I reflexively straighten myself at the sudden voice that comes from above me. I look up at that all too familiar voice. At the top of the spiral staircase in front of me stands my husband, that man. And that too, with an extreme air of unrest about him.
Just what is this? I canât help but be suspicious. What is he doing here in the first place? No, well, thereâs nothing strange about him being here since this estate is his home. The right way to put it would be âwhat is he doing here at this time?â
No matter what happens, my first words at him coming home are already decided.
ãEdi, welcome home.ã
ãThatâs my line.ã
ãOh, now that you mention it, thatâs right. Iâm home.ã
ãâ¦â¦Welcome home.ã
Certainly, heâs the one that came home first so I should be the one to say Iâm home. Itâs the opposite of what usually happens, so refreshing I canât help but feel like laughing. But I canât do that. The atmosphere coming from this man makes me hesitate to laugh. Heâs clad in this rattling air, and it seems like I canât say anything foolish either. âJust what is this?â I assess his attitude, and he descends the staircase to stand in front of me.
ãWe have to talk.ã
Those words are indifferent and short, but I canât simply read between the lines of the firm intent within them. For some reason, I have a vagueâ¦â¦ No, a certain bad feeling about this. I put on a smile with all my might and look up at the man.
ãLetâs have dinner before that. Iâll make it right away.ã
ãIt doesnât matter, we can have it latââ¦â¦ã
ãBut youâve finally come home early for me. Wonât we have dinner slowly and peacefully once in a while?ã
I press him further, not letting him finish. He swallows down the words he was about to say, looking down at me. Hehe, he canât say anything when he always, always comes home late. Or, rather, I wonât let him say anything.
He isnât dense enough to not realize the implicit meaning in my words. With a sour look on his beautiful face, he nods really reluctantly. Yep, itâs really very well that heâs being so obedient. Although Iâm afraid of what comes next, right now itâs my victory.
I smile once again as if making doubly sure, then I head to the kitchen, passing beside him. I feel a gaze at my back as if wanting to say something, piercing through me just like an arrow, but I ignore it. I tell myself, âAs if Iâm going to be moved by that!â I manage to reach the kitchen, taking out the ingredients Iâd bought at the market.
On todayâs menu is a stew full of vegetables. I bought these ingredients just for that.
Rolling up my sleeves, I rouse myself up, âCome on!â I nimbly begin my cooking. Iâve made this dish countless times already, thereâs no delays at this point. Standing in front of the pot, I slowly stir the stew with a wooden spatula so it wonât burn and get stuck.
The pot filled to the brim with stew makes a tender simmering sound. Yes, now this is the kind of sound I like. A warm sound, completely different from the crying voice I hear in my nightmares.
Listening to that sound as it clears my ears, my eyelids suddenly become heavy. The darkness under my eyelids has been dyed a darker black. In the blink of an eye, I canât hear the simmering of the pot anymore. What I do hear instead is certainly that crying voice. That crying voice, sunken in despair and grief. Although itâs as if itâs urging me for something, I still canât figure out what itâs saying.
And then, Iâm unable to do anything but watch the spectacle in front of me. Watch the sight of that man and that girl, beautiful like a flower spirit, standing together as if theyâve perfectly been placed there.
ãâ¦â¦âi, oi, Filmina!ã
I suddenly open my eyes at the voice from nearby. I silently gulp at the sunrise-colored eyes looking at me closely.
ãâ¦â¦Y-yes? What happened, Edi?ã
ãSomething awful. Looks like the potâs burnt, but are you okay?ã
ãEh?!ã
Heâs turned up beside me before I even realized it. At his words, I hurriedly look at where my hand is. The stew has been magnificently burnt, and the savory smell that wafts up to my nose is extremely sad. I thought Iâd only dozed off for the blink of an eye, but just what had happened here?
I stiffen, dumbfounded. Beside me, the man snaps his fingers, extinguishing the fire of the magical stone â what we use here in place of the ãpastã worldâs cooking stove. As he glances down at me, I drop my shoulders and cast my eyes down.
ãUm, Edi. Iâm really sorry. Iâll make it again now.ã
What kind of a disgrace is this? To think, Iâve made such a simple mistake when I pride myself in housework. I say that, averting my eyes from the scene burnt in my memory. He shakes his head, not angry.
ãNo, this is fine. Iâll do the rest, you go to the table.ã
ãButâã
ããButã I said this is fine.ã
ãâ¦â¦Alright.ã
Heâs unapproachable. Iâm completely cast away, all I can do is nod. In front of what Iâve done, I can do nothing but dejectedly withdraw.
Exchanging roles with that man, I take out the spoons and forks from the cupboard and sit down at the dining table, waiting for a little while. Before long, he shows up with the stew dish on a tray. Placed in front of me is the stew, scooped out while avoiding the burnt parts. If this was the only stew you saw, white steam rising from it, you wouldnât think itâs burnt at all.
I admire him for being so clever. He sits down in the chair in front of me. Then he crosses both hands and I do the same, in the prayer pose.
ãThanks to the grace of the goddess, the Most High.ã
ãThanks.ã
I murmur that word of prayer after his statement, take the spoon in hand and bring the stew to my mouth. It tastes rather decent, considering itâs been burnt. All of this must be thanks to this man for skilfully scooping it out.
ââToday hasnât been going very well, neither at lunch nor just earlier. I end up thinking, âif this is how it is, maybe I should just stop being so reckless and tell everything to the man in front of me.â
That may be a regret thatâs all too late. But even so, what if that nightmare turns out to be true? What if the rumors are true, and heâs become close to Lunamerie? If soââwhat am I going to do? What am I supposed to do?
ãFilmina.ã
ãâ¦â¦What is it?ã
As we both silently eat the stew, the one who speaks first is that man. I canât make eye contact for some reason, dropping my gaze to the stew as I reply. He continues, definitely in an indifferent voice.
ãThereâs something youâre hiding from me.ã
Itâs not a question, itâs a confirmation full of belief. I canât help but stop my hand with the spoon in it. I raise my face from the stew to see, sure enough, those sunrise-colored eyes looking straight at me. Iâm pierced by that gaze, as if it certainly wonât let me avert my eyes. I donât know what to do.
ãâ¦â¦What do you mean?ã
Even though there were better ways I could have played dumb, what comes out of my mouth is that line. This is bad. It really is bad. No, the taste of the stew isnât bad at all. Whatâs bad is this situation.
What Iâm hiding from this man is my nightmares, and the fact that I go to the library. Both of them are my top secrets that I canât expose now of all places. But from the looks of him, it seems like heâs found some sort of evidence, which is why heâs asking me.
ãWhere did you go today?ã
No doubt thatâs why heâs throwing these direct questions at me like this. His sunrise-colored eyes are as sharp as a bird of prey spotting its catch. If I was a normal noble familyâs daughter, Iâd faint right then and there.
I canât run away from this. Even if I awkwardly struggle, Iâll only be digging myself a deeper grave. I know that even if I donât like it. I canât help but internally tut-tut, âit really is a problem that weâve known each other so long.â
ãâ¦â¦To the national library.ã
ãOh? By yourself?ã
ãWhat are you trying to say?ã
When I reply in a murmur, he piles up more questions, clearly implying something. When I ask him a question in return, he suddenly smiles. That smile, so beautiful I canât help but be charmed. This might be worse than I thought. I somehow manage to fix my expression; he smiles at me, his smile feeling too cold just because heâs so beautiful. This is bad.
ãWidnichol said he saw you at the library today.ã
ãOh, is that so? He should have greeted me.ã
This manâs disciple, Widnichol, is an obedient, sweet boy completely unlike this man. Iâd always been praying that our paths wouldnât cross, but it seems Iâve finally been found by him, huh?
Itâs far too late for excuses. Iâve just been lucky to not get caught until now in the first place. I knew Iâd be found out one day, but to think that that day has finally come⦠But I donât understand why just that has put this man in such a bad mood.
Certainly, I do think it was bad of me to silently go to and from the library, but thereâs no reason going to the library itself should be criticized. Since thereâs not just magical books there, but books of all sorts of genres of the country. If he only saw me, he still wouldnât know that I was reading magical books. Maybe if he talked to me about it Iâd get exposed, but for now Iâm supposed to be safe. But.
ãHe said he couldnât even if he tried. Since you were with Ronein.ã
I blink in surprise at the name âRoneinâ. Of all the things that boy Widnichol had to have witnessed, it was this.
The time I spent sitting with Celves Sin Ronein today certainly wasnât that long. The timing was just far too bad for me to be witnessed doing that. Well, itâs not like it was a secret meeting or something, but it feels really uncomfortable to have it pointed out by this man.
ãâ¦â¦Do you know him?ã
ãHe was my classmate at the Academy of Magic. Though he was only my classmate for less than a year, at most.ã
He says that as if itâs no big deal; I canât do anything but nod. This is the man who graduated the Academy of Magic by constantly skipping grades. Thereâs nothing strange if in the midst of that, he ended up knowing Celves who has enough power to work in the Black Lotus Court. But it seems like they didnât get along well. The uncomfortable way he speaks Celvesâs name is a fine proof of that.
âSo whatâs the matter with that?â I ask him with my gaze. His smile disappears, his expression saying, âDonât you get it?â I can do nothing but be bewildered.
ãDonât meet him anymore.ã
ãâ¦â¦Even if you say thatâ¦â¦ã
ãWhat?ã
Thereâs no âwhatâs here. All of the times I met Celves until now have been nothing more than coincidences, itâs not like we particularly agree to meet or something. Even if he says ãDonât meet himã itâs not something I can do so simply. He is certainly my husband, but he doesnât have the right to interrupt in my friendships with other people in the first place, right?
Those sunrise-colored eyes gaze at me irritatedly. Those eyes, such a wonderful color that changes from orange to purple, are like a treasured item to me. But just this time, theyâre annoying me. Because, isnât this situation just simply unfair?
ãEven youâ¦..ã
ãWhat?ã
ãEven youâre always with Lady Luna, arenât you?ã
The rumors of him and Lunamerie are far from resolving; theyâre slowly becoming more and more credible, reaching my ears every day. Anybody and everybody is talking about nothing but this, Iâm fed up with it. Iâve had enough of it.
Certainly Iâm the one supposed to sit in the position of this manâs wife. But now that Iâve gotten here, staying here itself seems so foolish. Iâm really just like an idiot.
Those sunrise-colored eyes widen in surprise at my words. Even though he doesnât say it in words, his eyes eloquently show that heâs heard something unexpected. Was he so thick-headed as to think I didnât know about the rumors?
What comes to my mind is the sight of this man and Lunamerie standing together. Even though all kinds of noble daughters snuggle up to him, the only one that this blunt, cold man has allowed to enter his laboratory, his room, is Lunamerie. Is it because of her good family? No, this man has never shown any interest in political power from the start, so it canât be that. If heâs the same man I know, it canât be that.
Or perhaps, has he changed? Has he ended up changing? All without me realizing, me, the person supposed to be closer to him more than anyone else. Has he gone somewhere I canât reach? Just like in that dream.
Ah, I can hear the crying voice.
ãFilminaâ¦â¦?ã
ãYouâre so unfair.ã
Even in the midst of that unceasing crying voice, the words Iâm saying are unshaking. Itâs not lovable at all, if I do say so myself. Then, there isnât a single shred of loveliness in the words Iâm saying.
ãYou never share important things with me, and now you want to interfere just at times like this?ã
Wrong. This is wrong. I donât want to say things like this. I shouldâve been calm, I shouldâve laughed it off like always. I know I shouldâve done that, but my mouth wonât stop. The man says no words, just looking at me. My face reflected in his sunrise-colored eyes is cruel, even if I say so myself.
I didnât want to show him this twisted expression, trying to smile but failing, but unable to cry either. I desperately swallow down the all the words about to overflow from me any second. The crying voice is so noisy, I canât stand it.
ãI, justâ¦â¦ã
I just.
ãJustã what? I donât know. The resounding crying voice in my head, in my heart, steals my thoughts from me, even swallowing down and washing away my words. The spoon slips out of my hand. Then, the world lurches slanted, rapidly going dark.
ãFilmina?!ã
In the midst of that unceasing crying voice, I only awfully hear the voice of that man calling out my name. Thatâs my last moments before my consciousness is plunged into darkness.