You Will Realize It Too, Someday

I felt my fading consciousness slowly drift back to the surface. At the same time, a sound rang out, as if it had been waiting for me.

The faint sound gradually, steadily grew louder.

It echoed endlessly, eating away at my mind.

The obnoxious noise reverberated inside my skull, over and over and over, endlessly, deafeningly, endlessly.

It was so damn loud.

Thwack! I clenched my fist and smacked myself hard on the side of the head.

“......Fuuuck, that hurts like hell......”

Tears welled in my eyes from the sharp, throbbing pain. But it was still better than the alternative. At least the ringing in my head had quieted down a bit.

I shook my head side to side to clear the fog before pushing myself up. Looking around, I recognized my room in Sylvia's mansion. She must have brought me back here after I lost consciousness.

I checked the time. It was already past noon. Ah, great. I'm late.

Just as that thought crossed my mind, I noticed a small note resting on the nightstand beside my bed. I picked it up and unfolded it. Even without a signature, the elegant, flowing handwriting made it immediately obvious who had written it.

A soft smile tugged at my lips as I read Sylvia's worry-filled note. Honestly, I had already been thinking it would be best to take her advice and rest today.

My current condition wasn't exactly great. I needed some time to get used to it if I wanted to avoid raising any eyebrows.

I carefully folded the note, set it back on the nightstand, and sank back into the mattress. As I lay there staring blankly at the ceiling, the events of yesterday began to drift back to me in hazy fragments.

...I only remembered them vaguely, but it was enough to know that I should consider myself incredibly lucky to be alive. Seriously, how many times did I brush past death in a single day?

If not for the people who helped me, I would've kicked the bucket long ago. I'd have to find a time to thank them properly.

With that thought in mind, I sat up, deciding to make some macarons for Sylvia as a token of my gratitude. Well, I made them for her almost every day anyway... but today, I would put a little extra love into them.

Resolved, I left my room and headed down to the mansion's kitchen. I greeted the servants I passed along the way before finally arriving at my destination.

It seemed to be a break period, as the kitchen staff were nowhere to be seen. In the empty kitchen, I naturally pulled out the ingredients for the macarons and began mixing the batter.

Having made them so many times, the process felt like second nature—a comforting routine. At this point, I felt like I could probably bake macarons with my eyes closed.

Maybe if I ever run out of things to do, I should ask Sylvia to hire me as her personal dessert chef. Though macarons are literally the only thing I know how to make...

Lost in these idle thoughts, my hands moved with practiced, flawless precision. After finishing the batter, I turned to grab a piping bag to shape them, when—

A sudden wave of dizziness washed over me. I stumbled, desperately grabbing onto a nearby dish rack to steady myself.

A sickening, metallic screech echoed as the rack gave way. In an instant, everything stacked on top of it began to plummet.

As if in slow motion, several items caught my eye mid-fall. Incredibly expensive-looking plates and incredibly expensive-looking teacups. If those broke, I was utterly screwed.

Driven by sheer panic, my reflexes kicked into overdrive. I lunged forward, catching the most fragile items just in the nick of time. Miraculously, the things I failed to catch didn't shatter upon hitting the floor; they merely bounced with a dull clatter.

I let out a massive sigh of relief, carefully setting down the plates and teacups. But as I knelt to gather the fallen items from the floor, dark red droplets suddenly splattered onto the tiles. Drip, drip.

Only then did a dull, stinging pain register on my arm. I looked down and saw a clean slice across my forearm, blood slowly welling up and trickling down.

There must have been a sharp utensil among the fallen items, and I'd had the rotten luck of getting nicked by it. Deciding to wash it before trying to stop the bleeding, I turned on the tap and held my arm under the running water.

I braced myself, anticipating the sharp sting of cold water hitting an open wound. But to my surprise, the pain was barely there. Relieved, I turned off the faucet and gently dabbed my arm with a dish towel.

“......There's blood on this, so I'll have to wash it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠separately.”

I muttered to myself, but as I looked down at the towel, I blinked in confusion. No matter how thoroughly I had rinsed it, the stain that should have been there was completely missing.

Sensing something was off, I inspected my forearm. The cut that had been bleeding just moments ago was gone, leaving behind nothing but smooth, unblemished skin.

...I couldn't have just imagined it. The crimson droplets still staining the floor were proof enough that the wound had been very real.

Biting my lower lip, I took a deep breath ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to steel my nerves. I picked up the paring knife, which still bore a faint trace of my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠blood.

Then, with a swift motion, I drew the blade across the tip of my finger, making a small incision.

A tiny bead of blood welled up at the slight sting. After a moment, I wiped the blood away with the towel and stared at my finger.

I let out a heavy, shuddering sigh.

The cut on my finger had already closed up, leaving no trace behind.

“......What on earth am I turning into?”

I whispered the lamenting question aloud, but no answer came.

Only the cheerful alarm continued to echo hollowly inside my head.

Despite the bizarre turn of events, I managed to finish baking the macarons. I was just about to head back to my room when—

“There you are, child. Are you feeling any better?”

Hearing a voice call out to me, I turned around. Sitting alone on a terrace overlooking the hallway, enjoying a cup of tea, was an elderly gentleman.

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠racked my brain for a moment before recognizing him. He was the elder who had sat beside Sylvia in the interrogation room yesterday.

I bowed my head politely and replied.

“......Yes. I'm feeling much better now. Thank you.”

“Is that so? I am glad to hear it. I have a few things I wished to discuss with you. Would you care to join me for a cup of tea and keep this old man company for a moment?”

The elder gestured to the empty seat across from him.

Honestly, my mind was in such a chaotic state that I wanted nothing more than to retreat to my room and sort out my thoughts. However, refusing an elder's polite request felt incredibly rude, so I nodded and stepped onto the terrace.

As I took my seat opposite him, a teacup was placed before me, almost as if it had been prepared in advance.

Following his lead, I took a small sip. Even with my unrefined palate, I could tell this tea was ridiculously expensive. I didn't know the brand, but it tasted incredibly high-class.

Deciding to savor every drop, I continued to sip slowly. The elder then spoke.

“Ah, Miss Scarlet, was it? I have been so terribly busy that I have not had the chance to properly greet a guest staying under our roof. I understand you are a friend of our Sylvia?”

“......Yes. I'm imposing on her hospitality through a stroke of good fortune.”

I hesitated slightly at the word "friend," but denying it felt wrong too. Insisting that Sylvia and I weren't friends at this point was nothing more than my own stubbornness.

At my response, the elder chuckled warmly and shook his head.

“Haha, imposing? Do not trouble yourself with such thoughts. What is a mere room in this mansion for a friend of Sylvia's?”

“...It's not just that. I feel like I'm constantly receiving help from her... even yesterday, I had to rely on everyone again.”

“If we are speaking of help, we are the ones deeply in your debt. I heard you saved Sylvia's life. Compared to such a profound favor, a room is nothing.”

Actually, it was because of me that everyone was put in danger in the first place.

Feeling a wave of guilt, I kept my head down and focused on sipping my tea. The elder offered a gentle, benevolent smile.

“Besides, did you not say you were friends? True friends do not keep a meticulous ledger of favors. Helping one another without expecting anything in return—that is what makes a true friendship.”

“......I've just always been the type of person who can't stand being in debt to others.”

When I replied, the elder's eyes crinkled with a mischievous glint, and he leaned in to whisper softly.

“You say that, but the Astra family is quite similar to you in that regard. We never forget a kindness, nor do we ever forget a grudge. So, take care not to earn Sylvia's resentment, child. There is no telling what might happen to you if you do. Hahaha.”

He looked so dignified and solemn that I never expected him to crack a joke like that. I was caught completely off guard. He's surprisingly witty...

As that thought crossed my mind, my eyes drifted to a small stone the elder had been turning over in his hand.

Why is he holding a random rock? Intrigued, I stared at it for a moment. Sensing my curiosity, the elder held the stone out toward me.

“This seems to have caught your interest.”

“......Yes. What is that stone?”

“Haha, though it may look like a common pebble, it is actually a magical artifact. If there is any abnormality in one's body, it glows to alert the user. For an old man like me, health is the greatest concern, so I carry this with me to keep an eye on things.”

Oh... it really does look like a plain old rock, but it has a function like that? As I stared in awe, the elder asked:

“Would you like to hold it? You may seem fine on the surface, but after what transpired yesterday, there could be some lingering issues. One must be most vigilant about their health when they feel perfectly fine.”

At the mention of "lingering issues," my shoulders flinched involuntarily, and a slight tremor ran down the arm I had cut earlier. Is this... an abnormality too?

Swallowing my anxiety, I carefully took the stone from his hand and squeezed it. Naturally, I used my right hand, not my prosthetic left arm.

“......It seems your body is perfectly healthy. Haha, what a relief. Truly a relief.”

The elder, who had been watching me with an intense, unblinking gaze, murmured with a visible sigh of relief when the stone failed to react.

*We're practically strangers, yet he worries about my health this much...* Touched by his concern, I felt a blush creep up my cheeks. I took another sip to hide my embarrassment, only to realize my cup was completely empty.

...This is really good. I want more, but would it be rude to pour another cup? Hesitating, I eventually closed my eyes and reached for the teapot on the table.

But before my fingers could touch the handle, the elder's hand shot out and firmly grabbed my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

I-Is it really that expensive? Am I not allowed a second cup?

As I nervously looked up to gauge his reaction, the elder chuckled warmly and spoke.

“......Haha, the tea has gone cold.”

“Ah, I don't mind cold tea...”

“But I do. I cannot serve cold tea to an honored guest. It seems you quite like this blend. It tastes far better when it is hot. I shall brew a fresh pot, so please wait just a moment.”

With those words, the elder picked up the teapot and poured the remaining tea directly into a potted plant on the terrace, as if he were watering it.

Was it really cold? I could've sworn I still saw steam rising from it...

And throwing away such expensive tea just because it cooled down a bit... Is this the mindset of the ultra-rich?

While I was busy being utterly baffled by his incomprehensible behavior, the elder returned with a freshly brewed pot.

And just as he said, the piping hot tea tasted significantly better. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling of wastefulness. I guess I was simply never meant to live the high life.

After Scarlet returned to her room, the First Elder sat alone on the terrace, turning the pebble-like magical artifact over in his hand as he sipped his tea. Spotting a servant walking down the hallway, he called out.

“Sebastian, could you step over here for a moment?”

“Ah, First Elder. How may I assist you?”

“It seems this orchid here has died.”

“Pardon? Why, it was perfectly healthy when I checked on it this morning...”

Sebastian tilted his head in confusion, but upon seeing the completely withered, dried-up orchid, he murmured in disbelief.

“......This makes no sense. It hasn't been overwatered or neglected... How could this happen so suddenly?”

“Do not pay it any mind. Simply throw the entire pot away.”

“......Are you certain? This was an orchid you cherished deeply, First Elder.”

“It is fine. It is merely a plant, after all. Let us consider it a small sacrifice to ward off misfortune.”

Staring down at the dead orchid with a bitter expression, the First Elder quietly muttered to himself, his voice too low for anyone else to hear:

It is far better than having to clean up a corpse, after all.