Capybara in the Water - 2
Lady Luise carefully—almost theatrically—opened her mouth. How strange it was that a single word could draw five gazes upon her all at once.
Of course none of us would ever ignore Lady Luise, but the words I know, yet I pretended not to were an ominous way to begin.
Still, no one was so graceless as to interrupt the courage she had finally mustered. Whatever small questions we might have had, hearing what she wanted to say came first.
"I had an older sister."
Fortunately our silence seemed to give her more courage, and she continued. The moment she said she had once had a sister, the ending was already easy to guess.
And sadly that guess was not wrong. Negative predictions have a way of never missing their mark. Even Enen can be rather harsh on mortals.
Frail Lady Luise. The attention that poured onto her. The sister who was relatively neglected. And the tragic death that followed.
Losing a blood relative at such a young age had been shock enough to leave a deep scar. Enough that she now recoiled from anyone monopolizing affection. Enough that she believed everyone must be treated equally.
So that was it.
I had already noticed the faint line Lady Luise drew between us. How could I not? For an entire semester we had shown her our fondness, and for an entire semester we had been stopped at that line.
Myself, of course, but also Young Master Erich, Prince Ryutis, Prince Later, and even Tanian. Had it only been me, I might have lacked objectivity. Watching the others hit the same invisible wall made it impossible not to realize: Lady Luise had drawn a boundary against us all.
So we refrained from approaching her too aggressively. Forcing oneself past a clear line drawn by a lady would have been the height of rudeness. That faint line would only have grown darker, and any wound she carried would have deepened.
We simply stayed near her as fellow club members, as close friends, waiting for the day she might open her heart. The trouble was that four other people shared exactly the same idea.
And so it came to this.
With five rivals thinking the same thoughts, we spent more energy quietly checking one another than actually drawing closer to Lady Luise. None of us managed to become truly intimate with her.
We built friendship, yes. I can say with confidence that we became good friends. Yet none of us grew close or comfortable enough for her to confide whatever she kept locked inside.
And if, in that state, Lady Luise chose to speak first—
"I'm sorry. It's late, but I wanted to tell you now."
—it was less an opening of her heart to one person than a firm declaration that she was pushing every one of us away.
What she offered just now was an apology for having stayed silent until today, not a promise that things would change. The line she had drawn would remain. From this moment on, now that she had made it official, it would only grow thicker.
Everyone present understood that much. That was why silence alone hung in the air. We who had been rejected before we could even confess, and Lady Luise who had rejected us before receiving a single confession.
Before I knew it she had lowered her head and begun to tremble. Did she think we would grow angry? Did she imagine us shouting that she had toyed with us, that she had pretended not to know all this time, that she dared treat us this way and expect to walk away unscathed?
It would be a lie to say my heart did not ache. Still—resentment felt unfair when none of us had done particularly well either.
"Thank you, Lady Luise."
If anything, our greater sin was failing to become the reliable men the girl we liked needed.
"It must have been hard to speak. Thank you for telling us everything."
So the face we ought to show was not that of rejected suitors burning with anger, but of friends gently comforting someone who had found the courage to apologize.
...Was that really us?
I glanced back. The other four wore equally calm expressions. Or rather, expressions carefully composed to look calm.
Even this is the same.
I almost laughed. We all held the same person in our hearts and had tried to hover around her in the same careful way. Our quiet rivalry had been identical, and now even our thoughts after rejection lined up perfectly.
We had only met this year—how could our hearts be so in tune? It was almost uncanny. Were they somehow my long-lost brothers?
"Since Lady Luise was honest with us, shall I share a secret of my own?"
I spoke softly, wearing a gentle smile. What mattered now was comforting the girl who still refused to lift her head.
We needed to show that being rejected did not bother us. That we were simply grateful she had confided something so painful.
"Truthfully, things are a little awkward between me and my older brother."
A startled face snapped up to meet mine. Mentioning imperial affairs so casually must have shocked her. Still, it had succeeded in driving away her guilt, so I considered it a win.
Bringing up His Highness the Crown Prince left me a little uneasy, but I had only said things were awkward—not that my life had been threatened. That much stayed safely within bounds.
"I've shared mine, so now it's everyone else's turn."
"I don't have any secrets."
"Neither do I."
"I spoke up for nothing, then."
Their rapid retreat finally made me burst out laughing. Yes—our hearts truly were in sync. This was how you lightened the mood.
Once I started laughing, Prince Ryutis joined in right away. Of course. In moments like this, Prince Ryutis was always the first to dive in.
"Ever since I first picked up a sword I've never lost—until Luise beat me for the first time."
"I-I'm sorry..."
"Nothing to be sorry for. Dumping a subpar suitor is a lady's natural right."
That, I supposed, was Prince Ryutis's own brand of comfort. A rather peculiar brand, but still.
"I'm grateful you were honest. If someone doesn't care for you yet can't refuse, both sides only end up sad."
His naturally bright expression looked even brighter, as though the words were not mere consolation but genuine conviction.
"Love that isn't mutual is always empty."
"Rare to find myself agreeing with you."
Prince Later, who had kept silent until now, took up the thread.
"If you had pushed us away out of consideration, that would have been worse. Staying close without knowing each other's hearts—how long could that have lasted?"
He was right. Better to clear the air like this and remain friends than to drift in some neither-here-nor-there relationship until graduation left us with nothing but emptiness.
My gaze drifted toward Young Master Erich and Tanian. The two princes had spoken well; now it was their turn.
"I feel the same."
"Everyone already said it. Nothing left for me."
A pity.
After that we had our hands full soothing a sobbing Lady Luise.
She hiccupped out apologies and thank-yous, looking so pitiful that if we did not calm her quickly she might actually faint. I was the one who wanted to cry, yet princely dignity forbade it—so I decided Lady Luise was simply crying on my behalf.
"Somehow the second semester is already starting off spectacularly."
At Young Master Erich's words, Luise's tear-streaked face flushed scarlet. Spectacular was certainly one way to put it.
"A day worth commemorating. The day all five of us got rejected at once."
"I take it Armein has a custom like that."
Commemorating rejection—not a culture I found particularly cheerful.
Prince Ryutis paid the reaction no mind and began rummaging through the clubroom.
"Today isn't only about getting dumped. It's also the day Luise showed us her true feelings and we grew even closer."
I could only marvel at that relentlessly positive interpretation.
Yes, Prince Ryutis was not normal. But that was exactly why I liked him.
"Shame the advisor isn't here, but let's start among ourselves first."
We decided to proceed with a "rejection commemorative tea party"—an event I had never heard of in my life, and one that would leave me utterly speechless if the Audit Department Chief walked in midway. Everyone seemed slightly unhinged by the shock of heartbreak.
"It's been a while since we ate in the clubroom."
I was no exception.
While Ryutis went to refill the tea, Ainter filled me in on the situation.
"...Is that so."
Moments like this leave the mind blank.
When they said "rejection commemorative," I assumed it was a joke. I thought they were just exaggerating some casual invitation to hang out that had been turned down.
No, fuck—this was real.
What the hell.
I never saw this coming. I knew these idiots had been making zero romantic progress with Luise. I had been terrified they might graduate without a single piece of good news.
But an early ending where Luise dumps every last one of them before anyone even confesses? That never entered my imagination. How was anyone supposed to predict something that insane?
Was this part of the original story too? Was this how it was supposed to go? Would these unyielding idiots move Luise's heart by refusing to give up even after rejection?
No way.
If she could be moved by sheer stubbornness, Luise would already have been moved dozens of times. These bastards checked each other constantly, sure, but they had never once backed down.
I glanced sideways at Luise; she hurriedly ducked her head.
"You did well."
I patted her shoulder while trying to organize the chaos in my skull. The unexpected early ending was driving me crazy, yet the fact that Luise had finally been honest was something to celebrate.
The trauma that had swallowed half her life—she had finally spoken of it to others. From here, all that remained was moving forward.
I never expected it to go like this, though.
I had assumed that when Luise finally shared her trauma, it would be with one of the five—the person she loved, a selection event of sorts.
Instead of choosing anyone, she told all of them and eliminated the entire field.
"Thank you, older brother."
Luise carefully lifted her head and answered with a soft little laugh. Seeing that, all my fretting suddenly felt pointless.
As long as she's happy.
For now I would simply rejoice that she had escaped her trauma.
"I see."
While I absently patted Luise's shoulder, Ainter's murmur of admiration came from beside me.
I turned. He was stroking his chin, smiling.
"So that was why."
Why what.
I am currently losing my mind, so stop laying weird foreshadowing and just spit it out.
But Ainter, oblivious to the smoke rising from my soul, shifted his gaze to Erich.
His eyes held an expression of deep, almost painful regret.