The Night Before the Exam (3)
The deep blue eyes gazing down at me were as indifferent and cold as their color.
Anyone who didn't know better and met that gaze head-on would have flinched backward in sheer terror before they realized what they were doing.
But I met those eyes without turning a hair.
Because I knew exactly what kind of person Joy Partran really was.
On the outside, Joy looked like a villainess who'd stepped straight out of some romance novel.
Sharp, hawkish eyes and a towering height. Blond hair in loose curls—the style people usually called "drill rolls." With a beauty that looked like it would prick you if you touched it, she was elegant and aloof in a way that suited the daughter of a ducal house perfectly.
But the inside was another matter entirely.
For all the vicious rumors that circulated about House Partran, it was an utterly ordinary family. And Joy, raised on love by a gruff but doting father and a chronically nagging mother, was on the inside nothing more than an ordinary girl.
Her character description had said as much: a woman with the looks of a villainess and the soul of a shy high schooler.
Soul Academy players used to call her the Scatterbrained Young Lady—talented as she was, she panicked so easily and crumbled so completely under pressure that she'd fumble away her own abilities at the worst possible moments.
"It's been a while."
The moment I heard that curt, overbearing tone, I marveled to myself.
Watching through a monitor, I'd always thought the lore was overblown—the one where Joy struck terror into everyone at the Academy except her close friends.
Sure, her looks made her seem like a nasty piece of work, but for someone so timid and gentle-natured to be an object of fear? Seemed like a stretch.
Meeting her in the flesh, though, I understood the lore completely.
Her voice. Her eyes. Her bearing. She pressed down on the people around her from a position of absolute authority, so matter-of-factly that it never even occurred to her she was doing it.
Even knowing her full backstory, I felt myself shrink a little—someone who knew nothing about her would have bowed their head in fear on the spot.
"Are you here to visit Tiara Mas?"
Yes, that's right.
"Yep. Heard the rumors and came all this way, but this trashy joint only lets in customers with reservations."
The corner of Joy's mouth froze into a flat line at the mesugaki-translated words.
At a glance it looked like Lucy's insolent remark had offended her, but that wouldn't be the case.
Joy was the kind of harmless sweetheart you'd find at least one of in any school.
She didn't have the all-embracing kindness of the Saint I'd be meeting before long, but for anything short of a genuine catastrophe, she wouldn't so much as get annoyed, let alone angry.
This was the Scatterbrained Young Lady who, even after having her crush stolen by her own friend, would wish them happiness to their faces and then cry about it in private. Was someone like that really going to blow up over a remark like mine?
That expression right now was a wry smile.
Look closely and you could see the corners of her lips curving up, just slightly.
"Did you not know it was reservation-only?"
Yes...
"Yep. I only heard rumors. Didn't realize it was such a rude establishment."
The mesugaki skill makes me terrified to open my mouth.
All the more because I never know how even the most ordinary thing I say will get twisted.
Until now, whatever came out of my mouth hadn't been a real problem.
The servants couldn't say a word to me because of my station. Benedict just chuckled through anything I said. And the knights would shrug and say it was nothing compared to what they'd heard on the battlefield.
But this was different.
Joy was neither my subordinate nor someone who'd laugh off whatever I said. If I behaved insolently, that insolence would come back to me as her contempt.
I do not want to be hated by a character I love.
Once upon a time I made some nonsense claim about how being verbally abused wouldn't be so bad, but that was a joke, plain and simple. What kind of lunatic on this earth is happy to be despised by someone they adore?
Not me, that's for sure!
For now—avoid mentioning Joy's name. And don't call her "my lady" either.
Given that this mouth of mine calls Benedict "my idiot father," I genuinely have no idea what kind of title it would spit out for Joy.
Set the forms of address aside, though, and I'd come across as no worse than a rude stranger—Joy would just wear that wry smile and let it slide.
Thank goodness I default to polite speech when I'm actually the one below someone. If I'd gone "Hey, loser" at the daughter of a duke, there would have been no coming back.
"A shame, but nothing to be done. Rules are rules."
That's my fault for not checking ahead.
"Not that I failed to check or anything, but what an arrogant little restaurant."
Joy being here meant she was planning to visit Tiara Mas too, didn't it? She hadn't been thrown off when I brought up reservations, so she'd clearly booked a table.
That thing clutched tight in her right hand—was that the reservation ticket?
So envious. The heroine who so rarely showed emotion had actually smiled back there; I'd been dying to try the food of Tiara Mas someday.
Oh well. Nothing to be done about it.
The fault lies with me for showing up empty-handed to a place even a ducal daughter books in advance. I'll just make a reservation and come back next time.
So where should I eat in the meantime?
What about that cake shop I visited every single time I went on dates with the romanceable characters in Soul Academy?
Just going there together raised affection levels absurdly fast—fast enough that players joked they must have been slipping something into the cakes.
It might actually be fun to go investigate the true nature of those affection-boosting cakes.
Heading out for dessert as my very first meal did nag at me a little, but hey—as long as it tastes good, problem solved, right?
Having settled the matter, I tore my eyes from the ticket and lifted my head to say my goodbyes.
At that exact moment, my gaze collided with Joy's frozen eyes.
Why are you looking at me with such a terrifying expression?
I know you're not angry, but it still stings, you know?
"Lady Alrn."
Yes?
"Is something the matter?"
"...Shall we go have a meal together?"
Huh?
Gazing at the face of Lucy Aln, seated across the table with a sulky expression, Joy let out a silent scream.
I've lost my mind.
Why on earth did I ask Lady Lucy to eat with me?
I'd been looking forward to the food at Tiara Mas for so long—why did I have to wedge Lady Lucy into that precious experience? Stupid, stupid me!
But it was beyond my control at the time!
She was grumbling about not being allowed into the restaurant, and then she just kept staring at the ticket in my hand. My ticket got picked up by that hedgehog's radar of thorns—what was I supposed to do?!
If I'd left Lady Lucy out there and walked inside alone, she'd have thought I was flaunting it in her face before waltzing off!
I'd have earned a grudge far worse than pretending not to see her and going in anyway!
Joy didn't want to be hated by Lucy.
Fear was... part of it, true, but that wasn't the only reason.
After all, as the ducal daughter of House Partran, Joy wasn't really in a position where Lucy could do her any harm.
So why did she find Lucy so unnerving? It came down to the girl's attitude.
Most people found Joy difficult to deal with. She was the daughter of House Partran, and she had that intimidating face.
Setting aside the friends and family who'd known her since childhood, nearly everyone treated her with careful politeness.
There were exceptions, certainly—but no one had ever been so brazenly hostile to her face as Lucy.
Even now, years later, Joy remembered the first time she'd met her.
The day she'd approached that tiny, doll-like girl—so beautiful she seemed like a doll come to life—and been told, "And what's a loser like you doing talking to me?"
Those arrogant eyes that looked down on you even from below.
"A scrawny beanpole of a loser looking down at me—you think that scares me?"
Benedict later came, once he understood the situation, dragging Lucy along to apologize—but Joy could never forget that day.
It was the first time anyone had ever aimed such blunt hostility and open insult at her.
She came to appreciate the directness later on, if anything. But still.
Lost in old memories, Joy noticed that Lucy was unusually quiet today.
Strange. It felt rude to even put it this way, but the usual Lucy was a person utterly allergic to silence.
She always stood at the very center of any commotion, working as though she were trying to offend one more person than she already had.
Today, though, was different. Lucy sat quietly, simply waiting for the food to arrive.
She did glance around to watch the other diners, but that was all it amounted to.
The sight of her so steadfastly silent was oddly endearing and oddly fascinating, but Joy made a point of not mentioning it.
There was no need to light the fuse of a time bomb that was kindly agreeing to sit still.
"The soup, as an appetizer."
Amid the silence, a servant brought out the first dish. He set the soup before them and launched into some explanation or other, but Joy didn't listen to a word of it.
Food only had to taste good—that was the beginning and end of the matter. Studying was hard enough already; there was no need to study food on top of everything else.
The servant withdrew, Joy picked up her spoon, took a single bite—and her eyes went wide at the flavor.
A gentle smoky aroma that bloomed the instant it entered her mouth, with the richness of butter churning beneath it. Potato and onion that melted away the moment they touched her tongue. And woven through it all, the salmon, playing its part to perfection.
The servant's explanation had been unnecessary. The dish explained itself; it was less a meal than a manual, narrating its own flavor with every spoonful.
Is Lady Lucy feeling the same thing right now?
Joy stole a glance up at Lucy's face—and hurriedly clapped a hand over her own mouth.
Those big, round, pink eyes were plugged straight into the soup. The lips she'd kept so firmly pressed shut just moments ago were wholly occupied with savoring the flavor, and that tiny little hand of hers moved so fast it was leaving afterimages.
What stunned Joy even more was that even eating at that breakneck pace, Lucy was still observing the bare minimum of table etiquette.
So absorbed in watching her that Joy had forgotten her own food entirely, she only returned to her soup once she saw Lucy gazing wistfully at her emptying bowl.
Every dish Tiara Mas brought out after that was delicious without exception—delicious enough that Joy, who had tasted every delicacy her ducal household could offer, found herself marveling out loud.
And yet she spent less attention on the food than on watching Lucy eat.
Truly, if she'd only keep her mouth shut, she's as cute as a doll.
Come to think of it, we might not be so different, her outside not matching her inside. My face is fierce but my heart is soft; hers is the reverse—soft face, fierce heart.
...Huh? Are we exact opposites, then?
By the time the meal was over, Lucy was wearing the most contented smile Joy had ever seen from her—or would ever see again.
Perhaps bewitched by that smile, Joy momentarily forgot exactly what kind of person Lucy was, and asked before she could stop herself:
"Was the meal to your satisfaction?"
Lucy heard the question, let her eyes curve into a smile, and answered:
"Not bad, Scatterbrained Young Lady."
Huh? Scatterbrained?