Even the Great White Has a Daily Life - 4
Shouldering the heavy karma of it all, I finally managed to open my mouth.
"...I'll do my best."
It was unfortunate for Erzebet, but I couldn't give her a firm promise that her turn would come today. No matter how important the order was, forced affection felt somehow wrong. Something like "The fifth one's waiting, so hurry up and finish with the second, third, and fourth!" was a deranged idea even to me. Even a supermarket about to close for the night wouldn't run a clearance sale that aggressive.
Besides, forcing a high-intensity show of affection like a kiss without setting the mood first would be rude to the other person. Even someone whose entire romantic experience—before possession and after—boiled down to Hecate alone still understood how important atmosphere was.
"The Director's here, so I have to head back now! That means I won't get to see you until the break!"
But when I dodged a solid answer, Erzebet stuck out her lower lip and protested as if she'd been deeply wronged. It was such a desperate, persuasive protest that I couldn't find a single word to argue back.
"If that's how it's going to be, just drop the age thing! I'll re-register my birth so I'm eighteen too! Then I can stay at the Academy!"
"Hey, it's not like I became a bureaucrat just because I was old..."
Before long Erzebet was thrashing around on the floor, throwing a tantrum so mortifying that anyone listening would have wanted to crawl into a hole. Mar, who had been in my arms, quietly got up and put some distance between herself and Erzebet—that was how bad it was.
The pitiful struggle continued right up until Beatrix finished her class and returned.
It was truly a tragic sight.
Erzebet, still fighting her war on the floor, flung herself into Beatrix's arms and poured out her grievances.
"Unnie, you were still in the capital last year, so you know how I feel, right?"
"Of course I do."
Beatrix patted Erzebet's back and answered in a voice as gentle as if she were soothing a daughter.
I felt my sanity slipping. I called Luise a pink capybara, but maybe the real capybara was this one. After befriending the demure Empress and the quiet Penelia, she had now even built a rapport with a duke who had reigned for a hundred years. That was not ordinary human social skill.
Of course the other lovers had also grown close to Beatrix, but only Erzebet had demolished the walls to this degree.
"But Baby must feel uneasy too. Do you really think Baby is the sort who would play favorites with us?"
While I was staring blankly at the white capybara, Beatrix's words moved me.
She was right. I had been working alone, silently, so that I would never discriminate among the six of them. Realizing that someone had noticed that effort made me feel like I might cry.
So you feel the same way.
Without thinking I looked down at my hand. The half-ring glinting pitifully there seemed to be pleading that it shared the exact same feelings.
I forced so many sacrifices on you for the sake of equal love... I'm truly sorry...
"So try to understand. The more disappointed you feel now, the happier you'll be when the break comes."
Erzebet, who had been burying her face in Beatrix's chest, slowly lifted her head. Then she looked at me with sparkling eyes.
I couldn't help smiling. I knew exactly what that look meant. She wanted me to confirm that Beatrix was right.
"When I return to the capital, let's share an office."
So I said it. If we had been nothing more than superior and subordinate, the words would have made me want to bite my own tongue, but between lovers it was a shy confession that meant "I'll spend a lot of time with you during the break."
"You mean we'll work overtime every single day, right? I'm looking forward to it!"
Thanks to that, Erzebet answered with a giggle, turning it into a joke.
The word "overtime" made goosebumps rise on instinct, but it was a joke. Surely.
...It was a joke, right?
Looking at Eri still smiling in my arms, I found myself smiling too without realizing it.
Of the five children who used to find me difficult, she was the first to approach me. The child for whom the nickname Eri now felt more familiar than the name Erzebet.
And though she possessed a lively and rather unique worldview—she was, surprisingly, a deeply thoughtful and considerate child.
She could easily have been jealous.
She really was a remarkable child. I was lucky enough to be second, yet this girl had met Baby earlier than anyone and stayed closest to him, only to end up fifth. Baby was not the sort to discriminate by order, but whenever a situation arose that required minding the sequence—like now—she inevitably suffered a sort of collateral damage.
From Eri's perspective it would have been only natural to feel wronged and angry. Luise and Irina had both met Baby later than she had.
Even so, Eri never showed dissatisfaction. She threw tantrums like this, yes, but only to receive Baby's attention; she had never once gotten angry at the other girls or displayed any negative emotion toward them.
"Unnie?"
Ah.
Before I knew it, my hand was stroking Eri's hair. What had begun as mere admiration had turned into action.
"Your hair is lovely. It's so soft I touched it without thinking."
"Right? I take care of it every day!"
I had been briefly flustered and scrambled for an excuse, but the words must have pleased her; Eri grinned and began to shrug her shoulders proudly.
Thank goodness. Even if Eri never showed jealousy, saying something like "The girls who met Baby later than you are still ahead of you, yet you don't even get angry—how admirable" would have been cruel. If she had yanked my hair out after hearing that, I would have had to accept it with humility.
"I can't compare to Unnie, of course, but among people my age—"
Eri had been chattering happily when she suddenly shut her mouth with a look of oh no.
It was probably consideration on her part. She always tried hard not to bring up age in front of me, so she must have worried that the words "my age" just now would make me feel bitter.
But a reaction like this hurt more. It would have been better to continue the conversation naturally; cutting herself off mid-sentence made it painfully obvious that she was watching my mood.
An elf's age is nothing but a number, after all.
I felt a little lonely. Because I was mixed-blood I couldn't apply the full ten-percent rule the way Mother had, but twenty percent was reasonable. By that measure I could still count as Eri's peer.
I chose not to protest, though. I still couldn't forget the expression Baby had worn a few months ago at Grandmother's house when I mentioned that my age was twenty percent of an elf's. He had tried to look nonchalant, but it was unmistakably the face of an outsider suffering culture shock.
...Well, what did age matter? It wasn't as if I had lied about my real age to approach these children.
"Oh, right, Director! You've decided to speak casually with Mar now, haven't you?"
"Yeah, that's right."
Eri, who had been fidgeting, suddenly turned her gaze toward Baby.
"Then while we're at it, speak casually with Unnie too!"
At those words I tilted my head.
Casually? Baby and I already spoke casually—
"Calling each other 'Baby' when you're lovers is weird, isn't it? What are you going to do once you have kids!"
Wha...?
Having mentioned age in front of Beatrix, Erzebet expressed her fluster with her entire body, then abruptly shifted the topic onto me. The desperate flailing for survival was so thorough it was almost pitiful.
"Calling each other 'Baby' when you're lovers is weird, isn't it? What are you going to do once you have kids!"
Oh.
But it was actually a pretty good change of subject.
She's not wrong.
She had a point. Sorting out forms of address with Beatrix was something that needed to happen someday. After I had gotten properly angry at Beatrix and we had reconciled, I myself had said it would be better to call each other something other than "Baby."
Back then I had used the same justification Erzebet just had—for the sake of the children who would be born someday. Unfortunately we never found a suitable title and the matter had been shelved.
And from experience so far, I couldn't guarantee how long it would take to reopen a discussion that had been quietly postponed. At this rate I might still be called "Baby" even after marriage, and once children arrived they might end up with temporary names like "Little Baby." A nightmare.
Better settle it now.
I glanced sideways and saw Beatrix blinking with a vacant expression.
Yes—now. Now that I was speaking casually with Mar and the romantic act of kissing had been unlocked, the momentum was perfect. If I failed to adjust the titles even with this tailwind, there would be no next time.
"Erzebet has a point. What do you think, Beatrix?"
"U-uhh?"
At my question Beatrix flinched and her ears began to flutter.
At least she didn't seem opposed. She had simply gotten used to saying "Baby"; it wasn't a title she was particularly attached to.
"If we only ever have one child between us, calling them Little Baby would be fine, but having just one feels a bit off, doesn't it? For the sake of House Catovan we should have as many as possible."
At those words Beatrix's ears flapped even faster. I almost suspected she was already picturing three little quarter-elves running around the garden.
In fact, I was picturing it too.
...No.
That was why a future head-of-household's sense of responsibility surged up inside me. I could not stick names like Little Baby No. 1, No. 2, and No. 3 on those adorable children.
"Since we'll soon be husband and wife, I'd like something more equal and gentle."
"Th-that's right. You're correct."
Beatrix nodded as if entranced, while Erzebet, still nestled in her arms, let out a sigh of relief.
When our eyes met, Erzebet lifted the corners of her mouth and nodded, as if demanding praise for having created an opportunity to revise the titles—even if her original motive had been pure survival.
Of course, instead of praise I shot her a firm look that said stop staying there and get out already. I was thinking about children; having another white-haired person like Erzebet in those arms made me flinch for no good reason.
"Um, well then..."
The moment Erzebet pouted and obediently climbed out, Beatrix—whose face had somehow already turned red—carefully opened her mouth.
"I mentioned it last time, but... what about 'My Lord Husband'?"
"My Lord Husband?"
I nearly burst out laughing. That title had come up before too, and it was so archaic I had simply pretended not to hear it.
"That's—"
"Grandmother used that title for Grandfather, you know. Mother did the same while she was alive, and I like 'My Lord Husband' myself, so it must be an elven tradition... or perhaps instinct."
"That's romantic."
Seeing Beatrix smile shyly, I hastily revised the words I had been about to say. A second later and it would have been a species-wide tragedy.
...What do I do?
This was troublesome. If I wanted to force a different title after hearing something like that, it would have to be a splendid enough term for Beatrix to accept.
Honestly, nothing came to mind. Husband or darling, maybe—but I didn't know any grander titles than those.
Do I just go with My Lord Husband...?
An ordinary title versus the title used by both great-grandmother and mother-in-law. If I had to choose one, the latter had overwhelmingly stronger justification.
I swallowed dryly from the tension and carefully surveyed my surroundings, hoping Mar or Erzebet might come to my rescue.
Nope.
Unfortunately there was no one. The moment our eyes met, both Mar and Erzebet quietly looked away.
It seemed this was a battle I would have to win alone.