The Prayer Room (2)
Mace was leaning over the back of the long pew, turning her body to grin at me as I stepped into the prayer room.
I knew it. You wicked nun.
She must have seen and heard everything. I could easily guess the meaning behind that smirk.
First stealing, now eavesdropping. Her character was truly rotten.
I immediately pulled out a cigarette, popped it between my lips, and slowly walked over to her.
"Watching someone cut ties with their family and laughing about it... Well, that certainly puts my mind at ease."
I sat down beside her and lit up, trying my best to sound nonchalant.
Mace kept her eyes glued to me, her lips still twitching with suppressed laughter.
Closing the distance with a sudden stride, she leaned right into my ear and shouted:
"All I need is Mace!"
"Fuck, I must be out of my mind..."
"ALL I NEED IS MACE!!"
"I'm not deaf, you crazy woman..."
Mace grabbed my shoulders and cackled for a good while before flopping back down onto the pew.
I took a deep drag of my cigarette, inhaling so hard it made me dizzy.
Just when I thought her laughter had died down, she spoke up again, her voice still loud.
"That was so much fun! I've never gotten a confession before!"
"Watch your back on your night walks from now on."
"...So that was your sister. She doesn't look much like you, Ain."
Surprised by the sudden drop in her tone, I looked up at her.
The playfulness had vanished from her eyes, though she was still staring intently at my face.
Yet a soft smile lingered on her lips.
It was the smile she wore whenever she treated me with genuine warmth.
"...We came from different wombs. I'm a bastard."
"Your sister is very beautiful. Her hair is so glossy and smooth, too."
"What do you want me to do about the way I look...?"
"She seemed to care about you very much."
A dry scoff escaped my lips.
Looking down at the floor where the setting sun erased all shadows, rather than at Mace, I spoke.
"Don't worry. She's the kind of person who acts like that, only to kick me to the curb the second I'm cast out."
"She didn't look like that to me."
"That's what makes it terrifying. I never doubted for a single second that she was on my side."
"Well, Mace will never betray you!"
Fuck, I got played again.
Returning to her usual beaming smile, Mace hopped right onto my lap.
Finding the smoke rising from my cigarette too harsh, she waved her hand to disperse it.
"...Should I put it out?"
"No, it's fine. You haven't even smoked half of it. Take your time."
"For someone who eats practically nothing, you're fucking heavy."
Mace puffed out her cheeks and stomped hard on my foot.
Truth be told, I only said it to hide my embarrassment; she weighed exactly as much as I expected.
A frail, light body that couldn't even be half my weight.
"Actually, I've seen your sister a few times before. Though I doubt she remembers me."
Considering she served as the student council treasurer, Iris was quite famous in her own right.
Unlike a certain someone, she was the proud eldest daughter of a prestigious noble family.
I heard she had outstanding grades and handled her duties so efficiently that she was a favorite among the academy faculty.
"Back then, her stride and demeanor seemed so restrained and dignified—just like when she walked into the prayer room earlier."
"How about that? In front of me, she just stammers like an idiot every single time."
Mace leaned her body further against mine.
The weight pressing on my lap grew slightly heavier, though still feather-light.
"Ain, you don't actually enjoy hurting her, do you?"
"..."
If it were the rest of my family, I hated them enough to tear them limb from limb.
The way they treated me would never be erased from my heart, even if I died a thousand times over.
If only I had the chance—if not for this disability and my fucking useless lack of magic talent—I would have gladly severed their necks with my own hands.
But what about Iris?
What about my sister, whose warm and gentle memories remained vividly framed inside my mind?
The fact that we only shared half our blood couldn't tarnish the value of the kindness she had shown me.
Yet the memory of being abandoned by her, which occupied an even larger space in my head, threatened to wipe out every single good memory without a trace.
Her attitude—prioritizing the wishes of the family that cast me out over the agony I suffered—made me avoid her.
"Still, it's true that I don't want to see her."
This distance was just right.
Just enough so that on the rare occasions I was forced to acknowledge her presence, it merely left an uncomfortable feeling in my chest.
I wanted to stop living in constant anxiety, never knowing when I would be thrown away again.
"You're going to need a drink today."
"You bet I do. The moment I step out of the academy, I'm heading straight for the tavern—"
"Liar! You said you needed Mace!"
It seemed she had really developed a taste for teasing me.
Who could have guessed? A nun who enjoyed eavesdropping.
My ears were probably bright red by now, considering how Mace was giggling.
"I'm leaving. See you tomorrow."
I stood up and extinguished my cigarette inside my pocket.
Mace's hand tugged at my clothes.
"Shall we go together? I was thinking of indulging in my hobby for the first time in a while."
"...You mean you want me to buy you dinner too, right?"
Hearing my words, Mace broke into a silly grin again.
"Let's go. I can't afford anything expensive today, though."
After bestowing blessings upon the beggars who gathered as usual, I headed to the tavern with Mace.
Mace tried to shove every strange thing she received as a token of gratitude into her mouth, so I had to frantically stop her in horror.
Most of the time, it couldn't even be called escorting; I just stood behind her, watching and smoking cigarettes.
"Thank you for your hard work today."
"You too, Ain!"
Sitting at the bar counter, I clinked glasses with Mace.
In the end, I had committed the sin of leading a nun down the path of corruption.
Though it was only sharing a few light drinks after her charity work so she wouldn't gulp it down recklessly like last time.
Mace seemed to possess the qualities of a fine drinker, provided she paced herself.
Just as I accompanied her in her hobby, Mace often joined me in mine.
Some people do charity work as a hobby, while my only hobby is drinking.
Not that Mace cared in the slightest.
Still, watching a woman in a nun's habit down drink after drink while declaring how delicious it was gave me a strangely uncomfortable feeling.
Ironically, my own drinking had decreased.
Thanks to that, my phantom pain grew worse by the day, but I smoked a bit more and slept more comfortably than before.
Granted, "decreased" just meant going from three or four bottles a day down to one or two.
As the time I spent with Mace increased, the daily routines I had neglected slowly came into view.
The hours I spent huddled in the shadows of the tavern during the day diminished.
I began to care about the taste of the food served by the establishment, not just the alcohol.
I started paying attention to what I had newly found, rather than what I had lost.
"Mace, how did you end up coming to the Empire?"
Normally, as if by an unwritten rule, neither of us pried into the deep recesses of the other's past.
But with alcohol in my system, the conversation we had in the prayer room earlier came back to mind.
...Or perhaps I had simply grown more curious about her.
I wouldn't deny it.
"A missionary pilgrimage. My turn simply came up."
Mace's expression darkened slightly.
From the occasional tidbits she shared about the convent, I had already guessed her past hadn't been smooth sailing.
"Even though it's a faith whose very roots are shaking now... it's still all I know."
"...Will you return to your homeland once the pilgrimage is over?"
At my question, Mace shook her head.
It was the first time I had seen her with her eyes cast down like that.
"I can't. I can never go back."
Saying so, Mace set down her glass and turned her gaze toward the patrons sitting in the tavern.
That profile of hers, looking as if she were chewing on regret.
That expression of resignation toward things lost and gone—I knew it all too well.
It reminded me of my own reflection before the mirror shattered.
Yet, watching her, I felt a small sense of relief deep down.
Was it because I realized even more acutely that we were in the same boat?
Or was it because I could be certain that Mace, unlike the others, wouldn't leave me behind?
"What about you, Ain? Do you have somewhere to return to?"
"Even if I could, I'd refuse."
Hearing my answer, Mace smiled once more.
Failing to pace herself again, she gulped down more than half her glass in one go before speaking.
"I'd like to say something a bit presumptuous, if I may."
Mace stared intently at my face with eyes hazy from alcohol.
I realized that whenever those blue eyes sank into quiet stillness, I became exceptionally weak.
Even though I knew what she was about to say, I couldn't resist those eyes and let myself play along.
"...Go ahead."
"I'd like to suggest that you try having a conversation with her at least once."
"You mean Iris?"
"I believe her goodwill toward you is genuine. Even if, as you said, it's a goodwill that might not last."
Mace was likely talking about opportunities.
Because whatever her circumstances were, her own way back home was gone.
She seemed worried that I might be robbed of even the chance to choose, ending up like her.
"If I get abandoned again after that, just imagining what will happen..."
Before I could finish my reply, Mace's hand reached out and touched mine, which was holding the glass.
Leaning her arm and head against the table, she looked up at me and spoke softly.
"You have me. You have Mace. If you ever get abandoned, you can always come to me."
Her tone was playful, just like when she teased me in the prayer room, but her smile was earnest, not a smirk.
A suggestion born of worry rather than persuasion.
A gentle coaxing that didn't try to break my resolve.
"...I'll think about it."
Facing that suggestion and that smile, it was impossible to flatly refuse.
Hearing my answer, Mace returned to her usual beaming smile.
She started drinking again, but I couldn't.
Because her hand remained resting against mine on the glass.
Because I didn't want to pull away and make it seem like I was rejecting her touch.
I sat there in silence, feeling nothing but the warmth of her hand.
Though we had brought up a topic slightly gloomier than usual, the drinking session ended with an added layer of warmth.
I sent Mace back to the academy and headed home.
I hadn't drunk enough to get properly buzzed.
In truth, the goodwill behind Mace's suggestion resonated with me more than the advice itself.
I knew she no longer viewed me as a weakling to be pitied.
That fact made me happy. It had been a long time since I occupied a special place in someone's life.
Before opening the door to my house, I noticed something strange about the padlock I had locked when leaving.
It was charred pitch-black along with the hinges.
Soot, ash, and molten metal clearly melted from the lock stained the floor.
Crazy bitch, doesn't she ever get tired?
I gently pushed open the door, which was no longer doing its job.
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Giselle was sitting on my bed, reading a book.
Her promise to come back hadn't been empty talk after all.
Giselle broke in almost every single day using all sorts of methods.
Today, it seemed she had broken in by melting the lock with magic.
I noticed the emptied ashtrays, alcohol bottles, and the glass shards scattered on the floor had all been neatly cleaned up.
This crazy bitch climbs through the window if I lock the door, and smashes the door if I lock the window.
Who knew a noble lady had such a talent for breaking and entering?
"You're back, Ain. Wandering around at such a late hour will give you a cold."
Every time I faced such nonsense, my chosen response was indifference.
First Iris, now Giselle. Today was really something. Sleeping at home was out of the question.
"I really hope you'll read this book too, Ain. Since you're back late today, we can..."
Screeech—
I pulled the door shut as if I had never opened it and turned around.
Fortunately, she didn't cling to me outside in such a bizarre manner.
I had long given up on asking Giselle anything or expecting sensible answers to my questions.
Whatever I asked, she would only spout bullshit that only made sense to her.
I headed back to the academy.
To the place where I could sleep, even if it wasn't my home.
To the place where the darkness of night had settled in place of daytime shadows.
Walking down the quiet corridors at night while everyone at the academy slept had become familiar by now.
I quietly opened the prayer room door without making a sound and looked down at Mace, who was lying on the floor.
"Zzz..."
Her sleeping habits were as terrible as ever.
Watching Mace snore and toss around in her blanket, I lay down on the long wooden pew of the prayer room.
The quality of the bedding no longer mattered.
The sound of wind rustling through the leaves outside the window was more than enough.
Because even without a song, this space felt infinitely comfortable to me now.