SN Chapter 3

"Father... that is, Count Redwheel has been assigned to lead the knight order in defending the borders. He has some matters to wrap up so he can't come immediately, but Father was extremely worried about you, Sister. His already frightening face became even more fierce... Every young villager who passed by burst into tears."

Count Redwheel possessed a build that far exceeded the average male height in the Illavénian Empire. Sharp, penetrating eyes, black hair that recalled the night, a shortly trimmed beard. And a long vertical scar across his left eye. Combined with his fierce features and the savage presence he carried as leader of the family's knight order, he added considerable weight to the terrifying tales told about Redwheel Territory.

When Kallix toured the territory, he'd often witnessed scenes like this: 'Kamin! If you don't behave, Count Redwheel will get you! This brat, he'll make you call him over, that Count!' And the child would stop crying immediately. He had no words for it. His father—that particular father—reduced to the practical register of go into the deep mountains and the shadows will eat you. Filed at exactly the same level as lie, and horns will grow on your bottom.

"Father deeply dislikes wielding power over the weak. That's why the families under him don't treat the villagers carelessly either. He's so respected there's even a wine named after Father."

Rosaline made an expression that said oh, is that so. She seemed to be asking: Does it taste good? A small laugh escaped him.

"But you can't drink it, Sister. You have a severe grape allergy. It's quite the cosmic joke that our territory's signature crop is grapes, you always said how sad—"

Kallix couldn't finish. He remembered the steak she'd been eating earlier. The sauce drizzled over it had been tinged with red. Kallix liked wine reduction sauce. Since there'd been no special requests, the sauce on his portion of steak would have been exactly that. He'd been so shocked by the sight of her eating with her hands that he hadn't thought of it until now.

His sister had a severe allergy to grapes, whether cooked or not—red rashes on her skin accompanied by throat swelling that made breathing nearly impossible. Kallix seized her face with a pale complexion.

"Sister!"

Rosaline's eyes went round as she was swept along by Kallix frantically examining her body. He checked her neck and chest. By now, given the amount and time, red rashes should have appeared on her skin long ago.

"Can you breathe well? Does your throat feel swollen at all?"

Rosaline shook her head firmly.

"Say 'ah.'"

"Ah."

Even after confirming she showed no abnormalities, Kallix continued his examination for quite some time. Her eyes, skin, neck—he watched every one of her breaths before finally exhaling—one long, slow release—and sinking into his seat. Somehow her condition appeared perfectly fine. But even if she was all right now, who knew what might happen? Just as he was about to ring the bell to summon a servant, the door burst open. It was the maid who'd gone to fetch Kallix's portion of steak earlier.

"Miss!"

The maid rushed in with an urgent cry. She too had noticed the situation. She approached Rosaline and checked her neck, chest, and back just as he had done.

"Miss, can you breathe properly? Your throat doesn't feel swollen?"

Rosaline shook her head firmly.

"Say 'ah,' Miss."

"Ah."

The maid examined Rosaline thoroughly before exhaling deeply and wiping the cold sweat from her forehead. Shortly after, a steak drenched in gravy sauce arrived. Before Rosaline could grab the sizzling steak with her hands, Kallix cut it into manageable pieces and pressed a fork into her hand. After he demonstrated how to eat, Rosaline used the fork and knife quite competently.

"I didn't realize Miss couldn't use them, and I failed to pay attention. I apologize, Young Master."

"...No. I'd forgotten for a moment myself."

"Still, thank goodness. Idelabheim must be helping us. I've heard cases of childhood allergies lessening with age, but... Just to be safe, it would be better for you to take allergy medication after meals."

The maid set off at a brisk pace to find the family physician. Kallix surveyed the table, made messy by Rosaline, one item at a time. The avocado salad with a single bite taken and abandoned. The empty steak plate. The wine sauce with barely a trace remaining.

'You must watch carefully, Cal. Don't miss even the smallest, most trivial things.'

Something cold swept through the length of his spine. His face went rigid.

'Whether someone's eyebrow twitches, or their eyes shift, or they break into a cold sweat, or they lick their lips with their tongue. Even when they try to hide it, that person is telling you a great deal of information. As much as words say, perhaps even more.'

Kallix superimposed the Rosaline of before over the woman sitting across from him. In his imagination, she had no food smeared on her cheek, her hair wasn't loosely disheveled and wavy. The white uniform buttoned to the very top of the neck. Black hair tied high in a single knot, olive-colored eyes that had shone so vividly.

'You need to read beneath the surface of those armed with words, disguised with lies. You can do it well. The people of Redwheel have good instincts...'

As she'd said when they were young, he and his sister were both extremely sensitive. Their ability to assess problems and situations was exceptional. Count Redwheel himself was famous not only for his swordsmanship but also for his outstanding animal instincts. Strange tales followed him: 'Something felt wrong about retreating' and 'there was a foreign trap waiting' or 'There was someone who rubbed me the wrong way for some reason, so I just beat him up and dragged him in, turned out to be a foreign spy.' He was the owner of peculiar heroic tales.

As Rosaline had said, perhaps this strangely developed sense was a trait of House Redwheel. Kallix admitted it. The faint sense of wrongness he'd continuously felt from the sister before his eyes. It was separate from the simple problem of her having lost memories or her behavioral patterns being different from before.

Kallix's sharp gaze captured Rosaline. She was licking the sauce from the corner of her mouth with a quick flick.

The same face—but if what lay beneath it was something else entirely, then she was—

Rosaline recovered quickly with devoted care. The unbelievable speed of her recovery made Basio wonder if his medical skills and pharmaceutical abilities had now reached into the realm of the divine.

Kallix visited and cared for her every single day. Even in the midst of his busy days as heir to Count Redwheel, he never missed once. It was truly tearfully touching sibling affection.

Occasionally, some people questioned Kallix's attitude. For someone who'd refused food and drink while grieving during Rosaline's disappearance, he didn't seem particularly happy—that was their reasoning. However, the person at the center of those rumors, Kallix of Redwheel, had been famous since childhood for his cold and blunt disposition. Everyone thought he'd simply returned to his original self now that the incident had concluded.

Rosaline's daily routine was simple. She woke up and ate, rested and ate, rested more and napped, then woke up to eat before sleeping. Excluding meal and sleep times, she wandered here and there. As a result, she was spotted in various places throughout the count's estate, standing around vacantly. In a very free-spirited outfit: nightclothes meant only for wearing inside one's room, slippers on her feet, her curly hair unbound and disheveled.

The butler dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief, lamenting that the brilliant and intelligent young miss had become simple-minded, while Kallix clutched his head from the throbbing headache.

Before even a day had passed, rumors had begun circulating through the count's household. Given the conduct Rosaline had established before the incident, the content of those rumors was... not quite what one might have predicted.

'The Miss's head is a bit—' one account had started, only to be interrupted when the speaker received a flat-palmed thwack between the shoulder blades from the woman beside her. It had ended somewhere different than it began: 'She was always too clever by half, if you think about it. Slightly less is perfectly fine.' Another had bypassed the question of her faculties altogether: 'Walking barefoot is good for the body—see? Our Miss always knows exactly what she's doing.' A third had taken the most committed position of all: 'Hair completely loose and absolutely wild—that's what a truly modern woman looks like. Setting the trend from the front. Our Miss is so cool.'

Kallix set down the final page his aide had assembled. He regarded it for a moment with the expression of a man who had bitten into something and was still, several seconds later, determining what it was.

"So. Our sister... received the blessing of one above, returned alive from the valley of death after six days, woke within a single day of arrival to dispel the black aura of death that had settled over the count's household, and—despite her severe injuries—toured the entire estate to stabilize public sentiment, going barefoot for the lowly without once noticing her hair had become a complete disaster?"

"Yes."

"...Right. She certainly did go barefoot."

There was something wrong with every maid in this house. Kallix kept this to himself, adding it to the growing collection of things he had recently decided not to say aloud, and produced a noncommittal sound. Their instinct to cover for their mistress was admirable to a degree that had passed through admirable and arrived somewhere quietly alarming.

"I knew she treated the children well, but calling unripe fruit a golden apple... Well, it won't harm her, so just give them a small warning."

"It's the Miss's character shining through. Well, understood. Oh, and the Countess wishes to have lunch together. With Miss as well."

"Understood. I'll escort her myself."

Today as well, Rosaline was sitting in one corner of the corridor. Kallix observed her from a distance. Her eyes were closed as if she might be napping, but the moment maids passed by on the lower floor talking to each other, her mouth began to move, murmuring. She was whispering something. Kallix concentrated on reading her lips.

"The head maid said to change all the sheets today. Ah, that's right. We were too frantic during Miss's disappearance last week so we just skipped it? Since everyone's rolling up their sleeves, it won't take long. Let's go out after work. Vivian said she wants to buy some clothes too, should we go together? Yeah, I'm assigned to the same area as Vivian so I'll mention it. Oh, there's Vivian right there. Vivian! Let's go to the market together after work tonight. Right, I actually had something I wanted to buy this week anyway, this works out well. Let's go together."

"Let's go together."

"Let's go together."

Kallix registered the fine crawl of goosebumps rising along his forearms. It was not the first time he had seen this. Not the second. It sent a chill through him every single time regardless. She was listening to everything happening in this house and committing it to memory, repeating it back in silence.

As if she had always known, on some level below conscious thought, that to disappear into a group you first had to learn how it spoke.