Jane Foresti (3)
Back when Blow still went by the name Han Ji-hoo, and had grown more or less used to life behind a convenience-store counter, he and Grandpa fell into an argument about once a month.
It was rarely trouble between the two of them. The trouble was the other part-timers—failing to show up on time, the till coming up short by a few thousand won, getting caught with stolen cigarettes.
Every time, Grandpa forgave them far too easily. No matter how firmly Ji-hoo insisted they needed a harder hand, the old man would only rumble out a laugh and say that was simply how it went when you were young.
"Keep this up and those people are going to think you're an easy mark, Boss!"
"And you don't like that?"
"How could I like it...?"
A few more words would pass between them, and then Ji-hoo, deciding there was no getting through, would shut his mouth. Grandpa, for his part, only watched the boy's mood and let a long while go by without opening the subject again.
"Ji-hoo."
"......."
"Come on. Let's go eat."
The silence between them always ended with those words. Inwardly Ji-hoo would grumble that he was only following because he was hungry, not because his anger had cooled—and still, they always ended up at the same gukbap house, rice sunk in a deep bowl of hot broth.
Once their insides warmed, the frozen feeling between them thawed as well, drip by drip, strange as it was.
"Feeling a little better?"
"Yes..."
"I'm sorry. I've just never been much good at being harsh."
When Grandpa said it first, Ji-hoo could only laugh, embarrassed. And so another day would come to its end.
"Let's eat first. We'll talk after."
At Blow's words, the spoons that had been hovering in hesitation began to move. Jane, who had been stalling, finally managed a single spoonful of broth.
Warm stock spread through her mouth. At the feel of that heat, a tear dropped from her eye.
"Any good?"
"I'm sorry. I was worried, that's why. And all I did was say things that hurt you..."
She had been forcing out every syllable, and she couldn't finish. A sob broke through instead. Blow came to her without a word and took her in his arms. A long while passed before he answered, his voice gone low and quiet.
"Thank you for caring. I'm sorry too."
"Young Master."
Jane lifted her head, gazed at him for a long moment, and spoke in a voice that was already fading.
"Just... let me stay beside you. I want... to stay."
"That's my line, isn't it?"
He smiled at her. Only then, with the last thread of anxiety drawn away, did Jane let her eyes fall gently shut. Blow stroked her hair and whispered, barely above a breath.
"What are you worrying about something like that for?"
"I'm sorry..."
"I wouldn't turn away from you. Not even if you summoned the Demon King."
"Young Master..."
Everyone watching the two of them let out a breath of relief—everyone but one. Skadi, seated across from them, had even stopped her fork, busy reading the air.
A little later Jane rose, saying she would go wash her face, and headed for the washroom. Blow let out a long breath, and his gaze came to rest on Skadi.
"Hey."
"Hm?"
"The things you've been bringing Jane all this time. They were herbs, weren't they?"
"...How did you know?"
"How would I know? Your hands are shaking."
Skadi caught her own hands for no good reason and bit down softly on her lower lip.
"You're mad at me..."
"Yeah."
"I'm... sorry..."
Her shoulders sagged as she said it. Blow studied her for a moment, then asked as if he genuinely couldn't understand.
"Why are you the one wearing yourself out in the middle of this?"
"Sorry..."
"Enough. Here. Take this."
A glass and a bottle of Ropert malt were set down in front of her. While she fidgeted with the glass for no reason at all, Blow uncapped the bottle and filled it.
"Drink. Shake it off."
"You're... forgiving me?"
"Yeah."
Skadi pressed a hand to her chest in relief, and only then lifted her head to look at him. His eyes, which had never once shown a trace of fatigue, were half-shut. Sorry in spite of herself, she hunched her shoulders.
"I figured I might've done the same, if it were me. I get it. The anger's gone down."
"You... would have done that for me, too?"
"Yeah. Jane was begging me with tears in her eyes. What was I supposed to do?"
"That's true..."
Right. As if Blow would ever do that for me. I'm not Jane.
Satisfied, at least, that his mood had cleared, she felt the corner of her mouth lift in an awkward little smile. Blow turned his glass a few times, let out a short breath of a laugh, and added:
"And if the same thing that happened to me ever happened to you, I think I'd do the same."
"Really?"
"Really."
What he had just said was something Skadi had wanted to hear for a long time.
A moment ago she'd thought nothing could be better than this. There had been something better still.
She glanced up at the ceiling, then lowered her head, took hold of her glass, and smiled, shy and bright. Blow lifted his own glass toward her.
"So let's have a drink. You and me."
"I'm sorry. Truly."
"Yeah. Please, just don't do that. I'm asking you. And worry a little less."
In the meantime Jane returned to the table. Embarrassment was plain on her face, and the tips of her ears had gone red. Blow, seated close beside her, looked once around at all of them. They seemed a little easier, but their faces were full of curiosity about what on earth had happened. He turned over where to begin, and the time slipped past.
"The broth's gone a bit cold."
"Sh-should I heat it all up again?"
At Hans's question, Blow nodded.
"Yeah. I... have something important to tell all of you, and we can do it while that's going. I feel a bit bad about it, but..."
"It's all right!"
They answered as one. Before long the pot was carried into the kitchen, and at his request even Rowbedi, who had stayed behind, came to the table and took a seat.
"Some of what I'm about to say may be hard to follow. Hear me out to the end, and if you've got questions, ask them then."
After that, Blow explained carefully what had happened.
He had made up his mind to share the situation with them the night before. Jane's words kept ringing in his ears—were they simply supposed to accept it all, without even being allowed to try? If Jane had behaved as he had in a moment like that, what would he have felt? He would have been more anxious than she was, and he would have pushed himself harder. With the shallow knowledge he had, he might even have reached for forbidden magic.
So the decision had been easy. He would tell them exactly where things stood, and he would give them a choice. In his own heart he would have been grateful if they simply kept their heads down and worked hard—but they might not want that. And so he explained it in the plainest words he could manage, so that all of them could follow.
Spirits. The Spirit of Space. The imperial palace's hand in it. Even the experiments. He did not hide how dangerous those experiments were, but he said nothing of the pain he himself might have to endure.
What startled them most was the moment the words imperial palace left his mouth. Hans's face went visibly pale. They had dealt with plenty of renowned nobles over the past month, but that name, it seemed, carried a pressure all its own.
"You're all... in short, founding members. More chance in it than destiny, but still."
His throat had gone dry from the long explanation. Blow took a swallow of the drink in front of him.
"If the business does well, we'll take on more people. But I think of you as different from them. Because you were with me when I had nothing. So I'm going to give every one of you a choice."
No one answered.
"If you say you're going back, I'll arrange things so there's no talk behind your back. If you say you're staying, I'll give you everything I can. Even if it means writing the contracts over again."
His gaze went to Melo. Some of what he had said was a hard thing for a child to hear.
"Melo, I wasn't going to tell you, of all people... but I decided it was better if I did."
Before he had even finished, Melo came to him and threw her arms around him.
"I'm not going."
He had no answer.
"Melo's not going."
"Melo, this could be really dangerous."
"I don't care. I wanna stay here... together with Jane..."
Hans, a smile on his face, added his own piece.
"Even if I went back to Blanya after falling out of the madam's favor, there wouldn't be anything for me to do."
"I told you I wouldn't let it come to that. I know."
Blow was scratching his head, awkward, when Megan let out a thin sigh.
"What a shame."
"...What do you mean?"
"And here I had the perfect chance to pull ahead all on my own."
She said it with a shrug, and the strength went straight out of him.
"Do you not even do this thing called worrying? You, Megan?"
"Is there anything to consider? Hans seemed to think about it a little."
"M-me?"
"Your face went white as a sheet the moment you heard imperial palace."
"That's... isn't it stranger that it didn't bother you at all?"
"My only worry was that I might not be able to attend you, Young Master. Right, Melo?"
"Yeah!"
Melo, arms wrapped tight around Blow's waist, answered just like that. Hans surrendered completely, cleared his throat, and added:
"You know, don't you, Young Master? How I feel."
"I think you're the normal one."
Open smiles were spreading over every face when Melo, still clinging to him, lifted her head and sniffed.
"I think the soup's all warmed up!"
"Ah! I'll get it, Melo. It's too heavy."
"Then let's go together!"
Hans went into the kitchen with Melo. Skadi watched them with a fond look and murmured to Blow, almost to herself.
"Must be nice."
"I got lucky."
"I'm not so sure."
He had no reply to that.
"Let's have a drink."
In an atmosphere that had loosened completely, steaming chicken went onto every plate, curls of vapor still rising from it. Meanwhile Blow took a seat in front of Linne and Rowbedi.
"You had a hard time of it this time, too, Linne."
"Ah, n-no! It's, um, just..."
"Hm?"
"I-I mean, you didn't ask us, so..."
"Ask you what?"
"W-we're f-founding members too..."
Blow broke into a short laugh, sighed, and said:
"You two are talents of the magic school. And you're not even from Blanya."
"Th-that's too much..."
"I'm joking. Of course you're founding members. What I owe you is the same. If anything, I was surprised you didn't say a word."
Rowbedi, who had kept quiet until then, opened his mouth with care.
"Boss, I have something to ask."
"You, of all people, asking a question... what is it?"
"I was wondering whether a retainer contract is among the things you can give. It doesn't really matter, but..."
"A retainer?"
"Yes."
Blow thought of Yulia's face and nodded as if he understood.
"If what you want is an introduction to House Edpork, I'll speak to Senior Yulia."
"No. I want it with House d'Eblyk."
"Hm? This isn't just the mood talking, is it?"
"No. I've thought about it for a long time."
"Why?"
"Because if it's you, Boss, I don't think I'd be left with any regrets."
"From what I saw yesterday, Cindy seemed to like you an awful lot. Why not think about the Ministry of Finance?"
At that, Rowbedi shook his head.
"I've already made up my mind. I don't see any need to turn back."
"You really..."
"It's just that I have no talent for magic. Not compared to Linne, or Senior Hervena..."
"That doesn't matter. It's not as if I only make contracts with mages. The truth is, though, I still can't even look after Jane and Hervena properly."
Disappointment colored Rowbedi's face. Blow thought for a moment, then patted his shoulder.
"But you're right that it's something I can give. When there's room for it, we'll do it. I'm the one who should be grateful... where would I find another kid like you?"
If diligence and sincerity ever took human form, it would be this boy. Blow was grateful enough that Rowbedi had offered first.
"Have a drink. You too, Linne."
"Yes."
While Blow filled their glasses, Megan's voice came from beside them.
"Miss Jane, I'm sorry. I think I spoke presumptuously yesterday."
"No, it's all right. It worked out, really. The truth is, yesterday, because it was you, Megan... I gave up right away."
Jane said it as she took Megan's hand, gently. All the while Melo had fallen asleep with her head pillowed on Blow's thigh. When the last of the Ropert malt had been poured, Blow looked around at the people sitting with him.
I'll be paying this kindness back until the day I die.
He made that promise to himself as their unusually long dinner drew, at last, to a close.
The next morning, before Hills opened for the breakfast service, Jane was giving the briefing, and Blow was watching her with unusual attention.
"The accounts will be settled after this evening's service, and I've arranged a meeting with Senior Yulia for tomorrow. We'll post the hiring notice starting today and hold the interviews in order from Thursday. And please don't forget to get in touch with Lady Rachel as well."
Made self-conscious, she flushed and avoided his eyes.
"What is it?"
"Nothing. I was just thinking I'd be in real trouble without you."
"Please don't tease me."
"I mean it. And... that method you thought of. The potion."
"Yes."
"What if we spoke to Professor Mnevoir about it first?"
"I... think that's good."
"She might look on it kindly."
"I'll prepare it... write it up and give it to you."
"You're busy. Will you be all right?"
"It's the most important problem we have. So of course it has to come first."
Steadied by that, Blow stroked her hair once, gently, then rose and stretched.
"Shall we open up?"
"I'll see you after the morning service."
"Right. I'm going shopping with Hervena and Skadi this afternoon."
A knock sounded. Megan came out of the kitchen, pulling off her gloves, and Blow shook his head at her.
"I'll get it. I have to open the door anyway."
"Yes. Understood."
With that, Blow threw the restaurant door open. A middle-aged man in an immaculate suit stood there, and with him some ten maids, drawn up bolt upright.
What?
While they went through the motions of a formal greeting, a girl was already coming toward him—pink-haired, with sharp eyes that left an impression.
"Hmm... so it really was true. In a place that reeks like this..."
The voice was soft, and yet the manner of it had a grating edge, ill-matched to that softness, as if it were made to scrape at a person. Recognizing her, Blow swallowed a sigh and looked at her steadily.
"You came yourself? It's been a while, Senior."
She was Rosalyn Ropert, the youngest of House Ropert—one of the Four Great Houses.