Will You Hold Me...? (1)
"It seems you're finished in there. How did it go?"
When I stepped out of the room, leaving Berod behind, Adrian poked her head out as though she'd been waiting for me all along. It struck me, as it always did, that for a woman who could not see, she moved far too nimbly.
Then again, Adrian was a Saintess. There were things only divine power could accomplish, and she could perceive what ordinary eyes never would. I weighed the question briefly, but the things I'd have to say were too embarrassing to confess outright. I knew she harbored feelings for me that bordered on affection, yet they fell far short of anything one would call love. And there was certainly no need to mention that I'd been warned — touch things carelessly, and I would be the one hurt badly.
"We didn't talk about anything in particular. He merely asked me a few questions about myself."
"Sir Berod does tend to be rather suspicious. Still, it seems he didn't strong-arm you the way he used to."
I offered an awkward smile at the sight of Adrian beaming with relief. He hadn't strong-armed me, no — but for the entirety of that meeting, his presence had borne down on me all the same. If I told her that, would she get angry? I was a little curious what Adrian looked like in a temper, but I simply nodded and agreed. She regarded Berod as a father; there was no reason to go out of my way to speak ill of him.
I did, however, very much want to avoid crossing paths with Berod often. The paladins here were the same as ever — unlike the priests, I judged it would take a great deal of time to earn their support. And with the man himself waiting just beyond the door at my back, I lightly took Adrian by the arm and urged her along.
"Wha—?"
"Let's go somewhere together for now. We ought to finish what we were discussing earlier, shouldn't we?"
It was a touch hasty of me, but I trusted Adrian would understand. If I lingered over conversation with Berod any longer... I had a feeling my impression of paladins would sour in more ways than one.
Adrian chose the rooftop rather than a room for our conversation.
Just as on the day I first came to the Moon Tower, a cool breeze swept past and brushed my cheek. I had always liked this kind of wind. Not a hint of rain in it — cold and dry, the sort that left the chest strangely refreshed. With the season now brushing the very tail end of winter and the chill biting at us, I stepped naturally to her side and draped my coat over her shoulders.
"You always do dress so lightly. Is it because your divine power keeps you warm?"
"Ah... no, it isn't that. It's more of a habit, I suppose."
"No one would be pleased to see you catch a cold, Adrian. Do take a little more care."
If she fell ill while in my company, the way people looked at me would likely turn even colder. That was one reason. But there was a simpler problem as well: seeing her in such thin clothes made my own heart needlessly uncomfortable.
For a moment after I settled the coat over her, Adrian turned toward me and answered with a gentle smile.
"Aren't you cold, Robert? Is it that this place feels warm, compared to the North?"
"I imagine that's part of it. It is far colder up there, after all."
"What is the North like? I've heard it's a place of heavy snows, but I've never once been."
If I were to describe the North... the first thing that surfaced, of course, was Adele's face. Naturally so — whenever I thought of that place, she came to mind first. Our ties there ran deep, and lately I'd been racking my brain over how I might stop Adele from dying. Beyond that, nothing in particular presented itself, until suddenly I remembered the great bell that had rung to herald the new year. There was nothing like it in the central region. Perhaps that could be called a signature of the North.
"There was an enormous bell there. It tolled to announce the new year's arrival."
"Ah, if it's in the North, you must mean the New Moon Bell. I have heard of it."
"I suppose that's what left the deepest impression. I was terribly busy the whole time I was in the North, you see."
At the word busy, Adrian tilted her head — then, a heartbeat later, she went rigid, quietly fixing her gaze on me. Brilliant white light seeped out of the coat I had draped over her, stretched toward me, and began to envelop my entire body. I was still puzzling over the warmth settling over me when Adrian let out a small sigh and continued.
"I always think this, but every time I see you, you seem to come back wounded."
"...There was no helping it this time. Her Highness the Princess was in danger, was she not?"
"Still. Now there's another scar. Come here."
At her faintly stern tone I slowly drew near, and Adrian — brow furrowed — reached her hand toward my chest. The divine power suffusing my whole body gathered into her palm, and with a slight sting, my wounds began to itch as they closed.
"Hold still, please. I'm erasing wounds that haven't fully healed."
"You really don't need to..."
"I do, because I'm not fine with it. When you come back to me hurt like this, it weighs on my heart for no reason at all."
Beaming, she added, her face tilted up toward mine.
"Are you feeling better now?"
"...Yes. I'm fine."
Whenever I faced kindness this pure — goodwill with not a shred of self-interest in it — my heart grew inexplicably uneasy. From the very start, I had considered whether the Saintess's connection might prove useful to me; against that clarity of hers, it felt as though all my murk was laid bare for her to read.
Mirajen had been my lover in a past life, and Adele had once walked to a similar threshold. Adrian was different. Counting even the strange fact that I had never once crossed paths with a woman like her in any of my previous lives — partly because I'd never prioritized such things — she was the first person of this life with whom I had formed a genuine friendship. Having never met this type of woman before, I found myself awkward around Adrian in a dozen small ways. Like now, watching her smile: I couldn't for the life of me figure out how I was meant to respond. All I could do was return a faint smile and muddle through.
Her blonde hair, tinged as though steeped in moonlight, streamed white on the wind. Where it overlapped the dark night sky, it looked for all the world like the Milky Way. Like the lingering afterimage of pale moonlight, my gaze drifted, briefly entranced, along that breaking rush of white.
"Mirajen was terribly worried about you. She said you hadn't woken for three whole days."
"That was a matter of depleted strength. I wasn't gravely injured."
"For an ordinary person to stay unconscious for three days — just how worn out must you have been? That's why I prayed for you, too. So that you might wake even a little sooner."
Hands folded, she smiled faintly — and flushed, perhaps a little embarrassed by her own words. And here I'd assumed Mirajen might have told her something; apparently she had shared a good deal more than I expected. It was faintly mortifying, too, to hear from someone else that I'd been unconscious for three days. Fainting after a skirmish with barbarians — in my old days, I couldn't even have imagined it.
"I'll take that as the reason I woke so quickly. By the way — didn't you mention something earlier about the South?"
"Oh, that's right. So the reason you whisked me off was to finish that story?"
"I know I'm to come along, but I don't yet know the particulars."
Adrian hummed low in thought for a moment, then went on slowly, her voice faintly heightened — excited, almost.
"We'll likely stay in the South for a month, perhaps a month and a half. Part of it is travel near the Temple of the Moon, but this time we also intend to look into the matter of the southern mages rather seriously."
"That could prove somewhat dangerous."
"If it were dangerous, I wouldn't have brought you along. Beyond the investigation — pinning down undeniable evidence — this trip is closer to sightseeing than anything."
"Sightseeing, hm... I don't think that sounds bad at all."
If I weighed the free time this journey would grant under the pretense of tourism, moving for this purpose was, if anything, better suited to me. I could secure hours to act alone — and above all, securing the relics was one of my aims as well. There was certainly risk in slipping past the Church's surveillance net to take them, but covert movement was something I, too, was confident in.
Adrian seemed to hold considerable expectations for this journey south. Likely because it was her first time traveling this far, for this long — but going with me also appeared to please her quite a bit. I couldn't fathom what about me she found so agreeable. It wasn't as though we'd shared much; all she'd really done was read me through.
As I gazed at her absently, I noticed a lock of Adrian's hair had slipped loose and caught on her cheek, its end drifting toward her lips. I carefully caught the strand before it could be drawn into her mouth and swept it back behind her ear. The motion came so naturally that Adrian said nothing at all — yet in that instant even I thought, ah, and hastily withdrew my hand.
"Ah... forgive me. I saw your hair and moved before I knew it."
"I-I was a little startled. I never dreamed your hand would touch me..."
It was what Mirajen had always done as a matter of course, so my hand had reached out to Adrian just as naturally. When I apologized with a smile, Adrian stared for a moment at the spot where my hand had fallen, her lips twitching faintly.
"...Did you do that for Mirajen, too?"
I was briefly puzzled by the slight darkness in her voice, then tilted my head at the sudden mention of Mirajen's name — hardly the context for it. But just as I moved to ask what she meant, Adrian smiled brightly, shook her head, and said it was nothing.
"Still, you seem to have changed a great deal since last time. Looking at you now, Robert, I'm glad you don't appear so dark as you used to."
"Do you think so? I don't believe anything about me has changed."
"No, it has. How should I put it... I'd say you look warmer. Rather than dark and cold as before, you seem to have gained a little warmth."
Adrian had once told me that looking at me was like looking at a dead man. As though I were someone who wished for nothing but death — a heart so desolate it worried her without cause. Hadn't she said exactly that? And it was true that my mind had settled considerably after my return from the North. But warm, though. Hmm. That I found hard to accept.
"It usually happens when the heart finds peace, or when it begins to nurture love, you know. Have you found someone you like?"
"...It's nothing of the sort."
"Hm. I rather thought it wouldn't be strange for you to have a lover already, Robert."
"I did."
The words came with Mirajen's face behind them. A lover from previous regressions — a single life now extinguished by my deaths. Repeating those many lives had worn my emotions thin, and yet if I could still live as a person, I owed it to bonds like Mirajen and Adele. But I was living this life on the assumption that it would be my last. Liking someone was nothing more than a luxury, and I no longer wished to nurture love. So I did my best to keep my distance — maintaining a measure of friendship while making certain our hearts never drew closer than that. So that even if I vanished without warning one day, no one would be left remembering me.
At my answer, Adrian's shoulders flinched — then she fixed me with a long, steady stare. The corners of her gently smiling mouth looked, just slightly, as though they had warped. Facing that darkened gaze, I spoke with care.
"But I have no one now. Going forward — I likely never will."
"Is that so."
With those murmured words, Adrian's hand came to rest on my chest, and in the silence that followed we stayed like that, touching, for a long while. When I could hear my own heartbeat — thump — keeping its even rhythm, Adrian looked at me again and murmured, softly.
"...It's cold."
Abruptly, the wind rose. In place of the breeze that had been merely refreshing came a wind sharp and frigid, as though it meant to carve into flesh. Even so, Adrian kept her hand against me, saying nothing — only gazing.
Was cold a word for the wind?
Or was it a word for my heart?
Even as I sensed the answer somewhere deep down, part of me wanted, just a little, to avoid it.