Chapter 98
The Flower That Bears a Sword - Chapter 98
Translation: godsn
It was a wish she'd unconsciously harbored.
The melody of the piano piercing her ears, the string instruments layered atop it, the sound of the flute cutting through the spaces between, and the afternoon sunlight pouring in from beyond the terrace.
She placed her hand upon his.
"...Thank you for your assistance, my Lord."
The Imperial-style Minuet begins with the woman lightly resting just her fingertips upon the man's hand as they walk side by side. Then, keeping time, they gradually move apart while maintaining eye contact with their partner.
Moving their feet as if tracing an invisible circle within the flow of the music, the hem of her dress slowly swirled with the motion. His cascading silver hair swayed with each step.
The principle was to never break eye contact. Violet eyes and sky-blue eyes held each other's gaze. Though they appeared to walk toward one another, tracing the circle meant they never actually touched. Yet this circle was in truth a spiral, so with each step they drew slightly closer.
Closer, yet never touching. The first contact would be nothing more than a passing brush. Then moving apart again, tracing the circle once more to draw near, until at the second contact they reached out toward each other.
One must not grasp too tightly. Such rudeness might make one's partner flee. Fingers lightly interlaced, he drew her in as if offering an invitation, and she placed one hand upon his shoulder while he rested his other hand at her waist.
Only after tracing two full circles did the man and woman finally meet, beginning to trace their shared circle in time with the music's 3/4 rhythm.
The slow, repetitive melody of the minuet made her head grow hazy. The gramophone's imperfect smoothness somehow only fanned the flames of her confused emotions. The sensation at her fingertips touching his shoulder grew abnormally acute—as if she could feel every individual thread of the fabric. The waist where his hand rested tensed; even through the layers of corset and dress, the skin beneath grew taut.
As her breath escaped in uneven gasps and her heart threatened to leap from her chest, Eki wanted to look away. But in the Imperial-style Minuet, no matter how often they parted and came together, one never broke eye contact.
Those unavoidable blue eyes gazing directly down at her. Just like when he'd watched her from beyond the iron gate. And their touching hands.
Until now, it had been a perfectly executed, elegant Imperial-style Minuet. Normally, they should have gradually moved apart before continuing the dance. But Eki ultimately turned her gaze away. Breaking the fundamental rule of the Imperial-style Minuet, she cast her eyes haphazardly toward the garden.
"L-let's take a short break."
As she made to move toward the garden with those words, her hand was caught. His properly interlaced fingers tightened their grip. Holding her back as she tried to pull away, Yurien attempted to speak. But no words came, as if something were stuck in his throat—the result of excessive tension.
The nape of her turned neck entered his vision. The pink hair cascading down cast shadows upon skin dazzlingly white.
When Teresa, sensing the strange atmosphere, tried to speak up, Dietrich quickly stopped her. Grabbing the scowling Teresa by the arm, he whispered urgently:
"Come now, come now—since we've seen the demonstration, why don't you practice with me, Dame Teresa?"
"You bastard, you said earlier you didn't know how to dance."
"Exactly why we should practice together—practice!"
"Don't you dare start dropping honorifics with me, Junior Knight Dietrich Sarua."
"When have I ever been disrespectful, Dame Teresa? If you take away my politeness, there'd be nothing left of me."
With a spinning, ingratiating smile, Dietrich pulled Teresa toward the inner terrace. As they exited, the terrace door that had been left open clicked shut behind them.
As if that were some kind of signal, Eki tried to pull her trapped hand free. Only then did Yurien release his gloved grip on her. With a soft rustle of fabric, Eki stepped back and steadied her breathing. Her face now somewhat composed, she spoke.
"Lord, when did you arrive in Agenka?"
"...I returned at dawn today. Your squire duties will begin tomorrow."
"Understood. Then—"
"Echinacea."
This time, it was his voice that stopped her as she tried to turn away. Eki cradled her right hand—the one he had held—in her left and looked up at him. In his colorless features, only his eyes gazing at her burned with startling blue intensity.
"I clearly told you before that you need not answer what is in my heart."
"......"
"However... might I ask you to answer just one thing?"
"...Speak, Lord."
Yurien tilted his head slightly. Shadows fell across his impassive face as his eyes lowered. He asked in an unsteady voice:
"May I wait?"
"Wait... for what?"
"Whether you give me your answer or not, I wish to wait. Would you permit that?"
Eki was momentarily speechless. The depth of feeling revealed in his words ran far deeper than she had imagined. Dazed, she asked in return:
"If I say you may wait... what will you do?"
Yurien smiled faintly. Bathed in the terrace sunlight, the pale man looked so transparent he might shatter.
"I will wait. As long as you do not refuse me, I will continue."
Though he swallowed the rest of those words unspoken—that he would not simply wait passively.
Still bewildered, Eki pressed further:
"But my Lord, you must become engaged to Lady Diassant. How can you speak of waiting for me?"
Yurien recalled the conversation he'd had with Rosalin Diassant before coming here. In this moment, he weighed whether to tell Echinacea about the feigned engagement.
"Echinacea, I do not know if you're aware, but my engagement to Lady Diassant is entangled with numerous complications."
"I know the gist of it, which is why—"
"Therefore, I intend to enter a feigned engagement."
"Pardon?"
"At the banquet concluding the festival, we will announce the date of my engagement to the Lady. But no actual engagement will take place. I've already discussed this matter with the imperial court."
"How could that—"
"So set aside all other considerations and simply tell me what is in your heart. I can wait as long as needed."
A feigned engagement? Was such a thing even possible? Had the Crown Prince who proposed the engagement consented to this? What of Lady Diassant herself? The Ducal house? Even if feigned, it remained an engagement—wouldn't this mean Yurien was declaring support for the Crown Prince?
'What if... it was the Crown Prince who planted the Magic Sword...?'
She quickly buried that chilling hypothesis in a corner of her mind. That was a matter to consider after reviewing Wedge's investigation.
Eki mentally reviewed the circumstances surrounding Yurien that Nicole had described. In that suffocating political situation, a false engagement? How? It certainly couldn't be simple. A real engagement would be far more straightforward. To go to such lengths just to wait for her—a woman who'd given him no answer? There must be other reasons.
"...Why choose a feigned engagement? For Agenka's sake? Does it concern the Azure Sky Knights? Or perhaps your standing, or friction with the Diassant Ducal house—"
"I didn't want to."
He cut off Eki's rambling questions with abrupt simplicity. She stared at him in confusion.
"You... disliked Lady Diassant?"
"That's not the issue."
"Then why—"
"Because it wasn't you."
The reflexive answer left even Yurien uncertain of his own meaning. But Eki understood immediately. It echoed the thought she'd had upon receiving the telegram from the Count and Countess—except where she had believed anyone would do as long as it wasn't her, he now seemed to say...
["Is he saying he wants to marry you right now? 'If it's not you, I won't marry anyone'—that's what he means, isn't it?"]
The Magic Sword, who had been keeping quiet while observing the situation, couldn't hold back anymore and pierced straight to the heart of the matter. Eki nearly hiccuped in shock.
[Humans usually make grand marriage proposals, but this guy's doing it weirdly. It's really lame. Right? Let's just kill him—uh, no, cancel, cancel! I didn't say to kill him! Master, you didn't hear that, right? You won't hit me, will you?]
Eki's mind had gone completely blank, barely registering the Magic Sword's rambling.
Of course, she had already heard Yurien confess his feelings for her. But that was different from saying he wanted to marry her. She never expected to hear him declare to her face that he wouldn't even consider a fake engagement with anyone else. For some reason, she felt incredibly dizzy.
"Th-that is, I mean..."
Only after seeing her flustered, darting gaze did Yurien realize the implications of what he had just said. It was practically a roundabout proposal. She had probably never even considered it—what was he doing? He hastily spoke up.
"Echinacea, that's just how I feel. You don't need to concern yourself with it."
[As if she wouldn't be concerned.]
The Holy Sword muttered, but Yurien was too busy gauging Eki's reaction to hear it. She stammered, still in shock.
"Th-then, Lord, does that mean... you were considering m-marriage with me?"
Yurien's face turned beet red in an instant. Unable to deny her question, he pressed his lips together.
"Was the fake engagement plan... really because of me? To wait for me?"
"...I don't mean to burden you with this."
She looked at him, his face flushed. His expression remained composed, but the deep redness of his face gave him away.
"You would go that far for me... Why would you...?"
Eki murmured, her voice almost a groan. She couldn't understand it. Precisely because she couldn't understand, she found it hard to believe the raw emotion he was laying bare.
Though she couldn't pinpoint the exact details, the fake engagement must have caused him all sorts of complicated troubles. He must have had to endure so much. She could have understood if she had given him an answer—but she hadn't said anything. He had taken on all that burden without even certainty.
'Should I have... refused him?'
She should refuse him now. She didn't want to make Yurien suffer when she had no intention of accepting. Maybe it would be better to cleanly reject him and go through with the marriage her parents wanted. That painful thought surfaced.
Just as Eki was about to voice her refusal, Yurien stepped closer, steadying his uneven breath. He stopped just a step away—so close he nearly enveloped her—and whispered, as if speaking to himself.
"Asking these things... does that mean I have permission to wait? May I... may I wait for you?"
She could see his lowered eyelashes trembling. His face still burned with lingering heat.
He was so much taller than her. His shoulders so much broader. At this distance, he practically engulfed her—so why did he look so fragile to her? If she spoke her refusal now, she feared he might shatter right then and there.
Eki opened her mouth, then closed it again. She should tell him not to wait, but the words of refusal wouldn't come. It felt like they would turn into a blade and cut him down. She didn't want to hurt him. She wanted him to be happy. She knew exactly what answer would bring a smile to his face—and that answer was her true feelings—yet she couldn't bring herself to say it. She was afraid of what would follow.
Then what in the world was she supposed to do? Words rose unbidden from her dizzying thoughts.
"Lord... why do you like me?"
Yurien stiffened, startled. It wasn't a question he could answer easily. To respond truthfully, he would have to lay bare everything he knew and everything he had seen.