The Crumpled Report Card (4)

Work refused to hold Claire's attention, so she set down her pen, muttering that a walk might clear her head, and strolled through the ducal residence.

She wouldn't have known it, but every servant in the household was watching her sidelong, whispering about what on earth had gotten into the second young lady.

Under normal circumstances, even the newest maids would have greeted her with a bright "Good day, Lady Claire!"—but now, not one of them dared.

An irritated expression. Eyes sharply tilted upward. Slender brows drawn taut. To anyone who looked, Claire ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was furious.

—Think whatever you like.

Karsein's cold reply still rang in her ears. Her brow furrowed all over again, and her steps slowed to a halt.

He could have stopped at resenting that he'd worried his family. Instead, the moment she'd offered a word of concern, he'd snapped back as if she had no business meddling at all—of course that stung.

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

It would have been perfectly natural for Karsein to take offense. Claire knew that much herself.

But what came after was the problem.

Had he snapped back—why should I have to listen to this?—or grumbled in irritation, she would have apologized on the spot.

But think whatever you like? Watching him brush past as though he couldn't care less left a strange, sour feeling lodged somewhere in her chest. That unsettled feeling was what had carried her all the way out here.

Ha, damn it. What is this?

Claire's whole creed was that clothing and hairstyle could change everything about how a person was perceived. Yet here she was, scratching at her head again. The sour feeling had dug itself deeper than any tangled hair ever could.

She thought, and thought again. No matter how hard she tried to shake it off, she simply couldn't read what Karsein was feeling.

She needed to walk a little further.

Lost in her tangled thoughts, she soon found herself at the rear garden. It was there that she happened to catch the sound of her mother's voice drifting out. The indoor greenhouse was Isabella's personal project, so of course her mother would be here—that much made sense.

Except—

"I know you were upset, Karsein. Still, this time you must be properly scolded."

The fact that her mother was talking to Karsein was more than enough to catch Claire's attention. She circled around behind the rear garden and began to eavesdrop on the conversation.

And what a conversation it was. It was about the money Karsein had never received all this time—and what he had spent it on.

Come to think of it... he'd been out of sight for a while lately. She'd wondered where he'd gone; apparently he'd been off spending his allowance.

Just as she'd predicted, it had been too much, and her mother had reprimanded him sharply for it.

Claire had heard that same lecture herself, once. So she could sympathize, at least a little.

But through that long, winding scolding, Karsein never said a single word.

Only their mother's voice reached her ears. He hadn't reacted at all.

And to Claire, that felt utterly wrong.

Is he planning to bring it up later?

When you ran a boutique, you heard all sorts of stories. That was how Claire knew.

She knew exactly where Karsein's money had gone.

Rusmayer Territory. A place known to be stirring up trouble by the day, without the protection of a single noble house—until, overnight, one man took it under his wing.

That man was Karsein.

Naturally, their mother couldn't possibly be angry about that.

He'd spent it on a good cause. Not on luxury, but on rescuing a territory. As a Bagrand, it was the right thing to do—as a noble, it was proper charity. Surely, the moment the truth came out, that was what she would say.

"Understood, Mother."

Before long, Karsein spoke.

"Is that why you're upset? What I said just now, Karsein?"

"Not at all. You're entirely in the right."

"...I see."

Their mother asked again, unnerved by his frosty tone. But Claire could tell.

It was too dry. Too hollow an answer.

In that instant, a cold prickling sensation crawled up Claire's spine.

He's not— he's not just going to say nothing, is he?

No. Surely not. No way.

She shook her head, telling herself this was over-worrying.

But Karsein never said one word about Rusmayer. Not when the old talk of the report card gave way to the matter of the Eastern Noble Conference. Not once.

Listening in, Claire was left utterly speechless.

A short while later, Karsein finished the conversation and walked out. Claire, unable to bear it any longer, barred his path and grabbed his arm.

"Karsein. Why didn't you tell her?"

"What are you griping about this time?"

"You idiot! If you'd just talked to Mom properly, you wouldn't have gotten scolded!"

Why hadn't he simply said it outright? Frustrated, Claire spoke the very words he should have brought up himself.

"Your money went to helping the people of Rusmayer! If you'd just told Mom that one thing, she never would've punished you. Are you seriously going to pretend you didn't know that? Because you do!"

It wasn't excuse-making. He could have argued it, with plenty of evidence, as a perfectly legitimate expense. Their ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mother knew all about Rusmayer's situation, so even a brief mention would have been enough for her to understand and let it go. He wouldn't have had to stand there like some idiot who'd done wrong. Hadn't there already been the precedent with Emma, when he'd moved to help Camilla?

He only had to say it wasn't extravagance, at the very least. Claire could not understand, not for the life of her, why he was just standing there taking the scolding.

If anything, she wanted him to go speak up now. All he had to do was tell their mother the truth.

But Karsein looked at her with those same eyes as always.

"Why do you even care?"

Once again, he wore the expression of a man refusing to deny his own fault.

"What...?"

Claire murmured, her voice gone hollow.

"You spent that money on a territory with no future. Fine, call it overspending if you want. And you overheard it yourself—the report card was a bust, too. Nothing wrong with any of that, right? Considering Shatren, he doesn't even deserve to be called a lord."

"Hey. Karsein."

"I deserve to be scolded. That's what my reputation has always been, so there's no problem at all, is there?"

As if there were no problem in the world. As if this were the perfectly normal response, he was carving away at his own standing.

Claire let out a heavy sigh and asked.

"What is wrong with you? Is this because of what I said back in the garden, before?"

"It's not. Though I was in the wrong back then too, I suppose. Now or then, I'm apparently still nothing but a stain on House Bagrand."

"Ugh—!"

She was flabbergasted. She couldn't hold it in anymore.

"You dug up the garden because Mom grew it with her own hands, fine—that was fair. But not this time! You didn't do anything wrong, so why are you acting like a guilty man?"

It wasn't like before. Even that had only been a minor slip.

This time, Karsein had done nothing wrong at all.

"You are not the one at fault here. So why are you demeaning yourself as some nobody with no qualification? If you'd spoken up, you wouldn't be getting chewed out—you'd have been praised! Overspending? Buying one empty territory nobody cares about is pocket change—not just for House Bagrand, but for me alone to cover. It couldn't so much as scratch the ducal ledger, let alone tear a hole in it! So why are you calling it overspending and treating it like your own sin?"

And that wasn't all.

"And—what was that? Telling you to redirect my entire subsidy for Shatren Territory into your allowance? If you asked me or Arina for help, you could explain all this properly and win back that measly bit of authority. Why won't you? Everyone else is trying to make life a little easier for themselves, and you're tripping over yourself to take the hardest possible road!"

The authority to attend the Eastern Noble Conference—same thing.

The Shatren subsidy—same thing again.

"I honestly cannot understand why you keep refusing these things. Why?"

She couldn't comprehend it. Couldn't fathom why he had to be this way. She was genuinely, furiously angry.

And so Claire shouted herself hoarse, wave after wave of it.

Having emptied out the heat burning up from her core, she stood there panting, heaving great breaths.

While she caught her breath, Karsein said nothing.

Only when Claire's breathing had finally settled did he open his tightly shut mouth.

"Handling things on my own is the normal thing. Of course I'd turn all that down."

"What... did you say?"

"A lowborn wretch who won't stop trembling. A piece of trash who never got a proper education. A troublemaker who wrecks everything he touches, wherever he goes. A liar to his bones, who whines and denies his own faults every single time—the ugly blot on House Bagrand. That's me."

He gave a short, dry laugh and went on.

"And I'm supposed to borrow the hand of House Bagrand here? If I don't want to smear filth across the dignity of the nobility—across Bagrand itself—then obviously I have to resolve it with my own two hands, don't I?"

In that instant, as if to physically refute his every word, Claire seized him by both shoulders.

"Hey. Who the hell told you that? Who's been filling your head with this crap, huh?"

Her blue eyes blazed. They were eyes truly drowned in fury.

"Was it someone outside? Or is this like before—something inside House Bagrand? Talk. Who had the nerve to spout that garbage at you?"

"No one said anything like that."

"Don't you dare lie to me!"

It was impossible. Claire shouted it outright.

Karsein could not have turned out this way without someone feeding him those words.

"Was it Arina? Or Flora?! Who was it. Tell me who it was!"

How could he keep swallowing all of this? Nothing about this silence made sense.

At least, that was how it seemed to Claire.

"You can't bring yourself to tell Mom or Arina, is that it? Then tell me. I'll handle every last bit of it with my own hands. I may not have the authority of the head of the house, but I can take care of at least this much!"

Yes. She could handle it, easily.

If the trouble had come from within the household, she'd settle it as the second daughter of Bagrand, just like before. If it had come from outside, she'd step forward as Claire Bagrand and crush it herself.

And so Claire wished, with all her heart, that Karsein would set down that heavy burden he'd been nursing in the corner of his chest.

Wished he would ask her for help.

But—

Karsein shoved her expectations aside without a trace of warmth.

"I don't need it."

"...You're unbelievable!"

"You're badly mistaken. This is a judgment I made on my own. Not because anyone threatened me, not because anyone pressured me."

As she watched him push her arms away, Claire felt her mind go blank.

That's insane. That's not how any of this works.

Choosing not to explain himself, and getting scolded for it—that was his own judgment? Turning away help he could have asked from his own family, whenever he wished—that was his own choice? Walking this rough road without accepting a single outstretched hand, even though an easier path lay right there—that was his own decision, too?

"...Why? Why do you have to lie like this?"

"I'm not lying. I mean it."

She had hoped it was a lie.

But this time, the answer came back sharp and instant, without a hair's breadth of hesitation.

And that made her even angrier.

"All you have to do is say one word. Ask for help. Is that really so unbearable?"

"..."

"Stop being so damn stubborn! Stop letting your pride eat you alive! One word to anyone and the road gets a hundred times easier. Is that seriously so disgusting to you?!"

Karsein said nothing and walked right past her. From behind his back, exactly one sentence drifted back.

"I don't need it."

It was as though some savage winter wind had swept down from nowhere. At those words, everything boiling inside Claire went abruptly, eerily still.

Those options had popped up in a so-called "emergency event," a direct fallout of Claire having overheard that conversation. But I'd already more or less settled all of it.

Whether she overheard it or not, I had no intention of accepting their help.

Yes, I could pick another option and watch everything fall neatly into place. That wasn't what I wanted.

Karsein had always been alone.

Just as he'd shown with the Memorial replaying that crumpled, zero-marked report card, Karsein expected nothing from this family.

And neither did I.

Just as I had never expected anything from my family in the first place, the Karsein of now wanted nothing from House Bagrand.

Even if it meant walking a hard, grueling road without their help, I would not reverse this decision.

Solving things alone—I'd long since gotten used to it.

That was why I'd just told Claire I didn't need her and walked away.

The system's demands weren't finished yet.

It seemed to be treating Isabella and Claire as bonus additions, but either way, the fact that I had to meet Arina didn't change. Arina, too, would inevitably come fishing—picking at whatever she'd heard from her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠conversations with Isabella or Claire, options and all.

Time to move.

Who knew what variables might spring up if I let this drag on.

But the moment I moved to leave, Claire's voice drove straight into the back of my head.

"Aargh, you stupid bastard! Fine! Go ahead, be stubborn till the day you die, you hopeless idiot!"

Foul-mouthed as ever, true to her reputation as the second daughter of Bagrand.

And yet... how to put it.

Something felt off from her usual self.

Half of me had expected her to chase me down just to vent, or maybe even throw a hand if I rubbed her the wrong way again. But she didn't.

"All you had to do was just ───. Honestly, ────── with that whole thing!"

Grumbling and snapping to herself, Claire loosened the pin holding her hair in place and started walking off in the opposite direction.

Retract what I just said.

Watching her carry on like that—yeah, she's exactly the same as always.