The Weight of Hidden Truths
Lucy found Philia in the depths of the Barhen family garden.
The young lady stood motionless before a flowerbed, her expression lost in melancholy. She hadn't even noticed Lucy approaching.
"Lady Philia! Were you in the garden again?"
"Yes. I had some things to think about..."
"Young Master Andrew from the Richard family has arrived. The lord is urgently looking for you."
Andrew, the second son of the Richard family, had been Philia's childhood friend and fiancé.
"Ah, Andrew. What a nostalgic name."
Her voice carried a heavy trace of regret. Philia closed her eyes as if tracing through old memories.
This is strange... Didn't they meet just two weeks ago?
Lucy felt a flicker of doubt, but she chose not to point it out. In the past she might have, but lately Philia felt like a stranger to her.
Before, whenever Andrew's name came up, Philia would blush like a girl experiencing her first love. Now her reaction was the complete opposite—completely indifferent. As if those feelings no longer bound her at all.
Has the young lady finally matured?
Watching Philia, who seemed to have aged into an old soul overnight, Lucy felt a complicated mix of emotions. Philia had always been especially kind to her ever since Lucy first became a maid. Because of that, a part of her wished the young lady could stay a little more... childlike.
After finishing her brief reverie, Philia opened her eyes and looked at Lucy. She hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"Lucy. If... if, hypothetically, you made a truly terrible mistake, but the person involved had no idea... would it be right to just let it go?"
What kind of mistake could the young lady have possibly made?
Lucy was puzzled, but seeing how seriously Philia was contemplating it, she thought carefully before answering.
"Well, I suppose it would depend on how big the mistake was. If it was something truly awful and you kept hiding it... wouldn't that just make things worse in the end?"
"Really? But what if the other person would never, ever find out unless you told them? Would you still hide it?"
The question carried a strange pressure. Overwhelmed by Philia's intense aura, Lucy unconsciously nodded.
"Uh... normally you shouldn't, but if they were truly never going to know for their entire life... maybe it's okay to keep it hidden?"
"Right?"
A twisted smile formed on Philia's lips. In that moment, she made up her mind to conceal every last truth.
The current him was far too weak to bear the weight of it all. No—even if he learned the entire truth, he would probably act the same way. He would undoubtedly choose to sacrifice himself to save everyone around him.
As long as she was alive, she would never let that happen again. She would never allow him to fulfill that lifelong wish of his.
This time, it's my turn to embrace him.
Philia began putting her carefully laid plans into motion, one by one. Everything had been progressing smoothly so far. It wouldn't be long before he became hers completely.
She glanced at the lilacs blooming in the flowerbed and smiled with an inscrutable expression.
"Let's go. Andrew must have been waiting quite a while."
God damn it.
Right now, I was cleaning the reception room.
What was so hard about cleaning, you ask? In the modern world, one click of a vacuum cleaner and you'd be done. But this was a barbaric medieval era. Naturally, I was scrubbing every corner with a shabby rag.
After the incident with Philia, the head butler had marked me. My duties had been changed to cleaning the reception room.
This particular chore was truly hellish in difficulty. Not only did I have to clean an excessively large room by myself, but if any guest using the reception room felt even the slightest bit dissatisfied, the punishment would immediately fall on the servant.
There was a story about it. One servant in charge of the reception room had stayed up all night and couldn't finish cleaning before receiving guests. A noble noticed the incomplete cleaning right away and spoke up.
"Heh heh, the Barhen family truly is remarkable. The reception room feels so... intimate. It's almost as if time itself has stopped. It seems even the servants hesitated to touch such beauty."
With the refined sarcasm only a noble could muster, he had elegantly insulted the room for being filthy. This was a true story I had heard from the servant who previously handled reception room duty.
Naturally, after that day, any flaw found in the reception room cleaning resulted in strict punishment. At the very least, your pay would be docked. But if you made a mistake in front of esteemed guests, they said at minimum one wrist would be severed.
In other words, there could be no gaps in the cleaning whatsoever.
...This really is dark fantasy.
In an era where failing to clean properly could get your arm chopped off, was gaining the mindset of a modern person a blessing or a curse?
Of course, even worrying about such things was a luxury. I cleaned like a madman.
After some time had passed, the room had become spotless while I was lost in my scrubbing.
Still, after doing it for so long, I've definitely picked up some tricks.
To gain enlightenment from cleaning instead of swordsmanship or magic... Feeling a strange mix of accomplishment and self-deprecation, I quickly finished up.
I should get out of here right away. I might run into Philia.
I left the reception room and was heading toward the entrance when—
"...Ian."
A delicate voice came from behind me.
No way.
"Ah, my lady?"
"What are you talking about? Have you already forgotten the sound of my voice?"
"Phew, it was you, Lucy?"
I'd thought it was Philia for a second, but when I turned around, it was fortunately Lucy—the maid I usually got along with.
With her orange hair and refreshing features, Lucy had quite a pretty face. Right now, that face was glaring at me. She looked extremely displeased.
"Lucy. Did something happen?"
"Huh? Ah, no... It's nothing."
Anyone could tell something had happened, but if she said she didn't want to talk about it, there was nothing I could do.
"Ian, what have you been doing until now?"
"I just finished cleaning the reception room and was on my way back."
"The reception room? How did that happen? Jane was originally in charge of that..."
Lucy frowned as if hearing this for the first time.
"I got on the head butler's bad side... so it can't be helped."
"Ugh, I told you to get along with Lady Philia."
As I listened to Lucy's scolding, I let out a mental sigh.
Well, in the end, I'll just have to wait for the right opportunity at the masquerade.
In one week, a masquerade ball was scheduled to be held in Catabel. I planned to properly show my worth there.
"Oh, right. You cleaned the reception room properly, right? You didn't half-ass it?"
Lucy looked at me with a worried expression.
"I cleaned it so well you could lick the floor. Don't worry."
When I answered cheekily, Lucy made a face like she was imagining that very scene. "Ugh."
"...Gross. Still, good work."
With those words, she left.
For all her teasing, Lucy was quite kind to me. After I'd been marked by Philia, she was the only one besides the head butler who would talk to me.
That's why I couldn't let this world fall to ruin.
The man, covered head to toe in blood, spoke from within a flowerbed now truly filled with corpses.
"Lucy."
He called out the name of his friend, who had already become a monster. But the only reply was a piercing scream from the demonic beast.
Those who had already bloomed into flowers could never be turned back, no matter what was done. That truth remained even if the Flower Devil died.
All devils fundamentally possessed the property of immortality. The Flower Devil was no exception. Soon, using the corpses of the monsters as fertilizer, the Flower Devil would resurrect once more.
He stared directly at her grotesquely transformed body. Her limbs and internal organs had been twisted into bizarre 'petals.' She had long since become a horrific monster, yet her face still retained some of its original form.
Her orange hair, now dry and brittle but still holding a hint of its former color. Her features, stained with blood and pus, yet still clean and familiar.
Looking at that familiar, longed-for face, the man lowered his head.
He had promised to protect her, but he had failed.
"I'm sorry."
It was unbearably painful and sad, yet strangely, no tears came. Perhaps his emotions had already dried up after experiencing so much despair. Or maybe...
With his battered body, the man swung his sword, granting her eternal rest.
Step. Step.
Limping across the flowerbed of corpses, the man made his way down the path.
How much time had passed after he left?
Drip—
A single drop of water fell.
Then came the downpour.
Countless raindrops poured down as if mourning every soul in the city. And someone who still clung to a sliver of life opened their eyes beneath the rain.
With her last remaining strength, she smiled.
It was a somewhat grotesque and pitiful smile, forced by straining facial muscles. Yet it was refreshingly bright.
"...Good work."
Her final greeting never reached him.
But her will... that, at least, was surely conveyed.