Defective Goods
After my birth mother—Douglas’s “whore,” in his words—passed away, I was locked in the annex that held nothing but a desk, no chair.
Picture something roughly like my current room. A tiny hut no one used, tucked into a neglected corner of the estate.
All I had to lean on were the faltering words Iris brought whenever she came to the locked door. Giselle never even heard the news of the death; I told her myself, much later.
Even on nights when the whole mansion slept, the annex door never opened. I started to wonder if I would simply be forgotten there, left to die lonely and alone. Only the sinister cawing of crows and the skitter of leaves reached me.
Even if “I” felt no blood bond with that mother, this was still Ain’s body. The image of her collapsing as she coughed blood kept replaying in the dark—and Douglas clicking his tongue when it spattered his shirt, as if filth had gotten on him. For the first time since arriving in this world, I felt bone-deep how alone I was.
“Ugh. Disgusting. Perfect place for you.”
Crude mockery rode in over a bright, lively voice from behind the door.
“Bugs stick to you every time you walk. Ew—I should make a servant clean this up.”
Thirteen-year-old Roxanne was just a smaller Douglas with a poorer vocabulary—or the Countess herself. Only toward me, of course. To everyone else she was terribly sweet and clever, so they doted on her.
“Don’t tell me you’re crying over something like that? You’re a man, and Father wasn’t wrong about a single thing. Crying over one dead whore—where do you plan to use those tears later?”
“…G-go away, Roxanne.”
“Don’t say my name. It’s revolting.”
Back then I was living as Ain, so my language stayed appropriately soft for my age. Maybe Giselle’s influence—I’d spent all day stuck with a girl who spouted lines like a novel character whenever she opened her mouth.
“Your real parents are sleeping just fine in the mansion’s chambers right now. Act in a way that befits the family name. Who knows? Maybe they won’t throw you out and will even let you live quietly as a servant.”
“You fucking bitch—look at that attitude, just like your parents…”
“…What did you just say?”
Even mild-mannered me couldn’t take it. I remember. It wasn’t my first regression then, but that was the first time I let a curse out of my mouth. The little shit should have known when to quit. Normally I would have laughed it off Ain-style—but of all days, she had to pour oil, light a fire, and fan the flames on my most miserable one.
“Just leave, Roxanne. I don’t want to see you any more than you want to see me.”
“Did you just swear at me?”
“Must’ve misheard. You took too many hits in sparring, huh?”
“…I’m telling Father. You insulted not just me but my parents too. I’ll never forget this humiliation. Just you wait.”
“Your voice is shaking. Are you the one crying like a girl over a few insults? Sorry—you are a girl. A weak, stupid little girl who staggers every time she swings a sword.”
That’s what I said. But even then Roxanne’s talent was far superior to the likes of me. She simply hadn’t finished her second growth spurt and was still underdeveloped; my training volume was dozens of times hers, so I never lost our spars. Could a kid’s brain understand that? Every time, Roxanne would rage and scream immature things—“If we used real swords instead of wooden ones, I’d win,” “Don’t get cocky just because you can fence a little,” “You’re just a bastard who can’t even inherit a title anyway”—and only then manage to swallow her anger.
Thud.
The annex door I was leaning against shook hard and I cracked my head. Roxanne must have kicked it.
“So you did swear at me! You’re admitting you insulted me!”
“Fine, let’s say I did. Stop bothering me and go to sleep. Who knows? If you turn in early, that chestnut-sized height of yours might grow a little.”
Thud.
The door shook once more. Then I heard Roxanne stamping away into the distance.
Looking back, I was pretty childish myself—matching the taunts of a girl younger than me, blow for blow. What mattered was that even that day, I never saw Roxanne cry. The claim that her voice was shaking was a lie I made up just to mock her. Not only that day—after dozens more losses in spars, even when Father lectured her to keep her conduct proper, even when Iris, standing in for Mother, took a strict cane to her—not once did tears ever fall from Roxanne’s face.
So, back to the present.
“Sorry. I thought they’d stopped. They keep coming. Why is this happening.”
Who the hell was this unpleasant sight crying in front of me? Even after I entered Roxanne’s room, sat in a chair, and waited while smoking a cigar, her tears showed no sign of stopping.
“Ah, I’ll get you some tea. Just wait a moment.”
“Cut the crap and sit down so we can get to the point. I don’t have the slightest fucking interest in enjoying tea and snacks with you.”
I’d agreed to talk out of fluster, but no sudden pity had bloomed in me or anything of the sort. Even if Douglas got dementia he wouldn’t fall apart this badly. Maybe another war I didn’t know about had broken out somewhere. Looking at the heavy dark circles under her eyes, this wasn’t a one- or two-day thing either.
“Mm. Okay. Your mouth has gotten a lot fouler…”
“You hard of hearing? Testing how far you can push me?”
“Sorry… I haven’t talked to anyone lately. It feels awkward…”
“…You haven’t talked to anyone?”
Fuck—I asked before I could stop myself. But this girl used to have friends everywhere. The curiosity I’d forced down rose again. Past Roxanne had been highly sociable, unlike Ain, who only knew Giselle, and Iris, who put up walls against everyone. She’d even debuted in high society early for her age.
“Uh, yeah… When I enlisted I put some distance between myself and people.”
Roxanne brightened at the question.
“Aren’t you an officer? You should have plenty of free time.”
“Father got me the post. It isn’t a position I earned with my own ability…”
“Looking at you again, the uniform suits you. Make a career of it. Perfect for you—full of guys who look fine but are actually incompetent as hell.”
Hearing that, Roxanne started welling up again. But she quickly slapped both her cheeks with a sharp crack and swallowed the tears. In a still-trembling voice she spoke.
“I-I heard Big Sister is taking a leave of absence from the Academy. Does it have something to do with you coming to the mansion?”
“Yeah. Apparently she’s busy nursing me.”
“Nursing…? Are you sick?”
“Not something you need to worry about.”
Roxanne’s gloved hands clenched. Not anger—more the look of someone whose weak spot had been hit.
“…Right. Sorry. You and Big Sister always got along well.”
“Apologizing at the end of every sentence. Has Douglas stopped doting on you so you’re throwing a tantrum?”
“Dougl…? Ah, you mean Father. Mm… It’s been quite a while since I last went to see him myself.”
Strange things kept piling up. They used to be the picture of a loving father and daughter.
“No matter how big the mansion is, you wouldn’t fail to run into him unless you were deliberately avoiding him.”
“I am… deliberately avoiding him… It’s a little hard to face him…”
Roxanne hung her head as if embarrassed. I let out a hollow snort of laughter.
“Look at that. The girl who couldn’t live a day without Daddy. Guess her delayed rebellious phase finally hit.”
“It’s not like that… It’s just hard to say…”
Even hearing insults toward the father she’d always been so proud of, her reaction was weak.
“Is Iris the only thing you wanted to ask about?”
“Huh? Uh. Y-yeah. Mm.”
“I’m leaving. Get to a hospital before it’s too late. You’ve turned into a complete idiot.”
As I moved to leave, Roxanne stood first as if to stop me. She scanned me quickly, then changed the subject.
“Ah, a cigar. You smoke?”
“I’m the one who lost an eye. I’ve been smoking it this whole time.”
“Uh, yeah. S-so when did you start? I thought you never used to.”
Present-day Roxanne was… how do I put it. Like she was starving for conversation.
“I learned after I joined the army too. See? Same as you.”
Saying so, Roxanne pulled a silver cigar case from her pocket. She opened it and even showed me the empty slot of one missing cigar.
“…Are you seriously okay? What’s wrong with you.”
“Huh? Seeing a fellow smoker… I was happy…?”
“Uh, ah, um, sorry—can you not talk without this bullshit? One family member who stutters is already more than fucking enough to drive me nuts.”
I rubbed the cigar I’d been smoking against the wallpaper that matched the room’s owner’s hair color. Roxanne’s tears started falling even before the ash from the cigar.
“I know even without the swearing… Sorry for being so frustrating…”
“This is driving me crazy. Roxanne, we weren’t close. Far from it—I remember you tormenting me like I was a rat you were hunting.”
Roxanne gave no answer, only twisting her mouth as she held back sobs. A mournful crying sound leaked from her lips.
“Keep squeezing out those tears if you want. Somehow you’ve gotten even more fucking pathetic than before.”
I left her there and stepped into the corridor; waiting any longer didn’t seem likely to yield more answers. It was hard to keep looking at that face—once so unpleasantly confident—now all crumpled up. The feeling was completely different from when Iris or Mace cried. It was as unpleasant as watching a tortured prisoner.
So I sat through a whole day of pure nonsense.
If only Giselle hadn’t come. I could have just dredged up some trivial memories with Iris and ended the day like that. Instead I went for a walk and got tangled up with every damn idiot around. Going home under the pretense of having no choice wasn’t an option either. According to Roxanne, she didn’t even talk to the family—so the fact that I was staying at the mansion probably wouldn’t reach anyone else’s ears.
I didn’t want to go back to a room that still reeked of lilies, so I continued on the path I’d been taking. I passed the narrow servants’ passage and turned onto the path leading to the garden. Even the outdoor air did nothing to ease the unpleasantness. I crossed the garden for a long while, trampling flowers penned in by the hedges.
In one dark, unlit corner of the garden I spotted a flickering yellow light. It was Iris, lantern in hand, flustered as she searched the surroundings.
That vacant face was the most welcome thing I’d seen all day.