173. Encounter with the Unknown
"Tomorrow evening? At Hills?"
"Yes. The young lady tried to steer him toward the hotel, but His Highness showed such keen interest in Hills that she had no choice. That is what she told me."
Blow could only nod. Yulia fretted over him that much; she would have done everything in her power.
"It's all right. The young lady has nothing to apologize for..."
"His Highness also said he only wants things to feel natural, and that we shouldn't go out of our way with too grand a preparation."
The more he heard, the more it dragged up the days of Han Ji-hoo, when a division commander came down to inspect the unit. Before he knew it, his eyes had squeezed shut.
"We'll have to clear everyone out from midday tomorrow."
"Yes. About thirty minutes before His Imperial Highness arrives, one of his attendant secretaries will come ahead."
"Then I don't think we can send Melo to the hotel tomorrow, Marchen."
"Understood. I will see to that properly. The young lady also means to come to Hills as early as she can tomorrow. I will arrive early as well, and assist you, Young Master."
"Your senior must have a mountain of reports to write..."
"She said she has been preparing since the start of the term, so it should not be a serious problem. She intends to finish as much as she can by tomorrow morning."
"The third examination, from the start of term? Well... her schedule has been brutally tight."
The hotel's endless work, the student council, her classes, and the duel with Hervena not long ago—Yulia kept every one of those plates spinning without a hitch. Blow couldn't help feeling, all over again, how remarkable she was.
"We should start on what needs preparing. Marchen, is there anything else? Jane and I ought to hold a meeting about tomorrow."
"The business I came to deliver is everything I just said. There is something I would like to say personally, though. May I?"
"Personally?"
"Yes."
"Should I send Jane out?"
"No. There is no need."
A personal matter, from Marchen of all people, who always looked so rigidly upright. Blow had no sense of what it might be, and was tilting his head when she bent at the waist toward him.
"Thank you, Young Master. Lady Yulia has grown so much brighter these days."
"I haven't done anything worth thanking."
"You have. The young lady clearly began to change from the moment she met you. Lately, when it is only the two of us, she doesn't even use honorifics with me."
Blow, who truly hadn't thought much of it until now, couldn't help his surprise. Unlike the easy familiarity he kept with Hervena and Jane, Yulia had held even Marchen—the person closest to her—at a formal distance. The first time he saw them together, they had felt less like a lady and her devoted retainer than a superior and her employee. That, it seemed, was about to become a memory.
"Sounds like a very good thing."
"So these days I have taken to calling her Miss."
"Haha. That's something I won't get to see, is it? You said it only happens when the two of you are alone."
"You may, someday... Until then, I truly leave her in your care, Young Master."
With that, Marchen offered nothing but a smile laden with meaning. At the sight of it, Blow cleared his throat and let his eyes drift, a little too casually, somewhere else.
"I have said all I came to say, so I will take my leave."
"All right. Tell the young lady I'll see her tomorrow."
Marchen stepped outside. The moment the door of Hills shut, Jane let out a sigh and spoke to Blow in a voice she couldn't quite keep free of worry.
"Tomorrow really is a big deal. A prince, of all people..."
"Tomorrow I just need to keep my head down. He's heading for the Imperial Capital soon anyway. The goal is to hide myself as much as I can."
"Prince Randolph... does he seem the authoritarian sort? I've only ever caught glimpses of him in passing, so..."
"He's a man whose insides are hard to read. It can't be helped, being the Second Prince."
"True. With the Crown Prince standing there so firmly, it can't be easy for him."
"Which is why he feels a little harder to deal with. His colors aren't clear. So, Jane—you'd better not show your face here tomorrow."
Jane startled and looked at him, shaking her head.
"What? I couldn't possibly..."
"You're the manager of Red Forest. There's no need to force it."
"Even so, I think I'd rather be at your side, Young Master..."
"No. You're busy enough as it is. You should at least be spared on a day like this. And I don't think having more people around will do us any good."
"Tomorrow will go well, too."
"Whose master do you think I am? I'd better do it properly."
"Of course. You're the master of the Purple Demon, Hervena."
"And of the great actress Megan, and of Jane Foresti, while we're at it."
The moment the words left him, a telltale caught breath drifted from the kitchen, and Blow turned his gaze that way. Melo and Hans were watching him, eyes brimming with expectation.
"And the greatest chef, Melo. And just Hans."
"That's riiight! Young Master! I'll work really hard tomorrow toooo!"
"Young Master! Why am I just Hans...?"
"Hans, do you have any idea how hard it is to be just something?"
"Now that I think about it, I'm standing among people who shine like stars, so I do feel rather good."
"You've accepted it already?"
"What does it matter! I'm a founding member."
Hans smiled without a shred of shame. Blow patted his shoulder and stretched.
"All right, then. Shall we get to the meeting for tomorrow?"
"All right!"
"Okaaay!"
"Yes, sir!"
They answered brightly and took their places. Seated before them, Blow began with the first thing that mattered: settling, together, the order of everything that had to be checked.
Late at night, in Hervena's laboratory.
Having knocked out most of her reports in a single day, Hervena sat with her legs crossed up on the desk, reading to cool her head. The book in her hands was the one she meant to pass to Megan when the girl came up: The Archmage Is Obsessed with Me, the Viscount's Bastard.
She read fast enough to devour two volumes in three hours. Then she tossed the book onto the desk and shook her head.
"I don't even know what I just read. Why does Megan like books like this? There's nothing here but the dirty parts."
...Still, it had been fun.
No one was watching, but she cleared her throat anyway, tipped a mouthful of water down her throat, and stretched out on the laboratory bed.
She closed her eyes and lay there a long while. An hour passed, then two, and still sleep would not come. She had the nagging sense that someone was watching her, and whenever she was on the verge of drifting off, the duel with Yulia unfolded all over again and chased the drowsiness away.
...So that's why Rachel said that.
A feeling of darkness tightening in from every side made her open her eyes. She dragged a hand down her face.
"If I don't sleep now, I won't be able to get up at dawn."
She buried her face in the pillow, let out a breath, and carefully drew out the bracelet she had kept hidden against her chest. Moonlight slipping into the room glittered across it. Hervena gazed at it in silence, and before she knew it she had sniffled.
If the young master were lying beside me right now, holding me tight, that would be so nice. If he stroked my hair, and told me it was all right in that soft, steady voice...
"I'll just finish the report."
Certain she would never fall asleep, she got up, wiped the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief, and twisted her hair up.
And then—
Tap. Tap.
A knock at the laboratory door broke the silence that had been pooling in the room.
...Did I mishear? No one would come at this hour.
But the sound came again. Tap. Tap. Irritated, she kept her distance from the door and called out to whoever stood beyond it.
"Who is it?"
"Ah, I—I mean, well, haha..."
The voice seemed neither a man's nor a woman's. The fine hairs on Hervena's skin stood on end.
...Is someone playing a prank?
She sighed, wove a magic circle, and stepped toward the door. From outside, the ominous voice came again.
"I came because I wanted to talk. Student Hervena Westriver."
"At this hour?"
"Haha. I had a feeling you wouldn't be able to sleep."
"......"
"Defeat is always like that, isn't it? Dark, and bitter..."
"Are you mocking me right now?"
"Haha, no, not that. I only came for a conversation."
"You don't sound like someone who wants a conversation. What conversation?"
The words scraped at her, subtle as a nail under the skin, and her own nails bit into her palm. From the far side came a stifled little laugh, and then the voice reached her again.
"Don't you think it's unfair?"
"What the hell kind of bullshit is that, out of nowhere."
"It is unfair. If that Yulia Edfolk hadn't been born into that family, do you really think she could even stand beside you, Hervena?"
"I lost because I let my guard down, and because the young lady worked for it. If you're going to talk nonsense, just—"
"That's exactly it. She only barely beat you by working that hard. Which means if she hadn't, she would have lost a hundred times out of a hundred..."
"Keep spewing bullshit and I might just kill you."
"Bullshit? Well now. Is it bullshit..."
At the end of her patience, Hervena seized the handle and yanked. The door, strangely, did not budge at all.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Our talk ends here for today."
"I have absolutely no intention of talking to you again."
"Well. That remains to be seen, doesn't it?"
"You little bastard. Show up again and I really will kill you."
"If you can, then by all means, try."
With those words, the mana on the other side vanished.
A moment later the lock clicked, and the laboratory door swung open—but the corridor beyond, without so much as a speck of dust out of place, held not a single presence she could feel.
...So. Are the flies starting to gather?
Whoever it was, whatever it was, the feeling it left was foul. Hervena drew a deep breath, fighting for her calm, threw a cardigan over her shoulders, and began to search—inch by inch—the corridor where the owner of that sickening voice had stood.
On the day of the meal with the prince, Yulia—having at last submitted every report for the third examination—was nothing but restless. Meeting a prince gave her a pretext, and beneath it, a day on which she could show Blow her best. From the dress to the ornaments, she had chosen everything with more care than on any other day.
And then—
"Marchen, the gift for the young master is ready?"
"Yes. Here it is, Miss."
Marchen held out a wooden box. Yulia opened it, confirmed the watch inside, smiled at her, and nodded.
...A hundred times better than that lumpy bracelet. A thousand times. He'll like it, won't he?
"I wish we'd get to Hills already. Already."
"We should arrive in five minutes. That puts us about two hours ahead of the evening appointment."
"Honestly, if it weren't for this dress, I would have flown."
"You'll give him the watch afterward, won't you?"
"Of course! It's better in every way to give it when his mind is at ease."
Yulia studied her reflection in the window. The hair that had been a bob had grown a good deal; before long it would reach her shoulders.
"Marchen, say—should I really grow my hair out?"
"Didn't you say you were going to?"
"I did. But I've kept it cut for so long that I'm still wavering."
"I think it would look wonderful on you. The head of the house would be pleased as well."
"He would, wouldn't he?"
She had just resolved, once again, to let it grow when they arrived at Hills, and Blow—dressed in a black uniform—was there to receive her.
"You've come, my lady."
"Young Master, you look... you look truly wonderful today."
"It's a day I'm to see His Highness. I put a little care into it."
"And me? How do I look?"
As if she badly wanted the answer from him, Yulia spread the blue dress, a color that called aquamarine to mind. Blow gave her a gentle nod.
"Beautiful beyond measure."
"That's a lovely thing to hear, Young Master. Young Master—after dinner tonight, I was hoping we might talk for a little while. Would that be all right?"
"Ah, yes, of course. If I still have the strength..."
"His Imperial Highness said we shouldn't feel so burdened, so I'm sure you'll be fine!"
"I'll trust you, my lady."
"Yes. I'll see that everything goes without a problem."
After that they went over Hills itself—how clean it was, the stock in the cellar, the dishes on the menu—together with Melo. Busy with this and that, they watched two hours vanish in a blink.
Nerves drawn tight, Yulia and Blow stood outside Hills, and into their view came a white carriage stamped with the golden eagle of the imperial palace. They met each other's eyes and nodded.
Two glossy white horses came to a stop, and Second Prince Randolph stepped down from the carriage with his attendants.
"We greet His Imperial Highness!"
The two offered him a bow thick with courtesy. Randolph—pale gold hair of the sort they called Serdian Gold—let an easy gaze pass over them, and smiled.
"Be seated."