The Seat Diagonally Behind on the Right
“Ugh… my head.”
I pressed hard at my throbbing temples and forced myself upright. Maybe it was because the fermentation techniques here were still clumsy. Isekai beer seemed to leave a far nastier hangover than anything from the modern world.
That aside…
“Whose blanket is this…?”
It definitely hadn’t been draped over me by old Rendler, who was still sprawled across the sofa backrest like a half-dried squid. Rachel was the one missing from the room, so she had probably brought it, though the blank film of last night made it impossible to be sure.
I got up first. After a coughing fit of his own, Rendler had fallen back asleep, so I pulled the blanket over him instead.
Click.
I stepped out of the drawing room and carefully asked the guard standing watch outside.
“Anything… happen last night?”
I had no memory of it. The circumstances suggested nothing special had occurred, yet I still fretted that the original Elden’s drunken habits might have surfaced—throwing a fit, summoning maids to force himself on them, or worse.
“What sort of thing do you mean, my lord?”
“Just… wondering if the night got rowdy.”
“Nothing of the sort, my lord.”
“That so. Good.”
I let out a long breath of relief, then asked again.
“I noticed a blanket over me. Who brought it?”
“Lady Rachel, my lord.”
“…Really?”
So it had been Rachel after all. My blunt sword instructor must have worried that her disciple—whose mind had clearly gone soft—might catch a cold. She always seemed so indifferent and deadpan; maybe she was secretly the warm, caring type. Or maybe the instructor who had grown addicted to training simply didn’t want her fun spoiled by a student’s sniffles. Either way, without that blanket the chill from the floor would almost certainly have left me sick. I ought to thank her properly, I thought, and started walking. My stomach needed a hangover cure.
I had read about one in a monster-cuisine cookbook once—minotaur blood soup, supposedly excellent for hangovers. At that moment I wanted it more than anything, but sadly there was neither a cook who could make it nor the ingredients. For now I would have to settle for anything that didn’t contain alcohol.
With dragging steps I headed for the tea parlor.
“Oh?”
There she was, stirring a teacup with a teaspoon. Rachel herself. She looked as though she had only just woken; she wore a pure-white silk sleep dress and slippers. For some reason I felt afraid to greet her. I had no idea what might have happened while the film cut out. A drunken hand might have committed some rudeness; a drunken mouth might have said anything.
Fortunately—
“Ah, you’re up early.”
Rachel greeted me in her usual calm voice the moment she saw me. The lack of any particular expression meant nothing particular had happened. I exhaled relief inwardly and stepped inside. Of course, the faint residual anxiety still needed clearing away.
“Nothing… weird last night, right?”
Standing beside her, I asked as casually as I could and reached for a water glass. My insides felt scorched; I wanted to quench the fire with cold water at once—yet something was suddenly held out to me. It was the teacup she had been stirring; Rachel had pushed it toward me. Instead of answering, she poured water into a fresh cup she had just taken out and began explaining what she had given me.
“This is what my father always drank the morning after he overindulged.”
“Hm?”
“Honey water. Acacia honey dissolved in water with a little lemon juice. It should help the hangover, so please drink.”
The unexpected appearance of honey water nearly made me blurt out something ridiculous like, “Was your father also a transmigrator from the modern world?” Simple, yet remarkably effective against hangovers. Rachel’s father must have known a thing or two about curing them.
“…Thanks.”
I lifted the cup, still a little dazed. I had never imagined in the slightest that I would receive honey water from the blunt female knight Rachel rather than from old Rendler. Had something happened last night? Rachel had always been the strict escort knight who never once showed the employer named Elden any warm kindness.
Sip.
I took a mouthful. The sweetness of the honey laced with the bright tang of lemon was excellent; beyond merely curing the hangover, even the fatigue seemed to lift.
“…How is it?”
Rachel asked cautiously. Looking at her, I gave a thumbs-up.
“One sip and the hangover’s already gone.”
Only then did a faint smile bloom on her previously stiff face. It was the first smile I had ever seen. Even in the original Elden’s memories, Rachel’s expression had always been blank. True, it was a smile so faint it was hard to notice—but I had thought she had forgotten how to smile. Thankfully, the Purple Knight still knew how.
Rachel lifted her own steaming cup of honey water. Looking at me with a pleased face, she said,
“Your wounds have healed cleanly.”
“Hm?”
“Then I’ll go prepare.”
That was all. Holding the steaming teacup, Rachel left the tea parlor. I stared blankly after her, then turned my head to the cheek reflected in the cupboard mirror. Just as she had said, every little scar had closed without a trace—as if the wounds had never been there at all.
Huh.
So there was a reason she saved it for later?
I rubbed the spot where the wounds had been, then drank more of the honey water. Maybe because someone else had made it for me, it tasted truly sweet.
“But Miss, don’t you ever think about marriage?”
Early morning. While Ariel was having breakfast and reading, the maid who had poured her winter-flower tea asked the question. Ariel lifted her gaze from the book and eyed the maid with mild suspicion. It was the first time she had heard such a question.
“Hm? Me?”
“Yes. I just suddenly wondered. And please don’t say anything strange like you’re already married to books.”
“Hmm.”
Ariel took a sip of winter-flower tea and hummed thoughtfully. Marriage… She had never really considered it. She had never even been in love; how could marriage enter the picture? For Ariel, who had lived buried so deep in novels that one could fairly call it a lifetime, marriage was a matter of complete indifference.
“I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t.”
“…At this rate you’ll die alone, you know. Women who’ve never met men end up meeting them well. You have to start meeting people diligently before it’s too late.”
“People who’ve never read books end up reading them well, too.”
“…….”
At any rate, this young lady had a talent for leaving one speechless; every conversation began with books and ended with books… the maid thought, and plopped herself down in the chair opposite Ariel with a decisive thud. Then she stared at her mistress with open dissatisfaction.
“…What is it?”
“Doesn’t it feel like a waste?”
“What does?”
“This is the time when you shine brightest. The peak of your beauty. The time when you should flaunt that blooming looks and fall in love with a wonderful man.”
“…Love? Ugh. I don’t know anything about that.”
Ariel recoiled as if she had seen something unsightly. She had once read romance novels out of curiosity about love, yet she had never finished a single one; she simply could not understand the idea of spending emotion—and the time that could have been used to turn another page—on such things.
“…Don’t tell me you’ve never dated even once?”
At the maid’s question Ariel nodded firmly, as if asking why anyone would inquire about something so obvious.
“Nope.”
“Heavens…”
The maid sighed. She simply could not believe—could not understand—that her mistress, with such beauty and such a gentle nature, had never once been in a relationship. If I had that face, I’d seduce every man I liked, she thought.
“What’s the big deal? Have you?”
“Of course. You have no idea how many love flowers bloom and wither among the servants.”
“Really? Servants date each other? I’ve never seen it.”
“…That’s because you only ever look at novels.”
“Ah. I see.”
“No—can’t you take this a little more seriously? Your looks are truly too precious to waste.”
“Looks? There are so many people prettier than me. You just haven’t seen the Third Grand Duchess. If you had, a face like mine would look ordinary.”
“…….”
Even a sigh refused to come out. There could be no denser blockhead than this. This wouldn’t do. Fearing that her beloved young lady would become a solitary old woman, the maid asked with a face full of resolve.
“Miss.”
“Yes?”
“What’s the most enjoyable book you’ve ever read?”
“Hmm… there are so many it’s hard to choose.”
Ariel spread all ten fingers and folded them one by one while murmuring titles. Then one rose to the surface. The novel she had stayed up several nights reading until her nose nearly bled; the novel whose every page she had hated to turn because it was too precious; the novel that left her chest so full after the epilogue that she could not put the feeling into words; the novel that made her happier than anyone else in the world while she read it.
“The Later Tales of the Hero Alpherion?”
“You were incredibly happy while reading it, weren’t you?”
Ariel nodded, a smile rising unbidden at the mere thought. This time the maid spread all ten fingers.
“When you fall in love, you become ten times happier than that.”
It was a comparison perfectly tailored to a bookworm’s standards, and Ariel’s eyes widened.
“…Ten times?”
Happier than those moments when she had been so happy she could have screamed?
“Come on. That’s exaggeration.”
“It’s true! You only say that because you’ve never experienced it. The world fills up with the one you love; every moment until you meet him is agonizing anticipation; when you finally do meet, your heart flutters so hard you feel you could die happy. That feeling is something nothing else in the world can replace.”
“…Is it really that intense?”
“Absolutely!”
Hmm. Enough to die happy? Thoughts of him filling everything? If it truly made one that happy, of course it would be nice, but…
“Well? Do you have a better sense of it now?”
Looking at her mistress, who seemed to have opened her eyes to something, the maid asked with a face full of expectation. That expectation, however, cooled in an instant.
“…But then I wouldn’t be able to read books.”
“Heavens.”
A sigh that would not have been out of place if the world were collapsing spilled out this early in the morning.
…Why all this love talk first thing in the morning?
Having finished breakfast, Ariel was walking toward the grand ducal library with her escort. She knew the maids had been chattering noisily about love lately because the conclusion of the betrothal war was drawing near. That must be why. They had occasionally scolded her to put down the books and look at men, after all.
Still…
Can anyone really be ten times happier?
She had been so happy with that novel that she felt she could live an entire lifetime enjoyably on a desert island if she only had it. How could anything make a person ten times happier than that?
Impossible.
It had to be an exaggeration invented just to persuade her. Having dismissed it thus, Ariel arrived at the library ten minutes before opening and glanced around. She hoped, just a little, that Elden might have arrived early. Lately he had always come late, leaving them with too little time to share their impressions properly, and that had left her disappointed. She had even felt a bit sulky that he seemed to value training more than reading. Of course she knew that was merely her own greed.
Will he be late again today?
Hmph. Since the declaration of forfeit had essentially been approved, she wished he would come early today… She looked around, but the only people cutting through the early-morning air were servants cleaning. She smacked her lips in disappointment and fixed her eyes on the library doors, which would open in one minute.
And the moment those doors opened—
Tap-tap.
Someone tapped her shoulder twice from behind.
Huh?
Startled by the sudden presence, Ariel spun around in a hurry—and her eyes flew wide. A small wish had come true.
“Hm, I meant to wait for you today, yet you’re still never late, are you, Ariel?”
“Wh-what?! Elden!”
Joy filled her widely opened eyes; her raised brows brimmed with delight; her broadly smiling red lips held more happiness than at any other time—though Ariel herself did not yet realize it. She simply bounced in place, feeling that the entire day would somehow be happy from start to finish.
A whiff of alcohol reached her nose.
“Hm? Did you drink yesterday?”
“Ah, I had a proper celebratory drink with Rachel and old Rendler.”
“Really?”
Ariel looked at Rachel, who stood diagonally behind Elden to the right—exactly the same position she herself had occupied during their academy days.
“…I can drink, too, you know.”
Immediately afterward, a needless grumble escaped the lips that had been pouring out joy. It was nothing more than a small sulk born of a heart she still did not understand.