APIBAGS Chapter 28

"Her name—Lady Rohanson's given name. What is it?"

"Lady Rohanson? It's Evangeline Rohanson."

"Evangeline Rohanson..."

Why was he asking? Raphaela felt a premonition of dread settle over him. This was—if he was being precise about it—exactly what he'd felt moments ago when the Commander had pressed his lips to Evangeline's hand.

"Commander. Raphaela. In the moment I faced her, I understood my purpose."

Surely not. He hasn't fallen head over heels, has he? Raphaela offered a fervent silent prayer: please, anything but that.

"Lady Evangeline is an angel, isn't she?"

This was somehow worse. Raphaela hastened to correct him. He'd rather Michel just said he fell for her. He'd been raving that an angel awaited him inside the painting and flinging himself toward it—and now Evangeline Rohanson was the angel?

The trouble was that this time, it wasn't entirely impossible. Gabriel and Raphaela had listened to Daisy's testimony and still hadn't been able to identify exactly what Evangeline was.

"It doesn't matter either way. In the moment Lady Evangeline blessed me, I understood, in my bones, who I am truly meant to serve."

Was Michel referring to the instant before he lost consciousness—when his eyes had rolled? Raphaela hadn't imagined it. He'd witnessed the precise moment Michel became enthralled by Evangeline.

Rationally speaking, if your body were on fire and a woman appeared and put it out with water, you'd be grateful. You might even think: she's like an angel. Raphaela had genuinely been trying to follow that logic—and then the word serve arrived, and he threw the whole effort in the bin.

"You absolute madman!"

You simply feel grateful. Angel-like might be a stretch but fine. But serve? Blessed? That bastard's mind had clearly broken beyond repair.

"Sir Raphaela, Sir Michel just woke up. Please calm down."

Jeremy clamped a hand over Raphaela's mouth and wrestled his outburst under control. Michel, apparently immune to Raphaela's fury, continued speaking as if nothing had happened.

"I can no longer remain a holy knight of Rahel. I will go to where she is. I'll ask Lady Evangeline to take me as her personal knight. She may refuse—it would be rather sudden. If that's the case, I don't mind being a stable hand. I want to breathe the air of the place where she exists."

Raphaela silently offered Rahel his apologies on behalf of Michel. O Rahel, that idiot's just temporarily lost his mind. That's all.

"Um, Commander, it seems Sir Raphaela may be about to collapse..."

At Jeremy's observation, Gabriel called to Michel.

"Michel."

"Yes, Commander."

At least, in the middle of all this, the man still recognized people.

"You understand well enough how great a sin you've just committed before the gods."

"Yes."

"Then continue to remain here. Consider it the punishment Rahel has given you."

"I see. My remaining here, in service to Rahel, even though I have come to serve another—that is the punishment. Rahel is truly merciful. But Commander—does it not trouble you? To have a heretic in your company?"

"I will always respect you."

"Commander! I respect you just as much as I respect Lord Rahel!"

Raphaela looked at this man—who had just declared himself a heretic-worshipper in active practice—describing his devotion to the Commander in the same breath and the same register he'd use for a God—and felt a genuine desire to gut-renovate that thoroughly rotted mind. When the painting had him, at least he couldn't be reasoned with. That was better. Now he understood words perfectly—which made it that much more agonizing.

"Did Sir Michel just refer to himself as an active worshipper of heresy?"

"Shall I strike him?"

Uriel and Seraph's commentary drifted in from the back like background music. Raphaela considered that he might be better off simply relocating to the Rohanson estate.

"How nice and cool it is today."

I lay in bed, slowly working through the fruit Henna had brought me, stabbing pieces one by one with a fork. A few fat clouds hung in a sullen grey overhead, but through the gap of the window I'd left slightly ajar, a perfectly pleasant breeze was drifting in. Could this be heaven? I think I might already be dead….

"You'll catch a cold, my lady."

Kanna draped a shawl over my shoulders. The weather was mild enough that even that felt right. Ah... Look at our Kanna, doing everything right without being told, step by step. To say thank you without saying it, I speared a piece of fruit and held it out to her. Kanna's cheeks went pink as she accepted it and ate.

And Henna, watching from the side, was about to say a word to Kanna—the usual word to Kanna the way she always did….

She was supposed to say the word….

I glanced at Henna sideways. She was standing there blankly, somewhere else entirely.

"Henna."

"Y-yes? Did you call for me, my lady?"

She only came back to herself when I said her name. She wasn't actually sick, was she?

"If you're tired, it's fine to rest. Kanna's here."

"No, I'm quite all right."

There wasn't a drop of energy in those words. All right? What part of this was all right.

"Go rest."

"Yes..."

Only after I told her a second time did Henna nod and leave the room. She'd been like this ever since we came back from the Grand Temple.

"Kanna. Is Henna sick somewhere?"

"She's not sick, no. But she hasn't told me what's wrong either..."

Kanna's voice carried a trace of hurt.

"It must be because of something that Daisy person said to her. I should have asked directly..."

Right—she'd mentioned hearing something from Daisy. So Daisy wasn't just entangled with the male lead and the second lead; she was stirring up trouble for Henna as well.

Which meant Henna's state was because of me? Oh no. What had Daisy said to her?

Oh, wait. The paper from Gabriel—that still existed. The translation should be working again by now. I needed to read it. That was how I'd find out what Daisy had told both Gabriel and Henna.

"Kanna, can you bring me the paper I received from Sir Gabriel?"

"It'll be in the room. I'll fetch it."

Kanna stepped out—and came back a while later with tears brimming in her eyes. I knew immediately something was wrong.

"Kanna? What's the matter?"

"My lady. I'm so sorry, the paper—"

She held it out, and I took it and felt my stomach sink. The ink had bled. The letters were entirely illegible, swollen and dissolved into one another.

"I must have made a mistake during the laundry. I'm so sorry, my lady. I'm so, so sorry."

Kanna looked as though she might actually stop breathing from remorse. She hadn't cried this hard when Donau kidnapped her. Is getting scolded by me actually scarier than being held hostage?

"Kanna."

"Yes..." Sniff.

"Do you think I would scold you over a piece of paper?"

I was genuinely unsettled, yes—but I couldn't take it out on the girl. I was the one who'd left the paper in her care, so this was on me.

Now I'd never know what was written on it. And I couldn't very well go back to Gabriel and ask—what was I supposed to say? I couldn't read it? Evangeline was a noble in a rofan—there was absolutely no way she'd be illiterate.

I was mulling over the problem when a better solution occurred to me.

"Daisy?"

"Hm?"

There was another person I could ask. The written statement had been built from Daisy's account. Which meant Daisy already knew everything that was in it. I could simply go find her—and this time, unlike before when I'd spent all my money on holy water and had nothing to show up with, I'd arrive with actual funds and apologize in tangible terms. Money couldn't mend every wound, but it certainly didn't hurt.

"If I knew where that Daisy person was living, I could go find her."

"Why? You have business with her?"

Jelly had just returned from his walk, timing impeccable as ever.

"Jelly."

Right—Jelly had some kind of complicated history with Daisy. He might know.

Pudding launched himself out from where he'd been tucked against Jelly's side and landed neatly in my lap. He proceeded to knead his paws with admirable commitment. The paws that had clearly been hard at work today—there were claw marks raked across Jelly's face. Fortunately, his werewolf constitution meant he healed fast.

"Do you know where she lives?"

"No? Why would I know that. But she knows I'm here, so if she needs something she'll turn up on her own."

Was this actually the second male lead—the one who'd supposedly weathered hardship alongside Daisy? Sure, he was handsome, and yes, he was a werewolf—the male lead credentials were technically present. But the more I looked at him, the more he seemed like a complete piece of junk. Wait—no. A stray mutt, actually. I studied him for a moment, tried to extend him the benefit of the doubt, and gave up.

Jelly padded over to the bed and curled himself into a compact circle on top of the covers. That was his non-verbal communication for I'm going to nap now, do not bother me. Seems I hadn't been raising a second lead at all, but a son in the middle of puberty.

I couldn't throw him out, so. What now? Would I have to ask Gabriel?

That useless thing. I clicked my tongue at the useless lump of fur and was on the verge of real frustration when Kanna offered a perfectly good idea.

"Didn't you say that Daisy person used to work at the estate? Couldn't you just ask the butler?"

Pudding chimed in with a small mrrp of agreement, as if to confirm this was the correct answer. Our Kanna, genuinely so clever I could only applaud. Unlike a certain useless ball of fur.

"That helped."

"My ladyyy..."

Kanna looked like she might dissolve on the spot.

If you're going to pull a cow's horn, do it in one go, they say—I should go ask right now.

"I'll have everything ready to go."

No need for two of us to descend on the butler demanding Daisy's address. Kanna would prepare for the outing while I extracted the information. Perfect division of labor.

I got up, and Pudding followed after me with small trotting steps. I picked him up and tucked him against Jelly.

"While I'm with the butler, would you mind waking Jelly up?"

Communicating with a beastfolk was genuinely convenient. When I scratched him behind the ears, Pudding made a satisfied rumbling sound deep in his throat. This world, too—cats were simply irreplaceable.

"Don't mention any of this to Henna."

"Of course. I'll just tell her we're stepping out."

I was going to ask Daisy what she'd said to Henna, so I could hardly bring Henna along. And while I was at it, I'd find out what she'd told Gabriel. Give her the money. And apologize properly.

What—Daisy wouldn't want to see me? That might be true in real life. But this was a romance fantasy, and Daisy had been written in as a recurring obstacle, which meant she'd be showing up again regardless of either of their feelings on the matter.

A slightly guilty feeling, yes—but...