APIBAGS Chapter 21

Then I suppose I have to carry it? Even a villainess has her pride.

"No! You're worse than an actual demon!"

Who does Jelly think is responsible for all the holy water that got used up at the estate? I paid for it. The least he can do is carry it—porter work, since that's all I'm asking. It's only ten bottles. And even if they're heavy, just how heavy can ten bottles possibly be? He's throwing an actual tantrum. This creature genuinely performs suffering at a level entirely its own.

"Jelly. I'm asking nicely. Pick it up."

Only after that mild threat did Jelly tuck his tail between his legs and lift the case. He spent the entire walk to the temple exit dragging his feet and performing agonized suffering, and I devoted every ounce of my willpower to ignoring him as I stepped out into the open air. He's a werewolf. He'll track us by scent. He'll manage fine.

I was walking along when I spotted a familiar set of knight's whites across the way. A nun was walking alongside him.

"Sir Raphaela?"

"Uriel!"

The moment Uriel greeted him, whatever solemn expression Raphaela had been maintaining dissolved entirely. He broke into a run toward us. What about the nun behind him? Just leaving her? Look at her face—she looks completely abandoned.

I felt genuine solidarity. I've had friends who stop every ten steps to run into someone and chat, and I've stood behind them wearing exactly that expression.

"And... Lady Rohanson?"

How does he already know who I am? Even in a romance fantasy setting, social butterflies apparently have their own intelligence networks.

I dipped my head in confirmation, and Raphaela—the social butterfly in question—brightened even further and offered a proper knight's greeting. His form was exactly, squarely textbook knight. His face was a dog on a walk who'd just spotted a person it loved. The gap was genuinely strange.

"Raphaela, of the Pharalos Knights. We've met before—do you remember?"

No, not even a little. Before my arrival, apparently?

"I was at the fire that time as well. And then when the Commander visited the Rohanson estate last time—I came with him! He stopped me at the door so I couldn't go in to introduce myself, but—"

So he had a one-sided acquaintance with the original Evangeline. That tracks. If he'd known her before, he'd be putting up defenses right now instead of bouncing around like this.

On another note—even after just a few exchanges, I completely understood why Gabriel had left Raphaela behind. The energy was exhausting. I could feel my life force draining.

A cheerful, scene-stealing sidekick who plays advisor to a romantically eunuch male lead! That's the type, isn't it? The indispensable one who helps engineer the couple's relationship from the sidelines. The type who overhears the wrong thing and causes the male lead to sabotage himself, then gets cursed out in the comments for it.

Archetype locked in.

"I'm so glad we finally get to meet properly!"

Right. Which explained the enthusiasm directed specifically at me. Gabriel had fixated on me rather than on the actual heroine, so Raphaela was naturally trying to get in my good graces. Very committed to the role.

Sorry, Raphaela—I have no intention of romancing a printed character. Looks like I've gone and eliminated your entire reason for existing.

"Is that so."

I gave him the shortest answer I could, trying to cut off any goodwill before it rooted. Raphaela didn't seem to notice.

"You're here because the Commander requested cooperation, right? Thank you so much! Oh, have you seen the Grand Temple yet? Magnificent, isn't it! When I first saw it I was completely speechless. Honestly I still am sometimes—"

Raphaela chattered on. No fear whatsoever. Either he doesn't know Evangeline's reputation, or he's been too busy doing his job to have picked it up. In any case, he's the first person since Kanna who's approached me this casually.

Uriel, watching the torrent of words, stepped in.

"Sir Raphaela, weren't you supposed to be in the reception room? Where are you headed?"

"Oh. The Commander asked me to see the sister home."

"Then perhaps you shouldn't keep her waiting. Shall we move along?"

"Ha—you're right, how embarrassing..."

Gently scolded, Raphaela scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. Farewells were said, and we were nearly going our separate ways when Raphaela suddenly stopped.

"Actually—now that I think of it, this sister used to work at the Rohanson estate. Do you remember her, my lady?"

"Sir Raphaela, that is a rude question—"

Hm? She worked at the Rohanson estate? She does look vaguely familiar—but nothing comes up. I moved closer for a better look, and the former-maid-now-nun stumbled backward. She was trembling. Head bowed deeply, like she might drop into a full prostration at any moment.

"You worked at the Rohanson estate?"

"...Yes."

Her voice was so small it was nearly gone. Like she was being forced to answer under some threat of death. Why so deferential? And then I understood—she'd worked there, and Evangeline had put her through something, and now she was a nun elsewhere, and I was standing in front of her.

It seems like, however I look at it—she was ground down by Evangeline and eventually just quit.

"Your name?"

"You—you don't know my name?"

"I've lost my memory."

And this is exactly why I laid the memory-loss groundwork from the start. Without it, I'd have just slipped right there.

"...Daisy."

Right. A name I have no record of. She must have left before my arrival.

"Did you leave because of me?"

I kept it as quiet as possible. Barely moving my lips. Practically ventriloquism. Uriel and Raphaela wouldn't catch it at this distance.

Daisy couldn't answer. The fact that she couldn't bring herself to say no made it obvious enough.

"You were very frightened, weren't you."

Daisy looked at the ground. I should probably apologize. But if I'm being honest, an apology would be mostly for my own peace of mind.

She doesn't know that someone else has possessed Evangeline's body. As far as she's concerned, this is still her—memory just gone. And forgetting doesn't erase the damage.

But I still can't stay silent. Escaping the villainess route requires at least the performance of making amends.

My conscience hurts. Ignore it. Okay. Repeat after me: she is a printed character. My life comes first!

"Are you still afraid?"

She didn't answer. She didn't have to. The bowed head, the shoulders drawn in—they answered for her.

"I'll give you compensation. If you want it."

I paused.

"On one condition: don't spread what you know about me."

I was trying to keep this simple—money to address whatever harm the original caused, combined with a practical insurance clause. Don't announce that I was the kindly-now-offering-money version when the whole palace expects a cold and unpredictable one.

But Daisy's reaction was wrong. She'd been pale before; now she looked like someone who'd just received news of their own execution. Her color went entirely out.

She'd already told someone.

Wait—

"Who?"

"Ugh—"

"Who did you tell?"

Alright. This is the Grand Temple. Priests and holy knights everywhere. If whatever Daisy said had reached the wrong ears, villainess? No—if this gets out, they'll call me a witch.

If the priests devoted to Donau had heard any of it, I'd have been named a traitor on the spot.

It's my own predecessor's fault—I know that. But why is it always me cleaning it up?

"...Gabriel already knows."

Oh.

...Oh.

Whew. One less thing to worry about. Gabriel. Gabriel who is inexplicably fond of me. Gabriel who would not use information against me.

Okay. That's—fine. Fine.

The relief lasted approximately four seconds before a new spiral opened.

Unless Gabriel heard everything and is now reconsidering?

What if he's changed his mind and is just waiting to see what I do next?

No. No, I'll assess when I actually see him. Reality first. Anxiety later.

Yeah. Yeah.

I dismissed the whole thing.

And then, from behind me: slow, deliberate footsteps. Jelly had finally arrived.

"Oh? You're..."

Jelly stared at Daisy with a flat, mildly surprised expression. Jelly had materialized behind us, carrying the case with one hand. Fingertips only. Like a waiter serving drinks!

I'd been too busy with Daisy to register that he'd appeared at all. He hadn't announced himself.

Daisy, who had barely been keeping herself upright in my presence, went the color of old chalk the instant she saw Jelly. Which was saying something. She'd been visibly shaken by me.

This was worse.

Interesting.

"I, I think I should really be going."

Daisy tried to leave. On reflex I caught her wrist.

"Ugh—"

I'd grabbed too hard. I shifted my grip to her hand instead.

Her hand was warm.

I'd expected cold—she'd been trembling, rigid with fear. But her hand was warm and faintly dry, and she didn't pull away.

She's shaking this hard and still this warm.

"If you have a wish. Come find me." I kept my voice low. "Whatever it is, I'll hear it."

She wouldn't feel better because of that. I know. This was self-absolution with a clause attached. But I meant the offer itself.

I let go.

Daisy touched her own hand with her other one and tucked it behind her back.

"Sister, let me walk you—"

"It's fine! The carriage stand is right over there."

She cut Raphaela off before he could finish and escaped. Raphaela watched her go with a slightly stricken expression.

"She's gone."

"Mm."

"Did you two have a good talk? I kept both ears firmly shut for privacy purposes, by the way."

"Not particularly. She didn't seem to want to talk to me." I paused. "I don't remember her, either."

"Ah! Well, to be fair—I couldn't name most of the servants at my own household either if you put them in front of me."

He said it with easy good cheer, as though this were entirely normal. Which—fair enough. But something about how loudly he'd volunteered his non-eavesdropping struck me as slightly off.

Maybe the hidden-darkness type after all. All warmth now, but the moment Gabriel decides I'm a liability—

I stopped myself.

I'm about to go see Gabriel anyway. I'll evaluate then.

This is not cowardice. This is time management.