Chapter 32
Chapter 32
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: The Acrobat's Dream
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With the circus drawing crowds, quite a few slaves had improved their living standards.
"Hiyah──!"
"Ooh!"
"Slicing an apple mid-air! What an amazing feat!"
One of them was Lemon, a combat slave.
"The Fantastical Sword Show! Allow me to dazzle you!"
Having mastered her family's secret techniques, Lemon possessed top-tier combat prowess and dexterity.
As a result, she learned a few simple acrobatic tricks using swordsmanship and joined the circus, earning a fair amount of talants.
With that money, she bought tasty food,
and the right to use exercise equipment,
and rest privileges.
She had no interest in外出 rights or religion,
so by slave standards, Lemon lived quite luxuriously.
"Good work today. Here's your share of talants."
"Thank you!"
If her ancestors knew the family legacy had become mere entertainment,
they'd probably wail and sob in hell...
But that wasn't Lemon's concern.
For a slave, bread mattered more than honor or pride.
"...Hoo."
Lemon was fairly satisfied with her life as a slave.
Except for one thing.
"Good work, Lemon."
"Eek?!"
"...Why are you so startled?"
"N-No, it's nothing..."
Her master, who periodically held slaves' hands to glimpse their pasts.
She'd finally realized everything had been seen by him.
That very private, wholesome, secretive matter.
She hadn't craved it much when begging on the streets,
but adapting to slavery and gaining some leisure in life,
such urges occasionally surfaced.
Especially after that 'misunderstanding' when he first held her hand.
Having too many strange thoughts...
Her mind went a bit odd at times, so to speak...
"You worked hard this week too."
"..."
"Yes. I'm glad to see you're growing well."
"...Y-Yes. Th-Thank you."
Lemon couldn't lift her face.
.
.
.
.
And there was someone blankly watching the slave and master exchange pleasantries.
"..."
Dana. Diana Pino Goldenwood.
The world's most capable etiquette instructor, overseeing all slave education.
Born with the Forest's Blessing,
she possessed the talent to master every etiquette in the world.
She gazed at Lemon, fresh from the circus, with an odd look in her eyes.
"Hm? Dana. Do you have something to say?"
For a moment, Diana's and the Count's eyes met.
The Count approached her with a soft smile.
A friendly, affectionate smile impossible to associate with the man nicknamed Golden Ear.
Comforting.
The instant she saw that smile,
Diana unwittingly opened her mouth to speak.
"Um..."
"Yes, Dana."
But she couldn't finish and closed her mouth again.
"...The weather's nice today."
She meant to say something,
but what slipped out was empty chatter.
She realized in that moment.
What she wanted to say violated 'etiquette'.
The Blessing sharpened,
and her words tripped over it.
"A good day for a walk."
This would do.
She nodded inwardly, deciding as much,
when the Count tilted his head and asked.
"You have something on your mind."
"Pardon?"
"You like clear, cloudless skies, Dana. Not clouds—you like the sky itself. But today has lots of clouds, making it too cool. Nice weather, but... not the kind you like."
"..."
"Forcing words from the heart... means there's something else you really want to say, right?"
...She couldn't deny it.
Instead of fabricating a lie,
she opted for a more cowardly excuse.
"My tastes might have changed?"
"Well, maybe. You could have found charm in clouds, or grown bored of clear skies."
"..."
"But then, you'd be looking at the sky, not people."
"..."
"Lately, you've only had eyes for the circus slaves."
Diana had been watching the circus slaves.
Just moments ago,
she'd watched Lemon return from her performance.
A strange embarrassment washed over her,
realizing one man had noticed her gaze entirely.
She flushed and bowed her head.
She didn't understand it herself.
Why was she so drawn to the circus slaves?
"..."
"Dana."
Perhaps sensing the feelings in her hesitation.
The Count approached and, removing his glove, offered his hand.
"Yes."
"May I hold your hand?"
"..."
"If there's something you don't want to show, you don't have to. But if not, I think I can help."
"..."
For a moment, she breathed heavily, as if unwell,
then slowly, but clearly, nodded.
The Count took her hand and closed his eyes.
And when he opened them again,
he asked a question she never expected.
"Aerial acrobatics... Do you want to try?"
"Pardon?"
Aerial acrobatics.
Hearing the words, she reflexively questioned,
then fell silent in thought.
"..."
"Speak freely."
"I... don't know how."
"Of course. You've never learned. Knowing how or not—that's not an answer to whether you want to do acrobatics."
"..."
"Let me ask again. Do you want to do aerial acrobatics?"
The Count asked.
And she recalled a memory.
.
.
.
It was when she taught a woman performing in the circus.
["Hello. Hehe. I'm thrilled—first time learning noble etiquette. Street acrobats like me rarely get invited to noble parties. A clown might tell jokes to whet appetites, but you can't do aerials at the dinner table, right?"]
The woman wasn't a slave.
A lowly wanderer, but undoubtedly free.
A hired aerial acrobat, paid for her skills.
She had a frail, emaciated body that looked ready to collapse.
["Your body's so thin..."]
["Gotta be flexible and nimble for acrobatics. But touch it—you'll be surprised how thick it feels."]
She seemed all bones at a glance,
but felt sturdy muscles firmly encasing them.
A light yet strong body.
Examining the acrobat's condition, Diana suddenly frowned.
["...This seems dangerous."]
["Pardon?"]
["Your body... It's terribly precarious."]
Diana, now healthy through balanced meals and exercise,
had naturally grown interested in health management via diet and training,
and learned how crudely bodies were built.
By her knowledge,
this acrobat was in peril.
Her muscles were firm, her form beautiful, her strength enough to support another in mid-air,
but purely, she lacked the fuel her body needed.
["This way, it'll wear out eventually. One day, your body will break down."]
Diana warned out of worry.
And the acrobat's reply
left an indelible mark deep in her heart.
["Thanks for worrying. But I know—my lifestyle's precarious. Still, for the trapeze, this is my best state."]
["The trapeze isn't everything. It won't save your life."]
["The ropes aren't there to keep me safe."]
["..."]
["The ropes exist to make me free. Without freedom, I'm nothing."]
The acrobat was free.
Living freer than anyone in the world.
["Even if my body's just bones and feathers, it's fine. I just want to know what I can and can't do on the trapeze."]
Diana mastered every etiquette in the world.
The etiquette of beasts hunting large prey in packs,
of migratory birds flying together to block winds—
she comprehended them perfectly at a glance.
But
even she didn't know the 'etiquette of humans flying through the sky'.
No etiquette for sparkling, flowing, or boiling.
That was beyond her.
["I've staked my life on the trapeze. From now on, my life will hang on it with my body."]
Yet this acrobat seemed to know it.
If no such etiquette existed,
an acrobat had the freedom to create aerial etiquette herself.
["That's all. My life can only sparkle on this trapeze."]
The acrobat could soar.
.
.
.
"...I want to fly."
She envied birds.
Birds freely soaring the skies.
If learning etiquette,
she wanted to learn the etiquette of migratory birds crossing the heavens, shielding each other's winds.
"Even if I melt in the sun. Even if soaked in moisture and crash into the sea. Even if wax wings of greed anger the sun and doom me to fall."
Not to shine.
Not for cheers.
Not to amuse.
Not to be a circus clown.
Just—to fly.
To swing freely on trapeze mid-air, grasp another's hand to support each other, feel freedom amid heart-stopping peril.
Even if fake flight, tethered by strings to gravity's pull.
The view cutting through winds
could never be fake.
"I... want to fly."
That was her true heart.
And
the Count's response was simple.
"Then, let's fly."
"..."
"Do whatever you want. I hired a teacher to teach etiquette, not bought a slave. Whatever you desire, do it."
"..."
"A free person should have the freedom to soar the skies, after all."