Oblivion
Piel.
You must have been about five years old then.
The habit you had from the moment you were born—of staring at your mother—never changed in the slightest. Those blue eyes of yours, working so hard to catch my gaze even at mealtimes, were almost unbearably precious.
I wonder if that child ever knew just how lovable and adorable she was.
There is no need to go on at length about it.
I, your mother, was so thoroughly enchanted by your beauty that I found myself blooming into laughter again and again.
I knew full well that such behavior was improper during a meal, yet I never corrected it at once. The simple fact that my own flesh and blood was showing me such interest was far too sweet to interrupt.
Still, a mother could hardly let her child go hungry. I turned toward the little lady sitting there with that blank expression and slowly opened my mouth.
"Piel, it's time to eat now, isn't it?"
Only then did the little barbarian's gaze swing around at the sound of her mother's voice. The way that tiny head of hers turned, ears perking up, felt strangely wondrous every single time.
"Eek!? Why are there so many vegetables!?"
Laid out before those eyes that preferred meat were only a golden-brown grilled fish and a heap of vegetables. Perhaps that reaction of yours was only natural.
Even so, Piel—this was your mother's consideration for a balanced diet. Couldn't you understand just a little?
In my heart I wanted nothing more than to give my daughter only the things she loved, but when a person chases after nothing but desire, everything begins to fall apart. Ah, and of course that includes eating habits as well.
"What is this junk!"
But perhaps it was too much to expect a small child to notice a parent's care. Forgive me, Piel, but no matter how deeply I love you, this is one thing I cannot yield.
"Damn bell peppers!"
Come to think of it, you learned curses long before you ever learned to read. In front of a child like that, even I had to watch my tongue. If the parents spoke roughly, it was obvious what sort of speech habits the child would pick up.
Even so, I never barked at her or scolded her harshly. I knew a parent should not always be soft, yet the fact that this little lady had developed such a temperament was my responsibility as her mother.
— Thud.
"Die, peas!"
Taking out her frustration on the vegetables with a fork was a rather peculiar habit. Still, it was so endearing that I simply laughed and let it pass.
I already knew that mages tend to take on personalities similar to their dominant elemental affinity, so it did not strike me as especially strange.
Listen, Piel—do you know this?
A child with talent like yours will go berserk if she cannot somehow vent the rage that surges up from her core. That is why your older brother suffered so much.
He was constantly harassed by a little sister three years younger than himself, after all.
Perhaps that is why you grew so fond of him.
I would have done the same. A blood relative who embraces a younger sibling's pitiful sides—how could that not become an object of affection?
Piel, I, your mother, know this.
Outwardly you pretended otherwise, but whenever I left the room, your gaze always drifted toward your brother.
Even so, as a mother I had to offer at least a little guidance. If you let instinct swallow you whole, you end up treating the people you cherish carelessly.
And you are the young lady of the great House Bayorn, are you not?
We may be only a viscount's house, yet your mother has always been truly proud of the land where she lived. It was here that the two jewels I, once so listless, conceived were born and raised.
So I hoped my daughter would live with pride in her family as well.
"Piel, unnecessary curses make both the heart and one's actions ugly. And picky eating, if taken too far, is no good either."
"It's not unnecessary! When something's disgusting, you swear at it! And meat tastes way better than vegetables!"
Even after hearing her parent's instruction, the foolish little girl still refused to retract her opinion. In that case, a mother could not simply leave her be.
I slowly shifted my gaze toward the white-haired little one's face. The cherry-like, tiny lips there were truly adorable and lovely.
But if those lips kept spitting vulgarities one after another, they would become a foul mouth no matter how beautiful they were.
Anyway, Piel.
I, your mother, decided then and there to seal those curses by pressing my lips over them.
— Peck, peck.
You loved pressing your lips to your mother's more than anything else. In moments like that, the fiery-tempered noble young lady would vanish without a trace, leaving only a blank-faced, adorable little lady behind.
— Mmph, mmph…
As if two or three kisses were nowhere near enough. The way she worked her mouth in little pouts was no different from when she had been a newborn.
Ah, Piel…
Even so, whenever I saw you like that I turned into a complete fool. I knew full well it was the little succubus's scheme to seduce a parent's heart, yet I could never hold back the affection that welled up, and I easily allowed the kisses.
— Clink.
But that moment also became an opportunity. While my daughter was completely absorbed in kissing her mother—peck, peck—I would secretly hide the vegetables beneath the fish.
That way, Piel, whose fork work was still rough and clumsy, would naturally end up eating the vegetables that came along whenever she stabbed at the fish.
"Huh? Mama, the vegetables are gone!"
"Are they? Then you can eat now, can't you?"
"Yeah!"
Heh. Piel, may I make a slightly irreverent remark as your mother?
The way you decided the vegetables had disappeared simply because you could no longer see them made you seem a little foolish. Even that was far too cute, of course. Every moment I spent with such a tiny angel was nothing short of paradise to me.
It did not matter in the least if the anxious retainers and people who did not know the full story scolded you for having a twisted personality.
"Piel, where are you going?"
After the meal, your hands were always piled high with sweet fruit and meat. Not only in that moment—always.
< Mom doesn't need to know! >
It was obvious, of course. Little you simply wanted to take a meal to your older brother, who was outside swinging an axe.
— Nom, nom, nom.
Well, the number of pieces of meat might dwindle along the way, but the very heart that wanted to look after a sibling of the same blood was so very commendable.
Piel, this mother of yours knows.
The reason your face often flushed red was not because you were angry, but because you did not know how to express your feelings honestly and were simply shy.
Heh. My little angel.
How can you be so lovable simply by existing?
Of course, to be a little honest—compared to your older brother, who matured early, you were quite the handful…
Because of that, no matter how much time passed, I could never easily tear my eyes away. Perhaps it was because we were both women.
You were weaned long after you had left the newborn stage.
True to being a child of fire, you had many cantankerous sides.
That unpredictable nature of yours often left your mother anxious.
But you know, Piel.
That is exactly why your existence feels all the more precious to me.
Just as there is a difference in the sense of fulfillment between a fruit easily obtained and one won through hardship.
You, the child I raised with such difficulty, are a truly priceless treasure to this mother of yours.
Ah, come to think of it, Mama seems to be dwelling only on your earliest years.
I really shouldn't… If I keep this up, you'll flush red again and get angry, asking if you're not cute anymore…
Even so, Piel.
Please don't feel too disappointed in Mama.
It absolutely does not mean that the you of now is unlovable.
…It's just.
Yes, just…
…Because I am a fragile mother whose heart tears apart whenever I think of the you of the present, I can only foolishly cling to memories of the past.
In truth, the splendid young woman you have grown into is far more lovable and far more a source of pride—yet your mother is simply too weak…
So, my daughter, can you understand this wretched mother of yours?
……
Piel. My love…
You who are, in truth, more tender-hearted than anyone—my little angel.
Where on earth are you wandering now?
Even now your mother is roaming through dreams searching for you… searching for you through these dreams…
Ah, I'm sorry, Piel.
It isn't that your mother is trying to pressure you or goad you on.
For a damned mother who put her own daughter in danger to entertain such thoughts would be unthinkable.
I simply want, just a little—just for a single moment—to face the you of now in reality.
Yes. I just miss you so terribly. I miss you so terribly. That is all.
......
The truth is, I know.
My strong daughter who inherited the blood of Bayorn is still alive somewhere even now.
You simply hate the mother who wandered about outside like a child and refuse to come home.
Isn't that right?
Isn't that right, Piel…?
So even though it is shameless, even though I am truly sorry—
Even if you hate this mother of yours so much, could you show me your face just once?
Even if I never see you again, if I could only know that you are well…
I feel I might be able to escape this hell.
A quiet silence had settled over Bayorn Castle.
And within it, the private chambers of the viscountess.
The vermilion-haired girl lying in that place slowly opened her eyes.
The brutal reality she had been forgetting in her dreams came crashing down without mercy every time she woke.
The past the woman had loved merely floated within dreams.
The mother, unable to let go of that love, could not move forward.
An irreversible, mistaken choice had twisted into sin and ceaselessly stabbed at the mother's heart.
Even if she screamed with all her strength, nothing changed.
The agony that was like death only continued to pile up.
In the days when her treasures had been so very small—
two little ones who had each taken one of their mother's hands in the orange orchards.
Yet why, these days, did her left hand ache with such piercing cold?
Darin simply closed her eyes again, trying to forget the reason.