The Place We Wish to Leave (5)
A deep, heavy night blanketed the sky. From a clear, cloudless expanse, the stars and moon poured down their light. The faint glow dimly illuminated the white snow and the coniferous forest. Moonlight crept through the window, caressing the faces of the siblings. Perhaps comforted by that soft, stroking touch, Therion let out a silly grin and mumbled in his sleep.
The night in this world was quiet. I didn't know about other places, but the night in the North was so still that one could hear the soft breathing of the sleeping children. I tried to fall asleep several times before finally sitting up. Sleep simply wouldn't come.
I slept too long during the day.
I slipped outside quietly, careful not to wake the children. The snowy field at night was colder than usual. Even though I had bundled up in thick layers, the chill seeped through. White plumes of condensation billowed with every breath I exhaled.
Still, this is just right.
What else was there for me to do out here? Nothing but swing my sword. I didn't intend to train until I dripped with sweat; I just wanted to tire myself out enough to sleep, then head back inside.
Drawing my sword, the moonlight glinted off the razor-sharp edge. That was all. My blade looked utterly mundane. No mystical energy capable of slicing through steel flowed from it. That realm was still far too distant for me.
I feel like I've grasped the faintest thread of a clue, though...
As expected, the concept of mana was difficult for me. Perhaps my rigid, modern mindset made it hard to grasp. It wasn't that I was particularly lacking. They said that even those who held a sword from early childhood usually didn't awaken their mana until after they turned twenty. And even that was a story reserved for geniuses. More often than not, people failed to awaken it no matter how hard they tried. Awakening mana before twenty marked one as a future Sword Master. Reaching the level of a Sword Master itself was considered an impossible domain without absolute talent, effort, and a miracle.
In my case, grasping even a clue was a recent development. Physical abilities that surpassed those of ordinary humans—I could at least feel something within me reinforcing my body. Objectively, my growth wasn't slow by any means. Yet, I couldn't afford to be complacent. Even in places unknown to us, this world was steadily moving forward. I knew all too well that this world harbored malice toward us.
When Rajen first appeared in the novel, he was already recognized as a Sword Master.
There were about ten years left before the original female protagonist would reincarnate into this world. Sirien and I had a bit of breathing room before we made our debut in the novel. But it wasn't enough time to slack off.
I have to get stronger, faster. Even stronger than the Rajen in the novel.
I swung my sword for a long time. Alone in the quiet, I corrected my posture and checked for any bad habits. If a stance didn't feel right, I repeated it until it did. My memories of my father were of great help at times like this. His swordsmanship was already a completed art. The blade he had forged through facing countless enemies kept moving in my mind. My father didn't just exist as a simple, powerful opponent in my memories. On some days, he was stronger than me; on others, he was faster. Sometimes he mimicked a highly skilled opponent, and other times he used feints. All those memories became my textbook.
How long had I been moving? I heard a presence behind me. It was a familiar silhouette.
"You're not asleep?"
"I just happened to wake up."
It was Sirien. She held a light snack and a drink in her hands. It looked like she had brought out what Hena had prepared during the day.
"You should have stayed in bed. Why come out in the cold?"
"Just... I couldn't sleep, and I was bored."
"You hate the cold."
"I'm fine right now."
Sirien settled onto a nearby rock. She patted the empty space beside her, urging me to sit. I worried I might smell of sweat if I got too close, but after a quick, cautious sniff, it didn't seem to be the case. Relieved, I sat down next to her.
"You seemed to have been at it for a while. You looked so focused that I didn't want to disturb you, but I came down when it looked like you were taking a break."
"I was just warming up."
"Really? I was watching you from the attic. It made me happy because it reminded me of back when we were at the castle."
"At the castle? I don't think you ever really saw me practice there."
"Huh? No... Well, you always worked hard at the castle too, Rajen. That's just what came to mind."
It felt like she was making excuses. It wasn't a topic she needed to lie about, though. Once again, Sirien shoved a snack into my mouth. Knowing she would just ignore any refusal, I simply accepted and chewed. Was it a dried peach this time? The distinct, sweet flavor of the fruit lingered on my tongue. Sirien let out a soft sigh, her breath puffing into the air. She giggled as she watched the white mist rise.
"I'm thinking about the card game earlier. It was fun. I liked the singing, too."
"You've always loved singing."
"Yeah. I loved dancing and singing alike. I learned to play all sorts of instruments, too, but it's been so long that I think I'll have a hard time practicing them again."
In high society, of course, one's birth, appearance, and attire were considered important, but the dignity of a noble was held in equally high regard. That dignity usually referred to etiquette, dancing, and refined speech. Whether it was surprising or only natural, Sirien was quite confident in all of those areas. She had received a proper education from an early age, and she herself was either talented or genuinely enjoyed it. Everyone in the Grand Ducal house used to look forward to Sirien's first Debutante Ball. They said the entire Empire would surely be thrown into a frenzy. Though, that expectation ended up being fulfilled in a slightly different direction.
"Wasn't it fun when we had parties at the castle? Like during my birthday party."
"I remember. Therion spilled juice on you while trying to play a prank."
"Because he's an idiot. I'm never going to forgive him for that."
I thought it would be a bad memory, but surprisingly, a smile played on Sirien's lips. It had happened during Sirien's twelfth birthday party. Therion had caught a bug in the forest. Intending to tease Sirien, he had hidden it and then suddenly showed it to her. Terrified, Sirien had flinched and ended up spilling juice all over her dress. What Therion hadn't realized was that the dress was Sirien's absolute favorite. Yellow juice was splattered over her precious outfit, and to make matters worse, the startled Sirien had even tripped and fallen to the floor. For a young girl, the impact of hitting the ground must have been painful enough. Her precious dress was stained yellow, and a crowd of startled onlookers stared blankly at her. The pain and humiliation must have been incredibly difficult to bear. With her birthday party ruined, Sirien sulked for over a week. Therion was severely scolded by the Duke and Duchess, and I had to scramble to keep the peace between the two of them.
"At first, I hated being here. There wasn't a single thing I liked. Actually, I even hate the clothes I'm wearing right now. The texture is strangely irritating. I really don't like it."
"Really? You didn't complain, so I thought you didn't mind."
"How could I not mind? I'm only enduring it because we're all together. And when we're playing, it's so much fun that I forget about it."
She seemed entirely sincere. People become remarkably strong when they have something to lean on. During our game of Old Maid, Sirien had been smiling brightly. She could do so because she was using our presence as her emotional pillar. Suddenly, the faces of Therion and Hena crossed my mind. What had happened to those two in the original novel? It was said that Therion died of an illness, but the novel never specified what kind of disease it was. Had a terrible plague swept through? I didn't know. There was no such mention in the original work. But there were too many things left unsaid in the novel to be certain of anything. The ones who knew the answers would have been the original Rajen and Sirien, but even when their relationship with the female protagonist was at its best, it was a topic they never dared to bring up. Naturally, it was never described in the novel. If Therion and Hena were to vanish just as they did in the original story, would Sirien be able to endure it? Could this beautiful, fragile heart withstand such a storm? No. It was a useless thought. I just had to make sure such a thing never happened.
"Since I have you, my brother, and Hena, I'll wait patiently for three months. If I'm good and wait, our parents will definitely praise me, and then I'll ask them if we can raise a puppy at the castle. Oh, that's right. I want to raise a parrot, too."
"I don't think they'll agree to that. Don't you remember throwing a huge fit and crying because you got your finger bitten before?"
"That was when I was little!"
She still looked like a child to me. But if I dared to utter those words aloud, hellfire would surely erupt from the young lady's eyes.
"Anyway, there's something I wanted to do earlier but couldn't because of the singing."
"What is it?"
"A dance. Will you ask me?"
I saw the anticipation in her eyes. Unable to let her down, I let out a soft chuckle.
"Let's do that. May I have this dance, my lady?"
"I would love to."
In the middle of an empty field, we fell into step together. It wasn't perfect. Occasionally, we stepped on each other's feet. There was no music, so our timing was completely off. Yet, Sirien giggled as if she couldn't care less. This was twenty days before we left The Cabin.