A Belated Birthday Gift (7)

She had not forgotten the warning from three years ago, and she had tried her hardest never to repeat it.

She had bided her time to avoid clashing with the nobles.

She had worn a servant's uniform rather than scream out her innocence and pick fights she couldn't win.

In the end, dressing as a servant had been a disguise to keep herself from causing a disaster on the day of her Coming-of-Age Ceremony — and since a precedent existed, it had been the best available means of ensuring history didn't repeat itself. That, at least, was the intent Karsein had confided to her on the day of his birthday, the very day his Coming-of-Age Ceremony was held.

But Claire didn't believe it.

It didn't feel like that was the whole story. A gut instinct told her something was still being hidden away.

There was a strange wrongness to it all, too.

So she had meant to ask him. Right after Karsein returned.

But then — in the middle of her conversation with the head maid, something strange reached her ears.

"...so am I supposed to go grovel to Arina and tell her I didn't get permission over this?"

She hadn't caught the sentence before it, but that didn't matter. What came after was what counted.

"You have to beg Arina? What is that even supposed to mean?"

"M-Miss Claire."

Had he done something truly terrible to our sister? Permission? What on earth was that about?

She listened a while longer, and it turned out the matter wasn't so dire after all.

"You've caused enough trouble in the past that raising the question is only fair. That's your own karma catching up with you."

"So you're telling me to go lick Arina's boots, is that it?"

"No, not exactly. As long as you explain why you went out, there shouldn't be much of a problem. If you'd caused trouble somewhere, a letter would arrive at the estate by tomorrow."

Claire more or less let the matter rest there. Karsein had reasons enough to invite misunderstanding, and unless this outing had a legitimate purpose behind it, she couldn't simply brand everything Emma said as wrong.

That ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠said, Emma seemed poised to add something of her own — but Claire didn't stay to hear it. Her own business was more pressing.

"So? What did you go out for, anyway?"

To that question, Karsein answered with perfect composure.

"A birthday present."

"What?"

"Mother granted me an outing permit as a birthday present."

Without warning, that odd disquiet bloomed again. The single word birthday began spinning wildly through her head.

It couldn't be.

No. It's not.

The day I'd been thinking of on the Ceremony — surely it wasn't that day. Right?

And yet.

"My birthday is December 31st."

Words that should never have been spoken with such calm — and Karsein was speaking them with perfect, unshakable calm.

Every question, every nagging doubt turned to ash and scattered.

All that remained was the sensation of something hard slamming into her skull, and a relentless ringing in her ears.

His birthday... it was that day...?

A birthday infinitely more wretched than her own. No one had celebrated it. Not a single gift — it hadn't even been remembered, just buried and forgotten. The belated present he'd finally received was, pathetically enough, a permission slip to leave the house.

And now —

She, who called herself family. Who called herself his older sister.

The same Claire who had stormed and raged that she wouldn't be coming to his birthday —

Only now was she realizing it.

I have to say something — anything — to him...!

Her fingertips trembled. Her throat sealed itself shut, unbidden.

With eyes shaking like a compass needle, she forced herself to face him once more.

Even if it was only an excuse. Even if it was empty talk. Even if it was a lie. Something had to be said.

But.

"...!"

Those cold, glazed eyes said everything.

Even after tearing that shocking truth from his own lips, there wasn't a flicker of feeling in him.

Karsein's expression remained as eerily, spine-chillingly blank as ever. As though he had never expected anything from anyone in the first place.

"...Go in. I know what you're trying to say."

Head hanging low, Claire's voice came out hollow.

"Just go in? And leave you to crawl to Arina on your hands and knees?"

"I'll handle Arina—!"

The words caught in her throat all at once. It felt as though everything that had surged up to her lips was fighting to stay down.

Still, Claire wrenched the voice out of herself as if retching it up.

"I'll... I'll talk to her properly. So just... go in..."

Karsein passed by her without a word. The sound of his footsteps, from the stables into the mansion, seemed louder today than it had ever been.

Only when the footsteps had died away entirely did Claire press a hand to her forehead and will her pounding head back into order.

But someone else still remained in that place, her mood soured by Karsein's treatment.

"Miss Claire. Young Master Karsein may have gotten into trouble out there."

"Enough. Let him go."

"Pardon? Miss Claire, but this is far too—"

"Shut up and let him go. My word doesn't count for anything, is that it?"

When Emma carelessly opened her mouth again, Claire spat out a curse, her eyes blazing.

"Fuck. You're nothing but a head maid, remember? Why are you nitpicking the boy just because he stepped outside for once? Are you planning some little insurrection?"

Her sharp eyes bore down without mercy. The intimidation dripping from every word made any reply impossible.

All Emma could do was bow her head deep where she stood and beg.

"F-forgive me! I misspoke. Please, just this once, be magnanimous...!"

"Misspoke? Ha. Even if Arina did issue a ban on outings, you do realize this is clearly overstepping your authority?"

"M-Miss Claire..."

"Overstep yourself one more time, and I don't care if you're Flora's wet nurse — I won't let it slide next time."

"Y-yes, ma'am! It won't happen again...!"

Swallowing her fury as she headed into the mansion, Claire found even that insufficient — and paused at the threshold to add one more word to the deeply bowed Emma.

"One more warning. If I hear this conversation repeated anywhere inside the duchy, I'll be the one destroying you first. Mind your behavior."

It was as good as a declaration that Emma had been marked.

Exactly the outcome I had prepared for in advance.

The moment Claire openly caught wind of that conversation, Emma was struck dumb. And I hadn't stopped there — I'd revealed my birthday, exactly as the choice dictated.

Thanks to Claire being plunged into shock, slipping out of that place had been easy.

After this, Emma won't dare cross Claire. She tried every trick to punish me and ended up stepping all over Claire's feelings without even realizing it.

I had no interest in whatever else was said back there. What mattered was that Claire's Intimacy had gone up and the ban on outings had loosened, if only a little.

I could move far more freely now.

The place was still crawling with enough dangers to kill me a hundred times over, but being able to leave the estate at all was an enormous boon.

It meant I could prepare for the other Dead Triggers. That alone was enough. Though of course, I still had to gather enough clues.

And... the time has come to take down one Dead Trigger.

Camilla — my exclusive maid.

This was my chance to sever the long, tangled bond with the maid now following me into my room.

But I couldn't afford to let my guard down yet.

There had been unmistakably strange behavior. Contributing her own badly-needed money toward my purchase, and trying to get me to leave my post before Emma arrived — neither of those had ever appeared in the game. They were anomalies.

The reason behind those anomalies had to be settled, once ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and for all, before the Dead Trigger went off.

I asked bluntly.

"You know an explanation is due, don't you? Camilla."

"...Yes. I do."

Only when we reached my room did I toss the words out, probing.

—THUD!

A dull, heavy sound rang out against the floor.

Camilla, who had gulped hard while standing, dropped straight to her knees and then —

"I am so sorry, Young Master!"

She began apologizing, out of nowhere.

After that muffled thud, kneeling wasn't enough for Camilla — she pressed her forehead all the way to the floor.

What is this?

She had assumed the lowest of low postures. Someone prostrating themselves that flat had to have a reason of their own for it.

Right. For example — the cost of medicine for a sick mother.

"Is it money you need?"

It fit well enough: I'd overheard her entire conversation with Heron, and she'd been clutching cold cash in plain sight. She'd even kicked in an extra 200 Pecels toward my own purchase — it stood to reason she wanted money.

"If it's money you need, take one of my coats tomorrow and sell it. Even cast-off clothing worn by a noble will fetch enough at resale to cover everything you paid. If what you need is authorization, I'll hand you the token I received directly."

"Th-that's...! No. I don't need money, Young Master."

Meaning that's not enough? Fine.

"Well, I can throw interest on top of it. Take a few more coats and pocket double. If even that doesn't satisfy you, I'll add in the things I was given as a child. A few gold coins more should come of it — surely that's enough."

The worth of the 200 Pecels I'd received from Camilla was irrelevant, since it would decide whether I lived or died the moment it left my hands.

And even if I sold off the gifts Karsein had received as a child, no one in the ducal house would say a word about it.

"No, Young Master. I don't want gold coins, or jewels, or any wealth. I did not give you money in hopes of repayment!"

Camilla shook her head violently from where she knelt. I had laid out generous rewards, and she had kicked them away with her own hands.

"And you expect me to believe that? I know perfectly well you're drawing at least double wages in this duchy because of your mother's illness."

"Th-that's..."

Pierced to the quick, Camilla sucked in a shallow breath. She was currently serving as my exclusive maid ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for the money and nothing else.

If her desperate circumstances had reached even Arina's ears, then the purpose behind her working here could not possibly be anything but money.

So you don't need it? That claim was, in itself, a towering contradiction.

Camilla, who had been biting her lip, gradually went pale — then seemed to remember something, and only then began to speak.

...And then.

"The money, Young Master!"

"Hm?"

"The money used at the counter — it was actually an advance the head maid gave me!"

If her earlier words had come out of nowhere, this was worse.

What is this? Isn't this practically a confession?

She had just revealed that the source of that 200 Pecels was the head maid — and that it was an advance payment.

The process and the conclusion followed naturally. Receiving the money meant Camilla had accepted some request from Emma, and that request, quite obviously, meant there was something my exclusive maid was supposed to do to me.

By any reading, it was not a story to be bandied about carelessly. A secret among secrets — the moment it spread through the duchy, it would be grounds for a scandal of the highest order. She should never have announced it openly in front of me.

"It was when you said you had somewhere to stop, Young Master. That's when Emma came to me and said—"

"—You'd be willing to move for the sake of the duchy again, wouldn't you?"

"That's what she said as she pressed the money into my hands. Emma told me she'd lay the groundwork for me. She said that when everything was done and I went to report what the Young Master had done, she would likely review the details and settle the balance. Of course, now that things didn't go her way, she'll probably tear into me instead..."

A request to report on what Karsein had done outside. Which I had declared I would not carry out.

The advance payment, the request she'd just described, the exact timing — every piece fit seamlessly, without a single gap.

But it didn't dissolve the question.

No matter how I turned it over, wasn't her behavior the very opposite of someone trying to usher Karsein inside ahead of others?

Unable to make sense of it, I narrowed my eyes and asked.

"Then why are you telling me all this?"

At those words, Camilla held her silence for a long while — then, voice choking up, she drew something from her sleeve.

"These are diet pills, but... I was going to take them in solitary confinement and die, in the hope that even a little more money would reach my mother. They could pass as death from overwork, you see. And if it did... I thought even a little more could go to Mother..."

As she confessed that she had truly meant to die, Camilla began spewing out everything — relevant or not — without discrimination.

The telling itself looked painstaking, exhausting.

But that was not the answer I was waiting for.

"Camilla. That isn't what I asked."

Like the trembling of her two hands, it spread little by little through her whole body. Before long her breathing turned ragged, and then even her voice began to shake.

And at last, beneath her reddening lids, her glistening eyes spilled over — falling in fat drops onto the skirt of her maid's uniform.

Only then did Camilla's mouth open again.

"Because I couldn't do a single thing, all the way to the end!"

"What?"

"Everything I did to torment you — every petty, vicious, conniving act — fills me with endless shame and disgrace. And yet, Young Master...! You forgave even someone like me!"

In the word forgiveness, I found my answer.

It made no sense at all. It was an answer that would send me reconsidering it over and over, even after reaching it.

But no other answer would come.

Camilla... is showing me favor.

Come to think of it, those two incidents hadn't been the only ones. Her wish that I never be disrespected. Her attempt to step forward on her own ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠initiative and prepare clothes for me for the Coming-of-Age Ceremony.

Scrutinized in fine detail, there might have been even more.

And this prostration of hers meant —

"You already knew, didn't you. That I was trying to throw you out of the duchy."

Lips pressed tight, Camilla nodded.

...

...

The moment she took that, Camilla's mother would be freed from Mana Panic and able to live a normal life again.

It could only be obtained in a pitch-black place, nearly a black market in itself — the kind of place a former noble daughter would have close to zero chance of ever reaching.

And yet she had caught on a step ahead of me. Both that this was the very thing she had been so desperate to find, and that I intended to hand it over.

Holding the Shuhupep Tree Root out to Camilla, I asked.

"I'm not scolding you, so answer freely. Do you have any reason left to stay in this duchy? With money, at least — once your mother's illness is cured, there'd be nothing binding you to this place."

"...Because I have committed far too great a sin against you, Young Master."

"To ease your guilt, then?"

"It's wretched of me, but yes. That's correct."

Until now, Camilla had registered to me as nothing more than an ordinary extra.

A character belonging to a world stuffed with money-grubbing schemers who moved only when paid.

The exclusive-maid character who tormented Karsein and spawned Dead Triggers in every direction.

At the same time, a character who existed solely to hand Karsein his chance at a comeback in certain episodes.

In short, someone who needed only the final push to switch off a Dead Trigger — no more than a figure inside a game.

So I had believed this would be the end.

Her purpose was already fulfilled; from here on, the Dead Triggers tied to Camilla would be extinguished, and she would never again be woven into any episode.

But now that it was reality?

For a woman who had once been the daughter of a noble house, bowing her head would be far harder than it was for any commoner. Harder still once she learned the other party was a castoff from the slums.

Her desperate circumstances — that, to cure her mother's illness, she had needed to amass money through any means, wrongdoing included — might well have weighed heavily on her too.

And yet she had shown remorse, taking the lowest of the low postures.

Enough that I could hear her out.

"Tell me what you want. Camilla."

Realizing the opportunity had come, Camilla scrubbed away her tears and took up a formal, respectful stance.

"To the Young Master who forgave me — I wish to repay my debt!!"

And before long —

—DING!

The choice had appeared.

Never once, in all my time in the game, had I seen this choice.

If this had been the game, I would have dismissed her sincerity as misplaced faith and refused without hesitation. There would be risk involved, and any stray Dead Trigger that might crop up — I'd have handled her the way one handles a thing too ugly to look at.

But those eyes, brimming past sincerity into pure desperation, did not look like misplaced faith at all.

"Logically speaking, wouldn't it be better for you to side with Emma over me?"

"I've thrown that logic away. You may think me mad if you like. I have no intention of following Emma's orders ever again."

"I have no money to give you. Unlike Emma's under-the-table pay, an exclusive maid's estate wages would be all you'd get. Life may become difficult for you."

"Bearing that is my responsibility. I realized far, far too late that the burden I must carry must never be converted into something that harms you, Young Master."

Even so, from Karsein's standpoint she was a shameless bitch through and through. And judged by my own position before now, had I seized the chance to throw her in solitary, my heart would have been no different from his.

But right now, she was the only person in the entire ducal house capable of swearing loyalty to me. And I never — ever — let opportunities like this slip away.

"You get one chance. Remember that."

"Thank you, Young Master! So that I may never betray this grace, I will serve you without hesitation, whatever the task may be!"

...

...