Fairy-like Comfort, Academy - 2
As for the return gift for the hawthorn sapling, I had decided on a modest serving of macarons, mindful of the burden it might place on Irina.
"She says she's too busy to come."
But Luise's macarons never made it into Irina's stomach. After dropping off her thank-you gift and vanishing, Irina became as scarce as if she had never been there at all.
"Well, nothing we can do about it."
Luise said it glumly, but it was only natural. When she had come a few days earlier, she had explained that the club had the day off, which was the only reason she could visit. Unless Irina was willing to abandon club hours entirely, dropping by again would be difficult.
Thanks to that, the macarons Luise had made were divided up among the club members like a pack of hyenas. Those little bastards—they never touched them on ordinary days. Why this time?
"Ah, Brother. Irina asked how you liked the gift."
"The gift? I like it just fine. Didn't I ask you to pass that along for me?"
Figuring I was unlikely to see Irina at the clubroom anytime soon, I had asked Luise to convey my thanks on my behalf. She wasn't the type to forget something I had asked her only yesterday.
"I did pass it on, but she asked whether you might have said anything else."
"She did?"
A simple thank-you for the gift should have been enough. The fact that she was pressing further suggested something more was going on.
Did she hide something in the pot?
It happened from time to time—someone stashing an important item inside a flowerpot and disguising it as an ordinary gift for transport. Money, documents, whatever: depending on the size of the pot, you could cram almost anything in. It was a method people used often enough.
But would Irina go that far? The odds were low, of course—yet the way she kept asking about the gift made it feel as if something was there.
Did it come from her family?
If it had been sent not by Irina personally but by the house of Count Yorun, the possibility existed. I would have to check once I was alone.
And so the next morning found me carefully filling the empty pot with soil again and replanting the sapling by myself. Our precious hawthorn—if I damaged even a single root, it would wither and die on the spot.
I've lost my mind.
The problem had been measuring a flower-like seventeen-year-old girl's heart with the gaze of a sordid adult. The moment I arrived at the clubroom, I had shaken the pot out and checked—and of course there was nothing.
The sight of the bare-bottomed pot and the hawthorn with its roots exposed to the world filled me with such crushing self-loathing. I had become the garbage who tore open a perfectly fine gift out of pure delusion. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Irina…
I fretted over what face I would put on if Irina happened to visit while I was restoring the pot, but thankfully my luck was not so catastrophic that she would show up under those circumstances.
"It's pretty."
I spoke with admiration for its lovely form. In truth, the apology weighed far heavier.
I succeeded in carefully restoring the pot I had made a mess of. The pure white petals seemed to scold my pitch-black heart, and the embarrassment was almost unbearable. Right—leaving a flowerpot as it is is always best. Hiding something inside it? What a ridiculous idea.
Irina had simply chosen the plant with care and wanted a more detailed impression, so she was probing a little. There was no other motive. Of course not.
Fuck.
My heart ached.
Having run through the Expo, the exams, and the School Trip in succession, the Academy had grown rather quiet. With nothing left but finals before the break, and with finals containing no practical component the way the midterms had, the season could pass in peace. Now it really was just vacation!
And yet realizing that the first semester of first year was already over left me in a foul mood. How was I supposed to endure until the second semester of third year? What if these kids dropped out midway and went home?
"Vacation is nearly upon us."
"Yes. Time truly does fly."
No doubt the man before me, Villar, was offering the same fervent prayer for resignation. Being assigned to close protection of the royal family was a heavy duty, and completing the mission would all but guarantee a promotion—but if the price of promotion was a long-term posting like this, he would rather have neither the mission nor the promotion and simply have peace of mind.
Worse, if a posting like this became the reason for promotion? Then every time something similar came up, he would be the first one dumped with the job. You've done it once, so you'll handle it well—that kind of bullshit reasoning. Fuck, then why was he the one dumped with it the first time? He hadn't done it then either.
"Inspector?"
"Ah, forgive me. My mind wandered for a moment."
As I sat with my mouth shut under a sudden spike of PTSD, Villar spoke up, looking puzzled. How rude of me, with a guest right in front of me.
"It happens. With my own return home drawing near, I find my thoughts drifting in that direction as well."
"I see. It will be a shame not to see you for a while, Sir Villar."
I smiled back at Villar's easy deflection.
A shame, my ass. Ours was a relationship where, private rapport aside, not seeing each other's faces was the best possible outcome. The ideal was for each of us to live comfortably in our own countries and, every so often, reminisce with a fond there was a man like that once.
Unfortunately, that was impossible.
"Is that so? Still, we shall meet again come autumn, so please do not trouble yourself overmuch."
= I'll be the one in charge next semester too.
"Haha. In that case, I suppose I ought to find a gift for you over the break, Sir Villar."
= You too? I'm stuck doing this straight through as well.
Outwardly we smiled brightly, but a grim light lingered in both our eyes. We had clung to the hope of a change in personnel until the very last moment—and in the end we had been forced to speak it aloud and admit it. We were doing another two and a half years.
The three kingdoms planned to reorganize their escort forces over the break once their people returned home at the end of this semester. Of course, the reorganized force rosters would also be submitted to the empire.
They did come in a rush.
The Academy enrollment of key figures from the three kingdoms had been abrupt for the kingdoms and the empire alike. Considering that the movements of high-ranking personages and the attendant protocol were planned at least a month in advance, it was all the more nightmarish.
So the three kingdoms' forces currently stationed at the Academy amounted to little more than whatever personnel could be scraped together on short notice and flung into place. Put bluntly, they had not had the luxury of carefully assembling an escort detail—it was a stopgap to put out the immediate fire. Proper reorganization over the break was necessary.
Villar, as I said earlier, was the exception. He was not merely part of the escort force; he was the channel through which the three kingdoms communicated with the empire. Changing that channel now would only create more headaches. So Villar was stuck watching his colleagues successfully escape.
Who am I to worry about him.
And for the same reason, I would keep my title as Academy inspector as well. Not long ago I had sounded out the minister on the off chance—and he told me to stop with the unfunny jokes and just keep doing it. Bastard. I had been serious.
If Villar disappeared, I would have to build new relationships with the three kingdoms from scratch. If I disappeared, Villar would have to build new ones with the empire. If both of us vanished, the bilateral relationship would reset completely and implode. It was a thoroughly fucked set of options that simply told us to keep going.
"Another cup?"
"Gladly. Please."
The atmosphere suggested the two of us ought to be knocking back cheap soju, but what we were actually drinking was ordinary tea. One could not very well throw a drinking party in a place of education.
"I imagine the princes will treasure the soil of their homeland all the more for having been away so long."
= Can't you just let your princes go home and stay there?
"They are such steadfast gentlemen that I cannot say. His Highness the Third Prince, too, is as firm of will as he is devoted to his country."
= Not a chance. They enrolled without a backward glance at homeland or homesickness.
"How remarkable. As expected, those who inherit noble blood possess extraordinary qualities."
= Stubborn as hell, aren't they.
And I quietly set my lips to the teacup. Seeing Villar respond as if the idea were absurd left a bitter taste in my mouth. I had brought it up for nothing and only taken internal damage. Bastards. Just stay in your own damn countries instead of being so uselessly obstinate and exhausting people.
In that fashion, Villar and I emptied several more cups of tea before we could finally part. Well—vanishing somewhere out of sight for the duration of the break was better than nothing.
The moment the sun rose, I took the box I had received from the Golden Duke and headed for the main building. I had already asked the headmaster's leave to step out briefly, so I would be back soon enough. It felt rather like taking a half-day morning off.
"Chief. I've come to collect you."
"Right. Much obliged."
I waited quietly, and before long a mage dropped out of thin air with a soft thump. Did these people have a separate manual for teleportation business trips? Somehow the lines they spoke were identical every time I saw them.
In any case, we arrived at the Ministry of Finance building in an instant, and the mage coolly went his own way. It seemed a little too crisp a departure, but if you thought of them as delivery drivers for human cargo, they had every reason to be busy. Did they even have time to eat?
"You're already here?"
"Your Excellency? How long have you been in?"
While I was fretting over the miserable working conditions of the teleportation mages, the minister spoke up from behind me. The sun had barely risen—did this man always come in at this hour?
"I woke early, so I came in ahead of time."
"They say sleep grows scarce with age."
"And you, a pup who hasn't even aged yet—why are you already up?"
I had spoken out of pity for my aging superior, but the minister answered curtly. So he couldn't even recognize concern when he heard it—when a man was angry all the time, even his ears twisted, it seemed.
"The memorial is still a ways off, so come in. The Audit Department hasn't assembled yet either."
"Understood."
I would have preferred to go ahead on my own, but we had to move together, so there was nothing for it.
The anniversary of their deaths was also the memorial day for the end of the Great Subjugation War. Of course, because "the empire's victory over the nomads was only natural," there was no separate end-of-war ceremony—but people did gather at the National Cemetery for at least a moment of silent prayer.
The group silence would be over soon enough. I only had to endure until then and make my way to their graves.
"Ah—among the people coming from the assembly is the Count of Tailglehen as well."
"Pardon?"
That was unexpected. He had not been one for public appearances since the war.