What Lies Between a Spineless Girl and Her Master (2)
After hearing her say she wished I wouldn't make that face, I laughed. Not a hollow chuckle, but a real laugh. How many people wouldn't laugh at such words from a foolish girl who knew nothing of the world? I laughed until my stomach hurt a little. It wasn't loud enough to make a sound, but my shoulders shook slightly, and Ariel looked at me with a flustered expression—maybe a bit annoyed, pouty even.
"Why... why are you laughing?"
"No reason. Just."
Only now did the girl's face truly come into view. Her blue eyes still shone brightly. Her black hair blended with the dark room. The contours of her face, lit by candlelight, were strikingly clear, and for the first time, I thought she was actually quite pretty. Not as much as me, though. She was just like me, already mired in the muck. I figured it was okay to give her at least one adult she could rely on. Even if it meant bringing not just my brother and me, but all my blood kin here. She was an innocent kid who had no one precious, forced to cling to someone like my brother. Even if my situation seemed more wretched, I wasn't the type to withhold pity from the pitiful—especially not from a child.
If I kept hating Ariel like this, I'd end up burying myself in emotions without protecting a single thing. I knew all too well that I, of all people, was exactly the type to do that.
"Follow me. I'll teach you how to swing a sword first."
"S-suddenly?"
"You said you wanted to be like me. And I don't dither like a child just because I stood up to someone."
"……."
I stood up and beckoned to Ariel. It meant come on. She might have thought it rude, but she followed without a word. The open lot beside the mansion at night had a certain charm. The breeze was comfortably cool, the moonlight brilliantly bright. Dew clung lightly to the grass, and every time the tip of my shoe brushed the turf, cold moisture soaked in.
I pulled out the ambiguously long blade—too big for a dagger—from where it was hidden in my bosom, sheath and all, and tossed it to her. Elana, who had followed, eyed it disapprovingly, but I ignored her. This knight looked at everything I did with that same unhappy glare.
The girl drew the sword with a completely different feel from the first day she'd pointed it at me. Back then, her intent to stab me had reached her fingertips; now, it was just awkward.
"Take off your shoes."
"S-suddenly?"
"Or you planning to move around in those heels?"
After she kicked off her shoes and awkwardly planted her bare feet on the ground, I circled behind her and cupped her hands with mine. I extended her fingers one by one, wrapping them properly over the hilt. Pinky first, then ring, middle, index, with the thumb bracing from the opposite side.
"Hold it like this."
"……Okay."
"Now raise your arm. Up to shoulder height."
I lifted her arm. The dress sleeve slipped down below her elbow, exposing her slender forearm in the moonlight. A bit disappointing, really. If there'd been something underneath—if it hadn't felt so empty—I probably would have pressed closer right now. But as it was, I didn't particularly want to. Anyway, I guided her to lower it slowly. The blade whistled through the air. Then I showed her how to pull back and thrust, stepping away gradually to watch her awkward form, and murmured low.
"One slash and thrust counts as a rep. Do about a thousand a day like that... Still wanna learn?"
Ariel looked up at me. Instead of answering, she swung again. Her form was sloppy, but the arc from shoulder to wrist followed what I'd taught her. I'd expected her to tire out quickly, but she kept going. A hundred, two hundred—I didn't count, but probably around there. Her breath grew ragged midway, but she didn't stop. Her dress, somewhat comfortable for training but still a dress, soaked up water at the hem, and sweat beaded on her forehead. Elana and I watched in silence. The girl didn't drop the sword until the end, then trudged back to her room and was soon snoring softly. I stared at her sleeping form for a long while. Her black hair spilled over the pillow from under the covers, her mouth slightly open. Even with Elana at the door, I didn't feel like going to my own bedroom. Listening to the girl's soft snores, I sat in a chair, gazed at the ceiling for a bit, then closed my eyes. Sleep didn't come easily. Maybe because there was so much I had to swallow down inside.
It had been quite some time since I started training the girl. After about a month, her form was starting to take shape. All thanks to my excellent skills and talent as a teacher, of course. The first week was just repeating the raise-and-slash-thrust motion every day. In the second week, I added footwork; by the third, linking slashes and thrusts. She finished every session to the end, as if it was the only thing she could do. I could sort of understand why Elana hadn't wanted to teach her.
In the meantime, I'd picked up a sort of hobby. Watching a girl swing a sword at empty air all day gets boring after a couple days. So I'd found something new: even people in this barbaric place enjoyed desserts and delicacies. Memories of savoring frozen treats back at the Vintervalt estate bubbled up. And while I hadn't put my past-life memories to much use before, I was definitely better at baking bread than these primitives. I hadn't gone to some academy, but I'd learned from far superior instructors via smartphone videos and baked in my home oven. Of course, the palace kitchen staff threw a fit trying to keep me from touching ingredients. Even dragged here, I was still someone important. They couldn't stop me from melting down underlings—I took over the kitchen easily enough. The head cooks in their hats glared daggers, but whatever.
Milk, cream, eggs, sugar, and some spice that smelled like vanilla even if the name differed, plus fresh-looking fruits. The so-called imperial palace had everything. There wasn't a café selling crème brûlée a thirty-minute walk from my past-life home, but when it went under after struggling, I'd hunted down the recipe and made it myself. Even bought a torch for it. I burned a few batches at first, but now... it was good enough to present like a gift from a master. Using a scrap of paper that spat fire instead of a proper torch was a minor letdown. Anyway, to show off that I'd baked it, I slipped on oversized oven mitts and headed out.
Carrying the dessert to the lot, I spotted the girl collapsed after swinging her sword like mad. Ariel lay spread-eagled on the grass, dress splayed out, black hair scattered among the blades. Sweat glistened on her face, eyes open to the sky. She panted hard, but her expression wasn't bad. Better than her usual gloomy one—this undignified, tongue-lolling exhaustion was kinda funny.
"Your Highness, enough slacking. Time to get up."
"Not slacking—I did everything for today......"
Ariel propped up her upper body, then froze seeing what I held.
"Wait... what's that? You... you baked it?"
She stared at the plate like it was some freakish thing. That look might hurt a little.
"Weird that I can make food?"
"No, I mean... you did it yourself? You baked that?"
"……."
"You didn't put anything gross in it? Like... super bitter or... crazy salty."
"Try it."
She crept closer, still suspicious, but paused at the sight of the caramelized sugar layer atop the custard. She nibbled a bite. Crack. The sugar shattered. Creamy goodness would have oozed beneath. Ariel froze for a split second, then shoved the whole thing in her mouth. She chewed in silence. Swallowed, then more silence.
"……Got more?"
"I can bake more, but after you finish tomorrow's work."
"Oh."
Her blue eyes lingered on the empty plate, lips dusted with sugar crumbs. Watching her lick them off with her tongue tip, I decided to make two next time.
"You'll make it tomorrow too?"
"If you finish everything."
"……Bring three."