Organizing the Past and Present (5)
It was a weekend holiday. Christine had not gone to the orphanage, nor had she thrown herself into any personal training. She was simply killing time. The world, scorched by the summer sun, remained sweltering even in the shade. Christine slumped deep into her chair and exhaled a heavy, heated breath.
It’s hot. She raked a hand through her hair. By now…
Christine pictured Maxim’s face. She wondered whether the engagement ceremony was proceeding smoothly, whether he was somewhere turning red with embarrassment. A small, wry chuckle escaped her. She had no particular desire to attend an event reserved for nobles by tagging along with Maxim, yet the fact that she could not witness it herself left her with a quiet pang of regret.
“He’s probably out there dancing.”
The moment the words left her mouth, Christine burst into another laugh before she could stop herself. The image of Maxim awkwardly trying to match an upbeat melody, forcing his body through the steps, refused to form in her mind.
“Honestly…”
Her chest felt hollow. Christine turned her gaze to the summer landscape beyond the window. The scenery was no different from any other day, yet a strange sense of déjà vu washed over her.
“…What is this?” she muttered.
An indescribable, grating presence was drawing nearer, slipping through the crowd. It was the instinctive wariness one mage feels toward another. Christine identified it at once as another wizard’s mana signature. As though deliberately announcing his arrival, the mage approached wrapped in a towering aura of power.
Soon enough, the sound of knocking reached her from the front door. Tension flickered across Christine’s face as she walked over. Who in the world—
“Who—?”
There was no need to finish the question. The moment Christine opened the door, the person standing before her was someone she knew all too well.
“Professor…?”
Back when Christine had lived at the Magic Tower, her former advisor stood at the threshold with a single assistant. She stared at him in blank astonishment, fingers still curled around the doorknob. Professor Timothy Belheim narrowed his eyes as he regarded her.
“It has been a long time, Christine.”
Unable to conceal her bewilderment, she asked, “Why are you here, Professor…?” Nearly three years had passed since she left the Magic Tower. What possible reason could they have for seeking her out now? She had burned every last scrap of her research and severed ties with the Tower’s upper echelons.
“I have come to make you an offer,” Professor Timothy Belheim said, tapping the ground lightly with the staff in his left hand.
“An offer…?” Christine’s expression crumpled. “I am no longer connected to the Magic Tower in any way. If you have something to say—”
As she moved to close the door, the professor slid his staff between the door and its frame, blocking it.
“It is not an offer to return to the Tower. We both possess some sense of decency, do we not?” His voice remained calm as he extended a hand toward her. “Will you not at least hear me out?”
“What exactly are you saying?” Emil Bourdin interlaced his fingers, his expression laden with meaning. His gaze was not on Theodora but directed toward the banquet hall outside. His cold, inorganic blue eyes glittered like chips of ice.
“Exactly what I said. The curse placed on Maxim Apparte is not some simple affliction that merely takes a life.”
Emil Bourdin turned back to Theodora.
“If the goal had truly been to kill him, there would have been no need for such an expensive method involving a curse and the Academy’s involvement. A skilled assassin could have been hired, or an unfortunate accident arranged during the final exam by throwing him into even harsher conditions.”
His eyes seemed to ask whether she agreed. “Even those methods would have carried a high chance of failure… though it would not have been easy. I hear his swordsmanship is quite renowned. And you were almost always by his side.”
That was why the curse had been used, Emil Bourdin concluded.
“…I told you to explain what you mean.” Theodora’s demand was sharp.
“It means that no matter how much you believe you know the truth, my lady, you do not—and cannot—know the whole of it.”
Emil Bourdin tapped the table. Theodora’s face twisted.
“Why are you telling me this now?”
He spoke as if it made no difference whether Theodora learned the truth or not. No, it seemed he had never cared whether she knew everything from the beginning.
“Any plan serving a greater cause always requires contingencies.” Emil Bourdin’s tone was indifferent.
Theodora could not grasp his meaning. Greater cause, contingencies—none of it was familiar to her.
“You will learn in due time. His Lordship had his reasons for not telling you.”
Theodora clenched her teeth until they creaked.
“My lady, therefore please—”
“Did you truly think I would simply nod along if you kept speaking in vague riddles, acting as though you held some great secret?”
Theodora’s momentum surged. The air in the room grew heavy.
“Speak. Now.”
The thickened atmosphere coiled like tangible mist, seizing the entire space and tightening around Emil Bourdin’s throat.
“What that curse is. Why you had to drive us apart by cursing Maxim of all things…”
A sharp crack rang out as wood splintered.
“Tell me at once.”
Theodora’s voice had dropped to a freezing whisper as she pressed him. Emil Bourdin broke into a cold sweat. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“I was… about to explain.”
His silent plea asked her to withdraw her oppressive aura. Everything in the room groaned and bent.
“His Lordship’s plan was—”
“His Lordship intended to summon you back once the situation in No Man’s Land was resolved.” Emil Bourdin spoke quickly. “It would be far better if His Lordship explained it himself rather than—”
Theodora’s attitude did not waver.
“Set that plan of yours aside.” She continued to bear down on him. “Tell me about Maxim’s curse.”
Baron Bourdin let out a long sigh.
“The curse’s progression can no longer be halted. The mage from the Raven Knight Order had been slowing its advance until now, but I hear Maxim used aura this time.”
Theodora’s body flinched. The pressure that had dominated the entire room vanished.
“The curse that was used is the Curse of Decay. It activates in reaction to mana. In the worst case, it may claim his life, but if the victim possesses a knight’s robust physique, they can endure even as the curse destroys their body.”
The real problem, he continued, “lies in what else it destroys.”
Theodora could not comprehend Emil Bourdin’s words. Or rather, her mind refused to accept them.
“His memories and his heart will collapse.”
For a moment Theodora could not speak at all. Each casual phrase from Baron Bourdin struck her mind like a hammer, leaving it numb.
“And when the curse runs its full course—whether you wish it or not—Maxim Apparte will fall into the hands of House Benning. The reason we deliberately tied him to our family was precisely for this purpose.”
If the curse killed him outright or if he fled to survive, there would be nothing to be done. But both Theodora and Emil Bourdin knew Maxim would never choose that path.
“To speak plainly, His Lordship the Count evaluated Maxim Apparte as a talent too valuable to discard. He may have gone against the plan and been unworthy of becoming your spouse, but still…”
Theodora’s eyes trembled. Baron Bourdin’s words refused to settle in her thoughts.
“…After doing something like that, Father still expects me to remain part of the family?”
Emil Bourdin nodded without hesitation, as though the answer were obvious.
“Naturally, His Lordship believes you will remain a member of the family regardless. And he is well aware of how deeply you care for that man called Maxim.”
Tap, tap. Emil Bourdin drummed his fingers on the armrest.
“As I said, Maxim Apparte’s fate is already decided, independent of your choices, my lady.”
Theodora gripped the armrest so tightly it threatened to shatter.
“Which path you choose… will be decided once the mission in No Man’s Land is completely finished.”
The banquet hall once again. The sun at its zenith had begun tilting westward. The orchestra guided the event with masterful skill. They began with light but unhurried melodies, gradually raising the atmosphere, then played lively and frivolous pieces to lift everyone’s spirits to their peak. Finally, they transitioned into a waltz suited to noble elegance. Following the strings’ graceful melody, the nobles moved across the floor.
Maxim, who had been busy exchanging greetings with the surrounding nobles, let out a small sigh of relief as the mood softened and people quietly paired off for the waltz.
“Tired?” Marion, looking just as exhausted as he felt, came and sat beside him. She endured the pitying stares and tactless questions from the nobles by gently stroking the ring Maxim had given her. He found her composure strangely admirable.
Maxim offered her a faint, warm smile. “A little.”
Seeing his expression, Marion hesitantly lifted her arm, then timidly placed her hand on his shoulder. Little by little she began to knead the muscles there. The shy, gentle gesture was so like her that Maxim could not help but laugh.
“S-should I stop?” Marion asked, flustered by his sudden laughter.
Maxim shook his head, steadying his breath. “No… thank you. Please continue.”
Marion apparently thought he was teasing her; she looked at him with eyes that held a trace of complaint. She probably believed she was glaring, but to Maxim those slightly moist blue eyes, brows faintly furrowed, simply looked endearing.
“Maxim…” Marion’s voice trailed off as she pressed harder on his shoulder. She could have simply pulled her hand away, yet she did not ignore his request. Maxim reached out and gently stroked her hair. Marion’s face flushed bright pink and she ducked her head.
“Sorry. I won’t tease you anymore.”
At his apology, Marion lifted her still-reddened face. Just then, a noble who appeared rather drunk came weaving toward them. He seemed to belong to another branch of the Benning family, though his appearance and bearing suggested no connection at all. Without ceremony he clapped a hand on Maxim’s shoulder.
“Now, now. It won’t do for the prospective bride and groom to sit out the dancing.”
The noble gave Maxim’s back a few hearty pats and hauled him to his feet. Maxim rose awkwardly, taking Marion’s hand as he was pushed forward.
“Come now, my lady must stand as well. It wouldn’t be proper to let her betrothed dance alone.”
Marion rose at his words. The noble ushered them out from beneath the white canopy. The brilliant afternoon sunlight touched their skin as Maxim and Marion came to stand at the center of the hall.
“Go on, dance! Musicians! Can’t you play something with a bit more mood?”
Maxim smiled bitterly, one corner of his mouth lifting in clear discomfort. Marion lowered her head, trying to avoid the crowd’s eyes. The orchestra conductor finished the fading piece, glanced at the couple now standing in the middle of the floor, then signaled his musicians. A new melody began.
“Move already!” The noble, caught up in his own excitement, grabbed an imaginary partner and began to dance.
Maxim let out a helpless chuckle. As a sweet yet bittersweet tune flowed out, the surrounding nobles began pairing up one by one. Maxim felt Marion’s fingers lightly rest on his own. Without a word he took her hand and began to lead.
The music flowed slowly, guiding them. Maxim summoned every ounce of courage he possessed and drew close enough to feel the faint warmth of Marion’s breath. The young noblewomen and ladies whispered among themselves as they compared Marion to him. Maxim turned naturally, guiding Marion so she would not see their faces.
She looked up at him. Their eyes met. Even with her face still flushed, Marion offered a faint smile. Within the curse that slowly tightened around both his body and heart, Maxim thought:
This moment must not be the last.
The summer sunlight stung. To keep the shadow from showing on his face, Maxim drew just a little closer to Marion.