Mage Milia (5)

"Happy birthday!"

"Eek! Lady Milia! You look so beautiful!"

"……"

Esmeralda fell silent amid the sweltering heat of the party hall.

It was all so painfully awkward. Is this what normal looks like? The birthday she remembered was nothing more than a day to go out and buy meat together. Back in the Hero Party, most celebrations began and ended with a good meal.

And yet all of this was supposed to be standard? Throwing a party on this massive a scale—over a mere birthday, as if it were the Magic Tower's hundredth anniversary?

Damn aristocrats.

Esmeralda felt the sting of wealth disparity. Then her gaze drifted across the hall to Milia's chest, receiving the adoration of everyone in the room, and the disparity felt wider than ever.

She herself was by no means small, but the privileged elite—women like Irina and Milia—all seemed to come naturally better equipped than she was. Which meant Tina must have lived an even less fortunate life than Esmeralda. Probably scraping by in the slums, no doubt. With a chest as flat as a coin purse, she might not even have had citizenship.

I'll make sure you're happy, Tina. I promise.

While committing to treat Tina—who'd surely been through plenty—with all the kindness she deserved going forward, Esmeralda kept her expression carefully composed. The rich and their frivolous revelry made her sick to her stomach, yes, but this was still an occasion for celebration. She had no intention of looking petty in front of a friend.

"Milia! Happy birthday!"

"Mm. Thanks, Esmeralda. You're probably not used to this, but stay and have some fun."

"……"

Esmeralda found herself wondering if Milia had just provoked her. Not used to it? What was that supposed to mean? Was she overthinking it?

But Milia's face betrayed no expression at all, and nothing lurked behind her words either, so Esmeralda realized it was just her own paranoia talking.

"Here, I brought you a gift, Lady Milia. It's nothing special, just some holy water and elixirs made by the Heavenly God Order."

"Thank you as always, Irina."

Milia smiled sweetly. Then, as if it were only natural, she turned her head and looked straight at Esmeralda.

At last, Esmeralda's moment of utter desperation had arrived.

I don't have a gift…… If I'd known, she could've given me a heads-up.

This whole situation was excruciating. When had it started, anyway? The moment she'd thought she and Irina had grown close enough to speak candidly, Esmeralda had found herself drifting to the edges of every gathering. Was she the only one who'd thought they were friends? Even now, after opening up to each other, was she the only one clinging to that word?

What if the real loner wasn't Milia, but her?

The insecurity born of a difference in status. Like any girl her age, Esmeralda agonized over it.

"Miss Hero, please accept this."

So it was that Esmeralda, head bowed low as she scouted the room's mood, noticed something poking sharply into her side. She looked up to find Irina holding out a wrapped present behind her back, a sheepish smile on her face.

That's right—love her or hate her, Irina really was a friend. She'd prepared a gift on Esmeralda's behalf, bracing for exactly this kind of emergency.

"Milia, happy birthday. It's nothing much, but here—this is for you."

"Mm, thank you, Esmeralda."

Milia smiled sweetly yet again and accepted the gift. Thankfully, there seemed to be no favoritism at play. Whether out of genuine delight or simple obliviousness, Milia began unwrapping it right there on the spot.

Inside was a book.

"Ah……. Ahaha. I just remembered some urgent business. Excuse me for a moment."

It was the very book Irina had been reading. She patted down her clothes for a moment as if searching for something, then slipped awkwardly out of her seat with a strained smile.

Milia, her face as expressionless as ever, lifted the book up with both hands, facing it squarely outward. Esmeralda could see the other party guests sneaking glances at it, again and again.

"……"

The air around them turned to ice.

The dagger Irina had slipped in for a surprise social assassination pierced clean through Esmeralda's heart. Yes—the two of them were becoming true friends in real time.

Of course, Irina had no such intention. The books meant for Milia had simply been swapped by pure accident. A mix-up during the wrapping process, perhaps. Regardless, who could have predicted that Milia would tear the wrapping off right there in front of everyone? With gifts this extravagant pouring in, any proper noble would have run a discreet inspection first—out of assassins if nothing else.

Thus was born the carnage.

The public murder of the Hero's dignity.

"Isn't that basically an insult?"

"I know Lady Milia cares about nothing but magic, but still……"

Milia blinked a few times at the book she held aloft, then looked at Esmeralda and said,

"I'll read it later and tell you what I thought."

"……That really won't be necessary."

Milia didn't seem bothered in the slightest. Apparently her heart was every bit as generous as her enormous chest. A far cry from Irina, whose heart was stingy in proportion to her endowment.

And perhaps because of Milia's magnanimous attitude—

"Come to think of it, I suppose Lady Milia has never read a book like that."

"She was the Hero's traveling companion. She must have known perfectly well. Well, naturally—a woman who knows nothing but magic."

The very people who had been tearing Esmeralda to shreds moments ago flipped their position in an instant.

Esmeralda understood, viscerally, what kind of organization the Magic Tower was. And just how terrifying social life could be.

Honestly? She did not find it appealing in the least.

"Mm. Fundamentals are important."

Oblivious to all of it—or simply indifferent—Milia cradled the book against her chest and smiled sweetly.

The sight made Esmeralda's heart ache all the more. Her mind was filled with one thought only: escaping this humiliating ordeal as quickly as humanly possible.

And once she was out of here, she would find Irina and interrogate her.

Irina…… ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I'm going to beat you to death and throw you to the dogs.

Such were the thoughts of a Hero that never should have been.

Esmeralda hunted for Irina with all the composure she could muster.

Naturally, as she had back at the Heavenly God Order, she concealed herself with stealth magic. If Irina knew she was coming, the odds of her fleeing or hiding were high. Which meant that to capture her target, Esmeralda needed to mount a flawless ambush—one Irina would never see coming.

Thankfully, the white-hot rage that had boiled up during the hunt had cooled somewhat by the time she was done searching.

I'll settle for flaying the skin off you. That much mercy I can afford.

With a heart full of benevolence, Esmeralda commuted her target's sentence.

Thirty-odd minutes into the hunt, she found Irina waiting for her in her own room—an unexpected convenience. Or perhaps Irina had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠simply known she couldn't run forever.

She had fortified her room into a veritable fortress. So that even if Esmeralda found her, no rash attack could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reach her. So that no ambush would ever be possible in the first place.

Anything Esmeralda could think of, Irina could think of too.

Except that even Irina had failed to anticipate one thing.

"You thought that would stop me?"

The reckless, brute-force temperament that made Esmeralda who she was.

Esmeralda drew the Holy Sword and drove it straight into the barrier.

This was the legendary weapon said to have been forged by the gods themselves, laboring as one. A paltry ward of Irina's making could hardly stand against it.

Grinning ear to ear, Esmeralda shredded Irina's barrier to pieces.

As the shockwave rippled through every corner of the Magic Tower, Esmeralda knew she had to finish this before anyone came running—and seized Irina by the collar without delay.

"……Miss Hero, this is my fault. But it was all an accident! And honestly, I never dreamed she'd tear the wrapping open right there in front of everyone! I mean—how does someone who carries a Holy Sword have that little sense of danger?"

Truthfully, Irina did feel wronged. Who could have seen this coming? She'd fully intended to give Milia a proper gift. She had prepared the Heavenly God Order's holy scriptures—the very sacred text Milia would treasure. She had simply forgotten, in the chaos, that the book she'd been carrying around lately was not her bible.

That said, Milia bore some blame of her own. The correct move after unwrapping a mistake was to hide it, not flaunt it around like a trophy. Who displays an embarrassing book for the entire room to see?

Her foolishness in expecting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠common sense from members of the Hero Party—that was Irina's true sin.

"You stabbed me. You should have braced yourself to be stabbed back."

The hour of reckoning had come. Irina, who had murdered Esmeralda's social standing, would now be murdered in the physical sense.

"Right, then. Ah. Time to harvest some corn. I was raised in the countryside, you know—this is one thing I'm actually confident about."

A calm, quiet madness. At that self-assured line from a former farm girl, Irina realized the threat before her carried considerable credibility.

"W-wait!!"

Sensing that Esmeralda meant every word, Irina scrambled to plead her case. She had to earn forgiveness somehow. It had been an unfortunate accident, after all.

Of course, when an accident produces a victim, the cause of that accident does need to be investigated. Whether Esmeralda would accept the word accident was an entirely separate matter.

"W-wait a second! Hasn't it ever struck you as odd?!"

Thankfully, Esmeralda was simple-minded. Distract her elsewhere, and the odds were good she'd forget this whole affair.

"If you're planning to fool me with that glib tongue of yours again, give it up. Actually—no, go right ahead. From now on, your pronunciation's going to be missing a few teeth anyway!"

But no matter how dim Esmeralda might be, there was no way she'd miss such an obvious gambit.

Still, Irina threw everything she had into it.

"It's Lady Milia! She might have known everything all along!"

"Now there's a fresh pile of nonsense. Go on then—spit it out."

Having been socially assassinated, Esmeralda had turned considerably vicious. Enough to unsettle even Irina.

Yes—there was a certain dread in the air, like running into people so reckless they never once spared a thought for tomorrow.

"First of all, Lady Milia knows that Mr. Jim is a demon."

"Well, knowing you also knew, I suppose it's plausible. How stale. Want to also mention Tina knew, and that she's half dragon-kin while you're at it?"

"……I can't speak for the others, but Tina seemed completely unaware."

Esmeralda was quietly moved.

In a Hero Party overflowing with liars and fraudsters of every stripe, Tina was the sole safe asset.

"Save the sentiment for later. The important thing is that Lady Milia has feelings for Mr. Jim every bit as strong as mine."

"What, stronger than yours?"

The woman's eyes spun dangerously at the mere rumor of Jim being in peril—could that really be called mere affection?

Esmeralda tilted her head.

"Anyway—so with all that going on, you and the Hero both step away at the same time. Doesn't that seem suspicious to you?"

"What the…… do you think the entire world is as deranged as you?"

This was a sickness. And the fist had been, since time immemorial, a miracle cure for the ailing heart.

"Out of all those piles of gifts, yours was the only one she opened! Not to mention you were practically pressuring her with your eyes to give you something. Even if she hadn't, you'd have been socially assassinated anyway! Aaah! STOP!"

Esmeralda let Irina's babbling wash past one ear and out the other, and was just about to harvest Irina's corn before the season turned—before it was too late—when her fist suddenly froze mid-swing.

Not because Irina's corn looked bone-white and unripe, mind you. No, crop rotation and late-season ripening had nothing to do with it.

In that moment, the reason Esmeralda had no choice but to stop lay somewhere else entirely.

"……"

Honestly, everything Irina was spouting right now was nothing but excuses—disjointed rambling thrown together in a desperate bid to survive. Speculation didn't get more baseless than this.

And yet, regardless of any of it, one fact flashed through Esmeralda's mind: Jim was alone with Milia right now.

In the end, Esmeralda let Irina go. This was no time for comrades to be tearing each other apart.

"……Miss Hero?"

"Th-that reminds me—now that I think about it, we shouldn't be sitting around here."

"Yes?"

"There's something I didn't mention. Back at the party hall, Milia picked up a new trait."

The gift fiasco had driven it clean out of her mind, but during those few minutes she'd changed clothes, a new trait had appeared. Everyone knew Milia was a once-in-a-generation talent, so honestly, her picking up a brand-new spell in the span of a wardrobe change raised no questions at all.

The only problem was……

"Tell me—would you be fine with Jim alive or dead, so long as you got to have him?"

The fact that she had suddenly begun blazing down the necromancer path.