The Hawthorn Does Not Break - 2
I stared blankly at the hawthorn pot. Ordinarily I paid it little attention, treating it as little more than background scenery, yet today my eyes kept being drawn to it no matter what.
No—I already knew perfectly well why I was doing this.
"It felt empty without the one that used to sit beside it. It's something I always saw whenever I went to the clubroom."
The words still swirling through my head made me bite my lip. Perhaps because I visited so often, Oppa had missed the pot more than he missed me.
Should I cut back on how often I go? Yet as the princess said, chances to be alone with Oppa would not come easily again. Which choice was right?
"Young Lady Luise. What's the matter?"
Ainter's voice shattered the endless spiral of my worries.
"I was just looking at the pot for a moment."
I flinched for an instant but answered casually. It was true I had been looking at the pot. Explaining the reason was simply too embarrassing.
At my reply, Ainter's gaze also turned toward the pot.
"It seems lifeless without its owner."
He murmured as though pitying it, and I nodded without thinking. Whether it truly lacked its owner or was merely my imagination, the hawthorn looked less lively than usual.
Of course we had not neglected it simply because Oppa was gone. We had continued tending it steadily. And since it was a gift from Irina—
Irina.
I nearly bit my lip again. If only it had been a gift I myself had given Oppa, I would never feel this way. The thought that he was cherishing a present from someone else stirred a complicated tangle of emotion.
I knew the feeling was strange. Oppa was free to receive gifts from others, and it was only natural that he would treasure what he had been given.
So why did this keep happening? It continued to grate on me for no good reason. My mind insisted there was no problem, yet instinct kept sounding a warning.
Gifts…
I had given Oppa plenty of things myself. The problem was that every last one of them was a consumable that vanished the moment it was eaten. A gift that remained visible right in front of you left a far deeper impression than something that disappeared after being eaten. Like that pot.
Right. I would give him something that would not vanish. Something that would make him think of me every time he saw it.
"Oppa, do you think he would like flowers?"
I asked Erich first. I wanted to give them right away, yet I hesitated a little.
Irina was in the Gardening Club, so presenting a plant was only natural for her. For me to give flowers felt somehow ambiguous.
And when he was already raising one pot, adding another? If Oppa enjoyed raising living things, it would be fine. But if he was only tending the gift out of obligation, it might become a burden instead.
"To hyung?"
At my question Erich stroked his chin, wearing the face of someone who had never once considered the matter.
"Hmm. I'm not sure."
The answer was disappointing. Come to think of it, Erich had once been rather awkward around Oppa.
"Hyung doesn't really have preferences."
"Isn't it just that you don't know?"
Later said exactly what I had wanted to say.
Who in the world has no preferences? If there were things one liked, there ought to be things one disliked as well.
"It's true. Whatever you give him, he accepts without picking and choosing. He's been like that since we were kids."
He spoke as though wronged, yet I could not quite bring myself to believe him.
Right—Oppa was never someone who expressed emotion openly. Even close friends would find him hard to read; since Erich had been awkward with him, it was only natural he would not know.
As if reading my distrust, Erich's explanation grew longer still: how any gift he received was kept in his own room, how he had never thrown anything away until it broke, how he had never refused a single present, and on and on.
"Hyung only ever trained, so he had no interest in anything else."
"Well. To reach that level of skill, he would have had to do at least that much."
At Erich's words, Ryutis nodded as though the explanation made perfect sense. Was it true? Had he truly thrown himself into training so completely that he never even had the leisure to form preferences?
Even if they had been awkward, the fact that family—Erich—and a fellow martial artist like Ryutis were saying it lent the claim real weight.
That's too much.
My heart ached in a completely different way from before. How could that be? It meant he had only ever suffered since childhood.
"But since he doesn't pick and choose, anything should be fine. He always seemed satisfied just by the act of receiving a gift itself."
"…That's a relief."
Those somewhat positive words finally allowed me to open my mouth again.
Perhaps worried I might grow bored, people outside the Academy kindly contacted me to ask after my well-being.
Even so, I was beginning to think we needed a law that confiscated communication orbs from anyone under confinement. How dare a criminal excluded from duty try so brazenly to stay in touch with society.
"Is confinement manageable?"
Thinking about it again, such a law was definitely necessary—if only to protect my precious mental health.
"Why is someone who's done far more of it than me asking?"
"It's your first time being confined at the Academy, isn't it."
"Fuck."
Even at my desperate curse the Minister laughed so heartily that anyone listening would have felt refreshed.
This was the state of the world. My direct superior, the bastard, instead of pitying a subordinate with whom he had spent four years, was busy laughing at his suffering.
So I did the same. If you received something, you had to return it properly. The more that went back and forth, the more affection was supposed to grow.
"Even if history forgets my name, yours will remain."
Still, at the Minister's snickering words I could not think of a single retort. He would be remembered merely as one of the past Ministers of Finance; I, for better or worse, had no shortage of reasons to be recorded.
They said a person died when forgotten. At this rate I might become immortal. Just thinking about it was horrifying.
What good is living long?
If I lived a long life, only the imperial family would benefit. Ah—if early retirement were possible, living long would be fine. If it were possible, that is.
"I hope Your Excellency remains alongside me. When the time comes for you to receive confinement, I'll recommend it to His Highness."
"Don't pull that crap."
I had spoken with complete sincerity, yet the Minister cut me off firmly. Truly too much.
After that the conversation drifted through what detention felt like and how I would soon find out for myself, until the Minister finally spoke in a low voice.
"The Second Section Chief returned today."
This, it seemed, was the real business.
"Did he receive treatment?"
"An eye is easy enough to treat quickly. And since he was injured while on dispatch, they fixed it with priority."
I felt relieved at the confirmation that the injury had been properly resolved. There were times when casualties piled up and people had to live with wounds for weeks.
"A section chief going around getting beaten up somewhere."
"You also went around getting beaten just as much. Subordinates take after their superiors."
Then that meant I would end up resembling him. Saying such creepy things so casually.
"And it was a situation where he had no choice but to take the hits, so nothing could be done."
"Did he wander into a dungeon or something?"
"If only it were something like that, it would at least be funny."
The Minister let out a small sigh and irritably swept back his hair.
Why was he so on edge? It had been a long time since I had seen him this irritated.
"He encountered the Chawujid tribe."
"What?"
No—fuck—why were those bastards suddenly appearing?
A name I had not heard in a long time, and not a welcome one. During the Great Subjugation War they had moved as one of Kagan's limbs.
Moreover the entire tribe was damnably good with the bow. Their chieftain had been one of the Manhojang—a combat-specialized tribe. I could understand why the Second Section Chief had been beaten senseless.
They're still around?
Yet given their level of danger, they had been one of the tribes the Empire had thoroughly smashed. Loyalty to Kagan had been so high that most of their adult males had joined the war. Thanks to that, we had wiped them out completely in the final battle.
"They were still alive?"
"Not certain. It's only a guess based on the Second Section Chief's testimony. It could simply be a similar tribe, but…"
The Minister trailed off as if the whole matter displeased him. Northern nomads had distinct characters from tribe to tribe. If the guess was based on testimony, the probability that it truly was the Chawujid tribe was high.
I was going to lose my mind. Having Kagan's bloodline still alive was headache enough—now the Chawujid tribe as well?
There might be more.
There was a saying that fretting over things that had not yet happened was foolish. Yet the survival of Kagan's bloodline had already occurred.
There was no law that something which happened once must happen twice. But following the bloodline of Kagan, the continued existence of the Chawujid tribe had now been confirmed. Once events began to flow this way, there was no law preventing a third or a fourth time.
For a moment the memory of Kagan's forces made my head spin. It had been almost on the level of Genghis Khan leading the Four Steeds and Four Hounds. Even if only half of that composition still survived, it would be no different from a disaster.
"I just told you so you'd know. Don't go hearing it from somewhere else and then complain that I never said anything."
"Understood."
Certainly, if I had learned of it through anyone other than the Minister, I would have felt slighted.
My head was a mess, yet I forced myself to calm down. There was nothing a man under confinement could accomplish by fretting. Concern and hatred for the North were passive skills of every imperial civil servant; the others would handle it well enough.
"I brought what you asked for."
And I could hardly show an anxious face in front of Luise either, could I?
Moreover she had brought it without a single complaint even for this sudden pot-shuttle errand. I was simply grateful. Yes, truly grateful—yet…
"What's this?"
I looked from the hawthorn in Luise's left hand to the second pot she held in her right. Why had it arrived as a one-plus-one? I had definitely ordered only one.
"It's my gift!"
At my question Luise answered with a brilliant smile.
If it's a gift, nothing can be done about it.
Receiving gratefully what is given is only proper, is it not?
"Thanks. I'll raise it well."
Since I was already raising the hawthorn, adding one more flower would not matter. It would only make things brighter and nicer.
"You said you felt empty, Oppa, so I carefully chose it."
"As expected, our section chief is the best."
If people in the world had the character of Margeta and Luise, laws would not even be necessary.
Seeing Oppa so pleased made me proud. Choosing the lily seemed, even to me, like a truly excellent decision.
Just as I had told Oppa, I had chosen it with real care. Yes—real care.
I even looked up the flower language.
I had thought the meaning inside mattered just as much as outward beauty, so I researched them one by one. Luckily the lily's flower language was lovely, so I settled on it at once.
And in the process I had also learned the flower language of the hawthorn.
Irina…
The moment I recalled Irina, my head cooled as if plunged into ice water.
The unexpected ambush had been waiting in the closest place of all.