The Failed Alchemy of the Heart
“Uh, what?”
“That’s a bit much.”
Winnie stared blankly at her friend’s profile. Monica was glaring at the documents in front of her with an expression of utter distaste.
“I-is that so? I thought you didn’t like men much.”
“I don’t like the way men behave, but that doesn’t mean I find women attractive in that way. For example, like right now…” Monica tapped the arm Winnie had wrapped around her neck. “Doing things like this is fine because we’re friends, but if you were looking at me with that kind of gaze, I’d be repulsed. It’s no different from a man. At least with men, I can understand it because it’s for the sake of bearing children.”
“…Right! Exactly. The idea of women looking at each other sexually… it’s truly chilling.”
Squeeze—
Winnie didn’t let go of Monica’s neck. If anything, she hugged her tighter, as if she couldn’t bear to release her.
“Ack, what’s gotten into you today! Did I do something wrong?”
“Hmph, obviously.”
“What?”
“The fact that you’re getting married before me! How cheeky! I should strangle you!”
“Ah, stop it!”
Monica felt a pang of worry for Winnie, whose playful behavior was more intense than usual. Winnie is at the age to be married, too… Even though she seemed less interested in men than Monica herself, it seemed she had been feeling lonely lately. Perhaps she should introduce her to a decent knight…
Thud—
“W-what was that!”
“Ah, I bumped my head on the chair…”
The sudden sound of impact cut off Monica’s train of thought. Her clumsy friend had just slammed her head into a chair. Flustered, she set down her documents and turned to look at her. Had she hit her forehead? Her eye? Both her forehead and the area around her eyes were so red and swollen that it was hard to tell where she’d made contact.
“It hurts sooooo much…”
“Does it really hurt enough to make you tear up like that?”
She wasn’t a child; why cry over a simple bump? Perhaps it was that time of the month, or maybe her emotions were just running high. If she’d actually hit it hard enough to cry, she wouldn’t be sitting there so calmly.
“Yeah, it hurts… my forehead…”
“Put something on it before a bump forms.”
When Monica placed her cool hand on what she assumed was the affected area, she felt a heat radiating from Winnie’s forehead, as if it were about to swell up.
“Yeah, I should… I’ll put something on it when I get home.”
“What about lunch?”
“I have a headache, I can’t eat. Just eat on your own. Or, I don’t know, call that man of yours and eat with him.”
With that, Winnie hurried out of the office, her speed belying her claim of a headache.
“…Is something going on?”
There had been a sense of sorrow in her whimpering, something different from physical pain. She didn’t seem to want to talk about it, so Monica left her be, deciding to ask after the wedding when she would have had time to sort out her feelings.
“I’ll just have to grab a quick lunch.”
Monica still had so much work to do.
“Why is it raining like this…”
The rain that had started at lunchtime showed no signs of stopping. I opened my umbrella and stepped outside. The serfs might have liked the rain, but for a knight like me, it was a miserable day. Not only did my boots get caked in mud, but both my feet and the horses’ hooves would sink into the mire, and training was impossible. I also hated how the leather-reinforced parts of my armor would get wet; if they didn’t dry properly, they’d start to smell like rot. Of course, I wasn’t wearing armor today, so that wasn’t an issue.
I cut through the rain, heading toward the Melbourne estate. Winnie Melbourne, the Viscountess who had boasted that she would triumphantly report her results to me, hadn’t shown up even though the day was nearly over.
The sun had long been hidden by rain clouds, but thanks to the massive clock at the highest point of the lord’s castle, I knew exactly what time it was.
Knock, knock—
Creak—
“Is anyone here… huh?”
Even though it was a small mansion where Winnie lived alone without servants, this was the first time the door hadn’t been locked. I opened the door and shook off my shoes. I hated this part of rainy days, too. It was a hassle to shake off the shoes, and even then, they never really got clean…
“Hm?”
The hallway, which had been spotless just yesterday, was covered in muddy footprints. They were still damp, so they had clearly been made recently. Had someone dared to break in?
I gripped my sharp, folded umbrella like a sword and walked with silent steps. The footprints led all the way to the parlor. In the already dark, rain-drenched weather, not a single light was on, making it hard to see anything.
Hic— hic—
A small sound echoed. It sounded like someone gasping for air, or perhaps sobbing. Whatever it was, it was clearly a human sound, so I approached with even greater tension. The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t be too careful.
Whoosh—
I rounded the corner and aimed my umbrella toward the inside of the parlor. There, sitting in front of the table without any reaction, was a dark silhouette.
“…Wh-who, *sob*, who is it?”
“What are you doing?”
Winnie Melbourne was crying.
“Sniff… *sniffle*.”
“Where’s the flint here?”
Winnie was soaked to the bone, as if she had just walked through the rain. I pulled out a soft blanket, wrapped it around her, and looked for the flint.
“…Take this.”
Whoosh—
I nimbly caught something Winnie tossed at me. It looked strange for a piece of flint. Perhaps sensing my questioning expression through the darkness, Winnie added an explanation.
“…It’s better than flint. You just have to scrape it, *sniffle*, and it works.”
I rubbed the two metal rods together toward the pile of firewood in the fireplace. With a pop, sparks showered out. Oh, this was good. The firewood caught fire instantly, and warm light began to fill the room. Now, I could see Winnie’s face more clearly.
“Why, what. I’m not giving it to you. Do you think it’s easy to make something like that?”
Her face was strangely flushed. Her forehead was covered with a patch as if she’d been struck, her eyes were swollen from crying for so long, and her cheeks and nose were bright red. Her face, full of dissatisfaction, looked truly multicolored.
“I never asked for it. And I don’t recall you being so short-spoken before.”
“…What do I have to be careful about now? I never really liked using formal language anyway.”
Clink—
The sound of a glass tilting and ice clinking echoed. A potent-looking liquor disappeared down Winnie’s throat in large gulps. No wonder her face was as red as a drunkard’s. More importantly, how did she get ice in the middle of summer?
“…Is this your first time seeing ice?”
“At the very least, it’s my first time seeing it in summer.”
“Making things like this is my job. But what’s the point? It’s all useless.”
Gulp, gulp—
More liquor went down. She must have been drinking quite a bit before I arrived, as her expression hadn’t changed much. My eyes landed on a wine bottle on the table that was more than half empty.
“Did you fail?”
“You tricked me!”
Winnie slammed the table and trembled. I hadn’t specifically tricked her, but I remained silent, overwhelmed by her intensity.
“You should have told me that if I wasn’t even given the chance to touch her, it would be useless…”
“Isn’t that something you should have figured out on your own?”
“She said it was chilling. The very act of trying to touch her for that purpose. When she says things like that, what am I supposed to do…”
“Sometimes, it’s better to act first and ask for forgiveness later than to ask for permission.”
“Don’t talk like you know everything when you’ve never even tried it!”
Actually, I’ve tried it quite a lot. I had gone out of my way to teach her the specific weaknesses Monica had, and she was getting angry at me instead. Since I had no way to prove it, I just watched her quietly, neither confirming nor denying.
Winnie stood up abruptly and stumbled toward the cupboard. She grabbed a glass, filled it with ice, and returned. She poured the glass full of wine and held it out to me.
“…Drink.”
I took the glass without a word and downed it. The aroma of high-quality wine, which I hadn’t tasted often, spread through my mouth. I wasn’t one to enjoy drinking, but it was a decent wine.
“Nothing is going right, and if you hadn’t listened to me, I really would have been furious.” Winnie sipped her wine and continued. “Nothing went according to plan, nothing at all… None of the words I prepared came out, and none of the answers I expected happened.”
“I ruined everything, and when I got home, the doll ritual I’d prepared was all messed up too! Damn it! Nothing works!”
Unlike her usual calm self, she was speaking in a highly agitated state. Was that doll ritual the one I had seen? Judging by the atmosphere, it was probably better not to mention it.
“I tried to forget everything and go to sleep, but I couldn’t. I thought maybe if I drank, I’d forget, but I just stayed wide awake. I was just about to fall asleep when you came and woke me up!”
I listened to her lamentations, which continued for a while. As calm as she usually was, it felt like she was venting everything she had suppressed now that the alcohol had kicked in.
“…Even when I drink, it keeps coming back to me, so I can’t sleep.”
“Sleep comes if you just lie there with your eyes closed.”
“I’m telling you, it doesn’t.”
I lifted Winnie up and carried her to the bed. What kind of excuse was that when she wasn’t even lying down to begin with? She flailed her limbs, which were limp from the alcohol, but she was light enough that carrying her wasn’t difficult at all. Surprisingly, once I laid her on the bed, Winnie obediently lay straight and closed her eyes.
“I can’t sleep.”
“It hasn’t even been a minute.”
“You, do that thing for me from last time.”