Irene Yuris 3
Darkness deepened across the sky, and the sun that had driven it back sank once more beneath its shadow.
Then the stars emerged, blazing bright with a pale blue moonrise until the night itself became a spectacle beyond compare.
There were more stars than I had ever seen in the modern world I’d come from — so many that even the countryside would have struggled to match them.
As I watched that endless scatter of light through the window, I heard an awed voice beside me and turned my head.
“Wow...”
Ropena, Irene’s personal maid, let out the breathless sound.
It was a nightscape so beautiful it was hard to believe this was the Middle Ages, and the streets below had begun to shine brilliantly with lights made of magic.
So this world used magic instead of electricity.
Come to think of it, magic-powered light was practically semi-permanent, so this seemed far more convenient.
“Ropena.”
At Irene’s calm voice, Ropena jumped in surprise and hurried over in quick little steps.
It bothered me to see such a heavy burden in the hands of a child who looked younger than Irene — and younger than me, too — but there was nothing for it.
The responsibility of protecting the duke’s eldest daughter was just as heavy as the load she carried.
Another book was placed in Ropena’s hands.
She let out a strained groan, but Irene ignored her discomfort and set yet another volume atop the stack.
“Ugh...”
The sight of her trembling arms kept catching at me, so I forced myself to look away.
Earlier I’d briefly taken the load from her — only to get caught by that rough-looking knight Chris, who promptly smacked me on the head.
The spot still throbbed, and I suspected a bruiser had formed there.
Ropena had seen the whole thing, too, so she wouldn’t even look at me, just quietly kept gathering the books.
Books, papers, books, writing tools, books. Watching the pile mounted on her small hands made my stomach churn for reasons I couldn’t quite explain.
If someone genuinely loved studying and had bought all of this, I might have understood, but the face she wore while choosing them was utterly expressionless.
That only made the burden seem all the more oppressive.
“...Honestly.”
I couldn’t make sense of her. The emotions hidden behind that blank mask could only be guessed at, and they gave no sign of revealing themselves.
Maybe, if someone saw Irene standing quietly like this, they might mistake her for a doll.
As I watched the corners of her mouth held level in a line that never seemed to change, I let out a dry laugh.
Irene kept choosing books.
We’d been in the bookshop for three hours now, and even by the time Ropena finally began setting Irene’s purchases aside for packing, Irene still stood there, staring at the books in a daze.
What, exactly, was she seeing in them?
Come to think of it, Irene in the novel had always been reading whenever she appeared.
Whether it was fiction, philosophy, or economics, she seemed to devour every field without discrimination, and thanks to that she was remarkably well-informed.
No wonder the protagonist had such a hard time dealing with her.
“The venom of a blade-tail lizard. Are you trying to assassinate me, Luna Dreamwell?”
Even I, the reader, had broken out in goosebumps at her words, spoken as she sniffed a cup of black tea that smelled no different from ordinary tea.
She’d added that identifying a poison even highly trained assassins struggled to distinguish at a glance had only been possible because of the knowledge she’d gained from books.
...Assassination.
The thought that had begun in admiration was abruptly cut off by that one word.
The Irene I was remembering belonged only to her past.
Countless attempts had been made on her life, and in the end she had been unable to stop all of them, watching the ties around her crumble one by one.
And still she had to remain silent, because that was the fate of the Iron Blood.
Made of iron, she had to be numb at all times, a shield that could block anything and everything — perfect because she had no other choice.
An invincible shield that could deflect even the spear forged by the gods themselves.
That had been the name given to her before her feud with the protagonist deepened, but I couldn’t help thinking the title was not nearly as glorious as it sounded.
Even if she were a shield that could block the spear of a god, the impact would still be borne by the shield itself, wouldn’t it?
No matter how unbroken she looked on the outside, could anyone honestly claim she was truly unbroken?
The cracks piling up layer by layer, the scars building up inside her heart — in the end, they were what brought her down. That was her ending.
Remembering the faint smile I’d seen in her room earlier, I slowly closed my eyes.
Was she really all right now? Or had her fate already been decided from the moment I possessed this body?
The soft flesh inside my mouth was caught between my teeth, and the coppery taste of blood spread over my tongue.
My thoughts scattered at the subtle gaze fixed on me.
When I realized those eyes, clear as flawless sapphires, were staring blankly at me, my loosened posture stiffened at once.
“...Did you need me to do something?”
Ropena had stepped away to get the books wrapped ahead of time, so only Irene and I remained here.
The fact left me oddly breathless, but I straightened and gave a slight bow.
“My lady?”
When I spoke to Irene, who was simply staring at me without a word, she glanced at me briefly before turning her eyes back to the books.
“My lady, is it?”
Her brow twitched as she spoke without looking up. Had I made a mistake?
Feeling that dread, I bowed my head a little further, and Irene wordlessly held out her hand in front of me.
Hand?
When I lifted my head in confusion, I almost laughed at what appeared before my eyes.
“A book...isn’t it?”
“I think you need to learn more about etiquette, so read and study this. Please remember your forms at all times.”
“...Understood.”
So that was the problem — calling her “my lady” must have been the issue.
Muttering to myself, I took the book, and seeing there was nothing more she wanted from this place, Irene started walking again.
A book, huh. I’d grown rather attached to Irene Yuris as a person, so I found myself wondering what I was supposed to do with a book she’d given me like this.
Since it had been handed to me in the course of discussing manners and etiquette, it was probably something similar.
{30 Ways to Behave Properly Around Nobles}
“Ha.”
A crooked smile tugged at my lips as I read the title. Maybe I should have it wrapped up later.
#
“...Are you all right?”
“Ah, I’m fine. It’s just a little heavy...”
She didn’t look fine at all. I narrowed my eyes at the stack piled high in Ropena’s arms, and she smiled faintly at me, insisting she was okay.
Today was the first time I’d met Ropena, but because I’d been sticking close to her while escorting Irene, we’d become friendly surprisingly quickly.
She was actually the same age as me, and I’d also learned that Irene was fifteen.
Her personality was pretty good, too, compared with most people, and with such a small frame yet such quiet patience in carrying all that weight, it was hard not to like her.
Even as a guard, it was difficult to stay focused on every situation all the time, so whenever I swapped shifts with Sir Chris, I’d often wander off and chat with Ropena.
Then I’d get caught by Sir Chris and bopped on the head, but that still didn’t change the fact that Ropena was a good kid.
After casting a pitying glance at the pile in her arms, I turned back toward Irene.
From the moment I met her that morning to now, when dusk had already settled in, her expression had never once changed, and I found myself marveling at that in silence.
Her face was cold, almost as if it had been dusted with frost, and she was so beautiful that every time those straight lashes fluttered, I nearly sighed aloud.
And yet that very beauty was why people couldn’t bring themselves to approach her.
Even merchants who happily flocked around other young ladies and tried to hustle them for purchases would hesitate and retreat the moment they saw Irene.
Of course, she’d stare at those merchants with an equally indifferent face, but I only wondered what she thought of them.
That look in her eyes during the day — the faint emotion hidden within her gaze as she looked at the other young ladies — was unmistakably admiration, wasn’t it?
Come to think of it, everything she’d bought today was hardly the sort of thing a girl her age would choose: books and writing tools, items purchased by a lady who’d actually come outside to shop.
The corners of my mouth twitched.
Honestly, what in the world.
Why did those clear eyes seem so clouded?
Her blue gaze made me think of the deep sea. The surface of the ocean is blue, but beneath it lies a darkness so murky you can’t see your hand in front of your face.
Unlike her beautiful exterior, which drew the eye and lured it in, I found myself grimacing at the thought that what lay within might be as dark as the abyss.
Admiration was praise offered to someone who had accomplished what you yourself could not.
But the admiration she held was directed toward another young lady. As if to say she herself would never do such a thing — or rather, that she couldn’t.
In the reflection of her white hair, I could see the duke.
The shield guarding the heart of the Empire. The heir to the will of Iron Blood, the one who had reached the pinnacle of the sword.
A man who was a docile dog before the emperor, yet a harsh wolf before his own child.
Garot Yuris.
The taste of blood seemed to rise again from the flesh I’d bitten earlier.
Why should she, at fifteen years old — she, the duke’s eldest daughter, someone worthy of everyone’s envy — have to carry admiration for another young lady?
It would have been better if she were merely arrogant. Better if she were immature because she didn’t know any better.
She was old enough for that, after all.
Old enough to dream, old enough for her eyes to shine.
But the only thing reflected in them was an endless, bottomless darkness, and without meaning to I let out a heavy breath.
I thought she looked so lonely, walking alone along a road swallowed by darkness.
It was a solitude far too heavy for a girl of fifteen, so I deliberately moved closer to her side.
She didn’t so much as flinch even with me standing beside her, and after glancing at her for a moment, I slowly spoke.
“Did you enjoy it?”
Though my question was light, my voice was serious enough that she gave me a sidelong look and then nodded.
But it didn’t seem like an answer of agreement. It felt more like a dismissal, a kind of silent order to stop talking, and I let out a faint snort.
“...Are you interested in books?”
“......”
“I’ve heard that to become a great knight, one must possess the proper common sense to match. If you have any books you’d recommend, I’d be grateful to hear them.”
A conversation with no answer had begun.
I’d only arrived in this world yesterday, and I had no idea how to become a great knight, but I wanted to speak to her anyway.
If I didn’t, I had a bad feeling I’d be quietly buried in this darkness and disappear.
The silence dragged on, and then silence called forth even more silence.
Ropena looked at me oddly as I kept babbling to myself, but Sir Chris merely watched without stopping me.
As if what I was doing wasn’t entirely wrong.
“Evan.”
A voice colder than frozen night drifted over us.
She hadn’t reacted to anything I’d said, and the look she gave me was downright icy.
I bowed my head before her. In truth, I’d expected this reaction.
“If you want to be a great knight, I’d suggest you start by learning common sense. The simple sort, like not talking carelessly to someone who doesn’t want to converse with you.”
The cutting venom of those words, each one pricking at my chest, made my face twist for an instant.
It was probably better if she didn’t see that expression.
Once my face had returned to normal, I lifted my head, only to find Irene already walking far ahead.
“...Ha.”
I wondered if I’d been meddling where I wasn’t wanted, but for some reason I didn’t regret it.
Common sense — her words kept echoing in my ears.
I staggered after her and started walking again. She’d cursed at me, sure, but I was her guard, wasn’t I?
And then, after one step, two steps...
“......”
I realized the night had gone unnaturally quiet.
No sound at all. Only footsteps. Step, step.
And then I realized those footsteps weren’t familiar. Not Irene’s, not mine, not Sir Chris’s, not Ropena’s.
Click-
When Sir Chris’s face drained of color, I knew he’d heard it too.
And the moment I saw that, I was already running.
I shouted Irene’s name — the name of the one I was sworn to protect — as my feet surged forward in panic. A sensation I had never known before flooded my body.
The copper stink of death, thick with mingled blood and rot, and a killing intent so dense it seemed to blanket the entire dark street made my skin react on instinct.
A chill ran up my spine, and my hand, gripping the sword at my waist, shook violently.
When a hand burst from the shadow and lunged toward Irene, my body shot forward like an arrow.
Ripping through shadow and slicing through silence, the sword I had never once held in my life rang out with a sharp cry.
The new body I’d gained was light, and the blade in my hand drove forward with fierce momentum.
Slash-
As I cut down the assassin charging toward Irene, a low cry slipped from his lips.
Assassination — I closed my eyes briefly and steadied my breathing.
All the while remembering those blue eyes that had remained indifferent even with a blade pointed at her, eyes that had looked almost bored by the whole affair.
A wash of white mana began to coil around my sword.