Winter of the Cold Rose (3)
During the day, I attended academy classes while pushing my body through rigorous training.
During lunch and the hours that followed, I spent my time sparring and keeping company with Marc Visus.
Today had been no different.
Yet, a strange sense of loneliness lingered in the air.
My mind kept drifting back to the look in my father's eyes when he visited during my spar with Marc.
It was a look that told me I was still far from where I needed to be.
It was a gaze he directed at me more and more lately—one I should have been used to by now. Even so, that cold stare clung to me, refusing to leave my mind even as I rode the carriage back to the estate.
In contrast, he had offered Marc Visus a satisfied smile, one brimming with expectation and approval.
Come to think of it, ever since Marc's talent began to bloom, he had drawn immense attention from my father, Regulus Serion.
...My father's eye for the strong was absolute.
He must have discovered a brilliant spark within Marc.
Indeed, despite still being a student, Marc possessed skills and talent that rivaled—and perhaps even surpassed—active knights.
For a father who acknowledged nothing but talent and strength, such a reaction was only natural.
Yet, despite knowing this, the hollow ache in a corner of my heart refused to fade.
Lost in these thoughts, I barely noticed the carriage arriving at the Serion family's villa—the townhouse prepared for commuting to the academy.
The main Serion estate was located quite far from the academy.
I passed through the familiar gates and entered the mansion, but the atmosphere today was subtly different from usual.
A tense energy rippled through the servants, and a faint commotion echoed from deep within the estate.
Now that I thought about it, I had spotted my father's favorite carriage outside—a massive, ornately decorated coach bearing the golden seal of the Serion family.
Since his interest in Marc had grown, my father had been staying at this villa rather than the main estate to visit the academy more easily. His presence was not surprising.
However, from the noisy drawing room inside, I heard a voice that was both familiar and entirely unexpected.
Drawn by the sound, my feet naturally guided me toward the drawing room.
And soon, I came face-to-face with the owner of that voice.
Slam!
"I have nothing left to say to you, Father! You truly... haven't changed a single bit since that day..."
The person who flung the door open and stormed out was a tall, heavily built young man. He shared my snow-white hair, tanned skin, and crimson eyes.
He was the second son of the Serion family and my older brother, Rinaldo Serion.
"...? Ah... Seraphina, it's you."
"...Brother."
He greeted me awkwardly upon noticing my presence.
"I actually have something to discuss with you as well. Shall we talk in the courtyard?"
With that, he led me out of the building.
He likely wanted to speak somewhere far from our father's watchful eyes.
My brother, Rinaldo Serion, was practically estranged from our family.
Five years ago, after "that incident" where my eldest brother, Richar Serion, tragically lost his life, Rinaldo had declared his severance from the family.
However, it was not a complete, official severance.
Having just lost their eldest son to an accident, the family elders and my father, the head of the house, could not afford to lose the second son—who was still attending the academy—to estrangement.
Doing so would make them a laughingstock among the other noble families and drag the Serion name through the mud.
Thus, while they officially recognized him as a Serion, they functionally exiled him within the household, providing only the bare minimum of support.
In truth, it was more accurate to say he was living independently, unilaterally refusing the family's support and attention.
"So, tell me. Are you truly content with this kind of life?"
Despite this, my relationship with my brother was not strained.
Though he had left the family, the bond between the three of us siblings had always been strong.
Even now, we occasionally exchanged letters to check in on each other.
But it had been a long time since we had met face-to-face.
"Brother, what do you mean by that question?"
"Exactly what I said. Everything about living under the shadow of this family. Isn't it exhausting? Living like a mere puppet, doing whatever the family commands."
"Perhaps it is."
"...With the anniversary of our brother's death approaching, I came to see Father for the first time in a while. But... even after what happened that day, he hasn't changed at all. That made me worry about how you were holding up. You don't have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable."
"...It would be a lie to say I have no complaints. But... this is the only way for me to achieve my dream."
"I see... If you say so, then I suppose it is."
"By the way, how have you been lately, Brother?"
"Not much different from what I wrote in my last letter. I've settled into a mediocre knight order, mindlessly swinging my sword day in and day out."
Unable to tolerate the family's ways, my brother had left home and spent a long time wandering under an alias.
At times, he roamed various dungeons as an adventurer; at others, he served as a bodyguard for other nobles.
"I'm sorry we couldn't share a more pleasant conversation after all this time. There are too many eyes here, and I shouldn't overstay my welcome, so I must leave now. But remember this: your life belongs to you. You don't have to remain crushed under the weight of this family forever. And regardless of what you or Father might believe, this family's way is not the only right way."
With those parting words, my brother walked away, his figure growing smaller in the distance.
Not a single servant from the estate saw him off.
Are you truly content with this kind of life?
My brother's words echoed persistently in my mind.
Perhaps he was right.
The older and more mature I became, the more my family felt like a suffocating chain.
To elevate the family name and avoid bringing shame upon it, I had discarded my own will and simply followed orders...
As a result, my emotions had withered away, leaving me with nothing but a blank expression in my daily life.
Yet, I had to obey.
Only by doing so could I learn the swordsmanship of the Serion family.
Only by doing so could I achieve my one and only dream.
So, I endured. I simply kept enduring.
...Suddenly, the expression of the young lady of the Tistina family from earlier today flashed through my mind.
That face, smiling so happily without a single worry or care in the world.
Would a day ever come when I, too, could wear such an expression?
"My, I've spent far too long indulging in useless thoughts. It's unlike me. ...Is it because of that conversation with my brother?"
Whatever the reason, times like this demanded even more rigorous training.
Though it was getting late, it would be best to head to the academy's sparring grounds.
The training grounds at the villa were fine, but... right now, I wanted to clear my head and focus on my training in a place where no one else was around.
"My lady, do you require something?"
"I am going out. I intend to use the academy's sparring grounds."
"At this hour? But it is already quite late..."
"It does not matter. I will not return too late."
"Then I shall prepare the carriage once more."
As I stepped back into the carriage, a wave of exhaustion washed over me. Closing my eyes, a memory from my childhood drifted to the surface.
It was of my father's master, who had now passed away from illness. I remembered the pure, unadulterated strike he had shown me—a strike free of any impurity.
A flawless, beautiful trajectory that no one else could ever hope to replicate.
It was impossible to believe such a sword belonged to an old man on the brink of death.
Seeing that sword was the moment I dared to dream for the very first time.
To hone my sword and martial arts until I reached the realm of the one and only Sword Saint on this continent.
Though my life had been constantly dictated under the shadow of the Serion name...
That single dream was a path I could proudly declare I had chosen entirely on my own.
And until I reached that dream, I could not stop swinging my sword, not even for a moment.
I had to become strong.
Stronger than anyone else.
For the sake of my one and only dream.
When I entered the sparring grounds, it was as empty as I had expected.
Save for a single silhouette moving busily in the distance.
In truth, that silhouette had been appearing in the sparring grounds late at night for some time now.
Continuing a training regimen of unknown origin, late into the night when no one was watching.
As an academy student and as a knight, it was a truly admirable attitude.
They were likely preparing for the final sparring exam that would mark the end of the semester in a few months.
I had once thought about striking up a conversation, but I didn't want to disturb their training. Moreover, I wanted to prioritize my own practice, so I refrained.
Thus, to my regret, I had never once spoken to the owner of that silhouette, not even knowing if they were male or female.
We had simply spent our days focusing on our respective training, merely aware of each other's presence.
Lost in these thoughts, I was just about to lift my greatsword, which bore the seal of the Serion family, to begin my training.
But then, the silhouette that had always remained a distant, blurry shape began to approach me.
As they drew closer, their face, which had been shrouded in the darkness of the late hour, gradually came into focus.
"Uh... hello? Do you have a moment?"
The owner of the silhouette, who had trained alone late into the night every single day, was the man I had seen with Lilit Tistina earlier.
It was Rofel Teufel.