When the Violet Wilted — 3
It was something that happened from time to time — every so often, I would sink into a truly melancholic state.
Those times with Adrian, I believed, had been one of them.
It wasn't something I was supposed to say, but call it reading the mood, I suppose.
There were moments when I wanted to confess everything about my regressions to someone, and perhaps those urges had overlapped and weakened my resolve.
After a night's sleep, all of that gloomy feeling had vanished.
I knew well how unhealthy it was to be seized by such emotions, and thinking on it a little more...
In the end, it was largely thanks to Adrian.
Mirajane, Adele, Adrian — the women whose bonds I had rekindled in this life had all, without exception, given me a sense of mental stability.
The only problem was that all three of them were women.
Anyone watching might misunderstand the nature of our relationships.
...Well, saying I felt nothing at all would be a lie, though.
Smack. I gave my cheek a light slap and rose from the bed.
The fact that even such idle thoughts were surfacing told me my body was in fairly good shape again. Until yesterday, I had felt like I might die several times over — if Adrian hadn't held me, I doubt I would have endured.
If I had to name the best choice I'd made in this life, it was meeting Adrian.
Coming to the South was the same. Without her, I never would have made it here this easily.
Brooding on it, my thoughts kept drifting strangely toward her —
but either way, the point was that she was no longer an ordinary presence to me.
Thump, thump.
At the sound of footsteps beyond the door, I smiled faintly and set about brewing tea for the guest who would soon arrive.
My mood was quite refreshed today. Whenever I shook off one of those spells of melancholy, this was always how I felt.
It was better to savor this feeling while it lasted.
After the sun hanging in the sky now set, I would likely be facing scenes far less pleasant.
"Robert, are you in?"
Knock knock—
At her slightly urgent knock, I took hold of the door handle — and the door burst open, Adrian's body pitching forward toward me.
I could see exactly why she had come, so I simply lifted my teacup and regarded her in silence.
Where should I even begin? After a moment's deliberation, I spoke.
"Good morning?"
"...How can you be so shameless after what you said yesterday? Do you have any idea how worried I was? 'Don't hate me even if I disappear' — please, don't say things like that even as a joke."
"Understood. In any case, you seem quite angry."
"I'm not angry. It's just... it's just that I was a little worried, that's all."
It was a rather different feeling from what I experienced with Adele.
If I called this adorable, that would probably be the right word for it.
Before I knew it, I started to reach out and pat her head, then froze mid-gesture and handed her the teacup instead.
Adrian, taking it from me, let out a long sigh.
She seemed to have done a great deal of thinking overnight. I felt a little sorry that it had been because of me — though I myself had spoken those words without much thought at the time.
"But you look better today?"
"Nothing wrong with that. I've poured out all my bad feelings — it's thanks to you, Adrian."
"Well, that's a relief, then."
The melancholy I sometimes carried never arrived by appointment.
It simply came unannounced and drowned me in dark musings.
And even that, once it was shaken off like this, would leave me fine for a good while.
The reason this episode had been so rough was probably the sight of Theresia.
Killing Theresia might prove harder still — but that was a matter for later.
Right now, I wanted to enjoy this momentary peace.
This — facing each other across a little table like this — was, I could honestly say, the happiest time I had.
"You've gained some breathing room, I see."
Clang—
Berod spoke, having lightly knocked my blade aside. I agreed that I'd gained some room to breathe.
To be honest, these past few days had weighed on me so heavily that I hadn't been able to bring out my real skill.
Now that mental weight was gone, and I was perhaps in the ideal state to draw out everything I was capable of.
Reclaiming a height of skill I had once reached was not a difficult thing.
It was a path I had already walked, after all — there was a reason I'd set a two-year deadline for my full recovery.
At this rate, I would soon reach a serviceable level.
And by "serviceable," I meant a level at which I could hold my own even against Berod.
"Breathing room doesn't mean you'll win, though."
"Aren't you asking a bit much? You do know there isn't a paladin alive who can stand against me?"
"I do know. It's just that the goal I have my eye on sits a little higher."
"So you mean to become a Sword Saint, do you?"
Sword Saint. Honestly, the title didn't interest me much. Why would I care about something I had already attained?
Above it — I was gazing at a tier higher than what men called the Sword Saint.
What should I even call that state?
Perhaps it wouldn't be confined to the sword at all. Come to think of it, what I was swinging now was a spear, wasn't it?
Berod clicked his tongue briefly at the sight of me having abandoned the sword for a spear.
Naturally enough — in close combat, a spear is always a troublesome weapon.
Far longer, and capable of slashing and thrusting just like a blade.
At the sight of me handling a spear with as much mastery as a sword, a few of the paladins had sent over looks of weary resignation.
"Talent, is it?"
"Effort."
"That's what geniuses always say."
I wondered what he would answer if he knew I'd squandered a hundred years climbing to this height.
Not that it mattered — in their eyes, I was just a young lord whose hands had never known a single callus.
I would simply look like a man who did everything through sheer talent. And that wasn't a bad way to be seen.
Whatever I did later, people might say things like, "If it's Robert, of course he could."
But in the end, the longer time went on, the more it was my side that grew exhausted —
so I barely slipped aside from the hammer's heavy downward strike and raised my hand in surrender.
A head-on duel with Berod was still beyond me.
Still, having pushed my condition this far was a decent result.
Even a horde of Temuchin like the last time — I could probably slaughter them without trouble now.
That was encouraging enough. I stroked the sword I'd newly acquired, slowly steadying my breathing.
Since I had to move at dawn tomorrow, there was no need to push myself further than this.
I'd barely sat down to rest when Berod's voice came to my ear.
"Is the Saintess alone right now?"
"She'll be with the priests. She always is when I'm training with the paladins."
"...She clings to you well enough on ordinary days, but at times like this she pretends not to care, does she?"
Had he been paying attention to that? I gave a short snort of laughter, and Berod's brow furrowed.
I already knew very well how unusually protective of Adrian he was.
It went a bit too far, honestly — at times he really did treat her like his own daughter.
What he worried about, most likely, was Adrian and I growing too close.
"You needn't worry so much. We're just friends, after all."
"I don't know what you mean by that, but the Saintess is not one to set her sights so low."
"You seem to think rather poorly of me."
Objectively speaking, honestly, there were few men who could measure up to me.
It was the result of countless regressions, true — but to anyone else, hadn't I achieved quite a lot for my age?
Backed by a Grand Duke, favored by an Imperial Princess. Even the Saintess's close friend, and a genuine match for Paladin Berod himself.
And yet — twenty-one years old.
If I'd been from some middling noble house, every family would have lit up and come calling with marriage proposals. The problem was that I was a Taylor.
A young lord whose house had earned an ugly reputation — even if the rumors improved later, it wouldn't change much.
"It's not that I think poorly of you. But you'd best be careful."
"In what way, may I ask?"
"The Saintess is not a vessel made to receive every one of your emotions."
At those words, I nodded. I knew.
I knew perfectly well how unwise it was to unload the feelings you carried onto someone else.
I didn't know how he had guessed it — but I supposed he need only have looked at Adrian's expression.
I had said something careless, and Adrian had taken those words to heart.
Of course she had. That was only natural from the man who had watched over her longer than anyone.
I gave a quiet nod and answered.
"On that point, I am reflecting."
"I don't care for your carelessness either. You do know how much the Saintess worried, don't you?"
"She came to see me first thing this morning. I'd say I consoled her quite well."
"...This morning?"
At the sight of him glaring as though he'd heard it for the first time, I gave an awkward laugh.
Had he really not known? Perhaps I shouldn't have brought any of this up at all.
After all, the name Adrian was, for Berod, tantamount to a tender spot no one was allowed to touch.
As I carefully rose from my seat, a hand seized my shoulder roughly.
I gave a wry smile at the grip, clenched hard as if to say stop — and Berod's eyes narrowed.
"How do you think I would feel about the two of you growing too close?"
"I imagine you'd object. Quite violently."
"I'm curious what you think. Do you truly believe you can remain merely a friend to the Saintess, with no feelings at all?"
It was a fair enough worry.
Plenty of men had approached the Saintess before, and Berod had driven every last one of them away in advance — naturally, such concerns would come to him.
But I wasn't living in this relationship without a thought in my head, either.
Whether things with Adrian might move beyond friendship into something more — that worried me just as much.
Then I smiled faintly and added,
"You needn't worry about that."
Because if I ever saw the possibility of it becoming that kind of relationship, I would be the one to step away.
Berod stared at me for a long moment, swallowed a groan, and let go of my shoulder.
I rubbed the numbed spot and started walking again.
One step. Another. Berod did not hold me back.
He simply watched me go in silence — and then, without a word, he too was gone.
Before I knew it, the moon hung above a darkened sky.
A bluish shadow wrapped itself around my surroundings, and within the stillness creeping in, my breathing gradually found its calm.
A sword in my hand, darkness before my eyes.
The ticking of an invisible clock slowly filled my ears.
And my footsteps did not stop — they went on, straight ahead.
"You truly mean to go, my lady?"
"I told you, didn't I. I'm going to the South."
At Adele's words, Lotos's brow knitted deeply.
He understood why she had nothing to occupy herself with here. And he understood, too, that with Robert in the South, she must be desperate to go.
But departing this suddenly? What was she thinking?
A schedule had been drawn up, yes — but if the Grand Duke vanished overnight, everything would descend into confusion.
Despite the earnest look he sent her, nothing changed.
From the very moment she'd read the letter Robert sent, Adele had decided — going to the South was a settled matter.
Adele gripped the wolf's reins roughly and shot a glance at the letter peeking out from her breast pocket.
It was the letter from Robert. It was this that had tangled her mind so badly,
and so she intended to lodge her protest with the man himself. What on earth were you thinking, writing something like this?
So much had surfaced because of it that a heart already aching had grown more tangled still.
"If not for my sake, won't you at least stay for the work's sake?"
"What exactly is there on your face that would keep me here? I feel nothing when I look at it."
"And yet your heart must be pounding away the moment you see Lord Taylor. Yes, I can imagine."
But the jab didn't get very far.
At the icy look she leveled at him, Lotos swallowed a nervous breath and stiffened into rigid formality, staring straight ahead — nothing like his earlier teasing.
That expression meant her mind was made up completely.
It was over. The ones who would have to roll with it was him; the ones who would have to work through the night was him.
Watching Lotos heave a long sigh, Adele turned her back and spoke.
"Then I'd best be off. Three days to the South, I'd guess."
"Please take the less-traveled routes, if you can. The central folk are frightened of your wolf."
"Do I look like a fool to you? I know better than you do."
The north wind swept in and chilled her cheeks. And what that wind stirred in her was — a small flutter of anticipation.
The memories that had awakened from the letter she'd read. If they were true...
Then there was so much she wanted to ask Robert. Though she suspected it wouldn't be everything.
What she had recovered was, after all, only a single memory.
Yip—! With a rough cry from her wolf, Adele began to run, onward and forward.
Toward the South — or more precisely, toward the place where Robert would be.
And on the running woman's lips, a faint smile slowly bloomed.