A Faded Gift (2)

Flora, basket in hand filled with the torn scraps of paper, walked up toward Arina's room.

Then she poked just her face out from behind a pillar, peering about.

Arina's room was mere steps away, but Flora still had to sweep her surroundings with the utmost caution, double- and triple-checking.

Yep, good. Not a soul in sight.

Having confirmed no eyes were watching, she set the basket down beside Arina's door. The moment the door opened, that basket would be the very first thing to greet her.

The corner of Flora's mouth curled into a smirk.

Imagining the future about to unfold, she rapped on Arina's door.

Knock knock!

"Come in."

The invitation echoed from inside, yet no one entered.

Puzzled, Arina went and opened the door herself.

"...Hm?"

There was no one behind the knock. Whoever it was had long since vacated the spot.

But when her eyes landed on the suspicious-looking basket, Arina picked it up right away to inspect it.

"What's this doing in front of my—"

She lifted the cloth covering the basket. The torn scraps of paper hidden beneath it came into view one by one.

Handwriting that looked familiar somewhere. Paper of a texture she'd seen somewhere before.

And there, split cleanly down the middle and torn in two, was her own seal.

"..."

In an instant, dark clouds gathered over Arina's face.

Perfect!

Flora, who had knocked and then hidden herself, watched her eldest sister's reaction from a vantage point well out of sight, a spiteful little grin tugging at her lips.

It was obvious who Arina would assume had done it. A document delivered just that morning — and an important certificate bearing the head of the house's seal, no less — now shredded to pieces? Karsein would face her wrath in no time.

Just as Flora had predicted, the fire finally lit itself in those cold ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠blue eyes that glared murderously down at the scraps, and Arina scooped up a fistful of them and set off.

Flora trailed silently behind her, savoring the sight of her sister and dreaming of Karsein's imminent downfall, expecting to feel a rush like a weight lifting off her chest.

There it is.

I'd been waiting for this message to pop up for ages. Heron had been handling things on his end, so I hadn't thought it would actually happen, but there were simply too many variables — I'd kept a close eye on how things played out.

"It dropped by 5%, so she's definitely seen it. And as for the rest..."

The Training Grounds' danger level had changed. Simply possessing Arina's prohibition-release certificate in my inventory had been enough to produce an effect this significant?

Now that it had slipped out of my hands and been ruined, the danger level had apparently reverted to what it once was.

Well, I can't say I'm broken up about it. If I hadn't pulled this stunt, I might have been able to come and go from the training grounds easily enough, but...

"I will never accept anything stuffed full of that kind of hypocrisy, Arina."

It had been the same when I was drawing up my plan to leave that house and strike out on my own. Whenever I humored her a little, the eldest would send me things, claiming she'd done right by me. It disgusted me every time.

So I didn't take them. I received none of them — not a single one — and left them resting untouched in my room.

If anything came with wrapping, I put it in a box without so much as tearing the paper, and I never once displayed or used a single item, no matter how badly I could have used it.

Because I meant to make it on my own.

Because I intended to escape without a single thing that could be held against me, never to be leashed by that family again.

That mindset hadn't changed one bit now that I'd become Karsein. Partly because the game's storyline had warped so badly that variables I couldn't foresee might surface — but mostly because I had no intention of accepting so-called "help" from this damn family. Karsein, the man himself, would surely have felt the same.

Another message I'd been waiting for. And before my eyes, a timer began to count down.

One wrong move here and it's a straight ticket to the bad ending. I have to act within the allotted time to lock in the episode's branch.

"Time to head out, I suppose."

To save time, I was already fully prepared to leave. I'd settled on my destination as well, and I even had a countermeasure ready for the storm that would soon come knocking.

I swung the door open with confidence.

The maids were loitering nearby, glancing at me with obvious nervousness. These were the maids of the utility room located close to Karsein's quarters.

The reason for their jitters was simple enough.

They can't carry out Heron's orders, can they.

Everything was proceeding nicely.

Why are these choices all so bloody awful? Even though I'd raised my affinity with these maids in order to run a side episode, the options refuse to change.

Left with no alternative, I tried tweaking one of them a little.

"You there. You're the maid covering for Camilla while she's away, aren't you?"

"Y-yes..."

Retrieve it? As if there'd be anything to retrieve. If I got greedy here and went into the utility room hoping there might be more, that's an instant bad ending.

"Is there... something you wished to request of us?"

"Yes. Just one thing."

A person — no, two people — would be storming into my room soon enough, if they hadn't already arrived. So.

"I'm going to see my mother. If anyone comes looking for me, tell them that."

I made sure the maid knew exactly where Karsein had gone. Wiping a bead of cold sweat, she answered that she would.

With my message delivered, I made straight for the stairs and climbed them. Before long, Isabella's study came into view.

I knocked without hesitation, and the door opened almost immediately.

"Enter."

Once again, Isabella had opened the door herself.

Little had changed. As always, she was in the middle of her work, and I had barged in on her busiest hour — just like when I'd come for my morning greetings back in the day.

I still remember it. The way she'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dawdled over her work for an eternity, then sunk into the sofa and, without so much as a glance at me, asked flatly what I'd come for this time.

If that's how it would go, better to state my business quickly and leave. I'd be wasting my time, interrupting her work, and it would only sound like I'd come to whine or tattle like a spoiled child.

So I moved first, before Isabella could open the conversation.

"I've come because I have a request."

"A request?"

The moment Isabella echoed my words, the status window flared to life.

Three different branches. The one I needed to receive, of course, was the first.

"I would like a permit for use of the Training Grounds, please."

Isabella fell briefly silent, then told me to wait a moment. None of that old routine of leaving me to cool my heels on the sofa forever. She brought the paperwork over, wrote out the permit right there before my eyes, and handed it to me.

"Strictly speaking, this matter falls to Arina, not to me. But I will speak to Arina myself and advise her that lifting the prohibition may be the wiser course."

"Understood."

My business concluded, I rose from the sofa at once, permit in hand.

Then Isabella seized my hand without warning.

"Wait. Just — wait a moment, Karsein."

"Is something the matter?"

"...Is that all?"

"Yes."

What more was there to want, after all? I had my Training Grounds permit; all I intended was to get out of here quickly. That way, the moment my "guest" arrived, the next episode's branch would be locked in perfectly.

"Why do you say nothing of the festival?"

Isabella asked, her eyes trembling as she searched my face.

"Is there any need to bring that up here?"

"...Any need? What on earth are you saying, Karsein?"

"It would be interfering with your work, wouldn't it."

"Need! Of course there's need!"

At that, Isabella's temper flared.

"I heard everything from my daughters. You were treated with suspicion at the venue, weren't you. You felt like you were under constant watch and couldn't enjoy yourself at all. You never even received your birthday present. And — !"

She bit down hard on her lip before forcing herself to continue.

"The memory of what Arina did to you back then... surely that came back to you too."

And yet how could he say there was no need to speak of it? Isabella's voice was soaked through with grief.

"I know there is much I owe you words for, Karsein. So — pour it all out, if you please. Even a little. I want to ease what's in your heart."

And if he couldn't unburden himself just now, she said, he was welcome to come for his morning greetings again, just as he once had. If there was anything he desired, even now, she would grant it — whatever it might be.

By then the rims of her eyes had gone red, and she clasped my hand tightly in both of hers.

Truly, an absolute spectacle.

Well, whatever. I'm just biding my time here anyway.

Not much left. The moment was fast approaching when, alongside locking in the episode's branch, I'd be delivering a proper slap in the face to a few certain people.

I slipped my hand out of Isabella's grasp and answered flatly.

"Then let's call this permit my birthday present."

"What did you say?"

"That much is enough to fix my mood right away."

"Karsein. That is not right. No matter how you look at it—!"

"I am not the same person I once was, with all my wild whims. And if I'm not allowed to change, then do you intend for me to remember the past forever? Until when, exactly?"

Isabella's eyes went round.

He hadn't been trusted even once, and had been made to prove himself at the venue with Welton's static-cling gloves. Far from lifting the house-arrest order, she'd merely chosen to "review" it, so that he'd attended the festival feeling surveilled. His birthday present had gone to waste, and in the end, the past had been dredged up in the cruelest possible form.

To demand he remember all of that — that was the harsher thing to say.

"I understand your wishes. But I will not count that permit as your birthday present, Karsein."

He was welcome to claim a proper birthday present at any time, she added, her eyes brimming with sorrow.

And so my conversation with Isabella came to an end.

The moment I stepped out of the study, I checked the remaining time.

"Twenty seconds."

More than enough time to get clear of this spot.

Determined to stage the scene exactly as I'd seen it play out in the game, I moved to my position.

Before long, the timer vanished, and the episode's name was engraved in its place.

"Karsein. So this is where you were."

And then—

SMACK!

Across my cheek, a searing brand was stamped — the undeniable proof that I had fulfilled every objective of this episode.

As expected. Consistent to the end.

Arina hadn't changed — not one bit, just as the eldest had never changed with me back then.

Whenever I felt that icy blood coursing through my whole body, I found myself thanking this woman, over and over. Because it let me stop clinging to my emotions.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

As the sting of heat rose on my cheek, the status window designated the branch and demanded I advance the story. The circumstances behind this situation were different, granted — but it wasn't so far removed from the scene in the game.

Slowly, deliberately — I reveal my weapon, ready to corner Arina.

"No matter how upset or sour it made you, watching you disregard a person's sincerity in this fashion tells me you truly haven't changed one bit, Karsein."

"The hell do you want now."

"Ha. Playing the innocent, are we? That flimsy excuse churned out by that vulgar, sluggish little mind of yours — still as pathetic as ever."

Shreds of paper scattered through the air.

They looked far beyond any hope of being pieced back together.

"I fully acknowledged the wrongs I committed. And yet you defiled the sincerity I sent you like this. What, were you so loath to use the prohibition-release certificate I gave you? I suppose you intend to swear a falsehood — that the Training Grounds permit in your hand wasn't received from me?"

A chilling glint blazed in those blue eyes. From her ragged breathing, I could guess exactly how furious she was.

But I had nothing to hold back for.

"You really never change. How many times has this happened, and you're still pointing the finger at me first?"

"Every last piece of evidence points to you having done this, and you still have the gall to say that?"

For an instant, the corner of Arina's eye twitched — but there was no change of heart in her. Which suited me just fine; it meant I could work with this.

I ran my gaze down the list of choices, and one line that sat rather well with me caught my eye.

"When did you send it?"

"What?"

"When exactly did you send that thing to me?"

"This morning. I ordered Heron himself to deliver it to your room."

"Then I can just ask Heron, can't I? Whether it ever arrived at my room — or whether it didn't."

- Flinch.

The little blonde brat who'd been poking her head out from the far stairway, all ready to stir the pot, began to go stiff, the color draining from her face bit by bit.

Scared, are we? Flora.

But this time, running wouldn't do her any good. This plan — it was built from the start to pin one person firmly to the spot.