Reconciliation (1)
The girl—who I wasn’t sure was actually Philia’s friend or not—said she was using the second floor of the dormitory, so I headed there instead of my room on the fifth floor.
“Sniff, uhh… hic….”
She’d stopped sobbing in earnest, but she was still spilling tears like a broken faucet when she opened the door. I almost let out an admiring whistle on reflex.
Wow.
Luxury and extravagance really did look like this, I thought to myself.
Modern Koreans had grown up with the social and cultural belief that modesty was a virtue, so even when they tried to indulge themselves, it always felt a little forced.
That was because the idea that extravagance was bad bound both the person indulging and everyone else who might be expected to admire or envy them.
At most, a modern Korean’s idea of luxury was buying an expensive hardwood table and then going, “It’s good quality, you know—ha ha—if you use it long enough it actually works out cheaper, and I can even pass it down to the kids,” while secretly waiting for someone to ask the price.
But nobles in this world had no such rulebook.
Therefore.
Why coat it in gold? Because it was pretty! Gold was too much and hurt the eyes? Then let’s add white marble too! Why hang silk over the bed canopy? Because it was beautiful, and because it felt wonderful against the skin!
They enjoyed opulence with that simple, innocent kind of sensibility.
“Wahh… sniffle….”
I sat down beside the girl, who still kept sniffling, and the mattress sank so luxuriously beneath me that I nearly toppled backward. The owner of the room was still too busy crying to notice my little stumble, it seemed.
“There. Now stop crying.”
“Hic… it huuurts… it hurts, I said….”
I knew better than anyone that bruises were often more miserable after the blow than at the moment it landed.
Ugh.
Why was this kid like this? If she was going to be awful, she could at least be cleanly awful about it, instead of making me feel guilty.
“…Hold still for a second.”
“Sniff, huh…?”
I gently cupped her swollen cheek, soft and puffy to the touch, careful not to hurt her.
“Let every wound be healed.”
Ether became my mana, and my mana flowed into the girl’s body.
Torn flesh knit itself together, the pain faded away, and the swelling left by the rush of blood went down. Before long, the girl’s cheek had gone back to looking smooth and pale, just as it had when I first saw her.
“Huh…?”
She blinked her violet eyes and touched her cheek in a daze.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore….”
“I healed it.”
“T-that was magic language just now? But you didn’t even have a wand…?”
“Yep. That’s right.”
“I’ve never heard of that before. Unless it’s some family technique… no, that can’t be it.”
She must have stopped herself because she realized I was a commoner, but no, not exactly. In a language community, maybe, but not in that sense.
“Give me your handkerchief.”
Her injury was healed, but blood and tears still clung to her face.
I wiped her cheeks, chin, and lips clean as carefully as I could.
“Close your eyes.”
With her eyes shut, I meticulously cleaned around them too.
“Blow your nose. Go on.”
“Snf, snnh.”
“Good. The other side too.”
“Snnnh.”
“That’s it.”
Lastly, I wiped around her nose one more time, folded the handkerchief, and tucked it into my pants pocket. I’d have to wash it later.
The girl rubbed at her face and the skin around her nose, then muttered in a voice so small it was barely louder than a mosquito’s buzz.
“…Thank you.”
“….”
It was just… weird.
She’d started the whole mess by picking a fight with me, and if you looked only at the act of hitting, I was the one in the wrong and she was the victim. And yet she was thanking me for healing the cheek I’d struck.
Is this girl a pushover or what?
She was exactly the sort of person who’d be in big trouble if she ever got caught by some shady guy. I don’t want to hit you, but you’re making me hit you! Apologize!—and she’d probably end up teary-eyed and convinced it was all her fault.
“Haa….”
“…Why are you sighing?”
“What’s your name?”
“I-It’s Isabel… of the Schur noble house….”
So that explained this whole display of luxury. I remembered reading in that thick book at the orphanage that the Schurs were one of the richest, most powerful families in the empire.
Come to think of it, I should get that book back. I ought to visit the orphanage sometime anyway, just to check up on the kids there.
“Isabel, huh. I’m Ellie. I don’t have a family name because I’m an orphan.”
“Gasp.”
Isabel drew in a sharp breath. In more ways than one, she really did seem innocent.
“Anyway, I’m sorry for slapping your cheek. But you should apologize too—for insulting my scarf.”
“Y-yeah… sorry….”
“I’m sorry too. Now, handshake.”
Isabel looked dazed, but she took my hand, and when I shook it she seemed to get excited and started shaking back.
At this point, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. She’d been crying at the top of her lungs just because she didn’t have any friends, after all.
“Geez… do you want to be friends with me?”
“F-friends?”
Isabel’s violet eyes sparkled. Not literally, of course—just figuratively.
“Yeah! Want to?”
“I do! I do!”
“Good. Then from today on, we’re friends, okay?”
“Yeah! Friends! Promise!”
Apparently thrilled, Isabel hooked her finger around mine and sealed the promise that way.
“Today is our first day…! Hehe…!”
“Yeah, yeah. Friend Day One.”
Now that the situation was settled, I glanced toward the dormitory window, in the direction where the entrance ceremony was probably still going on.
Looks like it’s almost over?
Well, I doubted Headmaster Scathach was the type to waste time on empty ceremony. She’d probably explain the schedule for the term—the major things that were likely to happen over the next few months—then have each professor come out, say a few words, and call it a day.
“Haaah.”
This time I let the sigh out loud and flopped onto the bed.
It was nice and soft. Money really did buy comfort.
Isabel hesitated before asking,
“So, um… what about the entrance ceremony?”
“I’ll just stay here. It seems almost over anyway.”
I could always ask Stella or Clea later if there’d been anything important.
Philia…
“Really? Then… I guess I’ll stay here too.”
Still a little awkward, Isabel lay down beside me.
“But what on earth is going on between you and Philia?”
“Well, uhh… that bitch….”
“Mm-hm. Don’t cry—just tell me.”
“I-I’m not crying! Sniff….”
“Haaah.”
“R-really, I’m not. I’m just mad, that’s all. I’m not being friends with her anymore.”
“Why? Because you’re friends with me now?”
“Yep!”
“Philia isn’t a bad girl. She’s just bad at making friends, kind of a loner, and a bit of a nerd, that’s all.”
“What’s a nerd…? I can tell it’s a bad word, though.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”
I needed to be careful with my words. I didn’t want to spread weird new slang to the nobles of this world for no reason.
Worst-case scenario, it could become a kind of noble dialect or upper-class slang. “Your Highness, you’re absolutely stunning today.” “Your Majesty, I believe this is not a matter that requires such grave seriousness.” “Hm, your point is quite precise and correct.”
“Agh….”
“What, what is it?”
“Nothing. I just had a weird thought on my own.”
I really did need to be careful from now on. Seriously.
“Hmph. Still, I’m done with Philia. I’m not meeting her again.”
“That might be hard.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Because I’m friends with Philia too. Unless you’re planning to disappear every time I run into her from now on?”
“!?”
Isabel looked utterly stunned, as if she’d never even imagined such a possibility.
“I, you, we, I mean….”
Watching her, I thought,
Kids really are kids.
After spending ten days wandering around the academy and meeting all sorts of students, I’d understood one thing for sure.
They were the children of high noble houses, each one called a prodigy or a genius or a wonder child in their own right, but… kids were still kids.
For better or worse, they were ignorant, quick to trust people’s words, and while they did have a certain stubbornness or conviction, it was still an untrained stubbornness and a half-baked conviction.
In other words, they were normal adolescents.
Of course, there might be some I simply hadn’t seen clearly yet—kids whose hearts had been wounded and festered, or kids born rotten from the start, beyond any help at all.
I might meet those kinds of people someday too, and even end up fighting them—not the childish scuffling of kids, but a fight to the death with no hope of reconciliation.
Even so.
That wasn’t what I needed to think about right now.
“Let’s go make up with Philia too in a bit.”
“Y-you can do that!?”
“Of course.”
I turned to look at her and laughed, because the way Isabel stared at me made me feel like some kind of saint or hero.
“Don’t admire me too much.”
“I-I wasn’t admiring you… b-but….”
“There are plenty of things I can’t do too. And especially for the goal I’m chasing, I absolutely need other people’s cooperation.”
No matter how powerful an individual might be, an emperor could never become an emperor alone.
History proved that much—just like Xiang Yu, one of the greatest warriors who ever lived, who ended his life by suicide.
“What is it? Your goal, I mean, Ellie.”
“I can’t tell you.”
Someday I would tell her. To Isabel, and to all my other friends too.
I just didn’t know when that would be.
I might ask them to lend me their hands because I wanted to become emperor, or I might gather my friends after I’d already taken the throne and confess everything then.
But one thing was certain: it wasn’t time yet.
“What do you mean, you can’t tell me? We’re friends.”
“Even friends have secrets they can’t share. And if you get too clingy, that’s bad for friendship, you know?”
“Gasp.”
Startled all over again, Isabel fidgeted before saying,
“Um, then tell me whenever you can. I’ll help you.”
“My goal?”
“Yeah.”
Still lying next to me on the bed, Isabel nodded.
“Whatever your goal is, Ellie, I’ll help you achieve it. I promise.”
That made me snort with laughter. If I told her, “You just promised to join a rebellion, you know,” I wondered what kind of face she’d make.
“Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s go find Philia.”
I should make up with her too.
It wasn’t intentional, but I had put her through a rather embarrassing ordeal.
---