Chapter 94
When Monica and the others went to the clothing shop they had visited the other day, the elderly proprietor looked up from the newspaper he had been reading.
"Oh, welcome. It snowed heavily overnight, but it's warmed up considerably today."
"Then Ashelpike must have gotten some ice that won't melt."
When Melissa said it jokingly, Ashelpike, posing as a scarf around Cyril's neck, gave a little twitch of its whiskers.
Ashelpike and Toure, disguised as weasels, were each wrapped around Cyril's and Melissa's necks, pretending to be scarves.
Seeing them made Monica feel strangely fidgety inside—Cyril and Melissa looked as though they were wearing matching scarves, which was the cause of her restlessness, but Monica lacked the experience to understand why.
All Monica could do was anxiously watch Melissa from behind as she walked clinging to Cyril's arm.
"What are you looking for today? A coat for that young man, perhaps?"
The proprietor said this while looking at Cyril. Since the other three were wearing the coats they'd bought yesterday, it was only natural he'd think so. Monica had thought so too... but.
"No, it's not for me."
Cyril shook his head and turned his gaze to Monica.
"A coat for her."
"...Huh?"
Monica's eyes widened, and Cyril frowned slightly as he looked at her white coat.
The coat she had wrapped carelessly around her arm over the rose had frayed considerably. Melissa had lightly washed out the bloodstains, but up close, it looked rather shabby.
"I have to return to Hioon after this, so I don't need a heavy coat."
At Cyril's words, Raul exclaimed, "What?!"
"You're going home already? Since we're here, let's sightsee around Yauschka!"
"I have a meeting at the headquarters of the Ascald Library Association tomorrow afternoon."
"Huh? Then you really have to head back right away."
Cyril nodded grimly at Raul, whose eyes had widened.
Considering the time it would take to return to Hioon from Yauschka and then travel to Ascald, the schedule was extremely tight.
And yet, apparently he had waited dutifully until Monica woke up.
As Monica fidgeted with the hem of her coat, Cyril cleared his throat.
"You've been a great help this time, so let me at least give you this."
"Th-thank you..."
"I would also like to send a token of thanks to the Roseberg family later."
At Cyril's words, Melissa clung to his arm and squealed, "Yay, I'm so happy!" while Raul pouted and complained, "What about me?!"
Cyril straightened and looked at Raul.
"Ah, of course. I'll send something to the Roseberg family later..."
"Yeah, yeah."
"I'll send you some work."
"Why?!"
Cyril turned his back on the loudly protesting Raul and asked Monica, "What color coat would you like?"
Monica answered shyly, fiddling with the coat's decorative cord.
"Um... white, please."
"The same color as the coat you're wearing now. Do you like white?"
Monica nodded with her head lowered. Cyril gave a small smile and said, "I see," then picked up a white coat from inside the shop.
The one Cyril chose had a different embroidery pattern from the coat Monica was wearing.
The embroidery thread was a pale pink like spring flowers. The bead at the end of the decorative cord was a similar color, and when held up to the light, the pattern of a white flower showed through.
Her current coat was white as well, but simply changing the color of the embroidery thread somehow made it look more springlike.
"I'll take this one."
"Yes, yes."
Cyril paid the proprietor a silver coin, then held out the coat to Monica.
"Ah, thank you...!"
Monica thanked Cyril and put on the new coat, then carefully folded the frayed coat and held it against her chest.
Melissa sidled up and whispered in her ear.
"Well, Monica-chan. What a lovely coat!"
Monica looked up at Melissa with a start.
Then, clutching her frayed coat to her chest, she opened her mouth.
"Um, the coat you bought for me too... I'll mend it properly when I get home and take good care of it..."
Melissa wrinkled her nose and sighed with the expression of someone looking at a hopeless student.
"Now, Monica-chan?"
"Y-yes!"
"This wasn't the time to be so considerate of me, was it? Was it?"
"Huh? What?"
Melissa declared in deadly seriousness to the bewildered Monica:
"At times like this, you're supposed to wrap your arms around Cyril-sama's neck and show everyone, 'Aah, Cyril-sama, thank you♡!'"
"...??"
"Oh, no. This is all wrong. You've got no sense of how to do it. I'll give you credit for showing me respect, though."
Melissa pinched Monica's cheek between thumb and forefinger and kneaded it idly.
Not understanding what Melissa's criticism meant, Monica could only give an uncertain, "I-I see."
As Melissa and Monica continued their exchange, Toure, pretending to be a scarf around Melissa's neck, whispered, "Hey, hey," in a voice only the two of them could hear.
"I wonder what that ornament is. It makes such a pretty jingling sound."
Toure was looking at the bell ornament hanging outside the shop. Apparently, it had been curious about it for some time.
Melissa grinned at Toure, who kept stealing curious glances at it, and spoke to the elderly proprietor.
"Hey, Grandpa. What was the story behind those bells on the door again?"
"Hmm? Didn't I tell you yesterday? They're there so people will know right away whenever White Dragon-sama is here."
"Oh, right, I remember. 'White Dragon-sama, White Dragon-sama, whenever you need something, please ring this bell,' wasn't it?"
"That's right. White Dragon-sama is a shy one, you see."
Melissa murmured, "There you have it," and looked at Toure around her neck.
"Humans think of such wonderful things. So wonderful."
Saying that, Toure climbed down from Melissa's neck, leaped onto the door, and rang the bell ornament with a cheerful jingle.
"Hey! You goofy weasel!"
Beside Melissa, who clicked her tongue, the proprietor widened his eyes and said, "Was that a real weasel?"
＊ ＊ ＊
After they finished buying the coat, the group headed straight for the carriage stand. Cyril would be taking this carriage back to Hioon.
As the carriage approached, Toure, who had been wrapped around Melissa's neck, leaped onto Cyril's shoulder.
On Cyril's left shoulder sat a golden weasel—the higher spirit Ashelpike, who appeared in legends.
On his right shoulder sat a pure-white weasel—the White Dragon Toure of Mount Karug.
With beings from legend and lore perched on his shoulders, Cyril composed himself before boarding the carriage.
"Thank you for all your help. And... about these two..."
Melissa picked up where Cyril left off, as he wore a troubled expression.
"Of course. This will remain a secret between us."
Ashelpike, a being from legend, was one thing, but Toure was worshipped as a god by the 〈Haila People〉.
If word got out that they had taken Toure away without permission, it could become a political issue.
"This is a little late, but... won't the 〈Haila People〉 panic with their god gone?"
At Raul's doubtful question, Toure answered lazily, "I think they'll be fine."
"The mana concentration on that mountain is so high that humans only come once a year, when they bring offerings to the shrine. Besides, I rarely showed myself in front of people."
"And that shrine's half-destroyed, too..."
Raul had a point.
But Melissa snorted as if it were nothing worth worrying about.
"The one they worship is the one who destroyed the shrine, so it's not our problem. If need be, we can just say that goofy White Dragon over there broke it by rolling over in his sleep."
"I don't toss and turn in my sleep."
Melissa brushed off Toure's objection with a casual "Yes, yes," and shrugged.
As she listened to the exchange, Monica secretly wrestled with a concern.
(Should I... tell Aike and Nero about what happened this time...?)
It certainly wasn't something to discuss lightly, but she could trust Aike's discretion. And as for Nero, he had no one to tell it to, so there was little risk of the information leaking.
Besides, if Cyril brought Ashelpike and Toure to the Southern Doll, Nero, who was skilled at sensing mana, would identify them at a glance.
(Hmm... I'll wait and see how things go, then tell them once things have settled down... Maybe. Yes.)
Once the conversation had reached a natural pause, the coachman called out, "Are you ready to go?"
Cyril replied, "I'm coming," and turned his eyes toward Monica.
What should she do?
She wanted to say something, but it was frustrating that she could never think of anything tactful at times like this.
As she anxiously fretted over what to say, Melissa clung to Cyril's arm.
"Cyril-sama, whenever you visit the royal capital, please, please come visit our home."
"Oh, that's a great idea! Cyril, come visit our place next time! Bring Toure and Pique, too!"
At the lively Roseberg siblings' words, Toure exclaimed brightly, "I'm looking forward to it, I'm looking forward to it," and Ashelpike answered in a small voice, "If Toure is going, then I will too."
Unable to join the conversation, Monica could only fidget while clutching her frayed coat to her chest.
"Until next time."
With that, Cyril headed toward the carriage.
Monica instinctively reached out and grabbed Cyril's coat.
"Ah, um..."
"...?"
Cyril turned around, eyes widening as he looked at Monica.
Monica gave an awkward, lopsided smile, her eyes darting about.
"Um, there was some lint on your coat, you see..."
"Was there? Sorry, and thank you."
"N-no..."
That brief exchange was all Monica could manage.
Eventually, Cyril boarded the carriage with the two weasels, and it set off.
Once the carriage turned down an alley and disappeared from sight, Melissa let out a deep sigh.
"Oh, I've lost all motivation now that that handsome man is gone. Let's go back to my room, have a drink, and go to bed."
"What a shame. It would've been nice if Cyril could've gone sightseeing with us, too... Hm? Monica, what's wrong?"
Raul looked puzzled at Monica, who stood frozen.
"N-no, it's nothing."
Monica shook her head vigorously, hugged the frayed coat to her chest, and started walking briskly.
Then she murmured under her breath.
"I-I made a move behind her back..."
＊ ＊ ＊
"Oh no..."
Inside the carriage, Cyril was clutching his head.
He had forgotten to give Monica the candy he had intended to gift her for Ashelpike's festival.
It was the second time, after the winter-solstice wreath. That time, he had had an unavoidable reason, but this time he had simply forgotten.
Sighing, Cyril put a hand into his coat pocket and frowned at the strange sensation.
"...Hm?"
When he left home, Cyril had put a small jar of candy and some small fish in his pocket.
But inside the pocket, he felt glass clicking against glass.
Puzzled, he pulled out a small glass bead instead of the small fish. It had been knocking against the jar of candy and making that clicking sound.
Cyril placed the jar of candy on his lap and lifted the glass bead between his fingers.
It was white as snow. Looking closely, he could see a snowflake pattern in an extremely pale blue.
Since it had a hole through the center, was it some kind of decorative bead meant to be threaded onto a cord?
On Cyril's shoulder, Toure's golden eyes gleamed.
"Wow, beautiful ice that won't melt! Is it candy, too? Can I eat it?"
"Toure, Toure, that's glass. Don't eat it."
At Ashelpike's words, Toure tilted their head. "Is that so?"
Quietly charmed by the weasel's adorable head tilt, Cyril set the two weasels down on the seat.
"If you're hungry, have this instead."
Cyril pushed the jar of candy toward Toure and Ashelpike, then took another look at the glass bead.
If this had been Lana Colette, who paid close attention to other people's clothing, she would have recognized that the glass bead had adorned the white coat stained with blood.
If this had been Isaac Walker, who was well versed in the cultures of other countries, he might have connected the glass bead to a Randell Kingdom custom and realized the feelings a little girl had hidden in his pocket.
But Cyril, who knew little about such things, stared at the glass bead and said with utmost seriousness:
"The little fish... turned into a glass bead?"
The snow melted, but the mystery of the glass bead remained unsolved as the seasons began to change.
With his mouth full of candy, Toure gazed at the fresh greenery outside the window and murmured, "It's spring."