Dynamic Life Story - 3
There are any number of reasons a person drops a story. Sometimes it simply isn't your taste. Sometimes the plot takes a turn you can't stand. Sometimes you skip a day and then forget it entirely. Sometimes the spring breeze is just that warm. The reasons are endless.
I dropped the original of this world for the first two. I'd only picked it up because I had nothing else to read; it wasn't my kind of thing, and the story itself was bleak enough to sour me. The plot in particular left me stunned.
How could they do that to a little kid?
If Luise had been a transmigrator or a reincarnator, I might have shrugged it off—body of a child, mind of an adult. Even a regressor I could have accepted, stretching the point. Unfortunately, she was none of those things. She was just a pure, ordinary little girl.
The original author had piled an absurdly spicy ordeal onto an eight-year-old whose body and mind were both still that of a child. I took one look, thought Yeah, no, and dropped it on the spot. Back then I had no idea my own life was about to get just as spicy—though at least I was already an adult when the world started kicking me around.
"If only you hadn't been here…"
That was the last line spoken by the woman who was Luise's older sister. The relationship between the Naiad sisters was pure cliché, if you wanted to call it that.
A frail younger sister born weak and showered with the family's attention. A younger sister who, despite her frail health, was always so bright that everyone adored her. An older sister who genuinely loved that younger sister—until the love and attention that should have come to her began to drain away, and jealousy took root. An illness in the older sister that no one noticed because every eye was fixed on the younger one.
Even as her eyes closed for the last time, the older sister glared at Luise with pure resentment. That look was unforgettable. The art was excellent, which only made it worse—Luise's face going white as a sheet was drawn with painful clarity. Not exactly the kind of high-quality illustration I'd wanted to see.
I glanced over at Luise without meaning to. She was making macarons exactly as requested, smiling that same bright smile she always wore.
Incredible.
How could anyone stay that sunny after going through something like that so young? It wasn't that Luise was some psychopath who hadn't grieved her sister's death. The shock had hit her hard at the time; she'd fallen into a deep depression. That was roughly when the Magic Lord first met her.
Whether some event had helped her or she'd simply forced herself to pull it together, the Luise of today had grown into someone outwardly bright and kind. Honestly, part of the reason I failed to recognize her on the first day of the Academy wasn't just how much she'd grown—it was how much lighter her whole presence had become.
How was anyone supposed to expect a child who'd lived through that to turn out this cheerful? I'd assumed the whole "she captivates people" setting was rooted in something tragic or broken, not in pure radiance.
"All done!"
I spent a moment looking at her with quiet pity—then the moment the news of finished macarons spread, the hyenas swarmed again.
Strange. Last time too, the macarons disappeared especially fast. What is wrong with these people? Is it not a matter of taste so much as extreme pickiness? Do they really hate cookies that much?
The conversation had drifted toward family, so I kept my mouth quietly shut. I was not in a position to speak lightly about family.
Still, I couldn't afford to look uncomfortable. Showing that I was avoiding the topic would be the same as advertising that I carried bad memories. No one else needed to know.
Just stay still. If I stay still, no one will pay attention. It's only a light topic passing by; nothing to worry about.
"I'm sick too—why only you?!"
"If only you hadn't been here…"
My sister's final words rose unbidden, and I bit my lip. They always surfaced like that—lying quiet under the water until they suddenly surged up, completely against my will.
I can never forget those words. How could I? They were her last will, and in a very real sense she died because of me. If I hadn't been there, she never would have ended up that way.
"Hilda left because of us. She left because she hated us. Luise, it wasn't your fault."
That was what Father said. Mother wept over my sister's death more times than I could count, yet she never once blamed me. But what parent would blame their own child?
If we divide the responsibility, my share is the largest. I was so happy under their care and love, so delighted by the family's attention, that I acted even more spoiled. Not content with that, I even coveted the glances that should have gone to my sister.
I shouldn't have done that.
It was my fault. My fault for monopolizing the family's love that should have been shared equally. If I hadn't existed, my sister would have been loved completely and lived happily. Love isn't meant to go to only one person; it has to be fair.
The guilt rising in my chest made my head start to droop—and right then my eyes met Brother's.
No. I can't show him a dark face. He's already looking away. He must be disappointed after seeing me like this.
"Let's leave family matters there. Keep this up and we'll end up hearing royal secrets—then someone will have to lose an ear."
Contrary to my worries, Brother cut the conversation short instead. He hadn't been disappointed by my expression; he'd been considerate. And then, out of nowhere, he asked me to make more macarons.
Anyone listening would have recognized the blatant kindness. The macarons were good so he wanted more? He barely even ate any. He can hardly taste things to begin with.
He must have been flustered.
That was why he tried to change the atmosphere with such a strange excuse. I stole a glance at him, and sure enough his eyes were darting around in a way they never usually did.
I almost laughed. At the same time I almost cried. Something that could have been ignored, something that could have disappointed him—he still went out of his way to care about it. I was so grateful.
He doesn't even know what I've been through. He doesn't know what I'm thinking. He just looked at my face and worried for me.
Thank you.
I couldn't say it out loud, so I whispered it inside. If I suddenly thanked him now, the others would only find it strange.
"All done!"
So I called out brightly, the way I always did. Accepting Brother's kindness and steadying my heart was the only repayment I could offer.
"Delicious, Lady Luise. You really do have a talent for these."
Ainter's words made me realize too late—I had forgotten to add the medicinal herbs.
Brother can't taste anything, so I should at least put something good for his body in them. And the rest of them eat so many sweets ordinarily that I ought to be the one looking after their health…
…Well. One day without it should be fine.
Fortunately, Luise kept smiling brightly until the club meeting ended. Of course, I had no way of knowing what she felt inside.
I still didn't even know how Luise dealt with the trauma of her childhood. She might have overcome it completely, or she might still be carrying it and suffering in silence. Her usual cheer had made me lean toward the former, but today's expression suggested otherwise.
Nothing I can do about it.
I was worried, but the only thing within my power was the small consideration I'd shown today. Comfort her when she looks downcast; close the topic when something painful comes up. Anything beyond that is impossible.
Officially, I am someone who knows nothing of Luise's past. She has never confided in me, yet if I start offering advice or worry based on knowledge of those old events…
"…How does Brother Karl know about that?"
That would be the reaction. Instantly I'd become a deranged stalker. And because I'm the Audit Department Chief, I'd evolve from "creepy crazy stalker" into "the vicious Audit Department Chief who dug into my family and my past."
Even Luise would flee in horror. I'd repaired things with Irina only to destroy my relationship with Luise. What kind of equal exchange is that?
In the end, Luise's trauma is something that can only be touched once she decides to speak of the knot inside her to someone. If she hasn't been able to resolve it alone until now, sharing it with a person she trusts could be a way forward.
For a kid, her mouth is awfully tight.
She tells me to come to her if I have worries, yet she keeps her own sealed shut.
It is a little annoying, but the pity outweighs it, so I end up treating her especially gently whenever I see her. Something like the compassion you feel looking at a pitiful girl who has to act as head of her household. Does this child even know what happiness is?
"Hopeless, the lot of them."
I muttered under my breath with a sigh of frustration. The real problem is that even if Luise wanted to pour out the knot in her heart, she has no one to pour it out to. If even one of the five club members grew close enough to her, she would probably talk eventually. Instead they only trip over one another and keep each other in check.
This is the same Luise who believes her sister died because she alone monopolized their parents' love. The aftereffects seem to have blocked even the idea of choosing one friend to grow closer to. She recoils from any situation that looks like favoritism toward only one person.
So it has to be one of the members who approaches her first—yet these intelligence-degenerating brats still have nothing to show for it even as the semester winds down. Luise needs to resolve the trauma before she can choose anyone, but the trauma itself never leaves her mouth.
Lady Luise must want love too.
The young lady wants to love.
I recalled the title that only I in this world know. It hadn't come to me right after transmigrating; one day it simply surfaced—the original title. Of course the contents of the original don't matter, and knowing a mere title means nothing.
Still, when I set it against Luise's circumstances, it becomes a painfully poignant title. Kids, Luise wants to experience love too. So please, for the love of everything, make some progress.
Not that I expect anything.
My heart hoped they would finally move forward, but my head had already judged them hopeless. Praying for a sixth person to appear out of nowhere would probably be more effective.