The Snowflower Festival (5)

Let me say it again: this game was a homemade, low-budget RPG.

Built on an outdated RPG Maker engine with eye-straining pixel graphics, it proudly boasted clunky, awkward controls that made even the simplest action a chore.

Which meant that whenever the game asked you to play a minigame, nine times out of ten it came with a hellish difficulty curve — and an astronomical reward if you somehow cleared it.

This game was no different.

You had to juggle four separate gauge bars at once — power control among them — to launch the ball, then rapidly click through a mess of different mechanisms to readjust those gauges mid-flight.

That's why I'd given up on it back then.

The ball's about the size of a marble. No sharp edges that I can see, and it weighs about the same, so if I just control the power and the angle... As for the spot where it can fall out — I can handle that by pressing the button to seal it shut.

Faced with the game in reality, I could pick it apart without much trouble.

It was an expanded version of the game I already knew, with a few extra layers of complexity tucked here and there. Even without gauge bars, I figured my own hands could do the job well enough.

"Are you ready to begin?"

"Yeah. Go ahead and start."

"Very well. Then—"

Seeing that I was ready, the man dropped a marble down beneath the board.

The marble rattled as it fell, immediately struck the rod connected to the handle, and sprang off to the right.

"Oh, that one was worth 25 points, right?"

"This one's worth 35."

"Whoa, another 20 points on top!"

The score kept piling up steadily on the magic calculator.

Then the ball slipped toward the opening at the bottom — the spot where it could drop out entirely — but I slammed the button to block the exit, used a burst of speed control to bounce it back up, and opened a path over the danger zone. The ball stubbornly refused to die.

There were two conditions for claiming a prize.

First, reach the target score entered into the magic calculator. Second, while holding a score at or above that target, strike the prize itself with the ball.

Both had to be satisfied.

Before I knew it, I'd long since blown past the target score. Given how tenaciously the ball had survived to earn them, there didn't seem to be anything I couldn't take.

But.

Oh no.

The top-tier prizes were perched in positions so awkward that a single slip meant not only losing all the points I'd racked up, but failing outright.

I tried to pour every ounce of focus into it, but each time my score climbed, the restraints around me tightened in tandem, making it harder and harder to hold the angle I wanted.

My hands grew frantic, falling behind the calculations running through my head, and under the steadily mounting pressure of those binding constraints, I came to a decision: this next attempt would be my last.

And so, I had to accept a result that came up just short.

"My goodness, magnificent work. Your prize is the first-place item — the Wedros silver dagger, forged by Tyurhen, master smith of the Kingdom of Wedros. Please, take it."

The man exclaimed in admiration as he held out the dagger.

But.

Hmm. This is a real waste.

Flora's affinity was among the hardest to raise.

She utterly loathed Karsein, and even if he proved his innocence, Flora — still a child at heart, unable to shed her childish ways — would never believe any of it was her own fault.

Which meant I needed to push her affinity up by whatever means I could... and I'd just been racking my brain for a way to do exactly that.

So I asked the man.

"Could I trade this for a different prize, by any chance?"

"I'm sorry... what?"

"Karsein. What on earth are you saying? That is no ordinary sword."

"No one alive will ever meet a smith of the Kingdom of Wedros again. It's a rare, limited edition."

Both of my sisters were horrified that I would turn down a silver dagger from the vanished Kingdom of Wedros itself — a piece of history — for something else.

But the merchant, apparently sensing that whatever I wanted might not be among his display, asked for my opinion.

"Then, if I may ask... what is it you desire?"

"That."

I feigned nonchalance and pointed a finger at one item.

"Whaaat?!"

"...Karsein?"

"Sir...?"

From that moment on, even the merchant could only stare at me, dumbfounded, as though I'd lost my mind.

"Not allowed?"

"You may certainly claim a lower-tier prize instead, but... are you truly certain about this?"

"Yeah. Give me that one."

What I had pointed at was the teddy bear.

The very teddy bear Flora had been gazing at, longing pouring out of her eyes.

A rare, limited-edition sword? Who cared.

I didn't know a thing about the Kingdom of Wedros or any of the rest of it.

The only thing I needed right now was affinity. Nothing else.

The man must have realized I meant it, because he tucked the silver dagger away with a faint smile and handed over the enormous teddy bear — the one Flora had wanted so badly.

"Waaah—!"

The moment the giant bear was tucked into her arms, Flora let out a cry of delight.

And as for me—

"What a kind heart you have, thinking of your little sister. Young master."

It came with a substantial reward.

All for trading away the first-place prize to claim the fifth.

'Thinking of my little sister', my ass.

I picked it because I wanted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to stay alive. That's all.

As if the whole family had come all the way to the festival just to play a single game.

From that point on, House Bagrand continued its unbroken parade through the festival.

There was, of course, one thing that had changed compared to just a few hours earlier: the way people looked at Karsein had shifted considerably.

But he wasn't exactly thrilled about it.

After delivering the teddy bear to Flora, Karsein had begun, almost imperceptibly, to slip away to the edges of things.

Everyone let it go. It made sense, they figured — he'd worn himself out with that game, surely, and that was why he sat the rest out.

So Karsein hung back on his own, watching his family from a distance.

It was Claire who noticed him first.

He keeps drifting off to the side...

She was willing to let it pass, but this was a festival for the family alone, and she wished he'd enjoy himself a little more.

Still, the distance between them turned out to be an opportunity for Claire.

Say sorry for doubting him this time. You keep this up, you really will drive Karsein away for good.

Because Arsien's advice was still fresh in her mind.

Would now be the moment to say it to him?

Because of the incident at the symposium — the way she'd doubted him without cause — she hadn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠actually managed a single real conversation with Karsein since.

Where Arina had at least checked in with him a few times, Claire hadn't been able to say a word.

Ordinarily she'd have clapped him on the back, told him how impressive it was, how considerate of Flora he'd been. At the very least she'd have traded a few words with him by now.

But the memory of having suspected him just hours ago kept surfacing, and the awkwardness wouldn't dissolve.

So — this was her chance.

"Ahem! Karsein."

Claire covered her mouth with a hand, coughed artificially, and edged over to him.

"So, um... you've really changed a lot lately, huh?"

"What?"

"You gave in to the youngest, and... uh... yeah. You let her have it, and..."

Karsein, who'd been jotting something in his notebook, looked up at her with an expression of pure incredulity.

Even so, he seemed to roughly grasp what she meant, and corrected her garbled words himself.

"You mean letting Flora have the game, and winning her the stuffed animal?"

"Oh? Yes. That. Right, that."

Taking it as a remark on his newfound consideration for the youngest, Karsein responded with complete indifference.

"Nothing's changed. I just paid back what I owed."

"Owed? You did something wrong?"

"I upset Flora a little in the carriage. I made up for it with that. So don't read anything else into it."

"Made up for it...? What on earth did you two talk about in that carriage?"

As if the matter warranted not even a flicker of concern, Karsein turned the next page of his notebook.

"I was in the wrong. Just drop it, will you."

Claire had no idea what had passed between them in that carriage.

But she knew better than to take his words at face value. She must not conclude that this had truly been Karsein's fault.

Flora had been wary of Karsein the moment she stepped out of the carriage.

And yet when she'd received the teddy bear, she'd been beaming.

They probably just bickered a little.

Or perhaps the newly matured Karsein had simply indulged the youngest's tantrum.

"Is that all you came over here to talk about?"

"Huh? Oh — no."

Claire, who had been watching him with distinctly softened eyes, hastily pulled herself together at the sudden question.

"Then why did you come?"

"Well, that is..."

At her brother's follow-up, Claire tensed right up.

Something had climbed all the way to her throat and jammed there, sealing her mouth shut.

I'm sorry about what happened at the symposium. I'm sorry for doubting you from the very start.

Those were the words she needed, but they refused to leave her lips.

And in the end, something else came out instead.

"D-do you, um, want anything? Anything at all?"

"Where did that come from?"

"Well — you haven't eaten a thing this whole festival, Karsein. You haven't asked us to buy you anything either. So I figured..."

Considering the false start, it had landed on a surprisingly plausible topic.

And it was true — she had no idea what Karsein actually wanted.

It had been the same on his birthday: unless she knew what he'd like, she couldn't give him a gift at all.

Besides, an apology — rather than just empty words like now — would go down far more easily if it came bundled with a present.

An opportunity that folded in on itself two and three times over.

"Anything's fine, so just say it. And this isn't Mother's money — I'm paying out of my own pocket."

She could pay it all back.

The birthday present.

Today's mistake.

No — maybe even all the grudges that had piled up long before then, too.

Shoulders squared with pride, Claire waited for Karsein's answer.

But—

"I don't need anything."

Flatly, decisively, Karsein kicked away her outstretched hand yet again.

"Funny, I don't think I'm the one who's changed. You never showed the slightest interest in me before. Why today, all of a sudden?"

He pressed the sore spot without a second's hesitation.

Stung, Claire lashed back.

"Because you're my brother. What's so wrong with buying my little brother something at a festival?"

"Because it's not something you'd normally do. If I'd started washing your laundry out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of nowhere — the thing you screamed at me for at the washhouse — you'd have said plenty. So why is it fine when it's you?"

"That's not—"

She had no comeback for that one.

Compared to how she'd shrieked what do you think you're doing at the washhouse, this was an undeniable double standard.

But somehow, that very admission of hers only fanned the frustration smoldering in her chest.

"It's because I'm sorry!"

Face flushing pink, Claire raised her voice.

She'd planned to pick her moment for that confession later, but there was nothing for it now — she'd have to choke down the embarrassment and get it out.

"The symposium — when I suspected you — I'm sorry, okay? That's why I wanted to buy you something! And... I never even got you a birthday present."

Words once thrown out could not be taken back.

Determined not to forget Arsien's advice to be honest, Claire forced her temper down a notch.

"So... um. I'm sorry, Karsein. For doubting you first, when you..."

Fumbling through the clumsy apology, eyes averted, Claire scratched at her head.

Thump.

Karsein's notebook snapped shut.

Claire flinched at the sound, turning her head cautiously to look — and saw, in the distance, her eldest sister approaching.

"I'll think about it. So leave me alone for now."

"...Don't complain about it later when I bring it up. Understood?"

"I said I will."

Feeling considerably better, Claire turned back toward where Isabella and Flora were.

The two sisters met each other face to face, exchanged a few words whose meaning neither could quite name, and passed one another by.

Looking back and forth between Karsein and Claire, Arina asked:

"What is it this time, Karsein. What's the problem now."

And with that, the opening move of yet another incident was made.

He'd known it would be unexpected.

Hearing that come out of Claire's mouth, of all people's.

If you'd asked Karsein to name the single most surprising thing he'd seen or heard at this Snowflower Festival, it would have been Claire's clumsy little confession just now, without a doubt.

Left to itself, it might even have brightened his mood enough to enjoy the rest of the festival.

But instead, a single thought circled through Karsein's head: of course it's too good to last.

"I cannot fathom why you insist on standing apart from a festival meant to be enjoyed by family. You eat nothing, unlike everyone else. Nothing there interests you. You join in nothing. Every time I ask whether something catches your eye, you refuse with nothing but 'I'm not interested.' What exactly is the matter with you?"

At Arina's pointed critique, Karsein gave a dismissive snort.

"Funny, isn't it. I've apparently been recast as some delinquent just waiting to cause trouble."

"What are you trying to say."

"I was simply having a conversation with Claire, and here you are talking as though I've committed some crime. Am I wrong?"

Still, an opportunity to finally say his piece had presented itself.

Karsein did not hold back.

"You're telling me to enjoy the festival? Enjoy what, exactly?"

"Karsein."

A faint crease formed between Arina's brows, but he pressed on.

"A festival we came to as a family? You, who's been watching me this whole time — and I'm supposed to enjoy it?"

"...What?"

"You're just here to keep an eye on me in case I step out of line. Isn't that so?"

And with that, Karsein drove the nail home, sneering openly at her as he did.