Scatterbrained Sara Lorojin (2): Grand Dreams End in Crushing Defeat
Sara Lorojin, the reincarnation of the goddess and future master of Lenoir Astirnus, knelt today as well, hands raised high. The seasoned professionals from the slums, whom she'd brought with such ambition, had all left in a daze.
"Little Sara. Dost thou recognize thy sin?"
"......I don't get it."
Sara's lips puffed out like a duck's beak. This time, she truly couldn't understand.
"Selbes sister said that booze and laughter chase away most worries. You looked so down, my lord, so I just wanted to help......"
"I appreciate thy intent well enough, but wouldst thou deem that method fitting?"
Lenoir pressed his brow firmly. Seated on the sofa with legs crossed, he resembled a painting in himself—so much so that Sara unwittingly thought as much. She was supposed to pout, yet her eyes kept flicking toward him, diluting her sulk in real time. She finally snapped out of it and dropped her gaze to the floor.
The results of her meddling were disastrous, but even Sara had a point to argue today. Their conversation ran parallel, utterly at cross-purposes. Amid it all, Lenoir let out a deep sigh.
It was an idea perfectly in line with Sara's background, and if it had led to this, there were surely points he couldn't quite accept. With that judgment, he spoke.
"I am well aware that my own troubles have made me neglectful toward thee. I apologize."
"It's not that you neglected me! I was just worried about how worried you were!"
"Indeed, I thank thee for thy consideration. Yet I wished to say that this method brings me no joy."
At his measured words, Sara pretended to pay close attention with a sidelong glance.
"Why not?"
"I am a man incapable of coupling with women. Nor have I any interest in it. 'Tis due to the vow of chastity I swore to my former master long ago."
"Vow of chastity?"
What the heck is that? As she pondered, an answer came.
"A vow to abstain from women carnally. A promise to keep the flesh pure."
A look of shock bloomed on Sara's face, as if one could hear a boom! resounding over it.
"Th-that barbaric vow!!!"
"I cannot fathom wherein that vow is barbaric."
"Of course it's barbaric! If vows like that became common, what would my sisters live on?!"
"Ah......"
Lenoir staggered, and Sara grew earnest. She sprang up from her kneeling pose as if by sleight of hand. She was just about to launch into a barrage of counterarguments, citing her guardians' livelihoods as reason enough to abolish the vow at once.
"Enough. 'Tis done. The worries thou harbor shall never come to pass, so cease there."
"But it's a huge deal! My sisters are so pretty—they can't end up as beggars!"
"I assure thee, the trade of flesh shall persist among thy kind until the last human draws breath. 'Tis needless worry on thy part. Moreover, I am now the sole soul on this earth bound by such a true vow of chastity—not mere words, but a binding oath."
"Gasp! So my sisters are safe!?"
"So long as humanity endures, aye."
"Phew......!"
A profound worry of What am I to do with this child? settled on Lenoir's face, but Sara—too busy exhaling in relief—could not perceive it.
Yet in the process, a question arose regarding the vow's nature. Mere words versus a true vow—what distinction did that imply?
"But does the vow physically stop you? You know, from the walala stuff?"
"I shall request Rnier to provide thee proper sex education as well. And walala...... In any case, regarding restraint of such acts, it compels no action. Should the vow be broken, a mark brands itself upon the self."
"A mark?"
"A scar impossible to conceal etches upon the body. Most shameful and humiliating."
A shameful tattoo, no less.
"......Does it appear on the lower belly by any chance?"
"Please...... little Sara."
"Nooo...... It's just, some sisters used to tease Mary sister about getting one tattooed there......"
"I feel faint, as if the blood drains from my body. 'Tis no such scar—cast aside such notions."
"Good, then. But there's more to that story. Because of that tattoo, Mary sister......"
"Enough."
"Yes, sir."
Let's drop this topic. Sara resolved inwardly, though curiosity lingered inescapably.
"What about secretly?"
"'Tis a vow to my master—and a promise to myself. If I cannot deceive mine own self, such a thing shall not occur."
"What if you want to later? Can you break it?"
"Nay. Such is the vow, and my master—who held such power—entered eternal slumber long ago."
Sara pondered deeply before replying.
"That master of yours sounds like a real jerk."
"How dost thou arrive at such a conclusion?"
"She locked you in a chastity belt and ran off!"
Lenoir's eyes squeezed shut.
"......Whence camest thou by that term?"
"You don't know chastity belt training? Selbes sister said it's like endurance practice."
"One day, I shall hold thy guardians accountable. Mark my words."
"Eek, out of nowhere."
Sara, the reincarnation of she who had locked him thus and fled, felt unjustly accused. She shot Lenoir a pouty glare.
For Lenoir, it was a situation demanding immense restraint. Teaching further would only drag him into the mire, so he leaned on Sara's innocence and posed the question.
"Dost thou truly wish me to press flesh with a woman?"
"Why press flesh?"
"Nights of wine and abandon lead lovers to press flesh. 'Tis a common trope, yet it rings true for most."
As Sara blinked, Lenoir added,
"I asked if thou truly desirest me to lean bare-skinned against a strange woman."
Even Sara could distinguish the noble from the ignoble. She imagined the scene briefly.
Lenoir anticipated her cheeks flushing as she admitted her error.
But the emotion rising in Sara was not that.
"......Uh, huh?"
"......?"
"Eh......?"
Sara's face twisted. Her chest tightened uncomfortably; irritation surged for no reason, and she began to resent Lenoir.
"......Why ask something like that?"
"???"
"You'd really do it? For real?"
For some reason, it hurt deeply—enough to show on her face. Lacking deeper knowledge, she couldn't fully envision it, but picturing Lenoir in bed with some unknown woman, bare skin to bare skin, smiling tenderly... it felt like the world crumbling. She'd never seen that smile directed at her, yet this nameless woman would receive it as if by right. Lenoir embracing her first, the woman laughing in delight—it was utterly abhorrent. Tears threatened for reasons unknown. She hated Lenoir for planting such an image.
Seeing her expression laced with betrayal, Lenoir's mouth fell slightly agape. Gazing at Sara's welling eyes, he wondered if he truly had erred.
"Little Sara. Hast thou some grudge against me?"
"It's forming right now......!"
As Sara clutched her chest, Lenoir felt he might lose his mind from the injustice. Never in his long life had such pure, seething frustration gripped him.
That night, Sara tossed and turned. Lying in bed, the daytime thoughts resurfaced. What if, while she slept soundly, Lenoir lay in bed with some strange woman? Giggling and whispering? Worry kept sleep at bay. She dozed briefly, only to jolt awake from nightmares of the scene. Realizing it was a dream brought immense relief.
"Ughhh......!"
Sara groaned, clutching her head. Dark circles ringed her eyes, bloodshot from strain.
I hate him! My lord is so annoying!
Why bring it up and cause this mess? A twinge of conscience aside, melancholy welled up. She couldn't fathom her own sadness.
Sara had assumed Lenoir would always be the same by her side, always mindful of her. Imagining otherwise—even reassuring herself he had his own life—didn't quell the sorrow.
[Snore...... Snore......]
Orin's snoring had lulled her like a lullaby yesterday; today, it grated. Her heart felt clogged with soot.
This wouldn't do. Sara grabbed her pillow and rose, heading to Lenoir's room.
Knock knock!
"My lord...... Are you asleep......?"
Was it rude to come so late? She slumped, crestfallen.
Click! The door opened, revealing Lenoir in casual attire.
"What brings thee at this hour, little Sara?"
Her gaze unwittingly drifted inside. Seeing no one, she felt oddly relieved.
"You're not asleep......!"
"Did I not say I require no sleep? I slumber for pleasure on occasion, but not this night. So, what is thy business?"
What was her business? Right!
"I'll sleep here tonight!"
"Hm?"
"My bed's uncomfortable!"
"Is that so? I shall request a replacement tomorrow......"
"No! It's only uncomfortable tonight—it'll be fine tomorrow!"
Permission granted, Sara beamed and pattered to the bed. Lenoir furrowed his brow, trying to parse her words, then gave up.
"I've heard tell that girls in puberty are capricious beyond measure, yet experiencing it firsthand alters my impressions entirely."
"Is that a compliment?!"
"Neither praise nor insult. Pure admiration."
Lenoir sighed deeply and settled into the corner rocking chair. A book lay there—he'd likely read through the night.
"Rest thee. I intend to read more tonight."
"Mm...... Okay!"
Ideally, they'd lie together. But pressing further seemed impolite, so Sara climbed into bed. A pleasant floral scent wafted—ever-present around Lenoir. A smile spread across her face. She closed her eyes, peeked at his profile with one, then shut them again. Deep satisfaction welled up, easing her tension.
Yes, this is my place.
Now, all felt right. Anxiety-fueled drowsiness soon claimed her; deep sleep came in under five minutes.
Lenoir's wry chuckle at the sight was something Sara would never know.
The next morning, Sara awoke refreshingly. Lenoir was gone when her eyes opened. She blinked blankly at the ceiling, basked in the floral scent lingering on the sheets, then slipped out languidly.
Descending to the mansion's parlor, she saw Lenoir preparing tea. His back view brought a relieved smile to her lips.
Without turning, Lenoir spoke.
"Awakened, art thou?"
She meant to greet him good morning.
Thud thud!
"—Are you inside! 'Tis the Capital Guard!"
Someone had come to the mansion.