MB Chapter 20

"Welcome, Therio. It's been so long—I'm so happy to see you!"

Melishi greeted Therio Alte with a brilliant smile. Her dark navy satin dress, which covered both her neck and wrists, carried an air considerably more subdued than her usual attire.

It was exactly the sort of clothing Therio liked—and yet, in passing, he thought only:

'It doesn't suit her as well as it would Goiyo.'

Therio Alte smiled his usual composed smile. Even so, there was a stiffness to his face that did not look particularly glad.

"Yes, it's been a while, Melishi."

"I know you've been busy lately—I'm glad you came! Oh—is today also... because of Goiyo?"

"No. I'm through worrying about the fool who decided to make herself miserable and got married in under a month."

A fool who is very clearly worrying himself sick over her. Melishi wanted to say so, but didn't bother opening her mouth. Therio Alte did not enjoy having his words contradicted.

"Anyway. I came today because there's something I need to say."

"Yes, Therio. What is it?"

"I'd like to postpone the engagement a little. My mind has been unsettled lately, and my training feels like it's been going well recently too."

"Oh..."

Melishi's face clouded. She nodded, maintaining a smile with visible effort.

"...I see. It's not something that needs to happen urgently."

"Right. I'm sorry—I have things to do today, so I'll be heading off."

"Mother said she'd be down soon. Couldn't you stay just to greet her?"

"Lady Kazehl? I'm sorry—I won't wait. She's a little... daunting."

I'll be going, then. Therio kissed Melishi's cheek. She smiled shyly in answer, leaning her face toward his.

But the shy smile from a moment ago curdled the instant Therio could no longer see her face.

'Who'd look twice at you if you weren't House Alte.'

Melishi was pressing her lips to his cheek, her expression twisted into a grimace, when the parlor door opened quietly.

Her eyes met her mother's—Lady Kazehl, who had just been stepping inside. The woman's round eyes went wide with startled surprise.

Melishi pulled her face away from Therio's cheek immediately and fought, with everything she had, to arrange her features into something serene.

Fortunately, Therio did not seem to notice his lover's agitation. He was just turning to leave when Lady Kazehl, now fully inside the room, offered her greeting.

"It has been a while, Lord Alte. This is the first time since you returned from the Avalanche, isn't it."

"Ah, Lady Kazehl. It's been some time."

Therio offered a short inclination of his head. And at once:

"I'm sorry to say it the moment I've seen you, but I seem to have pressing matters today."

"You must be on your way, then. It's all right—don't trouble yourself."

"Thank you. Then I'll take my leave. May you be at peace until we meet again."

"And you, my lord."

He exchanged a parting glance with Melishi, and Therio took hold of the door handle. They watched him go—that brisk, unhesitating stride that left no room for anything like regret—until he disappeared. Then Lady Kazehl turned.

A gentle smile on her face, she reached up to cup Melishi's cheek.

"Melishi. I think there are things we ought to talk about, you and I. Would you come to my room?"

"...Yes, Mother."

'I won't be able to wear anything that shows skin for another day, at least.'

With that self-deprecating thought, Melishi followed her mother out of the parlor.

Morning came. Goiyo woke, completed her morning wash, and stepped out of the bedroom.

She had been at the Marquess's estate for only two days, and she was not yet accustomed to it—but the ladies' maids were so attentive and skilled in their care that she thought she would adapt quickly enough.

A familiar face came toward her with a smile as she stepped out into the hall.

"How was the voyage, my lady?"

"Not bad, Annie. And how have you been?"

"Very well, my lady. I was a little nervous about the new training, but everyone here was so kind—it went more smoothly than I expected."

"I didn't think you'd come at all. Thank you."

"You were the one who offered, my lady. I was glad of it."

"Oh? Does the marquessate pay well?"

"Yes, twice as— no, that is."

I came because I missed my lady. Annie said it with a perfectly straight face, and Goiyo laughed, small and quiet.

Working at the Bethelgius estate, it seemed, one inevitably absorbed something of the master's manner.

"My lady—the master has asked me to inquire whether you might like to take your meal in the garden."

"In the garden? But for a full meal, that would—"

"He says if that's agreeable, something light—sandwiches, perhaps—would be ready for you. And if not, he says he could have a table brought out by magic. A teleport, I believe he called it."

Goiyo thought back to what had happened in the small hours before dawn. The nightmare had grown distant now, blurred at the edges—though it had been vivid as waking life when she first opened her eyes.

Her own words, spoken in reaction to the dream-Therio Alte—I want to try liking roses.

Suggesting breakfast in the rose garden out of nowhere could only be because of those words.

It was a little much—but the consideration behind it was something she was grateful for. Goiyo hesitated, wondering whether the fragrance would be too overpowering to eat through, then nodded.

Her breakfasts were always a perfunctory affair anyway—barely more than a few token bites. If the scent was too much, she could simply not eat.

She did not want to ruin Entzi's thoughtfulness.

Goiyo stepped into the garden braced for an assault of perfume, then stopped and tilted her head.

"You've come, Goiyo."

"There's no scent."

"I was worried it might be difficult for you—I put a scentless spell on the garden."

"Is that even possible?"

"If you're going to ask me what's possible, you'd do better to ask what isn't."

"Being modest seems to be beyond you."

"A keen sense of discernment."

There was a small table and canopy that hadn't been there the day before, set up in the middle of the garden. The scale was modest, but more than sufficient for two people to sit and take a simple meal.

Goiyo settled into the chair Entzi pulled out for her and accepted the sandwich he offered.

'...This is a sandwich?'

She had taken it without thinking, but once it was in her hands the shape gave her pause. However she looked at it, it resembled a work of art far more than a food item. How did one produce a sandwich this extravagant?

"The sandwich looks odd."

"My lady, that isn't odd—it's beautiful."

"Surely you didn't make it yourself?"

"Yes—I tried to make it as ornate as possible."

And how is it? Entzi settled back with elegant, crossed legs and lifted his coffee cup. The picture of the urbane gentleman—and yet somehow, to Goiyo's eyes, the image overlapped with a dog waiting hopefully for praise.

She had grown too familiar with him in too short a time, she thought, and banished the impudent image quickly.

"It's quite... impressively done. But does a sandwich really need to be this elaborate?"

"You said so yourself, didn't you—yesterday, Goiyo? That you wanted to try liking gaudy things. So I am making an effort."

"Ah. An effort."

Goiyo worked diligently to locate a more refined compliment somewhere inside herself, then was forced, in the end, to admit she had no gift for literary turns of phrase.

"Well—thank you. Mm. The effort... it's pretty."

"Thank you."

Goiyo bit into the sandwich—the sandwich that, inexplicably, she felt a mild guilt about disturbing, as though eating it were a kind of crime.

Her eyes went round. The taste was considerably better than she had expected.

She had assumed that Entzi's making it meant it would be visually extravagant and rather amateurish in flavor—but it compared surprisingly well to something a proper chef might produce.

Though perhaps that was simply the nature of sandwiches, and there wasn't much room in them to distinguish oneself.

"It's...good."

"Really?"

"Yes. You cook well too, Entzi."

"Thank you. All I did was cut and arrange what Tuverang made into something presentable."

Of course it wasn't different. Goiyo's expression cooled.

"Deception seems to come naturally to you as well."

"I am a capable man."

The sandwich had lost its novelty entirely. Goiyo ate on without feeling and gazed out at the roses. Her impression of them was much the same as the day before.

Even to an untrained eye they were artistic, beautiful—but that was a formal sort of admiration, and they still felt like too much.

She had said she wanted to try liking them, half-asleep. But would a day truly come when they felt familiar?

Perhaps a single rose, or two, might be manageable. But a rose garden this vast—could she genuinely come to like it?

"You said this was done with magic?"

"Yes—so it didn't take all that long, relatively speaking."

"How long did it take?"

"About... thirty-seven days in total, I think."

Whether that was long or short, Goiyo couldn't judge—she had no knowledge of landscape design.

Entzi set down what he'd been eating and tapped the middle of the table. When Goiyo's eyes found him, he met them and smiled.

"Have you given any thought to learning?"

"Hm? You mean—magic?"

It had only been a day since the subject first came up. He sat there smiling at his leisure while his words moved like a horse under the whip.

Entzi slid his plate aside and propped his chin in his hand.

"A day is twenty-four hours. One thousand four hundred and forty minutes. Eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds."

"One-thirtieth of a month. One-three-hundred-and-sixty-fifth of a year. One-thirty-six-thousand-five-hundredth of a century."

"Quick with figures."

"It's called being educated."

She would have to have been genuinely poor at arithmetic to fail to manage that much; Goiyo would not have completed her home education otherwise.

Magic, then. Her body was tired, her mind was tired, and she hadn't thought about it at all since Entzi first proposed it. Only a day had passed, after all.

But she found, unusually, that she was not without interest.

She didn't know what use she could make of magic with a death date already fixed for her—but that death date had been fixed by Entzi Bethelgius himself. If he was willing to teach her something as a small diversion, Goiyo found that she wanted to learn.

Was it not acceptable to do at least one thing she wanted to do before dying? Surely that much desire was permissible.

In a small voice, she asked:

"Could I manage it?"

"Of course."

The question had barely left her lips before a firm answer came back. Before the question mark even had time to fall.

"I know it will feel frustrating to hear—but I'm not confident. I've never had any remarkable talent."

"Isn't average quite enough? And if it genuinely doesn't suit you, you could always try something else."

"Something else?"

"A sword, for instance. Or a bow. Painting, or riding—there are countless things to learn in this world. Money is required, but fortunately I happen to have a great deal of it."

Goiyo had been made to try painting as part of her education, but every other thing on his list was something she had never once considered pursuing.

She had naturally never coveted any of them—and yet, somehow, she felt something stir inside her.

Noticing it, Entzi's voice turned gentle as he pushed her forward.

"If something interests you, try it. If it turns out not to suit you, we can talk then."

"...All right."

Goiyo Bethelgius nodded, slowly. As though he had been waiting for precisely that, Entzi lifted his chin from his hand and straightened.

"Shall we try now, then?"

"Just a moment—now?"

"Do you have an engagement afterward?"

She didn't—but since Entzi was the one who arranged her schedule in the first place, and therefore knew best that she had nothing arranged, the person who knew best of all that she had no appointments waiting was none other than Anzik Bethelgius himself.

At that fox-like smile, Goiyo let out a thin, quiet sigh. It meant she had given up.

"What should I do?"