An Adult's Role Is to Trust the Child
Dantalion stared at the mirror steeped in darkness.
He tilted his head, rapped the glass with his knuckles, and even glanced at Sitri.
Still the image within the mirror did not return. The spirit beast had fainted under the sheer weight of Dantalion’s presence; there was no chance of the screen coming back.
“Troublesome. I still had words left to convey.”
In the end Dantalion accepted the outcome and sank deeper into the sofa, pressing his back against the cushions.
Sitri carried the mirror off into a corner as she spoke.
“You still managed to tell her not to go on a rampage alone, didn’t you?”
“Did you really have to interpret it that way?”
“Younger demons these days tend to be blunt, you know.”
You’re hardly a young demon yourself, are you?
Dantalion considered it for a moment, then swallowed the remark. Sitri’s manner of speaking might be a little off, but she was a diligent and capable subordinate. He was not so blunt as to say something he knew would make her sulk.
Gazing up at the ceiling, Dantalion flicked a finger.
“Sitri, one coffee, if you would.”
“What kind?”
“Why ask? Bring the usual.”
“Honestly…”
Snap!
Sitri flicked her fingers and a shadow stretched wide. From within it she pulled out a canned coffee and a cigarette, then tossed them to Dantalion.
The practiced ease of knowing her superior’s tastes and keeping his favorites ready. A model of the perfect secretary.
“You were thinking something weird just now, weren’t you?”
“Only that my secretary is truly excellent.”
“Something feels off about that…”
Sitri eyed him for a moment, then left the office.
Dantalion rose from the sofa and walked toward the window.
Today, instead of the black sun, a rain red as blood was falling.
Listening to the rain drum against the glass, he poured the coffee over his skin. The sweet liquid soaked in, easing the tension and quieting his mind.
My worries seem to have been excessive. Yoanna was a far more upright child than I expected.
Sitri’s suggestion that they make her a judge came back to him.
A judge must never allow personal feelings to enter the judgment of a sinner. Weighing guilt on a tilted scale was itself a violation of Hell’s law.
In that sense, Sitri’s eyes had pierced straight through to Yoanna’s true nature.
An unshakable conviction is like a compass for life.
While judging sinners, Dantalion had often seen such people—humans who fell to Hell because of that very conviction, yet never regretted it. Some of them were hopeless trash, but more often than not they stacked good deeds and evil deeds upon the scales and came away acquitted.
I can’t yet know whether Yoanna is that stubborn a breed.
Still, he could not deny she was a promising seedling worth looking forward to.
And yet something nags at me.
A sense of déjà vu struck him then. Dantalion drew out a cigarette. He felt as though he had finished his work, yet a single flaw remained, like a blemish in jade—leaving him with an uneasy feeling. Just as he drew nearer to the reason for that unease—
Bang!
“That’s right! There are still 51,231 trials scheduled for today!”
“……”
Instead of answering, Dantalion shoved the cigarette into his face.
His intention of restraining Yoanna from killing went up in smoke and vanished beyond memory.
Well, it was already too late anyway.
A new member had joined Yoanna’s household.
Being a newlywed home, it should naturally have been the fruit of Messela and Clove’s love—
“Caw.”
“Oh my, is your walk already over? Mommy prepared soft chicken just for you!”
…but no, it was a crow.
Having a child less than two years into marriage would have been remarkable in its own right, would it not?
The crow that flew low through the window strutted in with perfect confidence and demanded food. With bouncy steps it made its way inside and headed for the dish. This morning’s offering was chicken torn into easy bite-sized pieces.
Human! Today’s tribute is excellent as well!!
The crow cried with that meaning. It did not yet possess great power, but a spirit beast was a spirit beast; its intellect was no different from a human’s. Calling the human who fed it a tribute-bringer was rather arrogant, but…
“Noir, eat well.”
“Caw!”
Messela could not understand the words of the crow named Noir, so it hardly mattered. For reference, Noir was ancient Imperial for “black,” which roughly made him something like “Blackie.”
After watching Noir eat for a moment, Messela prepared breakfast on the table. Today’s meal was sandwiches stuffed with mashed potatoes and egg, along with sausages mixed with herbs.
“Mmm~ the food smells wonderful again today.”
Clove and Yoanna, finished with their morning wash, came downstairs. The family of three—now four—gathered in one place and began to eat. As usual Yoanna and Clove inhaled their food, until…
“Father.”
“Hm? What is it, Yoanna?”
Unlike usual, Yoanna left a single piece of sandwich and opened her mouth. Clove swallowed the bite he had just taken and looked at her. What business could make a child who focused wholly on eating during meals call for him?
“I… would like to enroll in the academy.”
“The academy, you say?”
The Academy. An educational institution supported by the empire, a cradle of learning that made no distinction of high or low birth. Naturally, with the nation’s backing, a graduate’s path ahead was as good as paved with gold.
Yet Clove could not nod at once.
Most yearnings for the academy are nothing but illusions.
Clove himself was an elite who had graduated from the academy. But if asked whether those days had been enjoyable, the answer was a firm no.
Being crushed under status? He could endure it. Born a commoner, the flexibility of his waist was excellent. Bowing and scraping was nothing to be ashamed of. And Yoanna, as a knight’s daughter, would surely have it easier.
What truly worried Clove was something else.
The brats who grew up eating well and learning well in noble houses start from a completely different place.
The indescribable sense of powerlessness that came from knowing the starting line was different from birth. He knew this child’s talent was remarkable, but might that very talent make her despair all the more fiercely?
That worry settled over Clove’s heart.
“Can you tell me why you want to enter the academy?”
Clove set down his fork and knife and asked in a decidedly serious tone. The atmosphere grew heavier than expected, and Yoanna carefully asked back.
“Must I say it?”
“Yes. I don’t know how you see me, but I am the head of this household. A head has the duty to take responsibility for his family.”
Young as he still was, he was the one who bore responsibility for a home. He had no intention of blocking the child’s education, yet the academy was by no means a place of pure light and hope. If young Yoanna had decided to go based only on pleasant words, Clove, as head of the family, meant to stop her.
Sensing his sincerity, Yoanna carefully opened her mouth.
“I know what you are worried about, Father. I know the academy is not a place overflowing with dreams and hope either.”
“And still you insist on going? It feels strange to say this as your father, but… it will be very hard.”
“Yes. Because it is the fastest path to helping many people.”
Clove flinched and silently met Yoanna’s eyes.
He had always thought it, but Yoanna was remarkably unlike a child. There had been times he attributed her maturity to losing her birth father early. Yet sometimes Clove thought this:
Is this child not someone special?
They said the old heroes had been different from the seedling stage. Might he, under the name of head of household, be standing in the way of the child’s growth?
After a brief moment of thought, Clove asked one last time.
“Many people may come to hate you for no reason.”
“That’s fine.”
“There may be times when the world feels unjust.”
“I have felt that to the bone.”
“The world may stand before you like an insurmountable wall.”
“I do not want to give up without even trying to climb it.”
Yoanna and Clove locked eyes. A taut tension hung between them, neither willing to yield, until—
“Huu… like father, like daughter. Exactly the same as me when I was young.”
“What do you mean?”
“All right.”
Clove gave a short, wry smile and stuffed the last remaining sandwich into his mouth. After a few chews he swallowed, rose from his seat, and said,
“I’ll try to get a recommendation letter for the academy.”
“Would the Imperial Academy be possible?”
“…Aren’t you being a little too greedy?”
Clove looked at Yoanna with a dubious expression. Among the many academies, few were as difficult to enter as the Imperial Academy. His father had already given one step; was this demand not a bit harsh?
“Hmm… if I speak to my old master, I might be able to obtain a recommendation. Don’t get your hopes up too high, though.”
Even so, Clove accepted readily. It was not something he could not do, and he did not want to refuse his daughter’s request. In the end, Clove was a soft-hearted man after all.
Messela, who had been on edge all morning, went about the housework with a beaming face. The atmosphere had been a little heavy, but in the end she could feel that the relationship between the two of them had advanced a step. Her heart lighter, she finished the chores unusually quickly today.
“Hmm-hmm~ Which church shall I visit today?”
Messela filled a prepared basket with bread, fruit, and sweets—all snacks to distribute to the children at the orphanage. After dressing herself just enough not to shame her husband’s standing, she took the basket and opened the kitchen door.
At that moment Yoanna, who had been waiting right outside, thrust her face forward.
“I want to go too.”
“Hkyyaaaah!?”
Startled, Messela dropped the basket. Yoanna neatly snatched it out of the air and tilted her head. She had expected a little surprise, but was this not a bit much?
Her legs gone weak, Messela panted and thought,
Oh no, I thought the nightmare had become real.
Yoanna would not know, but there were nights when Messela dreamed of her. Usually the dream ended with Yoanna cutting down a Messela who had outlived her usefulness.
With a few deep breaths she calmed her racing heart, then slowly pushed herself up on trembling arms.
“Y-Yoanna, dear? Why do you suddenly want to come to the church with me?”
“Father yielded one step, didn’t he? I should do at least one thing that will make him happy.”
The answer was more normal than expected, and Messela let out a sigh of relief. It seemed Yoanna had remembered her husband’s suggestion a while ago that she visit the church to make friends.
Reassured, Messela took the basket back and asked,
“So you plan to make friends at the church?”
“Something like that. I want to look for people who share the same purpose.”
“Ah, you mean what you said at breakfast.”
Messela recalled Yoanna’s words about helping many people. Surely that was what she meant by it, and yet…
“Something like that.”
“……”
Somehow it felt a little frightening.