A Bad Man, Blow Deblique

Marriage?

The moment those two syllables reached him, Blow could only stare at her, thrown completely ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠off balance.

Most people in this world married around twenty, and he knew that. Even so, the values he had carried out of his years as Han Ji-hoo still sat deep in him, and the word felt impossibly far away. He could barely look after himself and his staff as it was. A future in which he built a household with someone else was difficult even to picture.

Thoughts crowded in, and he stood there blank, unable to say a word. Yulia, who had been watching him in silence, burst out laughing and tapped his shoulder the way a cat bats at a ball.

"Haha, Young Master Blow! You're not getting too flustered, are you?"

"I am, a little. It's a word that still feels rather distant to me."

"If you think of marriage as a kind of partnership, doesn't it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seem all right? I think the two of us fit rather well..."

"That much is true."

"I... I really could be a good wife. When it came to raising children, firm when I needed to be, gentle when I needed to be..."

As she spoke, the smile had already left her face. Yulia looked up at Blow as though she might be drawn straight into him.

He had the distinct sense that one wrong word here would spiral beyond anyone's control, and he put a little distance between them.

"I think I said this during the tarot reading as well. It's something I haven't thought about yet."

A vague answer. Yulia laughed aloud and gave him a light poke.

"Haha, that was too much, wasn't it? I'm sorry. I was only joking. The way you joke with me. You do it all the time. Teasing me..."

Somehow her words stretched on, growing a little pitiful.

A cold early-winter wind brushed their faces. Perhaps because of it, Yulia flinched; strength returned to her eyes, and then her face flushed red as a beet.

"I'll head in, Young Master. Please forget what I just said."

"Of course, Young Lady. Though... you don't hold your liquor quite as well as I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thought?"

"Does it look that way? I think it's because I've never had anyone I could drink with so freely."

"You're not going to wake up and forget all of it, are you?"

There was a faint, peculiar hope in the question, a wish that things would not turn awkward. Yulia, halfway into the carriage, paused, then turned to look at him.

"I won't forget. I make a point of keeping the moments that are joyful. I turn a few of them over, again and again."

"Then I'll do the same."

Satisfied, Yulia offered a small smile and nodded.

"If I can see you tomorrow, I will."

"All right."

He answered, and Yulia waved with a bright face as the carriage door closed behind her. Watching it pull away, Blow let out a long breath and stepped into Hills.

It had been cold outside. He rubbed his hands together as he sat down at the table.

Rachel, her expression complicated, was working the cork out of a bottle of Ropert Malt.

"Lady Rachel? Opening another?"

"Mm. It's one of those days when the drink just slides right down."

"And what will you do if you get drunk?"

"It's fine. When I'm drunk I just collapse and sleep. Besides, Haghia and Sophia are on standby. I knew it would turn out like this."

The two of them caught Blow's eye from the next table and gave him a look. He nodded and took his seat.

Skadi, who had been waiting for him the whole time, spoke in a tone that was unusually careful, almost timid.

"That took a while."

"Did it?"

"Yes. A whole ten minutes."

"Well, the young lady looked like she was having a hard time, so I went out to comfort her a little."

"I see."

"Why?"

"No reason. I was going to drink, and you weren't coming in."

She watched his face as she said it. Blow let out a short laugh and filled her glass.

"Why? Jane and Lady Rachel are both here."

"You can look at the state Jane's in and still say that?"

Only then did he notice Jane, fast asleep, breathing soft and even.

He went over and tapped her forehead.

"Jane."

"Hah—? Yes? Young Master? What is it?"

"If you're sleepy, go upstairs and sleep."

"Did I... fall asleep just now?"

She still wasn't fully awake, her eyes half-closed. Blow chuckled and nodded.

Embarrassed, Jane avoided his gaze and scratched her cheek.

"I'm sorry. I always end up like this first. Once Senior Yulia left, the drink took the tension right out of me."

"It was a pretty dense conversation."

"It was. Senior Yulia is more... than I thought..."

Jane trailed off and let out a thin sigh.

Silence settled over the table again. Rachel drained a glass in one go, propped her chin on her hand, and clicked her tongue.

"I did think the girl was a hard one."

"......"

"I knew she was difficult. I didn't know she was thinking like that."

"You'll speak with her about this again, won't you?"

"I'll have to. We're going to get tangled up one way or another. Should I stop by her hotel tomorrow evening?"

"Please do. If I get the chance, I think I ought to talk with Lord Deschamp as well. He did say we should have a meal sometime."

"Do you really have to?"

"Not strictly. I've just stopped being free of the name Edfolk. I should do what needs doing."

"Hmm... True. We can't leave things like that forever."

"Even so, you and Senior Yulia seem quite a bit more at ease than before."

"Well, we've been working together, so it happened. Thanks to a certain someone, she doesn't snap the way she used to."

"I'd just like everyone to get along."

At that, Rachel's eyes narrowed. She put the question to him in a tone of pure disbelief.

"Hah. So that's why you stole Rosalyn's catchphrase, too?"

"How is that stealing? I only said it one more time."

"Now that I think about it, Rosalyn cried because of you as well. Just how many people are you making cry, Blow Deblique? Hm?"

"Are you saying I made Senior Yulia cry?"

"What, did she cry because of me?"

...He did have some share of the blame, didn't he?

Feeling unfairly accused, Blow tilted his head. Rachel shifted her gaze to Jane.

"Hey. Blow Deblique. Don't tell me you made that pure, innocent Jane cry, too?"

"That's not—"

"Look at this. You really did, didn't you? Jane Foresti, why don't you come over to House Campbell? I'll treat you well! Stop suffering under a bad master like that!"

"I'm all right, Young Lady."

Jane smiled awkwardly. Rachel turned to Skadi next.

Startled, Skadi shook her head hard.

"I—I've never done that!"

"Hmm? Unexpected."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"As you can see, I don't cry easily. Ahaha...!"

The reason Skadi laughed in that awkward, broken way was that she had shed tears when Mnevoir told her about Blow. She had not sobbed outright, but the tip of her nose had stung more than once.

At that uneasy answer, Rachel narrowed her eyes and shook her head.

"Hmm. I don't buy it."

"It's true!"

"Fine. I'll believe you. That Herbena, though—she cried, a hundred percent. So just among the ones I know of, that's already four?"

"And how do you know that?"

Rachel scowled and jabbed a finger at him.

"Hearing it put that way... I suppose I don't carry myself very well."

"Right. You make very sure you remember that yourself."

Rachel filled Blow's glass to the brim once more. When the two of them raised their cups, Skadi—who had been pointlessly twisting her own hair—clinked hers against theirs. And with that, their gathering drew to a close.

At that very moment, while Rachel was pouring Blow's glass full—

Herbena's laboratory.

After fiddling with something for a long while, Herbena stretched both arms toward the ceiling.

"At last. It's finished."

In her hands were two small bracelets, black magic stones woven together exactly to her taste. Violet light, the color of her mana, rippled through them. She took one up and whispered a spell into being, and its light died at once.

The other bracelet, still glowing, she shrank until it was no larger than a ring, hung it from a necklace, and tucked it deep inside her shirt.

"In case he sees it and has something to say."

Using the materials she had found in the library's underground archive, she had researched an artifact that could pass bodily pain from one wearer to the other. The books said a woman who had loved someone with everything she had made it, wanting to feel even her beloved's suffering.

Herbena thought the story was very much like her own.

If she used it every time, it would show. She meant to take the pain onto herself completely, through the bracelet, only when it mattered most. After the experiment, of course, her young master would scold her. Even so, she was content. She thought it a hundred times, a thousand times better than watching him hurt.

She had secured two wishes at the Black Bridge Gathering for exactly this: so she could offer the thing to him as if it were nothing. One wish would be to ask him to wear the bracelet she had just finished. The other, once both of them had a little room to breathe, would be that the two of them go out to buy clothes and eat something good.

And she had already consulted her friend Megan about it.

And with that, the book she had drawn from her bag to show her.

Truly an impossible girl to figure out.

In her room, brimful of moonlight, Herbena crouched on a chair, turning the bracelet she had made this way and that, then hugging it close as though it were something precious.

The next day, in the garden of Hotel Edfolk, in that stretch between late afternoon and evening.

It was early winter. The leaves had fallen, and the garden had a slightly barren air. Through it, Yulia Edfolk was running.

What had begun in childhood as a reckless attempt to lose weight now held a proper place in her daily life. At Noble School she had mostly run at dawn, but once she learned that running woke her and cleared her head, she made a point of running at hours like this, or at night. These days, of course, her nights had grown busy because of Blow.

Mid-sprint, she stopped, bent her knees, and let out a rough breath.

...Maybe I've been eating too much lately. I think I've put on a little weight.

She stroked her lower stomach. A clean six-pack ought to have been there, but when something soft pinched under her fingers, her expression sank at once.

Let's see. Lately it's been corn cheese, pizza, corn cheese, Straight, donuts, corn cheese, au lait, lobster, corn cheese... Keep eating like that, and it would be strange if I didn't gain weight.

Then she pinched both her cheeks in her hands. Fortunately they still felt reasonably slender, and she was able to breathe out a sigh of relief.

"I held out so well for years, and it really was the corn cheese that broke me."

Corn cheese—a flavor that had surpassed her imagination the first time she tasted it. What was so special about a little cheese laid over some corn, with a few peas scattered on top? She was thinking it with resentment, and yet her mouth filled with saliva.

I'll add a little more to my running. And keep breakfast even simpler.

As she started off again, the words she had said to Blow while drunk rose unbidden.

If you don't have anyone to marry, will you marry me?

Shame flushed her whole body red. The moment she had woken that morning, she had kicked her heavy blanket hundreds of times—enough that Marchen had worried over what on earth had happened the day before.

"Hnn—I must be out of my mind!"

When Yulia shouted, a gardener in the garden flinched and looked at her.

Her breathing already ruined, she stood still, rubbed her face with dry hands, and moved her lips.

I meant to take my time winning him over, and I've completely ruined it. What if the young master feels burdened?

Yulia sighed, unable to settle, and Marchen approached and offered a formal bow.

"Young Lady."

"Haa... haa... Yes, Marchen. What is it?"

"Lady Rachel and Young Master Blow have arrived."

"At the hotel?"

"Yes. And..."

Then they came into view behind Marchen: Rachel waving as if embarrassed, and Blow smiling.

Realizing she was in the middle of a run, Yulia covered herself with both hands before she knew what she was doing.

"M-Marchen! Wh-why did you bring them all the way here instead of having them wait in the reception room!"

"Ah. You often train in magic with the others, so I thought it would be all right."

"They aren't other people. The young master is here."

"Ah. I apologize. They insisted on coming along..."

Flustered, Yulia snatched the outer coat Marchen held out and covered herself at once.

Rachel and Blow, already close, offered awkward greetings.

"Young Lady."

"Young Master. Haha..."

"Were you exercising?"

"Yes. I like to run."

"Figured as much, from what I heard yesterday."

Rachel said it in a flat tone. At the word yesterday, Yulia grew even more embarrassed and shut her mouth.

Blow, watching her, smiled as he spoke.

"You look impressive, Senior."

"What?"

"I said you look impressive. I was actually wondering why you never gain any weight... So you've been putting in this much effort all along?"

Yulia's face went red, and she hesitated, unable to answer. Seeing that, Rachel snorted and added a line of her own.

"Well. Still nothing next to the knights' training."

"Could you be quiet at a time like this?"

"Heh. No hangover?"

"No."

"We came for a simple meal. If you're busy, we'll just go."

"Then please wait a little in a private room at my restaurant. Marchen will show you the way."

Some thirty minutes passed.

Freshly washed, Yulia arrived at the restaurant's private room.

In the silence, Blow spoke first.

"Senior, Lady Rachel says she has something to say."

"Yes? Yes? What..."

"Just that she's sorry, and that she hopes you'll get along from now on..."

"Isn't that what you said yesterday?"

"I'm saying it in case you don't remember."

"All right. Thank you for the consideration. I hope we'll get along as well, Lady Rachel."

After those words had passed between them, the talk turned to the past, with neither of them quite leading the way.

"Even so, you were pretty rude back at Noble School. You'll admit that?"

"I admit that."

"Seriously, why were you like that? I'm asking because it wasn't a day or two. It was three and a half years."

"I had no room to spare. It was only after I dueled Lady Yelich that I found a little of it... Honestly, I still don't know. My heart still isn't at ease. Not even with you, Young Lady."

"Figures."

"It's a little better because Young Master Blow is here."

Yulia smiled as she looked at Blow.

Before long, the conversation had reached her duel with Yelich.

"You memorized every one of Yelich's magic circles?"

"Yes."

"Does that even make sense?"

"How are you supposed to follow one after the circle is already formed? Lady Yelich has a habit when she builds a circle. I watched that and made mine first."

"I never imagined. Everyone must be thinking the way I was."

"Well, if that's how you see it, I'm glad. I must have looked like a genius."

"If you're not a genius, who is?"

At Rachel's question, Yulia gave a bitter smile, then answered.

"Herbena?"

"Fair."

"Lady Yelich has improved enormously since then, too, hasn't she? Honestly, her talent might even be better than mine."

"Getting crushed by you was good for her."

Rachel said it flatly, then added, as if something had just occurred to her:

"So. What are you planning to do? About Herbena?"

"Well. I've thought through several strategies, but nothing is settled. Once I see Herbena's semifinal, something might come to me. Don't you think?"

"What do you put the odds at right now? Fifty-fifty?"

"Fifty-fifty? More like once in twenty."

"Hey, Blow. Tell Herbena to forfeit."

The spark landed on him without warning. Blow startled, then tilted his head.

"You mean that?"

"Why are you taking it with such a serious face?"

"If it was a joke, I'm relieved."

"Would I make you do something like that?"

"You do have a more calculating side than I expected."

His words ended, and for a moment silence flowed between them. Yulia's face was bleak. Only the clink of tableware filled the room—until Rachel, who had been calmly stroking her chin, seemed to think of something and flicked her fork up.

"How about this?"

And then came Rachel's idea.

The two of them could only startle, and look at each other.