6. Much Ado About Nothing - 06
6. Much Ado About Nothing - 06
She dreams an old dream.
A trite little tale, nothing more. So ancient that no one alive remembers it — a memory too old to matter in the slightest.
...And yet, to her, it is a memory more precious than anything in the world, a memory of dazzling brilliance.
Before she met him, she knew nothing at all. Not the love of family, not the affection of a parent, not the warmth of the world — nothing.
...Which, when you think about it, was only natural. She had never been anything more than a weapon to begin with. A living tool; a thing shaped by another's hands. True, plenty of people look after their tools with care, but just as true, no one in all the world loves a tool.
And that was exactly the world that surrounded her. Somewhere along the way, she had grown so inured to it that she came to believe the desolation around her was all the world had to offer.
Day after day, all manner of knowledge was crammed into her head, but those things no one ever taught her. Wiser than anyone alive, she was, and yet — in a certain sense — she was far and away the most ignorant person in the world.
She did not know what it meant to show someone mercy, or charity, or goodwill, or love. Small wonder, then, that she never learned to love another person.
...Reflecting on it, it could not have been otherwise. Hers had been a life that received not a single moment of love, ever. No matter how wise she might be, there was no way she could bestow on another what she had never once been given herself.
Love was not some merciful monarch who granted every wish unconditionally. Gold coin was the better metaphor. Just as gold coin invigorates an economy by circulating between people — passed from hand to hand — so too does love. One must first be loved before one can draw upon that capital and find the strength to love another. For a defective creature like her, who had never once received love, it was an impossibility.
So in the end, she gave up. Because she had woken to the truth: she knew all too well that such a thing would never come her way. Every last member of her house kept her at a remove. The few children her age she happened across were terrified of her. No one hesitated to call her a "monster" behind her back.
...Truth be told, even she thought she was a monster. She had learned to manipulate Magic Power before she was weaned from her mother's milk, and not once in her life had she ever struggled to master anything. And so her life contained no praise, no scolding — nothing at all. At the very least, she was unmistakably something wholly other than an ordinary person, she thought, and smiled bitterly.
And so she locked her heart away tight, fastening every bolt. She swore she would open her heart to no one, to protect that small something that still remained inside her chest.
...Yet once in a very long while — a very long while indeed — her heart would ache. Yes — she had once glimpsed a scene.
Passing through the streets in a carriage, she had seen a little girl walking hand in hand with her mother and father. Perhaps excited to be out with her family for the first time in ages, the girl was dashing along, when she tripped on a stone and tumbled to the ground. The girl's mother and father comforted their weeping child, bound up her scraped knee with a handkerchief, and wiped her tears away. The girl's sobbing soon ceased, and a bright, innocent smile lit her face.
...Truly, it was nothing at all — an ordinary scene you could find anywhere. And yet, as she looked upon it, she hurt.
She felt, somehow, sad. If only she herself had been born and raised in such an ordinary home — might she also have grown up wrapped in another's love? Might she have lived a life in which she grew, fell in love with some man, held a wedding blessed by parents and by many others, built a home, bore children, and in the end grew old together with him?
...A futile exercise, and she knew it. Nothing more than a meaningless imagining. Yet even knowing that, a part of her could not look away from those people. She saw herself reaching out a hand, knowing full well she would never grasp it.
Perhaps, without a sound, she had been crying out. Crying for someone — anyone — to pull her from the bog she could not escape, begging, please, just look at me. Help me. And then — can you love me, even so? And so without a word, she only wished and wished.
Then one day, the miracle came without a sound.
— Kain. Kain von Estel.
The girl found herself face-to-face with a boy. She remembers that moment still. She remembers it as vividly as if it were burned into her — not a single instant faded.
Ah — how could she forget? For the first time in all her existence — an existence that from birth had held nothing — a light had dawned.
— You really are an idiot. I'm not scared of you, not one bit. Even the worthless old men up in our territory can use magic. As far as I can tell, you're nothing more than an ordinary girl.
It was the first time. The first time anyone had ever looked at her as though she were no different from anyone else.
— You want some of this? Actually, just take one. I was saving it for my little sister, but I'll give you one, special.
It was the first time. The first time anyone had ever shown her kindness without strings attached.
— Well, I'll see you later, then. Next time we meet I won't let you win so easily. Be ready.
...It was the first time. The first time anyone had ever told her, let's meet again.
Was this what it felt like when blood began to flow through a tin doll? Talking with him — someone who treated her like it was the most natural thing in the world — made her feel as if she, too, had become an ordinary girl.
She was happy. For the first time in her life, she tasted the happiness of being with someone else. The moments she shared with him glittered so brightly they seemed haloed in light. Before she knew it, she was promising herself there would be a next time. She wanted again to savor the joy of being with him. And at the end of it all —
"...Ah."
Her eyes open. Consciousness surfaces. Bianca comes to her senses and realizes she must have drifted off in the bath. It had been a long day in more ways than one, it seemed — she had been unable to fight off the wave of fatigue.
"...My lady, have you woken?"
The maid attending her bath asked politely.
"Yes — I dozed off, didn't I."
At the look on Bianca's face as she answered, the maid hesitated before speaking again.
"...Did you have a pleasant dream, my lady? You have a lovely expression."
"...My expression looks lovely, you say?"
"Yes."
At the maid's reply, Bianca found her own hand drifting to her face. She could feel it — the faint ghost of a smile lingering at the corner of her lips.
"...Yes. I suppose you could say it was a pleasant dream, if it was."
So saying, Bianca rose from the bath. Her bare form was fully revealed. From her long smooth legs to her slender waist and the full curve of her breasts — it was as though a sculptor had poured his very soul into fashioning a single work of art. So mesmerizing was that beauty that even her maid, a woman herself, could only stare blankly at Bianca's body.
"....What are you standing there gawking for? Hurry and dry me off."
"Ah — y-yes. I'm sorry, my lady."
At Bianca's words the maid snapped back to her senses and hurriedly pulled out a towel. Bianca was not entirely pleased that her maid seemed a touch absent-minded today, but she decided to forgive it graciously. She did not feel like letting every little thing get under her skin — not today. After all, just earlier, Kain had taken the initiative and held her tight in his arms.
"Hoo-hoo."
The embrace had been everything she'd imagined — no, far better than she'd imagined. His arms were broad and safe. Bianca could say it with utter certainty: in that moment, held against him, she had tasted a supreme happiness beyond compare with any woman in the world.
"...Ah. Now that I think of it..."
Recalling his embrace dredged up something else from the depths of her memory — something she had little wish to recall. The face of the white-haired girl who had stepped out of Kain's carriage with him flickered through her mind.
"....."
At first she had not recognized her. And no wonder — the girl's face was subtly different. It was far younger, far less mature than the face Bianca knew.
But the essence was the same. Blessed with "Mana's Blessing," Bianca could see through to the very root of another being, and she had understood at once what the white-haired girl truly was. There was no doubt. It was unmistakably the "Winter Witch." The girl was nothing but a mere slip of a thing at this point in time, of course.
...What in the world was going on? Why was such a creature attached to Kain's side? Did he know? Did he know that the thing he'd taken under his wing was the very calamity that would one day drive him to ruin?
The instant she grasped that fact, bloodlust stirred deep within Bianca's heart. That thing might wear the skin of a little girl, but it was a blight that would only bring harm to the continent if left alive.
...Yes — if he had not held her in his arms just then, Bianca would surely have slaughtered that white-haired girl. Most likely.
And then — as if he had somehow sensed what was in her heart — he silently shook his head left and right and introduced the white-haired girl to Bianca.
'Her name is Aria. She is my personal attendant, and at the same time the exclusive mage of the Estel Duchy. I would ask that she be treated as a guest of House Castana as well. Bianca, I leave it to you.'
"...Aria. Of all things, the name of the Winter Goddess."
Did he give her that name knowingly? Or not? Surely he could not have named her with such knowledge — and yet she could not shake the thought that, for a coincidence, it fit a little too well.
In the end, Bianca did not lay a hand on the wench. It was the first time Kain had ever made a "request" of her. How could she possibly refuse him?
At any rate, the girl was far too wretched to be called the "Winter Witch" of the future. The majestic presence of that Absolute One — who ten years hence would only barely be matched by the combined might of the Imperial Princess, the Saintess, and Kirie — was nowhere to be found. The girl called Aria was a speck of dust, not possessing even a tenth of the Winter Witch's power at her zenith.
So she will let her live. If she ever chose to kill her, it would be as easy as flipping over her palm. Far more important right now than worrying about such a thing was accumulating even one more memory with him.
Bianca wished. She wished that Kain would cast aside this sham of an engagement and treat her sincerely. That he would pay no heed to the deep-rooted enmity between Estel and Castana and come to truly love her. If he would do that — if he would do that for her — then she...
Would not have to "persuade" him.
"...Please, Kain. I'm begging you."
Love me. No other woman — only me.
Help me, so that I don't turn my heart elsewhere.
I will give you everything I am, so you must give everything of yourself to me.
Please. I am begging you — just —
So she cried out inside her heart, and Bianca softly caressed the bracelet on her right wrist.
Praying, with all her might, that this story would end in a happy ending.