, Monica realized something. Normally, whenever she was this close to Cyril, she could feel a chill, but...
"Cyril-sama, you're not giving off that chill...?"
"Ah. I'm channeling all my excess mana into Toure, so I no longer need to release cold air."
The contract with the White Dragon placed a burden on Cyril, but it was not entirely a bad thing.
At least while he was contracted with the White Dragon, he no longer had to suffer from mana overabsorption syndrome.
(I see...)
That should have been a good thing for Cyril, but the fact that Monica felt just a little lonely about it was selfish of her.
Monica reached out and lightly touched Cyril's hand, which was resting against her forehead.
(...It's warm.)
That was the warmth of a living being with blood flowing through its veins.
When she had touched him while he was in a state of suspended animation, the coldness had made her feel the presence of death, and she had been terrified.
When she remembered the fear and despair of that time, this warmth felt irreplaceable.
(I'm so glad Cyril-sama is safe.)
＊ ＊ ＊
Cyril reached out to touch Monica's forehead as she sat up in bed, and Monica extended one hand to lightly touch his.
Monica did not seem to notice, but the moment her small hand touched Cyril's, his face stiffened and his body went unnaturally rigid.
His pale profile gradually flushed red.
(Oh my, oh my, oh myyyy?)
Melissa silently watched the scene, then quieted her footsteps as she moved to the corner of the room and beckoned Raul over. A weasel was perched on his head and another on his shoulder.
"Hey, Raul."
"Hmm? What is it, Sis?"
Melissa lowered her voice and glanced toward Monica and Cyril.
"Could those two perhaps be...?"
"Ah, so you figured it out too, Sis."
Raul nodded repeatedly with his arms folded, then gave a handsome wink and said:
"They're best friends!"
At times like this, Melissa always thought the same thing.
Why was this idiot little brother so pointlessly handsome?
"...You really should rename yourself 〈Witch of the Blind Eye〉."
Melissa gave Raul a sidelong glare, then turned her attention back toward the bed.
The little squirt was grinning idiotically, while Cyril was bright red from nothing more than having his hand touched.
...There was no way this could be anything other than what it looked like.
(Ah, I always get the short end of the stick!)
Melissa sighed with the face of a tragic heroine, then made up her mind.
The only way to vent this frustration was to mercilessly tease that clueless little squirt.
Melissa-sama was graciously offering to step aside. That clueless little squirt would have to serve as a toy for venting her frustration.
"Cyril-samaaa, by the way, we're going shopping after this, right?"
Melissa put on her sweetest, most coquettish voice and clung to Cyril's arm.
Cyril took his hand away from Monica's forehead and nodded.
"Y-yes. I wanted to buy a jacket..."
"Why, then let me accompany you! I know a good shop!"
"I see. Then I'll take you up on that. I need to get ready to go out, so excuse me."
Cyril left the room with stiff, awkward movements.
What a dejected look Monica had as she watched him go!
Melissa bent down and whispered into Monica's ear.
"Monica-chwaaaan... Cyril-sama's wonderful, isn't he?"
"Huh? Ah, y-yes!"
As Monica nodded repeatedly, Melissa curled her red lips into a wicked grin.
"No making a move on him behind each other's backs, okay?"
"...Huh? Wait? ................................What?!"
Back at the Southern Doll, Melissa had told Monica:
──If another woman likes the same man and says, 'Let's not make a move on him behind each other's backs♡,' be suspicious of her. She's sure to betray you.
Apparently, the little squirt had remembered Big Sis's lesson perfectly.
How admirable, Melissa thought as she nodded, but when she looked at Monica, the girl in question was turning red and blue by turns, her lips trembling helplessly.
"B-Big Sis, could it be... could it possibly be...?"
"Ohohohoho! Monica-chan, you be a good girl and stay here waiting for us, okay?"
"W-wait... I-I'm coming too...!"
Melissa left the room with a peal of laughter, and Monica hurried after her.
Left behind, Raul's face suddenly lit up as he held the two weasels in his arms.
"So everyone's going shopping! All right, let's go too!"
The white weasel murmured, "Wow, that sounds fun," and happily swayed its fluffy tail.