The Warm Southern Territory - 7
Several days had already passed since we arrived in Boyar. The meals had been more than decent, the lodgings excellent. And being Boyar—famous as a resort destination—there was no shortage of things to see.
He said he would come.
Yet for an entirely different reason my mood was foul, so I glared at the door that refused to open. Why wouldn't it open? I had even told him which room it was. I had even gathered the courage to say it. He had promised he would come by to visit.
He has plenty of time.
As the resentment swelled, I hugged the pillow in my arms even tighter.
If Karl had been busy I would have understood perfectly well. I was not so petty that I could not grasp something like that.
But aside from the first and second days, Karl had done nothing but stay at the resort. Except for the occasional outing to nearby sights with the Baking Club, I had never once seen him leave his room.
He had clearly said he would come when he had time, and I had waited believing those words—yet still there was no word from him.
It's too much.
How mean, to raise someone's hopes and then leave them hanging like this. It was a relief he seemed to be keeping the promise not to go to the casino, but why was he breaking this one? Should I have made him pinky-swear back then too? Promises really needed proof left behind.
Do I really have to go to him first?
I shook my head hard, trying to cast out the thought the moment it rose.
The urge to seek out Karl's room myself had already surged several times. But I had to hold back. It would not look proper for a lady to go knocking on a man's door. The important thing was to keep up the push-and-pull without letting him see how restless I was.
Yes. It was truly important. It was not only my own opinion—my sisters and my nanny had said the same. This was definitely, absolutely the right way.
— Knock knock.
And that endless patience finally blossomed. In the end Karl had come to me first. He might have meant to keep me waiting a little longer, but not a chance. Of course Karl could only end up at my side.
The resentment and the hurt melted away in an instant, and satisfaction filled my chest to the brim.
"Yes, come in."
"Senior. It's me."
And just as quickly the feeling sank. The one who opened the door and stepped inside was not Karl but Lady Luise.
"Ah, Lady Luise."
I was disappointed, but I did not let it show. She was a guest who had come with business for me, and Lady Luise was a perfectly decent junior.
"Welcome. What brings you so early in the morning?"
"We're planning to go to Sapphire Beach among ourselves. If it's all right with you, Senior, would you like to come with us?"
At Lady Luise's carefully worded invitation my mind began to race. When she said "ourselves," she meant the Baking Club—and if it was the Baking Club, Karl was naturally included.
And the place was the beach we had tried to visit on the second day and failed. There was the very minor difference that it was Sapphire Beach rather than Emerald, but that was so trivial it hardly mattered at all.
"Brother also said he regretted not being able to go together last time and that he really hoped we could go together."
A smile formed on my lips of its own accord. I doubted the somewhat blunt Karl would have phrased it quite like that, but it was as good as confirmation that he would join us at the beach. And I rather liked the way Lady Luise was giving him the credit.
"Very well. Let's go together."
At last, the chance had come to take out the swimsuit I had bought and never once worn.
He had said I looked beautiful in the dress too. He would like this as well. He was sure to.
I had been asleep when Luise summoned me. This time she wanted to go to the sea.
"Senior Margeta also decided to come with us. I think Brother would like it if he came too..."
I had been about to refuse—trudging all the way to the ocean sounded like a bother—but the moment she mentioned Margeta was going, I found I could not. I already had the black mark of turning down Margeta's suggestion because of the Kraken subjugation, and the memory still sat poorly with me. Skipping again would be worse.
Once could be chalked up to bad timing; if it happened twice she might start thinking I was avoiding her. Soft-hearted Margeta was more than capable of drawing that conclusion. Fortunately we were not headed for the algae-choked green sea I had stared at until I was sick of it while hunting the Kraken, but somewhere else entirely.
A place called Sapphire Beach because it shone like blue sapphire. But wasn't the sea supposed to be blue in the first place?
Better than green, at least.
Well, whatever the name, as long as the sea looked good that was enough.
"This place seems better, doesn't it?"
"Emerald Beach felt more like looking at a work of art than the actual sea. The refreshing feeling comes through better with blue."
Indeed, the moment we arrived at Sapphire Beach the others' reactions were favorable as well. Even a uniquely colored sea only feels novel the first time; eventually you return to the familiar blue.
"It's as splendid as its reputation. Does Young Master Karl like it?"
While I watched the club members whispering among themselves and then unceremoniously tossing Ainter into the water, a slightly trembling voice came from behind me. It was trying to sound calm, yet a strange tension underlay every word.
I turned and found Margeta wearing her usual confident smile—only she was standing just a little too stiffly.
She's the one most embarrassed by it.
The corner of my mouth twitched upward. I had noticed it at the exhibition banquet as well: Margeta often grew flustered over things she had chosen to do herself. Even so, the courage that kept her moving forward was genuinely impressive.
"Yes, I like it."
"Hehe. That's a relief. The blue light is pretty, isn't it?"
"I said I like the red."
"Wha—?"
The red swimsuit that matched Margeta's hair. And considering the image of a duchess who always maintained her dignity, a rather bold bikini.
When I praised her without the slightest reservation, her face flushed scarlet in an instant and only mangled syllables escaped her. She had thought we were talking about the sea; the sudden shift to herself had clearly caught her off guard.
"It's really beautiful, Mar."
"Th-th-tha..."
"I would have regretted it if I hadn't seen it."
I finally understood where the saying "one poke and she'll burst" came from. Margeta's face had gone so red I wondered whether it could possibly get any redder; she only moved her lips a few times before hanging her head. Her complete lack of defense remained almost pitifully unchanged.
"I-is that so? It's the first time I've gone to the sea with Karl, so I paid special attention."
But it was not long before she raised her head again and smiled as though nothing had happened. She had not simply crumpled under the attack—she had even managed a counter. Different from before.
"Is that right? Since you wore it specially, I'm glad. It's to the point I'd hate to let anyone else see it."
"Y-yees... thank you..."
Unfortunately she still could not withstand a second strike. Even so, lasting two exchanges was remarkable progress; she must have been training in her own way.
When Margeta lapsed into silence, Luise came up from the water. Her whole body was colorfully soaked, as if she had taken a direct hit from a water bomb in the meantime. Surely those lunatics had not gone so far as to throw Luise as well—perhaps a wave had caught her head-on.
It's pink.
I had felt the same when she wore the dress: pink really did suit Luise. Matching the hair color was probably the safest choice.
"Oh? You still haven't changed?"
Luise tilted her head, looking at me still in ordinary clothes while Margeta had already changed.
"I'm fine. It's a bit chilly this early."
"Ah, I'm sorry. We should have come at lunchtime."
"It's all right. I don't particularly enjoy going in the water anyway. Just watching is enough."
I said so, but the day was not especially cold, and I did not actually dislike the water. It was a cliché of the highest order, but there was a slightly inconvenient circumstance that made stripping to the waist awkward.
"I shall offer you as the final sacrifice to the Eternal Blue Sky!"
The voice that had been pure terror itself still seemed to ring in my ears, and I almost scowled without meaning to. Kagan. That bastard's final, spectacular "fuck you" left just for me.
If you're going to die, die cleanly, you piece of shit.
The last blow that bastard unleashed had cut me properly. I had truly thought I was done for. Whatever he had done to that sword, the wound from the final slash had recovered with disgusting stubbornness.
Even magic and holy power capable of restoring severed limbs had barely managed to stop the bleeding and knit the flesh back together. As a result—though I did not particularly feel ashamed of the scar on my back—a long scratch had taken up residence across my upper body.
Still, looking back, it was fortunate none of my limbs had been taken. Recovery was incomplete as it was; I had nearly left an arm behind in the new era or become known as "Red-Leg Karl."
"It's fortunate your face is fine... There's nothing else going for you."
"Did you hit your head or something? After everything, that's what you say?"
Yes—exactly as Hecate had said. It was lucky it had not been my face. If my face had been ruined I would have had to walk around in a mask. How stifling would that have been?
Not a limb, not the face—just the torso. Considering that five of the seven of us had fallen to Kagan's hand right there on the spot, it had been a surprisingly light injury.
"Then stay with me. I'm going to rest a little before I go back in."
"Perfect timing. I was planning to go in later anyway, so the three of us can stay together."
While my thoughts had wandered, Luise's and Margeta's voices pulled me back.
I carefully ran my hand over the clothes covering the scar. There had been a time when even fabric brushing against it had stung; these days I felt nothing, which was a relief. Kagan's curse seemed to have had a shelf life of about two years. It had lasted disgustingly long.
"Here, I laid out a mat too!"
"Yeah. Thanks."
I gave a small nod at Luise, who was patting the mat with her palm as she spoke. We had come here to rest, so the less-than-pleasant memories could end here.
"Is it so strange for a wife to worry about her husband's face?"
"Wife, cut the crap right there. The scar's ringing and I'm about to lose it."
...Yes. Only this much.
Perhaps it was because their death anniversaries were drawing near, but all sorts of thoughts kept rising. Even without this I would never forget to pay my respects.