The Second Gift
The Second Gift
The commotion over Isabella's misunderstanding passed just like that.
Not every misunderstanding had been cleared up, but in any case, the Saintess herself had denied it directly.
"It must be a little different from what I was thinking," Isabella mused to herself as she gazed pityingly at her first love—the playboy (presumed) riding a white horse toward the battlefield.
There was no pain of a broken heart there.
After all, the gulf in their status had been far too vast from the start.
She dismissed it as a fleeting dream and returned to her usual self.
"...Oh, Zeke. Why must you be Zeke?"
Honestly, playing the tragic heroine was something she had wanted to try at least once in her life. And now that she had finally succeeded, she found it rather enjoyable in its own way.
Laughing lightly to herself, Isabella checked off one of the roughly 132 items on her bucket list, immersing herself inwardly in the role.
At that moment, Zeke, who was heading toward the battlefield, turned and looked back. Startled, Isabella hid behind a tree.
But Zeke was the Hero. His senses, as one who had touched the truth, were not so dull as to miss that. And so Zeke saw Isabella looking at him with a subtle expression—her eyes pitying and her cheeks faintly flushed.
"...I'm sorry."
In truth, the person he owed the deepest apology to was Isabella.
She knew nothing; she was not even a citizen of the Holy Kingdom. Yet the Empire that day had used Isabella as a hostage and even dispatched an assassin to threaten her life.
Moreover, just as Isabella was precious to Rosaria and Canaria, those two must have been equally precious to Isabella, who was their friend.
But Zeke had driven both of their lives to ruin.
He had driven the Saint to take his own life, and had dealt the Demon King a wound that would never fade. And though now, by his own choice, he had temporarily erased his memories... it was impossible not to know that this was the cause.
Whenever Zeke saw Isabella's face, he felt guilt. He kept telling himself he had no right to look at her, and he tried not to.
Head bowed, endlessly apologizing to those three.
He thought of that as his life.
He kept his head down, avoiding those brown eyes.
But for some reason, she lingered in his mind.
Since that day, Zeke had continued to kill.
Because the color of atonement for the Demon King was a deep blood-red. With the holy sword still unwashed of blood and his hands constantly stained, he followed orders, repeating slaughter after slaughter for the sake of atonement.
The flowing blood dyed the river crimson.
The piled corpses formed a tower that reached the sky.
For an upright hero, that kind of life was utterly devastating.
At that time, for the first and only time,
he saw someone he had saved.
Isabella, who had lived because he had fended off the assassin.
Certainly, what he had done that day was deception and hypocrisy.
After all, Isabella was someone who should never have had to die in the first place.
Even so, the Empire had tried to kill her.
But she had lived because he had disobeyed that order.
...In any case, Isabella was the only person Zeke had ever saved, and after the day the Saint died, Zeke saw, for the first time, someone who had not died by his own choice.
The royal family, nobles, citizens, heretics, enemy nations.
Zeke had killed them all.
And yet Isabella, at least, was alive.
Even though her memories had been erased...
she was laughing, as if that life was a happy one.
It was the first time someone standing before him had smiled. Everyone else had either despaired at death or died cursing Zeke. Only Isabella was smiling.
He knew that smile was not directed at him.
Even so, Zeke was deeply moved.
And at the same time, he felt an equal measure of remorse.
Because he had seen the smile the Empire had tried to erase that day.
He felt a bone-deep ache at the fact that the Empire had mercilessly sent an assassin to kill someone who smiled so pure and beautiful a smile, using her as a hostage.
And they had even taken her family hostage.
The moment that thought crossed his mind, Zeke felt it was truly fortunate that he had turned his back.
He did not want her to see that he was crying.
What right did he possibly have?
He did not even know why he was crying.
Putting her in danger, killing and tormenting her friends, holding her younger siblings hostage—all of it had been the doing of his past self.
What kind of face was he making, standing before her?
And why was such a piece of trash crying?
"...I'm sorry."
Zeke offered an apology that would never reach her.
Then he made a vow to himself.
The next time, he would come back after he had regained his memories.
And then, for the rest of his life, he would stay by her side and atone.
As punishment for committing a sin that could never be erased.
Even beyond the day she might forgive him.
He would atone until this life came to an end.
If back then he had protected that smile through hypocrisy,
this time he would protect it out of a sense of mission. So thinking, he headed toward the battlefield that was not yet over.
Swallowing down a nameless flutter in his heart.
*
Even though it was a birthday party,
perhaps it was because there were so many formalities to observe.
No matter how much she was Rosaria, publicly Canaria held the position of the Saintess, and it was impossible to hold the kind of party where she could casually approach her and play joyfully like old times.
Rosaria grew a little tired of the rather lukewarm and formal affair.
But it did not matter.
The second gift still remained, and that was something she intended to give in her own room.
Still, it was boring.
Leaving behind the formal party that strictly observed the Holy Kingdom's highest etiquette—reciting congratulatory addresses and praying for blessings—Rosaria quietly ate the special cake she had made herself.
As expected, it suited her taste.
Even Zeke, an outsider and a member of royalty, had eaten it with relish, had he not? "As I thought, high-ranking people understand the true flavor of my cooking," Rosaria mused to herself, and it was right around then that this considerably warped culinary outlook was taking root in her mind.
Rosaria's bored eyes met Canaria's.
"...I think we've enjoyed ourselves enough by now."
At a suitable moment, Canaria requested the closing of the party. Then, saying she needed to go upstairs to treat Rosaria, she dismissed the guests just as she always did.
That was the signal.
The signal that it was time to be alone together.
At that long-awaited opportunity, Rosaria focused.
The second gift required some preparation work, so first, Rosaria purified her mind and body using her divine power.
Then, as she climbed the stairs, she said to Canaria.
"...Until I give the signal, you must not come into the room."
Since there were various preparations needed before giving the gift, Rosaria even barred Canaria from entering. After all, it would not be a surprise gift if she saw it beforehand.
Though it was an unfamiliar cold shoulder,
Canaria only smiled softly.
It had been a long time since she had seen her insist on something so stubbornly. Of course, back then it had been because she had not wanted to show herself treating wounds that had not yet healed... but was that not all in the past now?
Knowing now that it was not for such a heartbreaking reason, Canaria waited pleasantly outside the door, watching in anticipation.
"...Ugh, this isn't right."
Rosaria's voice faintly drifted from beyond the door.
She could not guess what on earth she was preparing to make her sound like that.
But Canaria deliberately ignored it and thought of other things. What could she have prepared? Trying to guess was enjoyable too. First, Canaria decided to wait while purifying her own mind and body.
About five minutes passed like that.
"Y... you can come in now, Canaria."
Rosaria spoke through her divine power.
That alone conveyed the embarrassment she was feeling. At the same time, curiosity about what on earth the second gift could be swelled within her.
"...And, before you come in, please make sure to put up a barrier."
She was even demanding a barrier. Canaria grew more and more curious about whatever Rosaria's gift, waiting beyond the door, could be. Still, for now, following her instruction, Canaria created a barrier that blocked recognition and sound.
And then, when she grasped the door handle and opened it.
She wondered if the sight before her eyes was a dream.
Rosaria was leaning against the bed, dressed in clothes so thin that her skin was faintly visible through them, striking a rather sensual pose to seduce Canaria.
It was not perfect, of course.
It felt like an innocent girl imitating an adult.
But that very feeling was even more stimulating to Canaria.
And Rosaria herself seemed embarrassed by it too, her face flushed a deep red as she tried to calm herself, wearing an expression that looked as if it might crumble at any moment.
"W... welcome, Canaria."
Rosaria forced out a voice that was trembling badly... yet one she tried her hardest to make sound alluring.
"W... would you like to eat first? Or would you like to bathe first?"
Rosaria was on the verge of imploding.
Why had she thought of giving something like this as a gift?
The present Rosaria scolded her past self.
But the water had already been spilled, and having come this far, there was no turning back.
She fitted together the puzzle to complete her first-ever attempt at seduction.
"Or... would you... like to have... me...?"
A three-choice question that did not yet exist in this world,
and perhaps would never exist in it thereafter.
A provocative act, hundreds of years ahead of its time, unfolded before Canaria.
And on top of that, it was the person Canaria loved most, enduring such humiliation and striving to seduce her, solely for her sake...
Canaria's reason snapped.
A boiling, instinctive something
had overtaken the unguarded Canaria's rational mind.
Rosaria's second gift was herself.
And so Canaria did not refuse it. On the contrary, after wiping away a slight nosebleed, she strode silently toward Rosaria.
"...How would I know unless you ask me directly?"
Canaria, having approached Rosaria, whispered into her ear. Then, finding her reddened ear terribly sweet, Canaria playfully nibbled it.
"...Hyaah—!"
Rosaria moaned at the sudden stimulation. And that was like pouring oil onto a fire. Canaria's expression twisted for the first time in a long while.
An expression containing nothing but 100-proof love. Her faintly trembling eyes were like the irregular blinking of a broken machine.
"...Of course, for me, there is only Rosaria."
So saying, she answered the three-choice question. Then, as if to repay that question, she embraced Rosaria, her hand gently tracing down her back.
It was far too intense a stimulation for both of them.
It was the first time Rosaria had seduced Canaria, and the first time Canaria had embraced Rosaria while being seduced by her. So even though it was the same act, the stimulation was doubled.
Canaria gave her the kiss they always shared.
Lightning flashed through Rosaria's mind.
And the same was true for Canaria.
The stimulation, magnified exponentially, filled both of their minds as their lips overlapped.
"...Why aren't you moving, for once?"
At that moment, Canaria looked at Rosaria, who was not moving. Usually, she would have kissed back immediately. Her behaving differently than usual made Canaria wonder.
Then, gently, she cupped Rosaria's chin again. Unlike before, their now-paired silver eyes gazed at each other.
Without a single word exchanged, only the heated sound of their rough breaths lingered in their ears.
The one who could not hold back first was Canaria.
Once more, she moved closer to Rosaria.
Then, tilting her head slightly, she began a deep kiss that would not end with just a kiss. The two girls' tongues intertwined. They tangled together, as if dancing beautifully in their search for each other's love.
Neither of them pulled their lips away.
They wanted to remain sticky and entwined.
They breathed each other's breath and passed the time that way.
Then, almost at the same moment, they each placed a hand over the other's left breast. They wanted to feel the beating heart. Rosaria and Canaria measured the flow of time by each other's heartbeats.
They recognized that every two beats was one second.
Their hearts were beating that fast,
and before long, it had passed thirty.
Canaria paused her teasing briefly and parted their overlapping lips.
A long, translucent thread stretched between their parted lips. And beyond it, breathing raggedly, was Rosaria, her face redder than it had ever been.
Rosaria's virginal breaths.
Even that was stimulating to Canaria.
A deep sense of immorality filled Canaria.
Like eating the forbidden fruit, a murky sense of guilt surged up—the feeling of transgressing a taboo that was not permitted.
"...Tell me with your own lips, Rosaria."
Then she asked her.
"...Tell me what you would like me to do."
Gently, she took hold of Rosaria's waist.
Then she lifted her onto the bed just like that.
Through the thin fabric, her bare skin was faintly visible. She took in the sight of the suggestive glimpses of skin that appeared every time the clothes fluttered.
Presently, when even her collarbone had turned red,
Canaria climbed on top of Rosaria.
Rosaria was fully on the bed, right up to the backs of her knees, and Canaria was pressed closely above her.
Both of their faces were dyed red.
The hair that naturally cascaded down became a curtain.
A silver curtain mingled with golden hair.
A demon is, by nature, a being faithful to desire.
The pink desire she had been holding back was now filling Canaria's head completely.
"...Tell me clearly."
Even so, she could endure it.
Because for Rosaria's sake, she could do anything.
She was confident she could overcome even this urge that was about to explode.
That was why she asked her.
What it was she truly wanted.
In case her own desire might take the wrong direction.
Just as she always had, she wanted Rosaria to set the direction.
"...Today is your birthday, after all."
At that moment, Rosaria opened her mouth.
She could see Canaria's tormented face.
In those eyes, she saw her own deeply flushed reflection,
...and for an instant, countless thoughts raced through her mind. But soon, she shook them all off and focused on the present.
Then she gave Canaria the answer she most wanted.
So that only she in this world could hear,
she whispered sweetly into her burning ear.
"...Everything except my chastity, please do as you wish, Canaria."
That was the second gift she gave to Canaria. The bare minimum of atonement for Canaria, who must have lived in a state of constant collapse ever since the day Rosaria died. And because she wanted to share, with the woman who had suffered so much, a fragment of the happiness she would feel when she became an adult and married.
Rosaria gave herself to Canaria.
Canaria accepted that Rosaria.
"...And, happy birthday."
For a moment, the past flickered by.
Canaria, whom she had first met at the orphanage.
Back then, she had been a small child carrying darkness in her heart.
A child without a name, without hope in life.
She remembered the day she met that child.
Because that day was the same date as today.
A nameless child could not possibly know her own birthday. And so Canaria took the day she first met Rosaria—the day she found her reason for living—as her birthday.
Of course, the Canaria before her eyes now was different from back then.
Her black hair had turned white,
and her golden eyes had changed to silver.
Even so, there was something that had not changed from that time.
"...Thank you."
Her heart that loved Rosaria.
The wish to become the reason for living
of the person who had become her own reason for living.
At least that much about Canaria had not changed.
"...Today, I'm going to be a little bit mean."
"...I don't mind. Please do as you wish, Canaria."
Rosaria was the same.
Just as she had back then,
she loved Canaria.
Just as she had back then, Canaria was her reason for living.
Just as she had back then, she wanted to be the reason for Canaria's life.
...And so, as a gift from that reason for living, she gave herself.
Just as Canaria had become her gift that day.
A birthday that felt like the first they had spent together in a long time.
On the day they first met, they shared a warm kiss.
At that moment, the first snow of the season fell early from the sky.
The frozen clouds' tears covered the earth.
But today, even with the snow, it was not cold.
...Because the warmth of each other's bodies, as they held one another close, filled their hearts with warmth.