The Girl's Dream is Warm, and Reality is Harsh
After lightly touring the village and revisiting the performance we'd seen last time, I returned to the mansion with Liriet. Lately, her outings had become quite free, so there was no need to force ourselves to spend extra time outside.
"Liriet, are you here? Liri… Oh."
"What is it, Abel?"
I'd been in her room sharing impressions of the outing when Abel suddenly rushed in, startled at the sight of me and stumbling back. It seemed the incident from not long ago was still vividly etched in his mind. Lately, he fled in fear the moment he saw me.
"S-Sorry, Uncle. I didn't know you were here…."
"It's fine. But what I asked was, what's the matter?"
Suspicious he might be here to pick another pointless fight with Liriet, I snapped sharply. Abel shrank back and showed me the wooden sword in his hand with a timid voice.
"I-I came to spar with Liriet."
"Spar?"
Spar? It was true Abel had periodically asked Liriet for spars before, but that was just to torment her, not to hone each other's skills. In fact, since that incident last week, I hadn't seen them cross swords once. It made sense. From Abel's perspective, he'd realized he was now one step below her.
Does he have some other scheme?
Unable to shake off the suspicion, I glanced at Liriet.
"Is that so? What do you think, Liriet?"
"I like it. Swinging my sword alone all the time was getting boring anyway."
Her response was surprisingly agreeable too. There was no need to cross blades with such an uncomfortable opponent. Perhaps this showed just how much Liriet had grown mentally—no longer flinching at the sight of Abel, who had once been like a nightmare to her.
"In that case, I'll join you. That's fine with you, Abel?"
I didn't think current Liriet would get thoroughly beaten by him, but in case he was plotting something sinister, I decided to observe just to be safe. If the guy felt guilty, he'd tuck tail and run. But instead,
"Yes. That's fine."
To my surprise, he nodded confidently, without a shred of shame, as if gazing at the heavens.
What? It was like he'd suddenly become a different person. Was it his time to die already?
Hmm, looks like my hunch was right. Abel's end seemed to be drawing near.
I wasn't the Grim Reaper and couldn't see lifespans, but at this moment, I was certain. Otherwise,
Crack! Thwack!
"Kuh!"
"Shall we stop here, Brother?"
"No, not yet! Keep going until I say to stop!"
"Yes, if that's what you want…."
There was no way that lunatic would charge at Liriet just to get thoroughly thrashed and rise again. His eyes burned with a fighting spirit I'd never seen before. It was hard to believe this was the Abel Argent I knew—like one of those hot-blooded protagonists or tenacious underdogs from comics or web novels, completely transformed.
Still, he won't even let a single hit land.
But what surprised me more than Abel's change was Liriet's skill. She'd always had talent, but in just a week, she'd widened the gap with him again. Last time, it had been close, but now she effortlessly dodged or blocked most of his attacks, controlling her strength just enough not to injure him seriously while landing precise finishing blows to break his stance. She wasn't one step ahead—she was two.
Is this the power of her sword affinity?
Geniuses blessed by the Star's Grace were on another level. Godwin would be shocked when he saw her later.
Smack!
"Gyaak!"
Ah, that one's done. Abel had pushed too aggressively, beyond even Liriet's control. As he crumpled powerlessly after a solid hit to the forehead, a startled Liriet hurried over and extended her hand.
"S-Sorry, Brother. I put a bit too much force into it…."
"Damn it, cut the pointless apologies. That tone pisses me off more."
He slapped her hand away with sharp words but struggled to his feet on his own. Seeing that, his personality didn't seem changed at all. What was with this obsessive sparring?
"That's enough. If you want to continue, take a break first and resume later."
"Yes, Uncle."
"…Understood."
At my signal, they stepped apart. Normally, I'd approach Liriet first, but today curiosity won out—I headed to Abel. I'd brought two canteens anyway, so I handed him one and casually asked,
"Good work, Abel."
"Good work? I just got my ass handed to me."
He grumbled, but he didn't seem truly angry.
"Well, if that's what you call hard work, so be it. Anyway, mind if I ask something?"
"Sure."
"I want to know why you suddenly asked Liriet to spar."
"……."
He glanced sideways at Liriet. Figured—he didn't want to say in front of her. I immediately cast a barrier to block surrounding sounds.
"This should do it."
"A barrier…?"
"Yes. Liriet won't hear you. Speak freely."
Only after my assurance did Abel cautiously open up.
"Honestly, I don't know either. Why I asked to spar."
"If even you don't know, who does?"
"I just did it on impulse. Ever since that humiliating loss that day, I couldn't stop replaying it in my head. I was especially furious at Liriet."
His tone grew heated, then quickly calmed.
"But strangely… the more I thought about it, the angrier I got at myself. Losing after pulling all those dirty tricks—it pissed me off."
"Knowing shame is a good sign."
Frankly, it was unexpected. The Abel I knew was an irredeemable bully. For him to feel shame and anger at himself? I wondered if it was some elaborate smokescreen, but his trembling lips said otherwise. If that was acting, he belonged on stage, not here.
"And even knowing I couldn't win now, I wanted to clash swords. Even if I lost badly again, I wanted to keep going until I could beat her."
"A competitive spirit, huh."
"Competitive… spirit? Is that what this is called?"
What? He didn't even know the term? I was momentarily stunned, but reflecting on his life, it made sense. In my memory, Abel had been unmatched among peers until sixteen. Even now, he'd beat anyone short of Liriet's level. He'd never had the conditions to develop ambition or competitiveness. No relentless effort needed—he crushed most age-mates effortlessly.
No villain without a backstory. Seems it applies to him a little too.
Though worlds apart from Liriet. Even if he'd gained some drive now and reflected on himself, it wouldn't erase his past misdeeds. I had no intention of viewing him favorably. He just seemed a bit more human than before. That's all.
"You've done wrong to Liriet, so I won't say I view you kindly right away."
"…Yes."
"But if you show effort, remember people can change themselves and those around them."
"Understood, Uncle. Thank you for the advice."
As he straightened his clothes to leave, I called after him.
"So, you acknowledge Liriet now?"
He turned slightly and grinned—that classic Abel Argent smirk.
"I acknowledge her as fit for the Argent family. But I'm not yielding the heir position. I'll thrash her again soon."
Sheesh, putting on airs. But that answer satisfied me. At least he wouldn't hassle Liriet needlessly for a while.
As Abel left the training grounds, Liriet returned, already changed out of her sweaty clothes, looking puzzled.
"Uncle, where did Brother go?"
"He left first. Why? Want to go another round?"
"No, that was enough. It felt too one-sided beating him up, so…."
Oh, this kind girl. Even after all he'd done, she felt guilty over that?
"…I couldn't hold back anymore. I thought stopping there was right."
"I-Is that so?"
"Yes."
Ah, not quite. A true villainess lady indeed. Her mindset was on another level. She'd been venting pent-up frustration all along.
Abel might end up a bloody pulp soon.
Well, he dug his own grave. He'd have to deal. Honestly, I kind of wanted to see it.
"Now I should go give flowers to Father and Mother."
"Yeah, good luck."
"Yes!"
I ruffled her spirited head and picked up her wooden sword instead.
She said she'd go alone, but…
Just in case, I'd watch from afar. Something felt off.
I trailed behind Liriet, hidden by an invisibility spell.
"Haa, haa…!"
Clutching two flowers preciously to her chest as she ran—it was adorably cute. If I were her dad, just seeing that would make me smile.
"Ah, Father! Mother!"
"……?"
Soon, she ran into Edmund and Cassdia passing through the hall. Cassdia frowned slightly at Liriet's voice but, with Edmund there, replied with a gentle smile.
"What is it, dear?"
That syrupy voice gave me chills just hearing it—like a snake's tongue.
"Here! It's the Holy Birth Festival today… I-It’s not much, but a gift for you both."
"A gift?"
Even the great Cassdia seemed shocked receiving it. Naturally—after all her cruelty to Liriet, she never expected flowers for the festival. Edmund, meanwhile, showed no reaction. Not even a smile, and he didn't take the flowers.
In the awkward air, Cassdia reached for them instead but hesitated, probably remembering Edmund beside her.
"Y-Yes, thank you. Dear, say something…."
She nudged him, but
"……."
He just stared down at Liriet with indifferent eyes, then turned away. It was questionable if he'd even seen her. Those rotten, glassy eyes held nothing.
"Fathe…?"
Liriet murmured blankly, watching him go.
"D-Dear? Dear!"
Even Cassdia seemed caught off guard, hurriedly calling after him, but Edmund had already vanished down the hall. The two flowers lay scattered on the floor. Liriet picked them up, but their stems were snapped, drooping limply.
"…Fuck."
My fists trembled. I wanted to charge and punch that blank face. But I held back. Not because he was my brother or the family head. Because he was Liriet's father. Blood was blood, no matter how indifferent his whole life. With Liriet's overly kind nature, seeing her beaten father might make her feel guilty instead.
"Hic…!"
As I wrestled internally, a sorrowful sob passed by my side. Snapping to, Liriet had just rounded the corner I'd come from. I chased after her without looking back.