Date (1)

"I can help Dad out, right?" said Elizabeth, who had chosen the law department.

"Help me?"

"Yeah. And lawyers make a ton of money too."

"Doctors make a ton too."

"But there probably wouldn't be much for me to help with there. A lawyer's different. If you ever get in trouble, Dad, I'll help you out."

"If that's what you want..."

Did I really look like the kind of guy who needed that kind of help? Still, it didn't feel bad. Having someone who liked you was something to be grateful for in itself.

Leo prepared dinner. Grilled beef.

"Let me help."

Elizabeth fired a burst of flame at the frying pan. Searing heat enveloped the meat. A few seconds later, it was perfectly cooked—crisp on the outside, juicy within. A steak straight out of a high-end restaurant.

Still only at the 1st Circle, and already handling elemental magic this well. There wasn't much I could teach her about magic anyway. She was growing like a weed just from studying the textbooks on her own.

After lunch, we sprawled on the sofa together. Elizabeth lay on my thigh and looked up at me.

"Heehee."

"What's so funny?"

"Your face, Dad."

"You saying it's ugly?"

"The opposite."

Objectively speaking, I was pretty good-looking. I'd inherited a lot from my birth mother, who was a famous beauty. They say firstborn sons take after their mothers a lot—maybe that was it.

As I gently patted Elizabeth's soft belly while we lounged...

Knock knock.

"Mail's here."

The mailman tapped at the door.

"I'll check it."

Elizabeth pulled herself up from my shoulder and fetched the letter.

"It's from school."

"Yeah?"

Not surprising—school or public offices were the only places that sent mail.

Elizabeth sat beside me and checked the contents.

"A school trip to the Empire?"

It was about a field trip. They'd gone every year since first grade, so it made sense, but the location bothered me.

Previous trips had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠always been domestic. I pulled the letter closer and checked the spot.

"Eastern Empire."

"Isn't the east all rundown?"

"Not wrong."

I felt a little relieved. The Empire was vast—half the world was Empire territory, but only the central, western, and northern regions were developed. The east was practically abandoned land.

It would've been dangerous if it were the capital, but this was a relief. Development was slow there all around. Few key strongholds, scarce resources. Plus, it was infested with mana beasts and demons—real hazards.

At least it had grand natural scenery and uncharted wilds that drew the adventurous types.

That was where I'd operated as a mercenary. Plenty of mana beasts, demons, and demon worshippers lurked there.

The trip was to a trade hub in the eastern Empire to learn about foreign knowledge. Easton, the biggest trade city in the east.

Not bad. Sometimes the darkest spot is right under the lamp—could be safer that way. Safest would be not going at all, but skipping out alone might draw suspicion.

Elizabeth sighed.

"Ugh, hate it. Do I really have to be away from you for days, Dad? Can't I just skip?"

"No. It'll be good experience. All sorts of things to see."

"Wish you'd talk me out of it. Fine, I'll go and be back quick. Oh, want me to bring a souvenir?"

"Hmm, an Eastern cookbook if you see one. Or clothes. Whatever catches your eye."

"Got it."

And so Elizabeth set off on her school trip to Easton in the eastern Empire.

Every Friday. Come Friday, Hildegard von Quyrhalstein felt like she was suffocating.

"Lieutenant Quyrhalstein. Visitor request."

Family, right on cue. As always, her superior delivered the news.

Hildegard, in the middle of paperwork, squeezed her eyes shut then open.

Even a swordmaster like her had things she couldn't handle. Family ties, for one.

She handed off her duties to a subordinate and headed to the visitation room.

Hildegard never fled hardship, even if it meant defeat. That was a knight's duty.

"Yaaah!!!"

The man spotted her as she opened the door and bellowed like the building might collapse.

Hildegard calmly hung her dress uniform and coat on the rack, then sat across from him.

As she sat, he slammed the table with his fist.

"Fuck, what'd you do to Druver?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb, you bitch!?"

Her older brother, who frequented gambling dens more than bathrooms, couldn't string two words together without swearing.

Gustav von Quyrhalstein looked every bit the gambling addict. Tall and broad from their parents' genes, but zero exercise had withered him down, cheeks hollowed out. Scraggly beard, hobo vibes. His golden eyes—same as hers—held no trace of intellect.

No one would peg them as siblings.

"You two broke up, right?"

"Yes."

No point hiding it, even if she didn't know how he'd found out. Her frank reply made him wrinkle his nose.

"Not 'yes'! You know I got a shit-ton of debt, right?"

"I do. That's why I send half my salary every ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠month."

"Exactly! So why the fuck did you dump that golden goose!?"

"Lower your voice, please. The room's soundproofing isn't great—it bothers others."

Hildegard sighed deeply.

"This fucking bitch teaching her brother manners now? Huh?!"

"Brother. I give you money and respect because you're my family."

"So what the fuck do you want?"

"That's why I'm asking: please act in a way befitting our house's honor."

"Honor? This shithole family? Whatever, just go beg Druver."

"We're done."

"Fuck, he said he'd take you back! Just talked to him. Apologize and he's yours."

Word from the man himself, huh. Hildegard wondered if her hearing was off.

"I should apologize to Druver Falkmark?"

She asked straight, in case she'd misheard.

"Yeah, you crazy bitch. Go kneel, spread your legs, whatever—make the marriage happen. Best match you'll ever get! You gonna blow it?!"

Unfortunately, he meant every word. To him, she was just expensive merchandise.

But it didn't hurt. Her feelings for family had dried up long ago. No expectations, no wounds.

That's why his barbs never stung.

"I told you—he never intended to marry me."

"You could be wrong!"

"Visitation's over."

Hildegard stood.

"Where you going!"

Gustav grabbed her wrist as she rose. She turned her head to look down at him.

The grubby mess was snorting like a bull. Hildegard sighed inwardly.

How did it come to this? Why'd you fall so far? You used to lead me, protect me. Where'd that brother go?

Her golden eyes brimmed with pity. Her expressions were always too honest, plain for all to see.

"You... pitying me right now?"

Gustav's voice trembled.

Thirty years old, no job, haunting casinos, leeching off his little sister for debts. He knew it. But for her—a mere lieutenant thanks to swinging a sword—to look down on him, her brother?

Gustav shook with inferiority, kicking his chair back to glare up at her.

Hildegard was slightly taller. He could only glower wildly, too cowed to advance.

Her calm gaze crushed him. He knew he was no match.

With her other hand, she pried his off. His grip was strong, but hers stronger—he had to let go.

From her coat's inner pocket, she pulled a thick envelope. Half her salary—about 2.5 million harts.

His eyes lit up like fireworks.

Hildegard exhaled through her nose, set it on the table, grabbed her uniform hat and coat, and headed out.

"Hey, uh..."

She almost said, Next week is my birthday—do you know? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠But cut herself off.

He was already rolling his eyes greedily, counting the cash. She didn't exist to him anymore.

She knew exactly what he'd do with it—straight to the casino.

And yet she gave it anyway. Couldn't abandon the old brother she'd known.

He'll snap out of it soon. Someday.

Five years of that hope.

"..."

She shielded her eyes with her hat brim and left the room.

Same family—how'd they drift so far?

Family brought Leo Valentine to mind. His was the opposite of hers. She had a father, mother, brother; he had only Elizabeth.

But numbers didn't matter—he had a great bond with his daughter. Every chat veered to her. His eyes dripped affection watching her at the sword tournament. Hers did too.

The ideal family. Or was that normal?

Meeting him tonight. Over a month since they started. Fridays weren't so bad anymore.

"Something good happen, ma'am?"

A subordinate noticed mid-paperwork. She glanced at her reflection in the window—smiling faintly.

Hildegard chewed her lip, then chuckled softly.

"About to."

That evening, at an atmospheric bar, Hildegard met Leo and learned Elizabeth was away on the trip.

"Must be lonely."

"More work then."

Leo had plenty of money. Good pay from skilled jobs, steadily invested in banks and stocks. Still, more was better—had to leave something for Elizabeth after college.

Hildegard checked the calendar. Next Friday: September 26th. Her birthday.

"Then... next Friday, are you free?"

"Friday? Sure. Why?"

"That day... would you, um, meet me? Like a..."

"Date?"

"Yes... a date. It's my birthday."

His eyes flickered oddly at "birthday."

"Wouldn't family time be better?"

Of course—that was normal. Real family looks after their own.

But Hildegard knew hers wouldn't remember, let alone celebrate. Years of silent birthdays proved it.

"...I want to spend it with you. Is that no good...?"

She said it anxiously.

Leo realized he'd stepped wrong.

...No family?

Weird, now that he thought. Golden Friday evenings—prime family time—and she always chose him. Never mentioned family. Except that first meeting, about childhood beatings from her dad. Nothing since. A month in, no family talk. When it came up, she'd listen to his but dodge hers. So he hadn't pried.

"Yeah, Friday it is."

He nodded. The date was on.

Hildegard lived in the officers' quarters. Sure, there was the family estate in Lenz. Where her father, mother, and brother lived. She'd sooner take a basement apartment.

"...Hmm."

The woman in the mirror looked stiff. Starchy uniform covered in colorful badges. Epaulets on shoulders, officer's coat draping to her calves. Golden lion roaring on her hat brim, shadowing elegant brows. Face half-hidden, stern and cold. Golden eyes popped, sharpening the chill vibe.

Zero date material.

Even she felt it. But she had nothing else to wear. Never shopped, and off-the-rack didn't fit anyway.

At 181cm, with a big frame, normal clothes were comically small. Custom tailoring was the way, but too much hassle.

Desperate, she dug out her old debutante dress. From age 18—still fit, barely.

"..."

She froze. Too plain. Back then, brother's gambling had the family broke—no fancy gown budget. Cheapest option, ridiculed by all.

That memory still haunted her nightmares. Never wanted to wear it again...

"...Nothing else."

Uniform? She shook her head. Even she had standards. Date in uniform? Self-important nutcase.

No "duty on leave" excuse either. Especially not from Leo—she craved his good opinion.

Off with the uniform, on with the dress.

Squeeze.

...Seriously considering swapping back. Armor would chafe less.

Too late. Stuck now. Time ticking.

She headed out as-is.

Misfortune: officers' quarters.

"Oh, Lieutenant ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Quyrhalstein. Happy birth—er, happy birthday. Nice dress, suits you."

"...Colonel, g-good day."

Of course, her boss. His eyes dipped to her chest, snapped up. He mumbled and fled.

Her face turned tomato red. She bolted to the date spot.