My Name is Liriet, Your Daughter
My name is Liriet, your daughter.
I immediately led the Argent family back to the painting studio. Unlike the siblings who dazedly looked around, Cassdia alone paced anxiously outside the studio, watching us with a restless expression.
"Uncle, what is this place…?"
"It's the painting studio. It was your father Edmund's most cherished spot."
As I answered Liriet's question, I glanced at Cassdia. She quickly averted her eyes, just as I'd expected.
"Is this woman perhaps my mother?"
"Yes. Viola Argent. My eldest brother's wife and your birth mother. What do you think? She looks just like you—absolutely beautiful, isn't she?"
"Yes. I had no idea she was this beautiful."
Liriet cautiously approached the canvas and gently caressed the portrait. Blood truly calls to blood, it seemed. Even though it was a face she'd never seen before, she was drawn to it as if by instinct.
"It's no wonder your father fell for her at first sight. She was incredibly charming. Beautiful face, kind heart. She was just a bit frail."
"Frail…. I see."
At last, Liriet seemed to understand why her mother had passed away after giving birth to her. Viola had been sickly from birth. Every spring, she would wrap herself in a thick woolen coat.
"But Uncle, why did you bring us here?"
"I'll explain that starting now. First, I need to wake your father."
As I replied to Abel, I withdrew the mana I'd infused into Edmund's body.
"Ugh…."
Soon after, Edmund's eyes fluttered open groggily, as if regaining consciousness.
"Darling! Are you alright?"
Cassdia rushed over to check on him, but…
"…Who are you?"
"Ah…."
Thud. At his feeble words, Cassdia collapsed in place.
"Father, what are you saying? This is your wife. Cassdia Argent, your wife!"
Abel hurried over, grabbing Edmund's shoulders and shaking him urgently, but Edmund's eyes remained vacant.
Watching the scene silently, I saw Liriet approach me with anxious eyes.
"U-Uncle. What's going on? Is it a side effect of the magic…?"
"…No, it's not that, Liriet."
The spell I'd used was just simple sleep magic. Unless it lasted years, a few minutes wouldn't cause side effects.
"Abel…? Why are you…. Ugh! Argh…!"
"Father! What's wrong!?"
Suddenly clutching his head and collapsing, Edmund made Abel rush to me, grabbing my arm desperately.
"Uncle, Father's state is abnormal! Please, heal him somehow…."
"No, it's fine. I used the magic anticipating this."
"Pardon?"
Feeling it was time for explanations, I turned toward a nearby frame, nodding at the three of them to look.
"I'll explain now. Why your father ended up like this."
It was an absurd truth. Once realized, it didn't spark anger—instead, it brought a chilling sense of emptiness.
"First, look at these paintings. Don't you think something's off?"
"Aren't these landscapes of the estate grounds? What's…."
"The position of the stable is weird."
"Huh? Now that you mention it…."
At Liriet's observation, Abel finally noticed and examined the painting closely.
"For reference, this painting looked freshly hung when I arrived at the studio. See how the paint is still blended and not fully dry?"
"Yes…."
"And though you might not know, the stable was near the west annex, just like in this picture, until about nine or ten years ago."
"Ten years ago? But why would Father…."
He was probably about to ask if Edmund had painted it from memory of that time. I deliberately cut him off and continued.
"And the next painting, and the one after. They all seem recently painted. But look closely, and you'll feel something strange."
"…Huh?"
"The paintings…."
At my pointing out, their eyes widened.
"Yes. Somehow, they all feel like they're from quite some time ago, don't they?"
"Y-Yes. Mine is only from when I was a baby…."
"And there's not even one of me and Mother."
By "Mother," Liriet meant Cassdia. Indeed, no portraits of Cassdia or Liriet were displayed anywhere in these frames.
"It's as if time stopped back then. When you were born, Abel, but Liriet, you hadn't been born yet."
Muttering bitterly, I pulled out the glass vial I'd seen earlier from my pocket.
"This is a drug called Tears of Memory. Ever heard of it?"
"First time for me."
"Pretty name. Me too."
"……."
While the two shook their heads, Cassdia—who was checking on Edmund—bit her lip and looked away.
I ignored her and calmly explained the drug.
"It's a dangerous substance traded only in the underworld. A hallucinogenic that erases unwanted memories or conjures desired ones."
Explaining in detail would be complex, but that was the gist. Edmund had likely taken it every time he came here. It let him gaze at his departed wife's image and paint her portraits without his pathetic face ruining it.
"Once or twice might be fine, but it's highly addictive. Overuse causes memory distortion like that. In the worst case, memories are completely destroyed."
"So Father doesn't recognize me and Mother because he took that drug?"
"Yes, and his indifference toward you, Liriet, stemmed from the same reason, repeated over time."
"No way…."
Abel looked at me in disbelief, then at his sister. Liriet seemed deeply shocked too. Of course. Learning the father she'd thought hated her simply couldn't remember her at all—what reaction would anyone have?
"B-But Uncle! Doesn't that seem strange? We've had normal conversations with Father plenty of times. He even mentioned Liriet occasionally."
"I was confused by that too, but it seems his memories aren't fully destroyed yet. Probably, when side effects are mild, he vaguely recalls, but when they flare up, he reverts."
It was different from Alzheimer's. He handled everyday matters fine otherwise.
"Such a horrific thing exists."
"U-Uncle. Is there no way to fix it? Our father…."
Liriet's desperate gaze drew a wry smile from me. This sharp child must have already understood. How my words wounded her, and the cruel truth they held.
"Liriet, let me ask you. Do you truly want to save your father?"
"Yes, of course. I'm his daughter, after all."
"That's not the pat answer I want. You understand what I mean now, don't you?"
"……!"
Liriet's eyes widened. Abel, still clueless, blinked between us.
"What do you mean by that, Uncle? Tell me too."
Having me say it aloud was a tough request. But it was necessary—for Liriet to voice it, and for him to fully grasp it.
"I said this drug erases unwanted memories."
"Yes, I heard."
"Then what memory did your father, Edmund Argent, want to forget?"
"His wife's death, obviously…. Huh?"
Abel's head snapped sideways sharply enough to hear the whoosh of air. His gaze landed on Liriet.
Liriet clenched her tiny fists over her dress, lips pressed tight—like someone facing an unwanted truth.
"No way…."
"Yes. The day your mother—my sister-in-law Viola Argent—left this world. You know what that implies."
Bitterly, it was a day of both birth and death. The day the woman one man loved his whole life departed. And the day her final fruit, born of her last strength, entered the world.
"So Father… erased the very fact that Liriet was born?"
"He had no choice. Otherwise, his memories would twist."
The human brain is delicate. A single drop couldn't selectively erase Viola's death while keeping Liriet's birth. They were two sides of the same coin—opposites that must coexist.
Thus, only one choice: erase Liriet's birth itself. Delude himself that Viola still lived.
Whether Edmund realized that far, who knows? He might have just wanted to forget her death, unaware it would erase Liriet's birth too.
Intentional or not, the result was the same. It hurt Liriet regardless.
"That's why I'm asking Liriet. Do you consent to treating your father?"
"O-Of course we must treat him! Sure, Liriet suffered more from Father's indifference, enduring mine and Mother's persecution because of it. But he's still my precious father! I can't watch him crumble like this…."
"No, Abel. That's not it."
Reflecting on my insufficient explanation, I continued.
"Whether to treat your father depends on Liriet."
"On… Liriet?"
"Did you think one spell could perfectly restore him?"
"W-Well, you're a 7th Circle mage, Uncle…."
"Foolish."
Magic is omnipotent but not omniscient. If one spell could heal life-and-death crises or instantly repair a decade of slowly crumbling mind and memory, no other professions would exist.
Magic, simply put, summons miracles. It doesn't create them. It merely paves the path for miracles to reach humans.
Things impossible by human power. Magic crudely boosts the odds by 0.1% to overcome them.
"All I can do is alleviate the addiction, slow the memories' drift into oblivion."
"Then the already forgotten memories…."
"Yes, beyond my power. Even Grita Morvel would say the same."
Grita Morvel. The continent's top in mental magic. Even she couldn't, I was certain—not out of disdain, but magic's limits, which I knew well.
"Memories don't vanish. They're just sent to oblivion's depths. Forcibly prying them out destroys the mind."
But since they're forgotten, not destroyed, recovery is possible. There, Liriet is the key.
"If even a shred of fatherly instinct remained in him… even wanting to erase losing his wife, he wouldn't erase gaining his daughter."
Among Edmund's lost memories, the most conflicting pair: Viola's death, Liriet's birth. Only Liriet could unlock both.
"So Liriet, if you want to save him, you must make it happen. Make the joy of gaining a daughter outweigh the pain of losing a wife."
"C-Can I do it, Uncle?"
Her trembling voice prompted me to place a hand on her head.
"Yes. It's possible. But not easy. It depends purely on your effort and heart."
At my questioning gaze—what will you do?—Liriet clenched her fists tightly. Determination poured from her small frame, stunning even me momentarily.
"Then help me, Uncle."
"He forgot you, yet you'll save him? Why?"
Her fists trembled faintly at my question—not from doubt or conflict. Nor sorrow.
Steadying her breath, calming her hands, she placed them over her heart and smiled brightly.
"Even if he forgot I'm his daughter, I remember. That he's my precious father."
"I see. If that's your will."
No sooner had resolute Liriet answered than I approached Edmund, gripped his head, and began chanting.
Woooong…!
"Gah! Argh, aaaahhh!"
As my mana flowed in, agonized screams escaped him. Naturally so. It was like dissolving a decade of condensed poison in one second.
Plus, forcibly holding memories from oblivion's edge. Reassembling even fragments from ten years of slow dispersal was excruciating.
"Hah, haah…!"
After much suffering, Edmund lifted his head. Through sweat-matted hair, his eyes—now holding Liriet's image—were not the rotten, soulless gaze I knew.
For a moment, I glimpsed the old Edmund Argent's eyes.
"You… are…?"
"Father!"
"Who…. No, Liriet? You, no, what have I…. Argh!"
Not fully restored from confusion yet. But without the drug's influence, he recognized her.
Liriet joyfully took his hand preciously, unwavering—like vowing to protect him.
"Yes, Father. Liriet Argent. Your daughter. The final piece your most beloved left in this world."
Her soft words with a gentle smile dazed him. Soon, memories from oblivion flooded back like a tide.
Whoosh.
"Ahh! Liriet, Liriet…!"
He embraced her fiercely in one motion. Hot tears streamed like raindrops.
"I'm sorry…! How could I forget you! Try to erase the last treasure Viola left—with my own hands…!"
"It's okay, Father. Just remember again. That I'm your daughter."
"Of course! Of course…! I won't forget! Never again…!"
Liriet calmly soothed her sobbing, clinging father. I'd expected tears from her too, but remarkably, not a drop fell. Composed, dignified. She'd grown again. Now she could make such expressions.
"Even without me here, no need to worry."
I murmured unwittingly, turning away.
Whoosh!
"…Uncle?"
Wind blew through the wide-open window. Voices exchanged behind, but the wind drowned them out.