APIBAGS Chapter 43

Not that she fully trusted what Daisy had said. Kanna wasn't her real sister—she couldn't just believe something like that out of nowhere.

And yet the what if had been circling in her mind for days.

When Kanna did things that weren't quite normal. When Henna had seen her watching Donau's death with what looked like satisfaction. Was she acting that way because she wasn't really Kanna. The thought arrived without warning.

If she truly loved her sister, she should feel revulsion at the suggestion that the person had changed. The way Daisy had, who found Lady Evangeline monstrous.

Her sister had spent her whole life ill. Now that she was fully recovered, someone else was occupying her body? She ought to be furious. That was the proper response.

"Even if Kanna has changed—even if she's someone else entirely—when I see her smiling like that, I want to give her anything she asks for."

And yet Henna was still helpless where Kanna was concerned.

She had turned Daisy's words over dozens of times. She had waited for Kanna until late at night, and she had finally admitted it to herself.

Whatever form she took. Whoever she was. Just having 'Kanna' beside her was enough. Henna cried, because she found herself ugly in her selfishness.

"Daisy. I'm going crazy, aren't I?"

Henna smiled with the tears still on her face.

"Henna..."

Daisy was watching the living proof of what her own patronizing interference had ruined, and she regretted it to the bone. Seeing a line on someone's throat and announcing that wasn't your sister—that was not a thing you said.

An uncalled-for act of charity. Trivial, hollow sympathy. Words spoken to ease her own conscience had broken something in Henna.

When they'd worked at the estate together, Daisy had heard that Henna's entire reason for earning money was her sister's treatment costs. Kanna had probably been Henna's whole world. And Daisy had told her that world was a lie. What had that shock been.

"I think I understand what you mean."

"You understand?"

"I was certain Lady Evangeline was a monster who had stolen our young lady's body. So I ran from the estate and reported her to the temple. But when I was backed into a corner, the only person I could ask for help was her."

'And you? Are you going to pretend my lady didn't help you?'

'The Evangeline Rohanson you knew is already dead.'

These had been Kanna's words—a sharp cut, heard once and not forgotten. Kanna had said them to Daisy; Daisy had passed them on; now they had reached Henna. Henna received them quietly.

"And Lady Evangeline helped me. Now the gratitude is bigger than the horror and the revulsion. Henna—are you going to call me crazy?"

Henna shook her head. Because Lady Evangeline had changed, Kanna had recovered her health, and now the two of them could live without financial hardship. Henna had been afraid of Lady Evangeline—but grateful to her too.

"And—I want to apologize. What I said then. I think I was mistaken."

Daisy had meant to bring this up before Kanna came back, in fact.

"Mistaken?"

"The demon near my lady—Jelly. The bodies Jelly reanimated all have red marks on their throats."

She didn't mention that it was because they'd been decapitated and reattached.

The reanimated bodies generally only mimicked behavior from their living days. But Kanna was far more human than any of the people Jelly had raised. Of course, Lady Evangeline's case was its own precedent, which made absolute certainty impossible.

I misjudged, she had meant to say. Your sister is probably the same person. An apology for that. It seemed, in the end, that it was too late.

"That's why I think I was wrong."

"Is that so."

"Your sister used holy water, didn't she? Sir Gabriel told me—the ones brought back from the dead, when holy water touches their flesh, it burns."

When Henna responded with flat indifference, Daisy hastily added the evidence. Gabriel had told her—information gathered during the interrogation of Father Berga, who had been raised by Jelly.

"Holy water..."

Rather than reassuring Henna, it made things worse. Kanna had used holy water only the once, to treat her illness. After that, the wound on her throat she had refused to treat. Which was why the scar was still there.

Why had Kanna refused to treat it.

Henna wanted to strike her own face for the thought that crossed her mind. Lady Evangeline had plenty of holy water. If Kanna were injured badly enough to need it—seriously enough that holy water became unavoidable—the truth would reveal itself. The thought came and went.

"Henna, did you wait long?"

Kanna must have had nothing else to do beyond delivering the petals, because she was back quickly, pressing close to Henna. Henna stroked her hair.

But Henna would never hurt her sister. She was certain of that.

Which meant she would live with the uncertainty forever.

Gabriel arrived at the knights' headquarters late, having delivered the children to the orphanage himself. Explaining the circumstances and completing the necessary procedures had taken longer than expected.

Raphaela looked up from the report he was drafting for the upcoming council meeting.

"Thank you for your hard work, Commander. I could have gone."

"No. I told my lady I would handle it."

In truth, Raphaela or any of the other knights could have managed just as well.

Gabriel's going in person hadn't come from any commitment to seeing things through himself. He was not, despite his reputation, as principled or righteous as people assumed.

It was because of Evangeline. To be precise: because of the particular look that had crossed Evangeline Rohanson's face. Not reluctance exactly. Closer to unfamiliarity.

Whether it was because the children were connected to Daisy or not, Evangeline had shown an unusual degree of interest in them, treating them with a gentleness that wasn't her usual register. She cared about the children, so he cared about the children.

'Thank you.'

Gabriel had witnessed the moment Evangeline shed the detachment of a noblewoman. He had noticed: when a child's thank-you reached her, something cracked in the bored mask.

'...Yes.'

The thing he had to push past every line to catch even a glimpse of had come undone at a child's thank-you.

Just that.

How had something that ordinary moved her.

Does she like children.

No. It wouldn't be something as warm as that. Just—she became a little less guarded. And judging by what Daisy described, the end result was that Evangeline had saved the children. That much was true.

A carriage flashing past. Red wheel tracks in the road.

If he had met Evangeline when he was an orphan—would she have helped him. Would those white, cold hands have reached out toward him.

It was already past and couldn't be changed. Gabriel let the thought go.

"Well, your request would certainly have carried more weight than mine."

Raphaela grumbled. The priest overseeing the orphanage was a man of exceptional integrity—so exceptional, in fact, that he made a consistent practice of dismissing money-obsessed nobles. Raphaela's noble origins were widely known, which meant his reception there would have been thoroughly unwelcoming.

A self-made knight commander raised in an orphanage, on the other hand.

'It's not as if I've been lavish with it, though.'

He'd stopped being a member of that family the moment he entered the temple. But that was how things were. Raphaela, who had always been treated as the one the family had written off, turned the old grievance over once and set it down.

His already considerable disdain for the nobility was going to deepen after hearing that wealthy clients had been purchasing children. And the priest on that transaction record was inevitably going to turn out to be from a noble family.

"Merai?"

"Confined to the underground cells for now."

Raphaela delivered the progress report. Merai had been immediately confined; the matter reported upward. Given that a priest was implicated in the trafficking, it had been deemed serious enough to call a meeting promptly.

Merai's fate would be decided there.

"Commander—I think Lady Rohanson's name will come up in the meeting."

In Father Berga's case, there had been no direct link, and Evangeline's name hadn't surfaced. This time was different. Bishop Jabaniya had seen Evangeline and taken an interest. Her name would certainly come up.

"About my lady's identity—are you going to disclose everything?"

The possible culprit behind Donau. Owner of the symbol. A reanimated corpse. Something beyond reason, playing at being a noblewoman.

If all of it came out, Evangeline Rohanson would not survive it. Or the opposite. That possibility existed too.

"I wonder."

Gabriel closed his eyes. From somewhere, very slowly, came the sound of a heartbeat.

"Did you sleep well, my lady?"

No. Not even a little.

The knowledge that I'd have to face Gabriel soon had kept me up the whole night.

I was a wreck, while Kanna looked luminous—like she’d been dusted in spring petals. She must have patched things up with Henna last night.

"Where's Henna?"

"She said she and Miss Daisy are stopping by the butler's on their way."

Henna's low spirits were my fault, not Kanna's. Having the lady you served turn out to be a soul-thief would do that to a person. Kanna said she'd try to handle it, but—

"Did it go well?"

"Yes! Thanks to you."

After finishing the meal with Kanna, Henna and Daisy arrived.

Wait, I thought they made up. Henna still looked subdued.

"What's wrong with her now?"

Jelly tilted his head at Henna too—so it wasn't just me.

She wasn't doing well, that much was clear. Her eyes were red. She'd been crying. Some good friendship-cementing tears, apparently.

Daisy, on the other hand, looked like she'd slept magnificently. While I was here tearing my hair out over this.

Well. Strictly speaking, it was my own fault. I'd possessed a villainess and then been too decent about it, causing enough of a discrepancy to get caught. But if I didn't reform I'd die—if I'd kept committing evil acts I might not have died immediately, but I'd have ended up destroyed regardless.

And yet no matter how hard I tried to reform from villainess into something else, I kept ending up on the death route anyway. The story's coercive force was terrifying, muscling me back into the villainess role no matter how I struggled.

At this rate they'd stop calling me a witch and go straight to demon-possessed.

I don't know anymore. The only thing I could rely on was that Gabriel had fallen for me. Which meant the moment the scales fell from his eyes—dead.