Chapter 84
The Flower That Bears a Sword - Chapter 84
Translation: godsn
He rested. Yurien, preoccupied with carefully adjusting the seasoning, didn't hear the Holy Sword's words. He added bay leaves and even the spices he'd brought separately. As the stew simmered, a delicious aroma began to fill the air. Echinacea, who emerged belatedly, was startled to see him cooking and protested.
"Don't mind me. I merely did this because there was time to spare."
Yurien replied nonchalantly as he ladled some stew onto a small plate and handed it to her.
"Try the taste."
Though he offered it as if it were nothing, inwardly he was nervous. Would it suit her palate? While cooking, he'd been confident, but the moment he presented it to her, that confidence vanished abruptly.
"...Uh, mm, yes."
Echinacea, holding the plate, blew on the steaming stew. Even that simple gesture seemed unbearably charming to him. He felt the tension in his eyes softening uncontrollably. Watching her eyes widen as she tasted the stew, Yurien worried he might truly lose his composure.
"I had no idea you were such a skilled cook, Lord."
She looked up at him with admiration in her voice. It was truly, unbearably difficult to restrain himself. Yurien averted his gaze.
"I'm not skilled. Just capable of making something edible. I was a squire once too."
[After putting in all that effort, now he acts indifferent.]
He pretended not to hear the Holy Sword's muttering. He was too focused on conversing with her. He never imagined he'd physically experience the cliché sensation of walking on clouds. This moment—sharing the meal he'd prepared with Echinacea, who neither tensed up nor avoided him, while exchanging light conversation—was precisely that feeling.
"When I first entered the Military Academy, my mind was in turmoil. I caused Dietrich quite a bit of trouble because of it."
"Trouble? In what way?"
Too exhilarated, he barely registered his own words. Yurien momentarily fell silent.
At eighteen, Yurien had been a boy who believed the world would end if he stepped outside predetermined boundaries. As he grew older, he developed some flexibility and stopped imposing his standards on others, but back then, he'd held everyone to that same measure.
It was also a time when he was still awkward in dealing with people. His distrust and wariness of others, his deliberate emotional detachment, compounded by his solitary existence and extreme sensitivity—it must have been a sight to behold.
The primary victim was his roommate, Dietrich. Dietrich wasn't the type to accommodate someone just because they were the Empire's Prince. Nor was he polite enough to retaliate only with words. He openly cursed Yurien as a crazy bastard, and when pushed too far, didn't hesitate to throw punches.
Though he stood no chance against Yurien in swordsmanship, Dietrich was quite adept at back-alley brawls involving dirt and grime. Despite his upbringing as an outcast, Yurien—still a prince—had never before been subjected to such vulgar insults or rolled around in the dirt until he was filthy. By the time he came to his senses, they had somehow become friends.
After maturing, Dietrich would often grumble that Yurien had become halfway decent as a person, half thanks to him. Yurien couldn't entirely deny that claim.
It was too embarrassing a story to share with Echinacea. He deflected the conversation.
"Never mind. It's getting cold."
She seemed intensely curious about the answer he'd dodged. She asked again while washing dishes after the meal. Though he genuinely enjoyed conversing with her in such a relaxed atmosphere, he wanted to avoid that particular topic. Even showing only his best self felt insufficient—revealing stories from those days was just too mortifying.
"Is it really that intriguing?"
"You were the one who brought it up, Lord. How could I not be curious?"
"It's because you keep talking to me that I get carried away..."
The words slipped out wrong again. In front of her, he kept making verbal blunders. Echinacea looked at him with a flustered expression. Yurien gave up on salvaging the situation and fled on the spot.
From that day onward, during their shared night watch duties, he couldn't seem to act normally. At least, that's how it appeared to the Holy Sword.
Yurien wasn't normally talkative, but with Echinacea, he was desperate to prolong their conversations even by a little. Having listened to her words with such focus, he'd nearly memorized them all.
Stories he'd never properly shared with anyone else came tumbling out easily in her presence. Of course, there were things he didn't want her to know—matters concerning the Imperial Family, for instance—those remained unspoken.
Even though their alternating night shifts meant they had little time face-to-face, the mere fact of living together kept him in a constant state of exhilaration. Even when she wasn't right before him, just knowing she was nearby made it impossible for his heart to settle. To calm his excessively agitated mind, Yurien took to whittling wood.
Back when he was a squire, his Lord Baron had taught him that carving wood blocks when troubled served dual purposes—it refined his sword handling skills and helped clear his mind. He'd occasionally followed the Baron's advice and picked up wood blocks, but it never became a hobby. Truth be told, Yurien was a man with no hobbies outside swordsmanship, and he'd never been troubled enough by desires to need such an outlet.
Yet these past few days, he'd produced enough wood carvings to surpass all his previous lifetime output several times over.
[...]
The Holy Sword, witnessing this spectacle, had much to say but bit its tongue. Human emotional matters—especially those involving love—only backfired when it interfered. Langiosa recalled past experiences and quietly kept its mouth shut.
About a week passed like this.
Her proximity kept him tense, making it impossible to sleep soundly. That night, sleep eluded him more than usual, and after much tossing and turning, he finally left the barracks. Dinner time had been particularly troublesome—Echinacea had laughed aloud while talking about her younger brother. The sound of her soft laughter and the curve of her smiling eyes kept resurfacing in his mind, banishing sleep.
"Lord? Why aren't you resting?"
"Sleep won't come tonight. I must have napped too much during the day."
Yurien sat beside Echinacea. She accepted his presence naturally, seemingly accustomed to him now. He was so overjoyed he feared his expression might betray him. Fixing his gaze on the valley, he took deep breaths.
Amidst this, her next words were something he'd never anticipated.
"Would you... like to spar right now?"
Yurien doubted his ears. First came freezing shock, then thoughts flooded his mind like a runaway storm.
What does this mean? Is she... planning to confess everything? Does she trust me now? So soon? Impossible. Is there another intention?
It might just be an ordinary sparring request... No, the likelihood of her making such a routine request to him was practically nonexistent. Sparring? He'd thought such a day might never come in eternity, and now she's proposing to cross swords with him?
Dumbfounded, Yurien asked again, "Are you serious?"
"Yes. If it's all right with you, Lord."
Echinacea answered composedly as she rose and took position. Yurien remained frozen in place.
Is this reality? Could my sleeplessness be a delusion—am I dreaming instead?
He turned just his eyes to look at her standing there with Amethyst at her side. Slowly, reality sank in. If she truly intends to confess what she's been hiding... then he too must reveal the truths he couldn't speak—where her tragedy began. As this thought surfaced, his racing mind went blank, thoughts bleaching away into nothingness.
Yurien staggered to his feet before her. Though Echinacea's voice cracked before she cleared her throat, he failed to notice.
"I'll begin once you draw your sword."
"Very well."
Yurien responded mechanically, reflexively drawing Langiosa. The motion was smooth until his trembling hand caused the Holy Sword to slip from his grasp. The sword clicked its tongue but remained silent.
What would she do when she learned the truth? When she discovered that the reason her life had plunged into ruin in an instant was because of him.
Yurien couldn't even begin to imagine her reaction. He had resolved to wait until she was ready, having requested this duel himself, yet now that the moment had arrived, he found himself unprepared.
His feelings had grown too deep. Far too deep. The woman who had only just grown accustomed to him, who now smiled ever so slightly in his presence—she might turn her back on him. The more he came to know her smiling face, the more terrified he became.
Would she hate him? Resent him? Turn away? She might even leave. The thought of her disappearing was unbearable. He'd rather she run him through than walk away.
If she couldn't bring herself to kill him but told him never to interfere in her life again, he would have no choice but to obey. Since he was the one who had ruined her life, it was only right.
But could he, already changed as he was, endure her absence? Could he return to a time before he knew her? Not while remembering—that much was certain. Every time he became aware that this was his second life, he would inevitably think of her.
So if she said she never wanted to see him again, there was only one choice left to him.
'I'd have to abandon the Holy Sword.'
Then he would forget everything about Echinacea, forget that this life was the second chance she had created, and live on in ignorance. The thought of himself carrying on nonchalantly, knowing nothing, filled him with unbearable disgust. Yurien wiped his face dry and barely managed to grip Langiosa again.
Echinacea drew Amethyst and pointed it at him.
A brief silence. Moonlight flowed down the white blade. Beyond the steel, he saw her pupils tremble. The tip of her sword wavered. Then she flung it aside.
"Echinacea?"
Instinctively, he activated True Sight. Pitch-black malice, crimson and seething—not directed at another, but at herself. A soul screaming in agony. The moment he saw her suffering, Yurien realized how selfish his earlier thoughts had been.
How she would treat him after his confession wasn't the issue. He couldn't begin to fathom the shock she would endure upon learning the truth. That the reason she had struggled through fifteen long years was simply because he had taken an interest in her.
Yurien closed True Sight and looked at her with bare eyes. Tears welled in his blurred vision as he saw her clamp a hand over her mouth. Her face was deathly pale. Without thinking, he called her name, his voice pleading.
"Echinacea."
You've done nothing wrong, so why do you bear all the wounds? Why do you turn this malice upon yourself? You've suffered enough, paid for crimes you didn't commit. So please—
As Yurien stepped forward, Echinacea shook her head meaninglessly and staggered back. A gesture of terror. He couldn't bring himself to advance further and stopped in his tracks. It felt like water was flooding his lungs.
Please. Hate me instead. I'm the one who turned you into a demon. Direct your resentment at me. Aim that malice my way.
He opened his mouth to pour out the words surging within him. At that moment, lights and noise erupted from the valley below.
"Witch! Bring out the witch!"
An uproar impossible to ignore. Yurien swallowed his unspoken words and turned toward the valley. Having anticipated this all along, he assessed the situation quickly. Before long, Echinacea approached him as well. Her breathing, which had been ragged and broken, had already steadied.