Remnants of Malice (8)

Now that I'd seen the Memorial, there was no doubt about it—dishes made with the Kelvia fruit would be served.

The nobles would stop at nothing, dragging out every trick they had to force that food down Karsein's throat, and the System would seize on the crisis without mercy, pressing its advantage.

But I dealt with it, effortlessly.

With a single item I'd prepared in advance, I turned the entire situation on its head in one move.

True, the System's interference had kept me from purchasing the indicator—but it couldn't stop me from synthesizing the thing myself.

How on earth could anyone block a method this reasonable and this legitimate?

With the choices wiped away automatically, I could now speak plainly and without fear.

"I told you, Flora. I shouldn't have set foot in this tea party at all. I should have just gone straight back to the ducal estate."

"..."

Flora flinched and lifted her head.

But even with her head raised, no words would come out of her.

After all, this was a scene far too familiar to her.

Karsein had never been invited here in the first place. He'd simply been hauled along to amuse them, a single jester brought in to spice up their entertainment.

And Flora was, in truth, no different from the rest of them.

Just another one of the people who had boxed him in, violently shoved back down the Karsein who clawed and thrashed to escape that cage, and pelted him with stones until he bled.

"This is... this isn't me. I didn't make this. There's been some kind of misunderstanding—!"

Now, of all times. You're saying you didn't make this?

'No. This is the residue your malice left behind.'

It happened because of you. It grew because of your hands.

Because you never folded away that petty spite once it was born—because you spread it far and wide, wave after wave—Karsein was forced to eat food laced with Kelvia fruit not only inside the ducal house but beyond its walls as well.

And you never once figured that out on your own.

This was the reality Flora Bagrand had wrung out and handed to Karsein Bagrand.

So I cut off Flora's words like a blade.

"This really was never my place to begin with, was it? I knew full well—being in the back as an escort knight suited me a hundred times better."

"Wh-what are you talking about?"

"Sorry to disappoint. It seems I'm only realizing now, this late, that I'm an uninvited guest."

Click.

"Uninvited guests really ought to be on their way."

Leaving the bewildered nobles behind, I walked straight out of the tea party.

No one, of course, came to stop me.

Why?

That was the thought that had circled in Flora's head all day long.

Why on earth would he wear such plain clothes to a tea party full of nobles? It would have been so much better if he'd dressed up a little. Dressed a little more nicely.

She hated how plainly he dressed.

Why had two carriages been prepared? The servants weren't riding along with them—so why couldn't they all just ride together?

She hated being told to ride separately.

An escort knight, not a guest invited to the tea party? He was a proud noble, a man of the Bagrand ducal house, her own accompanying companion.

She hated how strangely he kept striking down his own standing.

He should go back to the estate? He'd come here openly and proudly as Flora Bagrand's companion, so what on earth was the problem?

She hated how he kept trying to slip away from the tea party.

Every single one of Karsein's actions today had been like that. As if he were a guest who'd never been invited here at all. As if someone unfit had simply wandered in.

She hated all of it—hated every bit of how he behaved.

And yet.

When Hemnon Modric pushed open the door and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠walked in, it was as if a hammer had come down on her skull.

The irritation she'd felt at Karsein's behavior vanished in an instant.

Because a single day from the past had surfaced in her mind, unbidden.

Just like Hemnon, who had arrived late today, there had been a time when Karsein was berated for not arriving on time. He'd been pressed to apologize for breaking his promise to so many people, told he was dragging down the ducal house's standards of etiquette, tarnishing the dignity of the nobility—and Karsein had bowed his head meekly and accepted it all.

Leave this exact place as it was, swap the two men in opposite positions, and that day and today were barely different at all.

That was why her breath caught in her throat.

Because that day was the day Flora Bagrand had tormented Karsein Bagrand thoroughly, without mercy.

A gathering of nobles. Karsein taking a seat among them. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠incident that unfolded in that place. And then...

Her own reaction rises to the surface—the Flora of the past, who watched the nobles grind Karsein down and thought, the old congestion in my chest has finally cleared. Who had found it exhilarating.

'No way...'

The moment she realized it, the hostess, Pitea Gelgeton, happened to be bringing out the food.

That past came back to her with terrible, natural ease.

And then, those colors appeared before Flora's eyes.

Staring at the dishes on Karsein's plate, stained dark and vivid, Flora felt her heart plummet straight through her chest.

The brilliant colors of the indicator—a reagent that detects nothing but food containing Kelvia fruit—were telling her everything.

That Karsein had never been invited to this place from the very start.

That not one of these people recognized him as a noble.

That a single person alone had stood isolated in this room.

That the architect of this whole disaster was Flora Bagrand—the one who had told them all that Karsein suffered from a Kelvia allergy.

That was what the colors were saying.

'Wh-why did this happen? Because of what...!'

As Flora bit her lip, Pitea Gelgeton drifted over to her.

"Um... Lady Flora? I'm sorry."

"...I'm sorry?"

"I meant to prepare a gift you'd really enjoy this time too, but... strangely, Karsein just kept dodging everything, you know? I thought I'd at least get him to eat some Kelvia fruit, but it's a shame it didn't work out. I really was trying to lift your spirits somehow."

Pitea lamented that, at this rate, all she'd managed was to spread one measly little rumor or two.

Hearing that, Flora's head snapped up.

"What are you even saying? My spirits?"

"You were so upset at the last tea party, weren't you? If Lady Flora's mood is sour at Bagrand, well, there's only one reason it could be."

The instant Pitea finished speaking, a dreadful suspicion seized her, and Flora asked:

"Did you—did you think I ordered this? That's why you brought out dishes made with that fruit?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. Of course. For Lady Flora's sake, feeding this to Karsein would..."

"When did I—when did I ever ask you to prepare something like this...!"

Bile rose up her throat.

But in the very next moment, Flora's voice broke off.

Should she scream at them—why did you act without my leave?—here of all places?

No. She must not.

'If I shout now... then this whole affair...'

When something like this happened among the nobles, it had always been one person who was blamed for it. Even if it was the nobles' own elaborate scheme, their side was always covered for, and when it came time to name the reason a gathering or a party had been ruined, the one fingered was always, always the same person.

She couldn't even scold them, ask why they'd done it.

She couldn't rage that they'd done something she never ordered, that they'd deceived the ducal house of Bagrand.

Because doing that would only throw Karsein's "outrageous behavior"—the thing that had supposedly angered Flora Bagrand—into even sharper relief.

All of this was a seed that Flora Bagrand herself had planted.

And Karsein—the one who had lived every day lashed with contempt and loathing—would take this storm head-on.

No matter what she said.

No matter how she reacted.

A warped version of the truth would be manufactured, and it would settle into Karsein as a great, indelible scar. She knew it with absolute certainty.

Drip. Drip-drip.

The tears fell on their own.

'Karsein... every single time... things like this...'

How wretched it must have been—she couldn't even begin to guess.

No. She couldn't guess. Not ever.

Flora Bagrand, nothing more than a foolish, ignorant little lady who knew nothing, had carved those wounds deeper and wider every single time.

And yet at some point, Karsein had stopped getting angry—because, she understood now, he had known that showing anger would only let this thing grow larger.

And she—she had tried to force that same Karsein to eat food stuffed full of Kelvia fruit.

Her chest hurt. It hurt like it was going mad.

"Lady Flora...?"

"Why are you crying all of a sudden?"

"Are you all right?"

The nobles began casting nervous glances her way.

And their agitation planted, before her very eyes, the seed of a wound wearing the name of "concern."

Even just being seen crying here would wound Karsein all the more.

Wiping her tears quickly with her sleeve, Flora said:

"Eating all that food has given me a stomachache."

"Wh-what?!"

"No... how could that..."

The food had been the problem. That was why Karsein had left.

And Flora Bagrand was, at the same time, crying from a stomachache.

Framing it that way erased any rumor that might have spread afterward. There would be no opening for anyone to pry into why Karsein had walked out of the tea party alone.

This was—this was the best she could do.

"I'll be going, then."

"W-wait... my lady!"

Leaving the murmuring nobles behind, Flora stormed out of the tea party.

To anyone watching, she didn't look like someone in pain at all. The tears that had been spilling like water from a tapped faucet had already stopped.

She ran to the carriages, telling herself she had to find Karsein right away—but Karsein was already gone from that spot.

He had returned to the ducal estate, together with a single horse that had been standing right beside him.

But.

Someone else was there.

"Flora? Have you been crying?"

Pink hair descended from the second carriage.

It was Claire.

"C-Claire..."

The moment she saw her older sister—the one she had once confessed her sins to—moisture began pooling in her eyes all over again.

She flung herself at the spot where Claire, fresh from the carriage, stood. Burrowing into Claire's arms, Flora burst into sobs at once.

"...!"

"Claire, *hic*, I—I don't know wha't to do... I've, *hic*, hurt Karsein again...!"

"...What?"

"*Sob*, what do I do...? Karsein must be... hurting so much right now, *hic*!"

Strictly speaking, since he hadn't eaten anything, no actual symptoms of the Kelvia allergy had appeared.

But there was no mistaking it.

Karsein had been hurt.

-Ding!

Flora had wept her heart out, buried in the arms of Claire—the only person she had ever truly opened up to.

Claire stroked her back, soothing her with something close to pity.

But she didn't simply console her.

"Flora. Like I told you before, that's not something I can fix for you. You know that, right?"

Flora answered between sniffles.

It was the one thing she must never, ever forget.

Then, instead of scolding her the way she had back then, Claire gently stroked her hair.

"This is just my own thinking, but... I believe that's something you have to figure out for yourself, Flora. How to make sure Karsein doesn't hurt anymore."

But she didn't know anything, Flora had told her. She had no idea what to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠do, or how.

Claire had then wiped her tears with a handkerchief and told her to think about it on the ride home.

Inside the quiet carriage.

Two had ridden out; only one rode back. Staring at the empty seat where Karsein should have been, Flora sank deep into thought.

She didn't know how long that ride lasted.

Inside that small head of hers, the past and the present ran back and forth, over and over.

"Lady Flora. We have arrived at the ducal residence."

Before she knew it, they had reached the estate.

She still hadn't decided what to do.

But one thing stood out in her mind, clear and unmistakable: the consequences born of her own foolishness and her petty little jealousy were enormous—far larger than she had ever imagined.

That was why she set foot in this place.

"Shayden."

"Lady Flora? What brings you here?"

This was the chamber of the ducal house's chief physician—the place where Shayden stayed, the man who came running at full tilt whenever she fell ill, tending to her examination and treatment without fail.

Her eyes were rimmed red, as if she'd been crying on the way over. Shayden was about to ask what ailed her, but before the question could leave his lips, Flora spoke.

"Teach me how to make medicine, Shayden."

"Medicine... you say?"

Flora nodded.

"When someone's sick, you have to apply medicine for them to get better, right? There's a medicine I need too. And to make it, I have to learn from you."

It was, in a way, an ironic request—but Shayden caught the faintest glimmer of the truth. This was a request connected to Karsein. He closed his eyes heavily for a moment, then opened them again.

And he brought out words that could only be said now, if ever.

"Lady Flora. I'm sorry, but medicine is not something that heals every wound, no matter what."

"It doesn't get better just by applying medicine...? Then what am I supposed to—"

"No. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠That is not what I mean. What I mean is that a wound does not heal through ointment alone. And if a medicine is misused, even slightly, it can turn to poison. And then the wound only grows worse."

"What? Th-that can't...! Is that true of every medicine you take?"

"Yes, my lady."

"How... how could..."

At the words grows worse, Flora's eyes went perfectly round.

"Then Karsein's Kelvia allergy... it can't be cured?"

Tears began to well up in the eyes of that ignorant, childish youngest lady.

Cruel as it was, there was nothing for it here but to tell her the truth.

"That illness cannot be cured. My lady. No matter what ointment is applied, no matter what medicine is swallowed, it can never be healed completely."

Round beads of tears rolled down her cheeks once more—tracing the very tracks the last tears had left behind.

But this stream did not follow the same path.

"However—the Kelvia allergy His Young Lordship suffers from has distinct stages of onset. Which means action can be taken before the pain grows worse."

"...?"

At those words, Flora lifted her head.

"It means it can be stopped before it hurts more, my lady. An illness that would have laid him in bed for days can be ended in a single day; a day of deep, unbroken sleep can be replaced with nothing more than restful sleep. If his recovery is hastened, you may well see him going about his life again as if nothing had happened. That—that is what we who call ourselves physicians do."

When Shayden said this with a gentle, kindly smile, a light returned to Flora's eyes.

As though a single thread of hope had been handed to her, she wiped her tears at once.

"What do I have to do?"

Even from the outside, the girl's resolve blazed.

The girl who had lived always wrapped in the arms of her mother and her sisters had been, until now, nothing but a naive little lady.

Studies forever set aside. Days spent flitting from one outing to the next. Nothing but hours spent leaning on her family, savoring a life of luxury.

But this time—for the first time—she was throwing off that embrace with her own strength, trying to do something with her own two hands.

"Well, first—you'll have to study hard, won't you?"

"Study... Yes. I will. I'll work as hard as I can!"

Shayden handed back the books Flora had once cast aside, and gave her back a light, guiding push.

"And this time, you must not go hunting for the answer sheet the moment you get stuck. You will work through the problems yourself, diligently. Understood?"

"Yes!"

-Ding!