The Start of an Awkward Journey
The Start of an Awkward Journey
"...Haaah."
Rosaria greeted the morning with a sigh.
The cause was a dream too difficult to put into words.
The raw material was, naturally, the foreplay and climax of that night.
The dream woven from that material was so thick with sticky, pink-tinged scenes it needed no description — and Rosaria woke from it.
Three days had already passed,
yet she still felt trapped in that moment.
Because of it, Rosaria suffered from self-loathing every single day.
Her shamefully damp undergarments only added fuel to that fire.
And worse — it had been a dream.
In a dream, it could go further than reality ever had.
In the dream, Rosaria had watched herself spiral further and further out of control, touched even in places that were forbidden to be touched.
'...I'm going insane.'
Something in her head had clearly broken that day.
Resolutely ignoring the vividly lingering stickiness and the heat it had ignited in her body, she faced the mirror to fix her sleep-mussed appearance.
She saw disheveled hair, flushed cheeks, clothes soaked in cold sweat, and eyes that looked decadent with dark circles beneath them.
It was the aftermath of several days without proper sleep because of the dreams.
And because she looked like that,
because she looked so much like herself from that night,
Rosaria couldn't even bear to look in the mirror.
It felt as though the image of herself moaning through that night's foreplay would keep appearing in the glass.
"...They say time heals everything, don't they?"
Surely, once enough time passed, she'd be fine.
Thinking that, she made an effort to change the subject in her mind.
...Of course, she could feel something sticky trickling down her thigh, but for now she ignored it.
*
After that, ordinary days resumed.
Time truly proved to be medicine, soothing her fevered mind, and as always she spent her days receiving treatment from Canaria.
At last, a deep-hued winter descended upon the Holy Kingdom.
The flurrying snow had become fat flakes, and a pervasive curtain of cold wrapped itself around the Holy Kingdom.
And Rosaria hated that kind of winter.
Because whenever it snowed, something always happened.
The day Isabella left the Holy Kingdom,
the day Canaria was dragged into the Tomb of Demons,
...the day Rosaria took her own life with her own hands.
All of them had been days when snow was falling.
So Rosaria was afraid.
What if misfortune or another farewell came calling again?
She was thinking that, gazing out at the pure white snow falling from the sky with dark eyes, when—
"Lady Rosaria, may I come in?"
Isabella's voice came from beyond the door.
It was already time for her to clean, it seemed.
So when she told her to come in,
Isabella approached Rosaria with one arm hidden behind her back, smiling as if enjoying herself.
"Fufu, Lady Rosaria, do you have any guess what I'm hiding behind my back?"
She suddenly sprang a quiz on her.
Rosaria wondered what sort of object Isabella might have to hide. But since nothing in particular came to mind—
"...I'm not quite sure."
Rosaria quickly raised the white flag.
At once, Isabella revealed the hidden object.
Four event admission tickets — that was what they were.
"...What are these?"
As expected, she had no idea.
"Huh? These are tickets to the world championship of the card game you created, Lady Rosaria — you honestly don't know?"
The moment she heard that, the memory returned to her.
Now that she thought about it, she had indeed made something like that before. No matter the circumstances, she was still living under someone else's roof, and even if money wasn't an issue one way or the other, she'd once resolved to earn at least enough to cover her own expenses.
That was how she'd founded the Rosaria Company,
and hired Isabella as its designer, wasn't it?
"...I'm sorry, I've been out of sorts lately and briefly forgot."
The memories were oddly hazy, but she definitely had done that. Thinking so, Rosaria tried to retrace them further.
At first, she'd used her past-life knowledge to create a wheelchair. And she still vividly remembered how shocked she'd been when she saw Isabella with her memories erased back then.
After that, she'd taken lessons from Kal on the economic sense she lacked, and for a new business venture she'd created a card game. She'd stayed up all night making it with Isabella, enjoying every moment of it, hadn't she?
Come to think of it, quite a bit of time had passed since then. She wasn't used to managing things herself, so she'd given Isabella a fair share of the equity and entrusted her with the management... had something happened in the meantime?
'No wonder she's been snacking so much lately...'
Aside from that, there'd been a lot of odd signs.
Things like spacing out with a blank expression,
or occasionally working with paint smeared on her apron,
or wearing a sleep-deprived face.
She must have been keeping the business afloat through her own efforts. Behind the scenes, Isabella had been toiling away alone, suffering twice over from the agony of creation, steadily producing new cards.
"...Anyway, the world championship for that game is going to be held in Fran. And this time, alongside the tournament, they want to promote the newly made cards — so they've invited me as the creator, and you, Lady Rosaria, as the organizing personnel. They even gave us four tickets and said we could bring our whole party... would you like to go? I'm from Fran originally, so I know the place inside and out — don't you worry!"
Isabella thumped her chest and spoke with bravado.
And indeed, Mikel's workshop had been in Fran.
So Isabella's boast wasn't groundless bluster. She might have been even more familiar with it than the Holy Kingdom where she'd spent her childhood.
Fran ran in Isabella's blood.
The City of Arts, Fran.
Also known as the Small Nation for All Artists.
It was the city that symbolized art to the entire world. A place renowned for being exquisitely beautiful and tranquil.
It was so famous that even Rosaria, who had never set foot outside the Holy Kingdom, had once thought she'd like to visit at least once.
'...That aside, just how popular is this thing?'
It was like a distrusted axe bringing back a fortune in gold.
The fact that a game she'd made had gone as far as hosting a world championship was somewhat hard to believe, but she did know from her past-life knowledge that the game had been hugely popular in a certain era.
People must have gotten addicted to the taste of a slightly advanced otherworldly milestone.
"...That aside, you said there are four tickets?"
"Yes, that's right. With me and you, that leaves two... but if we add an escort knight for your safety and mine, it works out perfectly. A neat and tidy fit, wouldn't you say?"
Isabella was proudly showing off her arithmetic skills.
But the problem was that people weren't numbers. Choosing who to bring would require a fair bit of thought... but upon hearing that number, Rosaria had already drawn the full picture.
"When would we need to depart?"
"Oh... you're really going?"
Isabella's face looked surprised.
Since Rosaria rarely went outside, she'd assumed she would refuse a sudden overseas trip.
"If you want to arrive the day before the tournament, leaving three days from now should get you to Fran with plenty of time to spare."
Three days was plenty.
There was one person she wanted to bring along.
The remaining spot — she could figure that out when the time came.
So she thought.
*
"...You want us to go on a trip to Fran together?"
Rosaria proposed the journey to Canaria.
Naturally, Canaria had been the only one in Rosaria's thoughts. She was the one who kept pushing herself so hard for Rosaria's sake. Rosaria wanted to enjoy a trip together with her to a resort-like place like Fran.
But Canaria hesitated for a moment.
It was an unexpected reaction, but Rosaria stayed silent.
Because it looked like there was some other reason behind it.
Canaria seemed to be grappling with some unknown conflict. What was being weighed on those scales, she couldn't tell.
But she could still reach a decision.
"...For now, I'll go with you."
Because Canaria didn't want Rosaria's treatments to fall behind. With Rosaria's body weakened by her broken vessel, leaving it unattended and risking complications would be problematic.
Of course, she could share her divine power with her like she had before, but since they didn't know how many days they'd be staying in Fran, no matter how much she gave, with her vessel still unrestored, she could only give Rosaria three days' worth at most.
And besides, Fran was a city of artists.
Which, put another way, meant a country of eccentrics.
To preemptively block any unforeseen trouble, she needed to be by her side.
And so Canaria became a member of the Fran-bound carriage party.
Besides, there was something she needed to take care of in Fran sooner or later anyway. If that was the case, she might as well get it done now while the opportunity was there.
That was what Canaria resolved.
"...That aside, Canaria, may I ask what it was that made you hesitate so?"
But since her expression hadn't been good,
Rosaria asked somewhat cautiously.
"...I'll tell you once we reach Fran, Rosaria."
Canaria deferred her answer. Still, after that she smiled just as she always did and welcomed Rosaria warmly.
But 2 + 1 = 3.
Which meant one ticket was still unaccounted for.
"Is there perhaps anyone else worth bringing along?"
Since she wanted to use all the tickets she'd been given, Rosaria asked Canaria, who was far more socially connected than a shut-in like herself.
"...I can't think of anyone offhand either."
At first she thought of Isabella's younger siblings.
But there were two of them, and they were still young, so they weren't suitable for an overseas trip.
Of course Isabella would dote on them fiercely, but this was their first trip abroad, and she didn't want to watch Isabella exhaust herself alone.
So she considered various other people.
Erika had no interest in travel,
and had to manage the estate — rejected.
Francesco was the Pope.
His very existence was grounds for rejection.
Just as they were dismissing every person either of them could think of, Canaria murmured as if something had occurred to her.
"...An escort knight, you said."
Someone who could serve as a guard and also carry the luggage. Just then, a face flashed through Canaria's mind. There was a talented individual who was strong, obedient, and could easily be made idle even if there were tasks to do.
"...Shall we bring Zeke?"
The Hero's treatment was anything but good.
Of course, it wasn't an emotional choice.
Because Canaria knew Zeke as a person quite well.
He wasn't someone who would cause a bizarre incident.
His martial strength wasn't lacking, he carried out whatever he was ordered or asked to do without complaint, and she felt no guilt whatsoever about making him do such things.
More than anything, the Ottoman Empire was already undergoing paradisification. Zeke was probably training in the Holy Empire around now. After all, Serena had killed every important figure that day.
He'd handled so many diplomatic matters on her behalf —
surely he could manage one simple role as an escort knight on a pleasant trip.
That wasn't how Canaria had raised him.
"You can't just keep giving someone the whip, after all."
Work efficiency only improves with an appropriate carrot. It was a carrot offered after nearly a year, but offering it at all was something.
With that thought, a travel party that could handle even a war without issue was completed. It was a force that might have conquered a country or two and come back, but they were setting out purely for sightseeing.
A journey with a former Saint and a powerless person, escorted by a Demon King and a Hero.
It was a dazzling squad lineup that history would rarely see, and only Isabella — utterly clueless — hummed to herself on holiday and busily packed her luggage.
*
'...What on earth is going on?'
Isabella had lived without a single serious thought.
Rosaria had few acquaintances, after all.
She'd assumed the Saintess would be accompanying them for treatment purposes.
She'd already factored that much in.
So she'd prepared herself mentally and made all the necessary arrangements for guiding them.
And the remaining one person was probably just a token escort knight.
With that in mind, she'd prepared for a comfortable, pleasant trip.
The greatest Isabella-led sightseeing tour in history was about to commence.
'...Why is that person here?'
But the identity of that escort knight was far from ordinary.
She'd never imagined that Zeke — the Hero and Emperor — would be attached to them.
And because feelings aren't something you can simply tidy away just because you decide to, the moment she saw his face, Isabella's face flushed and her heart began pounding like mad.
Unable to bear looking at him, Isabella bowed her head deeply.
"...The Sword of God salutes the Saintess."
Zeke likewise lowered his head in salute.
Of course, he was no different from Isabella.
'...Why is she traveling with us?'
Even though it had been called a carrot, Zeke had come assuming that his primary duties would be guarding Rosaria and assisting her. And indeed, what Canaria truly wanted from Zeke was the safety of the party,
and beyond that, little more than the role of a porter — pulling Rosaria's wheelchair since her mobility was limited, and carrying luggage.
Along with that, she'd told him coldly to enjoy the rare pleasant trip — that was the Canaria who had brought Zeke along.
But she hadn't told him about Isabella's presence. Honestly, she hadn't thought the two of them were anything special to each other, so she'd merely mentioned that there was one additional member of the party, nothing more.
Because of that, Zeke also hadn't been mentally prepared. The flame that had kindled that day bloomed again in his chest, and Zeke showed a reaction and behavior much like Isabella's.
However, Zeke quickly dealt with it.
Even amid his salute, he took a deep breath and calmed his emotions. The transcendent focus of the Hero was brought to bear.
And when he raised his head again with proper decorum, the Zeke standing there wore his usual expression.
"...Now that the whole party is gathered, let's be on our way."
It was Canaria's declaration of departure.
Then they decided to split the party between the two carriages they'd prepared in advance.
Zeke and Isabella both felt relieved at the same moment.
Isabella would ride with Rosaria,
and Zeke would ride with Canaria — that was what each assumed.
Thankfully, they wouldn't have to share a space and face each other.
They each reassured themselves inwardly.
......But that was a foolish assumption.
There was no way Canaria would miss the chance to be alone with Rosaria in a carriage, on a trip, after so long, and spend the whole journey being sweet with her.
And on top of that, she didn't know the dynamic between those two.
So Rosaria and Canaria, Zeke and Isabella, were paired off and boarded the carriages. No matter what happened, Rosaria being guarded by Canaria was the fundamental truth of Canaria's worldview.
Besides, Zeke wasn't the type to do anything strange, and he had his own sharp instincts — she figured he'd look after the scatterbrained Isabella nicely, so she paired them up.
Thanks to that, the moment they sat down in the carriage, Isabella and Zeke simply stared blankly out the window into the distant mountains. A suffocatingly awkward silence lingered in that carriage.
'...I absolutely cannot look forward.'
Thank goodness it was winter. The cold air was somewhat cooling her burning-hot face. Otherwise, she'd be dead by now.
'...Is this a breach of etiquette?'
But she had no idea what she ought to do.
Ask him something? Was it even permissible to address the Emperor so casually?
Gauge his reaction? If she tried that, her heart would explode.
That aside, was she even allowed to breathe as she pleased?
Would he take issue with her for forcing him to inhale such lowly air?
No, but he's the Hero, so surely not to that extent? But there are no absolute guarantees in this world.
Please, calm down and think, Isabella.
'Uh... what do I do?'
But her head simply wouldn't work.
If she'd known it would come to this, she'd have studied the etiquette of the Holy Empire. No, wait — what kind of maid in the entire world lives her life assuming she'll end up sharing a carriage with the Emperor? Your odds are probably better betting on a gambling den and buying a house. When you think about it, right?
Isabella was in turmoil.
But she wasn't the only one.
'...What should I say?'
Was someone like him even permitted to address her casually?
And, for that matter, was it acceptable to keep staring out the window?
No matter how vast the difference in their stations, that was hardly good manners. But she was clearly going to be intensely uncomfortable around him — he couldn't tell whether coldness was the right course or reaching out first was.
And whatever he said, it felt like it would be the wrong answer.
Should he say that he wanted to see her face?
Or that staring out the window was a breach of etiquette?
The same thoughts cycled endlessly through Zeke's mind.
But neither of them knew the right answer.
And regrettably, Fran was still three days away. Unlike the front carriage where affection was overflowing like spilled sesame seeds, Isabella and Zeke's carriage was filled with a delicate, strained atmosphere.
It was the start of a rather awkward journey.