Slowly Seeping In
It took Morgan several days to regain her composure. Even for her, the reality of sharing living quarters with a foreign kingdom's princess was suddenly overwhelming. She wondered if she had acted too hastily without being entirely certain what kind of person Lydia truly was.
On the very first night after moving in, Morgan lay awake worrying until dawn.
"Ungh…"
After washing with warm water for the first time in ages and eating a proper meal, her stomach felt pleasantly full. She wore freshly ironed pajamas. Exhaustion from the move made her eyelids unbearably heavy, yet sleep refused to come. She could only sigh again and again.
"Hoo…"
Morgan had quickly retreated into the magic laboratory—her private sanctuary—but her thoughts refused to settle. The soft bed there somehow felt less comfortable than the dusty blanket in the warehouse.
"…"
'I only agreed to live together because the mood swept me along, but I never imagined actually sharing the same space. Why is she so free-spirited when she's a princess?'
Even when Morgan tried to eat alone during meals or wandered the hallway in disheveled clothes after bathing, Lydia merely nodded with a quiet "Mm." She never scolded her for being disrespectful or commoner-like. She showed no sign of discomfort whatsoever.
"…"
Morgan had known Lydia was easygoing, but she had not expected this level of informality. Mirian, the princess's maid, also smiled gently and said in her elegant manner, "If there is anything I may assist you with, please call for me at any time, Miss Morgan."
That very leniency made Morgan anxious.
'Just how broad are her standards that nothing angers her? What exactly would I have to do to make her lose her temper?'
Back when Morgan had lived on scraps of attention, the high nobles of the republic had been strict and demanding. They imposed their own rules on everyone around them.
—Anyone who walks loudly in this house shall be whipped.
—Merely looking at your face while eating is revolting.
—Those who dare set foot on the second floor of this mansion will learn pain beyond imagination.
It had been exhausting, but at least the boundaries had been clear. Lydia, however, was impossible to read. She smiled quietly whenever she saw Morgan and made declarations rather than issuing orders. If Morgan refused something, Lydia simply withdrew without ever forcing the issue. The warmth and safety of it all felt terrifying.
"…"
Morgan's reason, shaped by countless books, concluded that this was simply "normal interaction." Yet her entire life kept questioning that conclusion.
'Really? Truly? To me, of all people? This is nothing more than a transaction.'
At last Morgan made her decision. As her eyelids slowly closed, she murmured,
"From tomorrow… I need to test her…"
Lydia. Lydia de Gallia.
"Li… dia…"
My friendless friend. Just how far am I allowed to go? I would rather you punish me and shout the rules at me. Your ways are far too lofty and difficult for someone with commoner blood like mine. If you will not, then I have no choice but to keep testing you while I watch.
"Um… Lydia…"
…Still. Please forgive me. Forgive this anxiety of mine.
"…"
Morgan did not fall asleep until the sky began to lighten.
*
Lydia was satisfied. Over the past few days, Morgan seemed to have adapted perfectly to the annex.
'Thank goodness. As expected, Morgan has a strong heart.'
Lydia smiled contentedly and looked at her friend. Morgan turned sharply.
"What are you staring at?"
"Mm."
"…"
After returning from her academy classes, Morgan had drawn a bath before the mistress of the house and bathed first. Now she wandered about wearing only a shirt, water still dripping from her skin. 'Until recently she bathed after Mirian and only walked the halls fully dressed. She must have finally let her guard down.' How fortunate.
"…"
Suddenly Lydia's gaze fell on Morgan's shirt sleeve.
"…"
"…?"
Morgan tilted her head at the attention. As expected, even now she kept her wrists tightly covered. Beneath the fabric lay scars as dense as iron bars—memories so vividly described in the game that Lydia could never forget them. 'Separate from comfort, she simply does not want those self-harm scars seen.' It made sense. Expecting someone to accept such a past without reservation would itself be strange. Even Lydia would have been shocked had she not already witnessed Morgan's naked form in the adult game. 'Truthfully, the first time I saw it, even as a gamer I was horrified.' Now she understood. And accepted it. 'I must be careful about her wrists from now on.'
Lydia nodded.
"Did the warm water come out properly?"
"What…? Ah… yeah."
"I see. I shall go bathe as well."
"…"
As Lydia loosened her academy tie and moved to pass by, Morgan suddenly spoke.
"…Dinner. From now on, I will eat at the table too."
"?!"
Lydia was genuinely surprised—an occurrence that had become rare since she became a Sword Master. It was more shocking than demon worshippers reaching their third-phase transformation. 'Oh, this is huge. To open up this much? Arty is mastering the holy sword technique faster than expected, Mave has begun forging her own style… Good things keep happening lately.'
While undressing, Lydia answered cheerfully.
"Very well. This lady does not mind if you begin eating first while I bathe."
"No. I want to eat together."
"Then wait a moment."
"…Yeah."
Morgan answered and retreated to her room. She let out a long sigh.
"Haa…"
'This is strange. No matter how many lines I cross, she never reacts.' Bathing freely, wandering about half-dressed, even demanding to dine face-to-face with a princess—Lydia never grew angry.
"What is this?"
Morgan was confused.
"…"
Yet she did not dislike it either. Being disliked had always been the natural order of things. 'Just when will she finally get angry…?' In truth, Morgan's mind had already finished its calculations. —Lydia never loses her temper over trivial matters of daily life.
"…"
But her heart continued to pound with anxiety. Thump thump. Thump thump.
"…"
Perhaps it was not only anxiety. She was showing her "strange eating habits" precisely because she knew Lydia would not get angry. This coward.
"…Idiot."
And, as expected, Lydia smiled faintly at Morgan seated at the dining table.
"It has been some time since we shared a meal, you and this lady."
"…It is only the second time. And it has only been a few days."
"Huhu. Because I rise at dawn, the days seem to stretch long."
Lydia did not scold Morgan even when she gripped her fork in reverse and tore into her food. Instead, she had prepared a lighter, easier-to-hold fork than usual. Morgan deliberately pretended not to notice the consideration.
"…You are heading out early again tomorrow, are you not? To play with those good-for-nothings."
"Indeed. And they are not good-for-nothings, but my companions."
"…"
"Morgan, you are also my companion."
"…Hmph."
Morgan's heart, however, could not pretend indifference. Thump thump. Thump thump.
"…"
When it was this safe, the heart raced like this. '…I did not know that before.' It felt like a very strange emotion.
"…"
A few days later, Morgan finally let her guard down completely—around the time the deep cracks in her lips had healed. Now, even when eating hot food…
"…"
It no longer hurt. But little by little, something was seeping into her heart. Thump thump. Thump thump.
The next morning, Morgan watched the breaking dawn with quiet admiration.
"Oh…"
The early light spilling across the academy's wide green grounds was magnificent. It felt as though a curtain were slowly rising upon a grand stage belonging to the gods. Morgan found herself thinking, 'Seeing it like this again, the Arjen Academy campus really is quite beautiful. The nobles must have spent quite a sum… Why has this scenery never caught my eye until now?'
Before the question could be answered, Lydia tied her golden hair back tightly and strode ahead with vigorous steps. Her hair swayed with each movement.
"Now, let us go, Morgan."
"…Yeah."
They walked slowly toward the empty lot, listening to the sound of each other's footsteps, simply keeping pace beside one another without any particular purpose.
"…"
Morgan's heart continued to race. Thump thump. Like the faint light of dawn, an emotion was slowly brightening beyond the deepest darkness in her chest—faint yet intense. That light shone more brilliantly than anything else, and it was golden.
'An impression piece about the dawn? If old man Edmond read this, he would complain about too many poetic flourishes in a thesis.'
"…"
No… That was not it. Probably. What had seeped into her heart was not the dawn, but—
"…This is."
At that moment, Lydia spoke.
"Having a friend walk beside this lady feels rather novel. Because we live together, I am able to experience these new emotions as well."
"…Is that a complaint?"
"No. It meant that it is reassuring."
"Hmph."
Morgan drew in a deep breath, her expression sharp. The cool dawn air filled her lungs.
"Hoo…"
Not yet. She did not want to draw any conclusions yet. She wanted to observe slowly, at her leisure. As a mage, postponing an answer to a problem was foolish, but rushing to an answer was equally foolish. Therefore, for now, she simply wanted to remain like this.
"…Idiotic."
"This lady?"
"No."
Me.
*
In a certain alley within the shopping district, Instructor Zack was not teaching today's class. He merely strolled along with his hands in his pockets. The reason he had briefly stepped away from the freshmen was simple.
'Those chicks have been throwing themselves into training like mad ever since they started talking with Lady Lydia. They manage just fine without me yelling now.'
Instructor Zack smiled inwardly with satisfaction.
'Well, if I had been one of those chicks… the moment I saw Lydia, I would have sworn loyalty like a fresh recruit. She is an existence that cannot help but shine.' As a citizen of the Gallia Kingdom, she was royalty one could not help but take pride in. A member of the Ember Knights shining brighter than any other.
"…"
Instructor Zack grumbled.
"…Hmph. Since when did I burn with patriotism?"
Even as he said it, the burly, middle-aged man smiled. It was a fierce smile that would have sent back-alley thugs fleeing in terror.
"Eek?! Instructor Zack?! What are you doing in a place like this…!"
"Run!"
"Walking around baring his teeth like a bear…"
"As expected of Gallia's hero and his killing intent."
Ignoring the rookies, Instructor Zack continued wandering the back alleys, his gait reminiscent of a bear on the prowl. Yet his eyes never stopped scanning the surroundings.
'According to the hint Mirian left, there should be a door painted black beneath the shadow of a building around here…'
"!"
There it was. Among countless wooden doors, one painted an especially deep black stood out, perfectly concealed within the shadows. Instructor Zack opened it. Creak—
Beyond lay a dusty tavern interior. Two women were present. One was Mirian, clad in form-fitting leather. The other wore a black dress and smiled with seductive allure. They sat at a table and behind the bar respectively. Instructor Zack beamed at Mirian.
"Mirian! It is good to see your face directly like this."
"Hello, Sir Zack. It has been a shame speaking only through notes lately, has it not? Huhu."
"Good grief… I do not enjoy these roundabout meetings. This is hardly the northern elite style."
"Huhu, I was quite frustrated as well. But there are surprisingly many watchers inside Arjen Academy."
Instructor Zack settled his large frame beside Mirian. Naturally, the woman in the black dress entered his line of sight. He addressed her in a tone slightly more awkward than the one he used with Mirian.
"…Lady Beatrice. It is unexpected to see you here rather than in the commercial district."
Beatrice answered with a seductive smile, her voice lively despite her decadent appearance.
"Hi~ How have you been, old man? Diapers holding up?"
"…Hmm."
"Aw, come on. Sulking already?"
"Let us get to the point."
"Hu-hung, you really are sulking? That is far too honest. Our old man makes an excellent soldier and instructor, but he would never pass as a spy. Hoho!"
"…"
"The reason I—who once controlled the back alleys of the Saint-Roy commercial district—came all the way here is…!"
Beatrice smiled at the tightly closed mouth of Instructor Zack and the quietly pleased Mirian. This time the smile matched her decadent appearance.
"I came to see our lovely princess! Honestly, everyone has been stomping their feet wanting to see that child. I am jealous of Mirian."
"…"
"…"
"And…"
As she spoke, Beatrice slipped her fingers into the cleavage of her black dress and drew out a folded note with a languid, seductive motion.
"…I also came to inform you that the examiners from those Holy Theocracy old fogies will arrive soon. They act so holy, yet they make excellent use of the back alleys in the outskirts, do they not?"
"The Hero's examiners…! Damn it, that bastard Albert must have snitched and called them…!"
Instructor Zack's brow furrowed. Mirian spoke with concern.
"Might we learn who the examiners are as well?"
"Hmm, indeed."
Beatrice muttered in displeasure.
"The Captain of the 2nd Division of the Holy Knights—the Inquisitor—and the Prayer Priest, an extreme fundamentalist even within the Theocracy. These two appear to be coming."
"…?!"
"…?!"
It seemed their princess's plan to nurture the Hero was about to become… a little troublesome.