Learning About the Past (1)
Carl had defined Frey's feeling as disappointment.
She felt disappointed, he said, because Lucy had left her behind and pressed on so far ahead.
So after parting ways with Carl, Frey had gone to the library and opened a dictionary.
This was how the dictionary defined disappointment: a feeling of wistfulness and sadness.
But Frey had never known wistfulness, nor sadness, so she looked up both words — only to find that the dictionary liked to pass the buck. Wistfulness dumped the job on sadness, and sadness in turn dumped it on disappointment.
Thanks to that, Frey failed entirely to grasp what the emotion called disappointment actually meant.
"Useless."
Slamming the dictionary shut, Frey pressed her forehead against its cover and recalled the conversation Carl had shared with her not long ago.
'Lady Kent is feeling disappointed that the young miss has sped off and left her so far behind all on her own. She wonders, perhaps, if she was the only one who thought of them as rivals.'
Professor Carl had probably been right.
After all, the red color in my heart had been born the moment I learned that Lucy was far stronger than I had imagined.
Which meant that to erase the red still lodged in my chest, I would have to reach the place where Lucy stood — just as Professor Carl had said.
'I suppose I can't call you a washed-up swordsman anymore, can I?'
The instant Frey pictured Lucy saying that with a laugh, she felt it.
The color carved into her heart was fading.
And more than that — another color, one she couldn't name, was seeping into its place.
Startled, she jerked her head up, spread the dictionary open again, and fixed her eyes on the definition of disappointment.
The color that had occupied my heart until now — that was disappointment.
Then what was this other color settling in as the first one faded?
Frey tilted her head in thought, then remembered the words of the man who had offered her guidance.
'I will help you. Professor though I may be, I cannot overlook a student's troubles.'
If she asked Professor Carl for help, would she learn the identity of that other color too?
The moment the thought took shape, Frey rose from her seat. She had always been the type to act first and agonize later.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The day after I'd called Frey a worthless scrub.
I'd worried she might be too put off to even look at me, but she showed up for morning training just like always.
Halbae bellowed triumphantly at the sight, as if to say look at that.
Excuse me. Grandpa. I already knew that, thank you very much.
But when a girl is anxious about something, you're supposed to comfort her. What, were you about to say my mouth's filthy enough on a normal day, so why would I worry about that?
People definitely didn't like this man when he was alive. I'd bet my life on it.
So what if he was the hero who saved the world and a noble holy knight? The man doesn't know the first thing about empathizing with others.
Even if someone took an interest based on his looks and achievements alone, one glimpse of his personality would have sent them screaming.
'Good morning, Frey.'
"Morning, washed-up swordsman."
"Lucy."
I greeted her with a secret sigh of relief, and she called my name.
Huh? Frey's expression feels different from usual.
How should I put it. Her eyes used to be dull. Foggy.
But not right now. Her gaze was as sharp and vivid as it was when she swung her sword.
"I'm going to beat you."
'I'm sorry — come again?'
"Ha. Someone like you?"
"Yeah. And I'll make sure you never look down on me again."
The Mesugaki Skill twisted my words yet again mid-sentence, but Frey paid it no mind.
She simply kept talking, without a flicker of hesitation.
"At the final exam duel, I'll prove that I'm no worthless scrub."
And with that — declaring she'd train on her own until then — Frey finished what she had to say and walked off.
<So you've planted the seed of ambition in that child.>
'...Yeah. Which is exactly why I said I don't like it.'
<Did that sound like she hates you, to your ears?>
'No. I just wanted to double-check.'
Frey had declared she'd defeat me and marched off, but that didn't change my daily life one bit.
The only difference was the empty space where Frey used to be.
Sparring class, for instance.
The person who usually partnered with me was Frey. To be precise, no one else ever volunteered, so it happened naturally.
Because I was an awkward presence for everyone else.
A girl famous for her filthy personality, with skill that no one in our year could hope to match — that was me.
Who in their right mind would request a duel with me? They'd clearly get destroyed first.
"You asked me for a duel, you absolute gutter-trash? What, do you enjoy getting beaten? Are you a masochist? Want me to stomp on you? Kidding. Stepping on a scrub like you would dirty my shoes, so no thanks~♡"
Unless they were a weirdo on Frey's level, who would ever face me after hearing that?
So I'd been planning to just cross weapons with Carl or Anton during sparring time, when an unexpected volunteer appeared.
The girl who'd slapped me across the face during the entrance exam — er... that is... what was her name again?
I've seen her face plenty of times, but I can't remember her name. Every time we meet, all that comes out of her mouth is scrub this and loser that.
"Today I'm going to smash you to pieces, you trash."
So glared the scrub lady, eyes blazing with fury — but glaring wasn't going to change the outcome of our duel one bit.
The gap between the two of us was simply that enormous.
It wasn't that the scrub lady was weak, exactly. Measured against the general first-year population, she was firmly in the top tier.
She couldn't hold a candle to Frey, but against someone like Arthur or Jackal, I figured she could scrape open a path to victory.
The only problem was that her opponent was me.
The current me — a monster who could take down the knights of most noble houses and still come out on top.
And so, throughout the entire bout, the scrub lady failed to land a single clean hit.
Frankly speaking, sparring with her was mind-numbingly boring.
Every attack she threw just slammed into my shield and bounced off.
But swinging my mace back was its own problem — I kept worrying I'd break something on her.
Mmm. This isn't training. It feels like a waste of time.
Next time, even if she comes at me, I'll just ignore her and ask Carl for a match instead.
Unable to control herself, the scrub lady had flailed her sword around at full power, lost her footing, and toppled over again. She tried to push herself up, swayed, and pitched forward face-first.
Swinging at full strength with no sense of pacing had driven her body past its limit, you see.
Shall we call it here? Pushing any further would just get her hurt.
'My lady, let's wrap this up, shall we? You look exhausted.'
"Stay down, scrub lady. What's the point of getting up again when all you can do is crawl? Just admit you're a scrub and crawl around on the floor where you belong. That's what suits you♡"
Maybe it's because I don't particularly like her, but the Mesugaki Skill's translation was vicious today.
Vicious enough that I half expected myself to start stomping on her head while cackling.
Well, when has the Mesugaki Skill ever behaved otherwise? She's had time to get used to how I talk anyway, so it should be fina—
"...Sniff."
The instant I saw tears dripping from the scrub lady's eyes as she braced herself against the floor, my mind went completely white.
Ah. Uh.
Huh?
No. Hey. Why are you crying all of a sudden? You're not that kind of person.
You're the one who gritted her teeth and fought back no matter how harshly I talked to you.
Okay, sure, I said some... pretty awful things. But I'm not the only one at fault here! You talked behind my back and cursed me out plenty too!
You can't just burst into tears first and play the innocent victim! Now I'm the villain!
Tearing my eyes from the scrub lady as she fought to hold back her sobs, I looked around — and saw that every gaze in the room had gathered on us.
Those gazes were ice-cold.
Even dense old me could read their meaning loud and clear: There goes Lady Whatever-Her-Name-Is again.
Ha. I can see my reputation crumbling in real time.
Why does Lucy Coin have so many bearish factors?
The second it ticks up, something happens and it comes tumbling right back down. A roller coaster has gentler drops than this.
Is it because my name has "coin" in it? Would it do better with something else attached?
Would Lucy Inc. climb a little more steadily?
No wait. Something tells me even that gets delisted before long.
The problem is clearly the name Lucy itself.
I was busy escaping reality because I had no idea how to handle the situation in front of me, when Carl approached from across the hall.
"Lady Alrn. Lady Baines. Shall we step outside for a moment?"
Right. Anything beats standing in the middle of a crowd absorbing everyone's stares.
Also, her family name was Baines, huh. I'm remembering it this time. I can't exactly keep calling her the scrub lady in my head forever.
Once we were outside, Carl tried to console Lady Baines — and she promptly burst into wailing.
Right up until that moment she'd been holding it in out of sheer pride, but the moment the dam broke, there was no holding it back.
Watching a girl sob her waaahs left me with a strange, complicated feeling.
Yes, she and I have bad history. But she's still a teenage girl, after all. Watching someone years younger than me cry stirs up a certain sympathy.
And I got my revenge for that slap ages ago, so I don't have any particularly good reason to hate her anymore.
Maybe I should try making peace with her.
This sort of thing is supposed to be initiated by the senior party, isn't it? Time to show some magnanimity first.
I don't know if I can actually squeeze out an apology over the wall that is the Mesugaki Skill, but that's still better than not trying at all.
If it works, my reputation improves a little; if it doesn't, things stay exactly as they always are. No downside.
After a long while, once Lady Baines had finally, barely calmed down, I walked over to her.
She glared up at me with eyes swollen completely red.
Direct, concentrated hostility. If I'd seen eyes like that back when I first possessed this body, I probably would have cowered.
Not anymore, though.
Do you have any idea how many hateful stares I've climbed over to get here? I'm used to far worse by now.
'Are you okay?'
"You okay, scrub lady? Pfft. You've gotten unbelievably ugly from crying all over yourself~"
"Shut up and get lost, Lucy Alrn."
'I'm sorry. That was my fault.'
"Pfffhah. Getting glared at after I flattened you isn't scary in the slightest? What, does it sting? If it stings, what are you gonna do about it, scrub lady? What can you even do besides drip snot everywhere? Loser~ Scrub~ Crybaby~ Goblin~"
"I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP!"
Yep. Yep, this is rough.
I saw it coming, but actually living through it, I realize I have no idea what to do here.
At this rate, is making peace with the people who hate me just impossible?
Come to think of it, even my reconciliation with Arthur was close to a miracle.
If that petty evil god hadn't separated me and Arthur as part of his little game of tormenting me, Arthur would probably still hate me to this day.
Hold on. Now that I think about it, hasn't the petty evil god done more for my personal relationships than the pathetic Chief God ever has?
...Pathetic Chief God! Step it up!
Keep this up and I'm going to end up putting my faith in the petty evil god instead of you!
The Reason You're Unpopular!