Apology
A cold sensation seeped from the clockwork clutched in my hand. Along with it came the feeling of finally having returned to reality — and status windows sprang up before my eyes.
You have successfully prevented the fall of the Church.
You have protected the Church that countless souls had yearned for, praying until they themselves crumbled to dust.
The souls of many believers offer you their gratitude.
You have single-handedly slain the Seven Deadly Sins of the Church of ???.
The quality of your quest reward has been enhanced.
*With the reward enhanced, all rewards are merged into one.
Reward: Eye of the Grey Magic Dragon
The window that had appeared without warning vanished, and a blue glow shaped like a firefly bloomed in the empty air before drifting softly toward me. When I brought my hand up to it, the light dropped straight into my palm with a gentle plop. The glow soon faded, and what remained in my hand was an ash-grey pupil, torn open into a long vertical slit.
◈ The eye of a Grey Magic Dragon that died seething with a grudge of unknown origin, unable even to close its eyes properly in death.
◈ It is said that one who bears a dragon's eye will either meet ruin — or grow strong enough to surpass even the dragon itself.
◈ Yet the dragon's will, still lingering within, may come to doubt your strength. Should you fail to meet its expectations, it may one day steal your body.
◈ Effect: Temporarily enables the use of Dragon Tongue. Temporary side effects follow its use.
When I finally read the words of the status window that had reappeared, I brought my hand to my mouth.
Dragon Tongue — the art of dragons, the apex of every species and the finest mages the world has ever known. A being every boy dreams of at least once in his childhood, known to the rest of us only as legend. Said to have mastered every form of magic, dragons could fold truth into a single word — and with that single word, call phenomena into being. That was Dragon Tongue. The world moving exactly as it was told. Magic that brushed aside the very laws of reality, if only for a moment. And this reward would let me wield it, even temporarily.
My head spun at how generous the reward was — far more than I had expected — but only for a moment. I clenched the clockwork device in my hand once more. Dragon Tongue magic was all well and good, yet there were far more important things demanding my attention. First, I would wager on the one possibility that might — just might — actually exist. With that thought, I stepped out of my room.
The moment I opened the door, my eyes met Ella's. She was in plain clothes rather than her maid uniform, her eyes glazed with sleep — she must have dozed off waiting. As I stood there studying her unusual attire, she looked my outfit up and down, rubbed her eyes, and spoke.
"Heading out again?"
"Yeah. There's somewhere I need to go for a bit."
"...When will you be back?"
"Won't take long. I'll leave dinner to you."
"Yeees..."
Leaving Ella behind as she drifted straight back to sleep, I stepped out of the dormitory room I had returned to only a short while ago. My destination was already decided.
"...Almost there."
Lost in my own head, I had walked without noticing the passage of time, and before I knew it I stood in a garden. Flower beds unfurled all around me in dazzling splendor, and the fresh scent of grass welcomed me. And at the very center of it all stood a stone monument, stark and solitary — one that fit not at all with a place this beautiful. Jarring, one might even call it. And yet no one alive would ever dare utter a word against where it stood. Because the lady of House Reinhardt slept beneath it.
"It's been a long time, Mother."
I waited for an answer that would never come, letting the moments slip away.
"I'm sorry I haven't come to see you. So many things have been happening, one after another..."
I tried on a sheepish smile as I waited for a reply, but no answer came this time either. Even so, I stubbornly pressed on. Because maybe... just maybe... she might come back.
"Mother... today, I find myself missing you more than usual..."
With the answer still refusing to come, I heaved a deep sigh and bowed my head. I had known it would be so, yet the wind felt colder than ever. Then my gaze settled on the clockwork clutched in my hand.
The moment I resolved to use it, the scenery around me had transformed in an instant. On a day of rain — the soul of an earthworm that had drowned, trapped beneath the flooded earth. On the day the typhoon raged — the soul of a bird struck dead at once by debris flung on the wind. Even the soul of a grown man, perched in a tree as if out admiring the view. Things that could not be seen had appeared, all at once, before my eyes and in the world.
Carrying the faintest thread of hope, I turned to look behind me. What if Sariel still lingered here? What if she had been watching over me from afar, worrying for my safety? That small hope billowed and bloomed like clouds in my heart. And what had waited for me there, unchanged, was nothing but a single gravestone, stained a deep ash grey.
"...So it doesn't work."
For a soul to remain in this world, it needs a lingering attachment — a longing strong enough to anchor a spirit that has no right to exist upon the earth. So I had thought she might not be here at all. After all, Mother had departed with a happy face right up to the very end. Still, I had allowed myself a handful of hope. I had let my chest swell with an expectation that overflowed. But it scattered. That handful of hope scattered into nothing.
It was a shame — truly a shame — but I was about to brush it all off and rise to my feet when—
"Big... brother?"
"...Aria?"
It had been nothing more than a whim — coming to this place. My brother, who had changed into someone cold and distant. I found myself remembering the day I had tried to talk to him, only to be turned away at his very door. I am not your brother, he had said. I couldn't forget that face of his, shoving me away again and again. I was afraid of being met by that cold stare once more. So I had gone out of my way to avoid him.
For a while, with him away at the Church, there had been no need to hide from anyone, and I had been glad of it. But he had come back. Today, of all days. I was scared. Scared he would look at me with those eyes again. The longer he looked at me that way, the more the brother in my memories seemed to rot and spoil.
Even Father wouldn't tell me properly how he had come to be that way. It was suffocating. I had wanted to pour it all out somewhere — so I had come here. I had meant to unburden every worry onto the gravestone, on the faint chance that, like something out of a fairy tale, she might actually listen. But it wasn't her waiting here. It was him. Looking at me just as he always did. The moment he saw me, he turned his back as if to leave.
"W-Wait... just a moment...!"
"...?"
Truthfully, some part of me had been relieved — but I quickly made up my mind and stopped him. Because if I didn't settle things here, I didn't think I could ever face him again.
"C-Can we... talk...?"
"I have nothing in particular to say to the Lady of House Reinhardt."
The reply that came back was astonishingly cold — like an icicle frozen solid. It felt as though even trading words with me was a chore to him. Still, I refused to give up. I wanted to hear the reason, clearly, here and now. So I tried once more.
"...I don't understand why you keep acting like this."
Of course, all that came back was an icy refusal. By then the tears were falling. Not from sadness — from the sheer unfairness of it.
I loved the brother I used to have. Unlike Father, who drilled me sternly day after day, and unlike our eldest brother, I loved how warm his eyes had been. Every time my lessons with the tutor ended, roaming the grassy grounds with him was pure joy. Even when we traded mischievous pranks now and then, we always ended up laughing it off together. I loved what we had. But it was my brother who had changed. He began treating people carelessly, grew greedy, indulged in luxury, and ran around with lowlifes — and the warmth in his eyes vanished somewhere, leaving them clouded and dull. And now why was he changing again, confusing me all over? In a worse direction, no less. If his eyes had been clouded before, now they were black as obsidian. Eyes so black and deep were beautiful, yes — but one misstep, and it felt as though the bottomless abyss within them would swallow you whole. He looked that precarious. So I worried for him. And he rejected me, just like that.
What had I done so wrong? It was so unfair, so unbearably unfair, that the volcano inside me felt ready to blow. And now, at last, it erupted.
"What did I...!"
"...?"
"What on earth did I ever do wrong?!"
"...What—"
"You're the one who changed first, you lunatic!!"
She was crying. Aria, of all people — casting aside every ounce of the poise drilled into her since childhood, sunk down right where she stood, sobbing her heart out. The instant I saw her tears, I barely managed to hold my body back from rushing over to comfort her.
"...My lady."
"Tell me why you became like that... how am I supposed to know if you won't say anythiiing..."
"..."
"You're the one who changed first..."
"..."
"You changed all on your own... so why are you yelling at meee..."
To Aria, bursting into fresh sobs as she spoke, I could not bring myself to say a word. My voice had simply died in my throat.
I had played the delinquent. The Duke had ordered it. And so she had scorned me — because I had made myself look exactly like that. Then, just recently, I had snapped at her. To me it had been closer to a tantrum, the venting of resentment that had built up over so long, but that made it no less inexcusable. I was the one who had behaved that way all along, and I was the one who had never said a single word to her. Lashing out at her was no different. No matter how unjust it felt, I should never have done such a thing to a girl so much younger than me.
The moment my thoughts reached that point, I could no longer hold my body back. The restraint I had barely managed snapped, and I ran to her faster than anything, sweeping her up and cradling her head against my chest — just as I had once soothed her, a crying little girl, so long ago.
"...Huh?"
"I'm sorry, Aria."
"...."
"I was wrong."
"Uu... ugh..."
At my words, she closed her eyes and began to wail as though the world itself had ended — and with the guilt gnawing at me, all I could do was repeat my apology, over and over.