Of the Vacillating Girl and Her Kin's Conversation (1)
Thankfully, no ninjas leaped out to slice both me and the girl to ribbons just because we took a stroll in the garden. We walked along the grass-lined path. Every time the wind blew, the blades bent to one side, then sprang back up, over and over.
The girl stood still for a long while before murmuring softly.
"Is it really okay for me to just be out here like this?"
"What's got you so scared?"
"I don't know, just..."
Ariel gazed at the flowerbed at the garden's edge, her eyes distant somewhere far away.
"The former emperor... no, Dad died, and then my brother did too... Everything's fallen apart."
She glanced at me, then walked ahead. I followed slowly behind her, about half a step back.
Walking like this, I realized the imperial palace was absurdly vast. No matter how far we went, the end never seemed in sight. Ariel pressed on without looking around, her back small and slight. She wasn't carrying anything, yet her shoulders slumped as if crushed by an invisible weight. It was ridiculous that I could tell from the faint shift of her shoulder line under the dress.
The people tending the palace grounds spotted her and bowed with stiff expressions. An old gardener. Two women with brooms. It was less a greeting and more a reflex—heads down, eyes peeking up, then darting away the moment they met mine.
Ariel looked at them uncomfortably and let the words slip out.
"Back then, when I walked like this, they didn't look at me with those tense, rigid faces. They always gazed at me with cute, loving eyes. They'd talk to me, and I'd chat right back without a care."
It felt less like she was talking to me and more like a lament for the past.
"But now, everyone who used to be so kind treats me like they're calculating something. 'Can I greet her? Bow? Respond warmly if she speaks to me?' That kind of thing."
"......"
"It's natural, I guess. Getting close to me could spell trouble for them..."
Her voice trailed off. Before we knew it, we'd crossed the vast garden. Countless palace buildings, inexplicable spires, and structures dotted the grounds. Every time I saw it, I thought the same: this patchwork imperial city was a ragged mess, like someone had jammed every old building that looked vaguely pretty and luxurious into one spot. Staring at its splendor always brought back the wretched beggars on the streets—the scenes I'd witnessed when I first arrived in the capital.
"So you're sad about that?"
"Yeah. Tremendously."
"Everything feels like a total mess?"
"Yeah."
"But the sky's clear, and the scenery around us is beautiful."
Ariel slowed her steps a bit and half-turned her head.
"......You know what?"
"Tell me first, then maybe I'll know."
"I still hate you."
"That's a shame."
"Even after you saved me and brought me out here like this, I still hate you."
She kept walking ahead. I followed. At some point, our footsteps fell into sync, though I couldn't say when it started.
Eventually, we'd walked far—from the southern side of the palace to the northern gate. I'd thought it went on forever, but we made it after all.
The gate stood open. Guards flanked both sides, but if the princess wanted to leave, no one would stop her—especially not with me in tow. She could go anytime, yet she stopped right there, staring beyond.
Outside lay a cobblestone road sloping gently downward, lined at its end with tidy rooftops—a decent affluent district, as expected near the palace.
A glimpse of the capital unfolded before us.
"Just because you have 'Vintervalt' tacked onto your name, I hate you so much I can't do a thing about it."
Her voice sank a little.
"You... you don't even care about that stuff. You just live like it doesn't matter."
She stood frozen at the gate for a long time, swallowed hard, then turned to face me.
"I want to be like you."
"That'd be tough."
She let out a small laugh—a new kind, not mocking or self-deprecating, just a plain laugh.
"Yeah, it'd be hard. I'd never act as crazy as you, even if I died trying."
"......"
She stepped closer. One step.
"I can't leave yet. If you were who I thought you were up till now, you'd have gone no matter what I said."
She stopped right in front of me, reached out, and brushed my hair. She tucked the wind-tousled silver strands behind my ear, her hand trailing down to gently caress my cheek. Her fingertips were warm. Was her body temperature higher than mine, or was I just cold?
Then her face changed—like she'd touched something hot—and she pulled her hand back, curling her fingers and drawing them to her chest.
"Rebecca."
She called my name. Not Vintervalt.
"You want to see your family, right?"
My voice wouldn't come out. I want to see them stuck in my throat, so I just nodded.
Her blue eyes trembled faintly.
"I'll let you see them today. Tell me how to get out of here."
"......Just walk out like we did a minute ago."
"You know that's not what I mean."
I had no clue how to leave the palace myself. She could just stroll out, but I probably couldn't even use the main gate. If anything, I should be the one asking.
"Ever swung a sword before?"
Ariel tilted her head slightly.
"......If I had, you'd be dead from the day we met."
I snorted. Hard to picture those slender arms wielding a blade. Then again, people change. Even a guy like me—once handsome, strong, healthy, and built—had become a delicate beauty who might blow away in the wind.
I turned back the way we'd come. She followed.
I'd said I'd teach her, but all I knew was the swordsmanship drilled into me as a kid. My brother might've hidden the family style or whatever, but what good was a ruined art that could barely muster sword aura anyway? Worthless for protecting anyone.
"Where are we going?"
"If I teach you the sword... maybe you'll end up a bit like me."
"...The sword?"
"Yeah. If you can fight and beat the guy in front of you... whatever anyone says starts feeling kinda ridiculous."
I quickened my pace a little. Her footsteps sped up too. This time, side by side. Not half a step behind.
The wind from the gate pushed at our backs. Our long hair flowed in the same direction.
The moment we got back to our quarters, far from teaching swordplay, our esteemed princess collapsed from exhaustion. If a short walk leaves you wiped out like that, shouldn't you build stamina first? Or maybe she faked it.
Anyway, after dinner, I stared blankly at the moon from the terrace railing, elbow propped, chin in hand. It was pretty bright.
Footsteps approached from behind—steady, familiar strides, neither heavy nor light.
Elana tossed me a key. Small and worn, its surface rough and corroded.
"Her Highness said to give you this. Don't get any funny ideas. There's nowhere you can go anyway."
With that, she assigned me a servant. He bowed once and led the way without a word. I followed silently.
Corridors, stairs down, more corridors, more stairs. The palace underground connected differently from where I'd been held. The lanterns on the walls grew farther apart; the air turned chilly.
The servant brought me to the underground dungeon entrance, nodded slightly, and left.
The latch wasn't even locked. I unfastened it, opened the door, descended a bit, and faced another door. I used Elana's key. It creaked.
Down more squeaky stairs. This dungeon was decently lit—not by torches, but by a faint glow seeping from the walls, like scrolls of spells affixed there. A magic circle at the entrance suggested a barrier. Nothing like my old cell. Someone cleaned here regularly; it looked tidy. Mine had felt abandoned for decades. This was practically a hotel suite for dissatisfied guests of the realm.
Approaching the bars, I saw my brother's silhouette. The family's prized heir wasn't on the brink of death, thankfully.
"What bullshit are you gonna spout today..."
His irritated words cut off. He'd realized the blue eyes and black hair weren't there.
Through the bars, he still looked overflowing with muscle—stupidly so. But wounds covered his body. And one patch of flesh looked singed, reddish and wrinkled... like it'd been seared. The one-eyed monster's doing?
The underground stench was annoying but bearable. As I neared the bars, his face filled with disbelief.
"......Is that really you, Rebecca?"
"Yeah, it's me."
He started to speak, swallowed it, opened his mouth again, then closed it.
"Long time no see. Got nothing to say?"
"You seem... different."
"I am."
"Heard you've become the princess's dog."
"Who said that?"
"Her."
"......Not wrong."
"......"
"Holding up okay? I was there a few days; it wasn't comfy."
No reply came. Just those red eyes, brimming with complexity.