122. A Fable
"Honestly, that's too much, Blow Deblique!"
The moment Blow stepped onto the podium and let the catchphrase leave his mouth, Rachel shook her head. Renelit, beside her, brightened at once and pounced with a question.
"Why? Why?"
"He stole Rosalyn's catchphrase. Honestly—your master's a bit much, isn't he, Jane Foresti?"
"Is he? To my mind, the young master may not have meant anything by it."
She said as much, but in truth Jane thought it was half and half. Half of her believed her young master had shown a kindness, mentioning Ropert Rose once more even as the sparkling water buried it. The other half believed that Rosalyn had provoked him more than once, and that he was pressing her down so she would never do it again.
Rachel did not seem to share the view. She stroked her chin.
"Hm. That's how it looked to you? Even so, Rosalyn won't see it that way."
No sooner had the words ended than Rosalyn shot up from her seat and stormed out. Jane's eyes and Hervena's went round.
"See?"
"You're uncanny, Lady Rachel."
"Call it an obvious guess."
Looking thoroughly pleased with herself, Rachel tipped back her fourth glass of Straight. Michellan, who had already proposed joining their table, came over again and offered her a bow.
"Hm? What is it, Michellan Teshio?"
"Ah. I came to ask Lady Skadi—seated here, shining like a star in the night sky—for a dance at the ball later."
"Now what are we supposed to do? Our star of a Lady Skadi already has nearly ten men she's left standing."
"Is it not possible that Lady Skadi has been waiting for me?"
"Oh my, oh my! Michellan! You're more of a straight shooter than I thought!"
At his slick line Renelit clapped in delight, while Jane and Hervena shaped their mouths into soft little ohs. Michellan only smiled at his ease and shifted his gaze toward Skadi.
Contrary to his hopes, Skadi drew her brows together and made no effort to hide her discomfort.
"I'm not. I'm sorry. I've already decided who I'll dance with."
"Ah, truly? The thing is, I happened to hear a little something."
"Hear what?"
"By any chance, is that partner Young Master Blow Deblique? Everyone is guessing as much."
"......"
At Teshio's question, everyone at the table turned to Skadi, interest written all over their faces. Her lips parted. For a moment she hesitated.
It wasn't that she so badly wanted to dance with Blow. But by now, there was no one else she could ask.
"That's right."
"Ah, as I thought. Then perhaps you and Young Master Blow are courting—"
"No!"
"Ah, I see. Understood. I hope that tonight I, too, might be given the chance to dance with Lady Skadi."
"......"
"You won't be dancing with Young Master Blow before the ball is over, after all."
"Then I'm dancing with Blow, too!"
Rachel cut in with a breezy, clattering tone, and Hervena lost all hold on her expression. Chuckling, Rachel went on.
"Yulia's probably after him as well."
"Young Master Blow is very popular, isn't he? It would hardly be too much to call him the star of this gathering."
"Exactly! Which means, paradoxically, you might still have a chance. Michellan Teshio."
"Yes, my lady!"
Refused, and still overflowing with ease, Michellan let his gaze travel back to Skadi. She worked her mouth a moment, then swallowed a sigh.
"...I'll think about it."
"That is enough to satisfy me. I'll see you later!"
Leaving those words, Michellan bowed to her and returned to his own table. Rachel stretched and got to her feet.
"Well then, shall we go get ready for the ball?"
"Then I'll stop by our table for a bit!"
With that, Renelit headed back to her table. At another table Rachel paused by, everyone seated there rose and bowed to her.
Watching, Hervena screwed up her face and muttered.
"I don't like it."
"Still, she's so refreshingly direct."
Hervena looked at Jane, who seemed to think nothing much of it, then turned her eyes elsewhere.
"That part, yes."
"Hmm. Anyway, Lady Rachel has really taken a liking to the young master. To think she'd even dance with him."
"That is exactly the part I don't like."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
So saying, Hervena shifted her gaze to Skadi, who sat beside them quietly drinking sparkling water—quiet in a way that didn't suit her at all. Then, dropping her voice as low as it would go, she asked.
"But is it true?"
"Hm?"
"That you agreed to dance with the young master."
Hervena put the question to her one careful word at a time. Skadi met her eyes for a moment, then answered, fumbling.
"...No. I'll just have to ask him later. There's no one else to ask but him."
"......"
And then Skadi Hetaya, somehow avoiding her gaze. Hervena stared at her steadily, and at last whipped her eyes away.
While Skadi was receiving Michellan's request for a dance, Blow Deblique had come out into the garden and was looking down at Rosalyn, her face buried against her knees.
"Lady Rosalyn, are you crying to look pitiful?"
"Get lost."
"I'd rather not."
The tone scraped her raw. Anger shot to the crown of Rosalyn's head, and she started to snarl at Blow.
"You little shit—do you think this is the Academy? A Deblique nobody, where do you get off—"
"I know. It's the Black Bridge Gathering."
"You son of a—"
The instant Rosalyn was about to spit the curse, Berring, behind her, stepped in front of Blow.
"Blow of House Deblique. My sister is having a hard time. Another time."
"Good day, Young Master Berring Ropert."
"Yes. I'm asking you."
"Young Master Berring, do you cherish your sister?"
"You ask the obvious."
"Then this isn't how you ought to go about it, is it?"
"What is that supposed to—"
"What else? You coddle her and do nothing but wrap her up, so of course her manners only get worse."
At those words Rosalyn jerked her head up in shock, and Berring's face went hard. Elton, standing with him, laid down a threat in a voice thick with anger.
"Young Master Blow Deblique, may I formally take issue with what you have just said?"
Blow, hearing it, answered without so much as a change of expression.
"Go ahead. Do that."
"Young Master Blow!"
"Then I'll gather everything Rosalyn has done inside the Academy up till now and file a formal protest with House Ropert."
"What happens inside the Academy is handled inside the Academy—"
Before the sentence could finish, Blow let out a hollow laugh and stared straight at Elton.
"Then tossing money at Jane in front of my shop—was that something done inside the Academy?"
"No, that was..."
"Or was it only that I looked easy? A mere baron's house? I thought you were simply rude and unpleasant. You mean you were moving while you ran the numbers, one by one? She was the sort who thinks before she sticks a foot out? Rosalyn Ropert was?"
"......"
Nothing he had said was wrong, and Elton was hastily hunting for an excuse.
Whatever else might be true, the Blow standing before him had, as of today, become a rising star—Yulia Edfolk's partner, and the man who had taken Skadi Hetaya's investment. On top of that, word had spread through the gathering that the very first thing Rachel did upon reaching Caipol was to stop by Blow's Hills. She had even sat beside him at the banquet, so the guess that she, too, would stand at his back was hardly an exaggeration.
However great the prestige of House Ropert, there was nothing they could do to a Blow with Hetaya, Edfolk, and even House Campbell behind him. It was a plain fact, obvious to anyone who could manage simple arithmetic. That was why he could only hesitate over what to say. Into that hesitation, Blow spoke in a serious voice.
"Come out. I only mean to say a few words. You may stay right beside her. I don't mind."
"......"
He had gone that far. Neither Elton nor Berring had any choice but to step back.
Rosalyn, who had been watching, fell into fear. Until now there had never been a matter her anger failed to settle. But Elton and Berring had withdrawn, and that meant that in this moment the shell of her house was not protecting her. Inside that shell, Rosalyn's own flesh was nothing but soft.
"Elton! Brother Berring! What are you doing right now! I said I don't want this!!"
"Keep that up and people will think I'm hitting you."
"I told you to get lost! Blow Deblique!!"
"....."
"Just go!! You bastard!!"
Rosalyn lurched to her feet and shoved Blow in the chest hard enough to smack. Until then he only looked at her quietly, clicked his tongue, and let out a thin sigh.
"Right. This is boring. I'll just go."
"What?"
Did he just say that to me?
Stunned, Rosalyn stared at him with her ruined makeup on full display.
"What... what is that supposed to..."
"I'm saying you're a boring girl, Rosalyn Ropert."
"I'm asking you what that means, right now!"
When she fumed, Blow began as if he had been waiting, in a soft, even voice.
"However it may have looked, I prepared this sparkling water with real care. I told myself if I was going to do it, I'd do it properly—tried putting all sorts of things in, changed the blends."
"......"
"Even cut back on sleep to do it. But looking at you, I wonder why I bothered."
"......"
"I should have just done it halfway. If I'd known it would turn out like this."
Hearing that, Rosalyn—too worn out now even to be angry—spoke as the tears fell, drop by drop.
"Fine. You won. If you won, that should be enough. Why come all the way here to scold me? After you've taken everything of mine!"
"Taken?"
"You did take it! Up on the podium, showing it off so everyone could see—anyone would have—"
He seemed to be denying it, and the unfairness choked her before she could go on. Blow looked at her a moment, put on a face that said he didn't understand, and began.
"I really don't know why you throw a fit every time you look at me."
"You're the one who came looking just to bitch at me."
"I only came here to arrange a supply of Ropert Rose for my restaurant."
"What?"
The words fell so far outside anything she had expected that Rosalyn, and Berring and Elton watching with her, could only gape.
"But the person who's supposed to be in charge storms out of her seat and sits back here sniveling, and the thought is gone. Completely."
"........"
"It wasn't some fatal problem. You only fell a little behind at this gathering. Even to my eye, it was fine."
"........"
"You strut around the Academy so much I thought you'd at least stand proud. Turns out you were just young."
"........"
At that her legs gave out, and she dropped where she stood. The dress she had chosen with such care crumpled, and dirt stuck to it besides. Elton, looking stricken, and her brother could only stand there, unable to offer Blow a single word in answer.
Pathetic.
Defeat washed over her. Rosalyn's head sank, and the tears that had been flowing struck the ground. Only then did Blow withdraw the gaze he had kept on her.
"Just stay like that. Keep at it."
Then he started toward the hotel. Watching his back grow distant, Rosalyn ground her teeth and shouted after him.
"Then—then! What am I supposed to do!"
Hearing her, Blow stopped and came back. But Rosalyn didn't have the courage to look at him, so she kept her eyes down and could only mutter.
"I... I... then what am I supposed to do......"
He looked at her slumped shoulders, let a beat pass, and spoke.
"Simple. Fix the smeared makeup, straighten your clothes, and come to the ballroom."
"And that fixes it?"
"No. You clean it up."
The way he had traded Drenor for Jane in Splas. What had already happened was not something that got solved. It was only something to be cleaned up.
Having answered, Blow started off again. Watching his back—which seemed, in that short while, to have grown a handspan taller—Rosalyn scrubbed hard at her eyes, then looked at Elton.
"Elton."
"Yes, my lady."
"The maids. Are the maids here?"
"Yes. They should be waiting on the second floor."
"Let's go. The makeup... have them do it again. Quickly. Quickly, let's go fix it."
That stubborn, impossible Rosalyn had listened to someone else. Not the words of her father, the head of the house—someone else's words...!
Unable to believe it, Elton met the eyes of Berring, who stood beside him staring with the same disbelief.
"Hurry!"
With Berring's help Rosalyn got to her feet, caught her dress up in both hands, and ran for the hotel. The farther she went, the lighter her steps became, and the more speed they seemed to gather.
Down the middle of the path, where the garden trees stood well planted, the three of them passed Blow as he walked slowly toward the hotel. Before they drew away, Berring turned his head and gave him a small nod.
Watching them go, Blow could not keep the smile from his face.