APIBAGS Chapter 72

Lady Toten's voice cracked mid-sentence. She cleared her throat, and when she raised her head again it was as though she had never wavered—the very picture of graceful composure.

"You saved my son's life, as good as. And your only wish is to escape laundry duty?"

"Yes…."

"Then I'll give you the position of head maid."

"Me? Head maid?"

It was, frankly, a shocking appointment. Lady Toten dispensed her rewards and punishments and only then dismissed the crowd of servants who had gathered like an audience. She withdrew with only Weder—still looking rather dazed—and made her way to the toilette room.

The moment the door closed, Lady Toten came apart. I moved to catch her, but Weder was there first.

"My lady!"

"Weder…. You saw Ryder die and come back to life, and yet you haven't asked a thing."

The Melek currently occupying Ryder's body shrank behind me, mortified. Melek, I'm the one who asked this of you. You don't need to feel guilty.

"Doesn't it disgust you? Being told to care for a dead child?"

"Not at all. My lady, in the village where I was born there was an elderly woman who carried a doll on her back everywhere she went. Her son had gone off to war decades ago and was never heard from again. She had dementia, and his name was the only word she still knew—so she raised the doll like her own child. And…she was my grandmother. Even when the whole village called her a mad old woman, I understood her. So you seem entirely normal to me, my lady."

"…Thank you."

Weder comforted Lady Toten and told her own past while she did it. What the hell kind of romance fantasy gives every person a backstory this dark? Daisy trusted an orphanage director who turned out to be a slave trader. Kanna was kidnapped by a lunatic and almost died. And now Weder arrives—the full regulation shinpa backstory in hand.

Come to think of it, it wasn't just the maids—one look at Lady Toten or Gabriel confirmed it: everyone's stories were bleak and shadowed and grim. This world was grimdark romance fantasy. Everything was its fault.

Lady Toten had apparently set down enough of her burden, because she turned toward me.

"Thank you, Rohanson miss."

"I'm glad I could be of help."

"And…what should I call you?" She paused. "Melek?"

The next recipient of Lady Toten's gratitude was Melek himself. He'd been hiding behind me, but now he drew his head forward and opened his mouth.

"That was the name of the body that came before me. The name Lady Rohanson gave me is Mer—!"

Melek said something strange, so I covered his mouth. Don't say Meringue. Giving a ghost a name that adorable makes me seem a bit unhinged! Could I explain it as the same principle as giving a typhoon a childish name? No. I don't think that would land.

Melek met my eyes, seemed to read the situation, and nodded. I lowered my hand.

"Please call me Melek, my lady."

"Very well. Melek—thank you for your help."

"Not at all, I—sorry. I'm sorry. For taking your son's body…."

"That was my choice. You're a better person than I expected."

Because the body Melek was wearing belonged to Ryder, Lady Toten's eyes were impossibly warm as she looked at him—exactly as a mother would look at her child. Melek seemed to relax when he saw her reaction.

A faint sense of camaraderie welled up—the kind born of navigating the same trial together. The warmth of it was the kind that makes you want to wipe your nose. Then Henna checked the time.

"My lady, I think we need to leave soon."

I checked the clock too. Wait— only an hour left? We'd need to leave now to avoid being late. But we couldn't depart immediately—there was no bringing Lady Toten to the palace like this. Henna and Weder offered to help Lady Toten with her appearance. Fortunately, Henna's skill with cosmetics was recognized even by Misha—more than capable of the task.

"Then I'll excuse myself."

Under Henna's hands, Lady Toten slowly recovered her original impression. Her damp, flattened hair was gathered neatly upward.

"Does this suit you, my lady?"

"Yes…. Thank you."

A touch of color on her lips, and life finally returned to her face. Lady Toten said she wanted to keep her original shoes, so only the dress was changed. A deep forest-green gown suited the composed, unhurried air Lady Toten wore that day.

"Your maid is very skilled, miss."

"She is, isn't she?"

Lady Toten's praise made my shoulders rise. And it wasn't only Henna—everyone back home was exceptionally capable. The corner of my mouth curled up knowing my staff was earning recognition out in the world.

"Shall we be on our way, now that you're ready?"

Right, let's go! I stood—and then the sight of Melek-in-Ryder's-body hit me all at once.

"What about Melek?"

"Indeed. We've confined the butler and Diess, so there shouldn't be any major trouble…but we can't bring him to the banquet, either."

At that, Weder spoke carefully.

"My lady, I'll stay by the young master's side."

"You? Weder—you witnessed everything firsthand, so you understand better than anyone. This child…is no longer Ryder. Are you certain you're all right with that?"

"I am."

Weder's answer came without hesitation. Lady Toten seemed startled by it, and asked again.

"Why…."

"If my father had returned to us the way Ryder has—even like this—my grandmother would have been overjoyed. Isn't a ghost better than a doll?"

A faint smile crossed Lady Toten's face.

"Thank you. I'll leave him in your care."

It was settled: Weder would watch over Melek while we attended the banquet. Lady Toten could breathe easier now—but my own concern hadn't resolved.

If Melek stays at the estate, who drives my carriage?

I'd grown so accustomed to Melek's driving that anything else was going to make me carsick. Was I supposed to sit in a jolting, swaying nausea box with a sore backside for every journey from now on? That was not acceptable.

And what about my carriage? Would I have to take Lady Toten's to the palace? And how would I get home afterward? I was deep in worry when I stepped outside—and found an unexpected figure waiting.

Oh! That beastfolk coachman who shared history with both Jelly and Daisy!

"Use me however you like."

So that's where Jelly had disappeared to after bringing Melek here—he'd gone and fetched the coachman with commendable foresight. You adorable little bastard. You're as cute as Pudding today. Pudding can never find out.

Meanwhile, Melek was devastated to find his position taken. The inside was Melek, but the face was Ryder's—and when tears began to well in those eyes, every instinct in me wanted to soothe him, coax him back down.

"My job was to be the coachman…."

"It is. He's only filling your absence until you return."

"That's right? Gami— …Gamigin. My lady, please look after Gamigin until I get back."

Melek said his tearful farewells to the horse. He would need to remain in Ryder's body at least until the marquessate was stable—the timeline for when he could return was undefined, and that was clearly what grieved him.

"When can I go back?"

"When the marchioness has a secure foothold. Just stay until she can stand on her own without Ryder needing to exist."

"Yes, I will…. Oh—my lady. What about my meals?"

Ah. There was that too. Why was the horse his first priority and food his second? Humans were usually the other way around.

Was it because he was a ghost that even his sense of priorities ran in reverse? There's a saying that ghosts do everything backward—clap with the back of the hand, wrap rice rolls with the meat on the outside. The meat-centric rice roll sounded appealing, but Melek couldn't eat that anyway.

But then—Melek had been inhabiting a bovine beastfolk body, so his dietary needs were flower petals. Would that change now that he was in a different body? Was appetite tied to the soul and not the shell? Either way, while Melek was staying at the Toten estate, it looked like I'd need to send flower petals to Lady Toten for him. This was one problem among many.

Since we'd need to talk through how to handle things on the way, Lady Toten agreed to ride in my carriage. Jelly, declaring exhaustion, vanished. He'd originally been brought along in case something went wrong at the estate, and he'd fetched a coachman too—his job was done.

"I'll head home ahead of you, then."

Jelly disappeared via teleportation. I was genuinely envious. No point dreaming of learning magic for myself—catastrophically low spirit affinity meant magical talent was, in all likelihood, equally nonexistent.

Lady Toten stood staring at the spot where Jelly had just been. Right. I forgot. I briefly wondered whether I should have hidden that, but given that Ryder's body now had Melek in it—Jelly vanishing on the spot seemed fairly mild in comparison. I gave Lady Toten a tilt of the head toward the carriage and we made our way over.

Andras let out a long yawn as he returned to the Rohanson estate. He'd talked Daisy into giving him a snack, then sprawled across Evangeline's bed—at which point Flauros took immediate and pointed offense, extended his claws, and raked Andras across whatever part of him had settled onto the mattress. Andras yelped and twisted away from the scratch.

"Don't get animal hair on Lady Evangeline's bed."

"Ow! Pudding, that's animal abuse, you little cat bastard. Discrimination! You spend every day draped across her lap purring away like a textbook housecat—and I can't even lie down on the bed?"

Flauros paid Andras's objections no mind and settled himself on the mattress. With Evangeline away, he had, for the first time in quite a while, taken human form. Light scattered around him in a way that made Andras squint.

Left with no choice, Andras rolled off and shifted back into human form. If he wasn't allowed to shed fur, then being human was the only option. Though wasn't a human lying on the bed even less appropriate? He made to throw himself onto the mattress—and Flauros stopped him with a gesture and pointed at the sofa.

"That's your seat."

"Could have just said so. So it's just the bed I can't use."

Andras resigned himself to his designated sofa, slumped down, and leaned back against the cushions. Being the charitable soul he was, he'd let it go. Right on cue, as if to soften the blow, Daisy arrived with a sherbet. He scooped up a spoonful and all the stress of the world simply… melted. Just like that.

"Where is Lady Evangeline?"

"She departed straight for the palace."

Flauros began sharing his sight through the eyes he kept orbiting Evangeline.

"Ugh," Jelly clicked his tongue. "Creepy little stalker."

"Oh—speaking of surveillance: there were an unusual number of people lurking near the estate earlier. And most of them were priests."

"Priests?"

The scenery shifting through the shared view rolled past quickly, stilling only when the imperial palace came into sight. Through those orbiting eyes, Flauros caught a faint wrongness emanating from the imperial palace. He couldn’t put his finger on it—couldn't name it precisely—but the palace felt like something foreign had lodged inside it, wrong in the way a splinter is wrong.

"Andras. Why does it smell of rot?"

"From me?"

Andras raised his own arm and sniffed—nothing but the well-groomed indoor-dog scent particular to the aristocratic class.

"From the palace. Something isn't right…. I'd better go to Lady Evangeline directly."

Flauros studied the uniforms of the palace servants visible through the shared view, and reproduced one without effort. The outfit sat entirely at odds with his curling gold hair and the unblemished, fine-boned hands that had never seen callus—but he paid that no mind.

"Mistress would prefer you in your cat form, you know. Or wait—would she even recognize you like that?"

Andras cackled and needled him, and got another scratch for it. Collateral damage, really. He’d successfully shielded the sherbet and looked entirely proud of himself.

"Where to?"

"The palace."

I gave the destination and settled into the carriage. However skilled the coachman, Melek was another category entirely. The carriage shook and rattled as it got underway. I fixed my gaze out the window against the motion sickness—and noticed, somewhere along the way, that the rain had stopped. Clouds clearing, the moon uncovered itself and spread a quiet silver glow. Lady Toten gazed at the sky in a daze.

"The rain has cleared."

The rain that had been pouring for days had finally relented. The moon was outrageously beautiful.

"Lady Toten. Do you know today's date?"

"Yes. Of course."

She looked at me as though wondering where this was going. I'd been weighing whether to say this—and then decided I would.

"Don't ever forget today. We stole death from Ryder. We stole his right to be mourned, and we stole his rest. So let's be the ones who remember his anniversary."

I drew from my pocket the jeweled flower—the crystal one Misha had pressed on me, the practice piece from when she was crafting my ruby ornament, which I'd been carrying to give to Gabriel. It didn't quite suit my debutante dress, so I'd held on to it.

I hadn't expected it to be used like this. This was my offering to Ryder.

Lady Toten accepted the crystal flower. She clutched it to her chest—close, with both hands—and wept without restraint or composure. She wept with everything she had—and poured it all out just as wretchedly.

That Ryder had been terribly ill for five days. That today he had finally gone to the sky. Everything from his last words to how she had come to me, clutching at any rope she could find.

"I will never forget today. The Crown Prince's birthday—there's no forgetting it."

Lady Toten looked at me with reddened eyes and made her promise. By the time she finished, we were nearly at the palace.

"Almost there."

Having set down her burden, Lady Toten looked considerably lighter than before.

The rain had stopped. I opened the glass window and leaned out to look. The palace was across a river. We passed over a massive suspension bridge, and then an entrance of extraordinary scale came into view. Oh—the palace was across a river.

Guards posted at the entrance were inspecting each carriage individually.

"They’re checking the manifest for imperial clearance."

Lady Toten—eyes still stained red at the corners, but otherwise the perfect noblewoman returned—explained why the carriage had stopped. Stricter than crossing a border, this was. Though it made sense—with the palace as the venue, assassins could try to blend in with the crowd. And most guests tonight would be bringing birthday gifts for the Crown Prince, which meant those needed to be checked as well. One team at a time, the inspection proceeded. Finally our carriage pulled forward.

"Your invitation, plea— Oh! That man's neck—his neck is turned all the way around—!"