Diagnosis
Ilisha wore an expression like she couldn't understand my words at all, the picture of a knight.
“What? What do you mean by that all of a sudden…?”
Could this barbarian not even properly grasp the state of her own body?
“Hey, Dorothea. What the hell are you talking about! Has this girl lost her mind from burying herself in magic research? What do you mean 'how is she even alive'?! It's not like we're staring at some undead!”
Lucia was siding with Ilisha instead of me.
I'd thought she was a cool-headed intellectual, but in the end, she was just a girl her age.
“…Lucia. Stay quiet. I'm dead serious right now. I've never seen anything like this before.”
After my warning, she pouted but clamped her mouth shut.
“Is that so…?”
Even now, Ilisha seemed oblivious to the gravity of the situation, her face a mask of confusion.
Does she even realize it?
That the mere fact she's still breathing is a miracle.
Maybe as a knight, she wouldn't know. The thought made me press down on my pointed hat and sigh without realizing it.
“…Ilisha. Just to be sure, do you know what kind of state your body is in? Or do you have no idea?”
She twitched her ears and blinked at my question, then answered with what passed for seriousness from her.
“I know it's this weak because ice attribute ether is overflowing ridiculously inside me.”
Her response let me exhale a small sigh of relief.
At least she wasn't a total ignoramus.
“…So you do know. You're half right. Just like you said, your body is overflowing with ice attribute ether. For any normal person… they'd have burst apart and died by now.”
“What?! What the hell does that mean?! Explain!”
I'd said it to Ilisha, but Lucia was the one freaking out.
“It's exactly what it sounds like. Her body is packed with ether way beyond what it can handle. What the hell were her family doing letting her get to this point? Even knights can't be that stupid…!”
That was the moment my frustration boiled over toward her family for not taking proper action until she deteriorated this far.
“Watch your mouth. Father and Mother did everything they possibly could. I won't forgive anyone for downplaying their efforts—not even you.”
The smile vanished from Ilisha's cheerful face as she gripped her sword hilt and fixed me with a cold stare.
“B-but still, not even trying to balance the ether is…”
Her sudden shift scared me, but I had to say my piece, so I pressed on while gauging her mood.
“You think they didn't try?”
With a smile that mixed scorn and bitterness, Ilisha shot back at me.
As if they'd skip even the basics.
“The Magic Tower Master even came in person to try healing me. They all failed, though.”
“Uh…?”
If that's true.
Then this condition.
Wasn't some disaster born from knights' ignorance and stubbornness.
…Even after every possible measure, it was unavoidable?
The realization hit me like a whitewash over my thoughts.
I'd thought I could fix her.
Chew out the knights like always, heal her spectacularly for all to see.
I'd figured I'd bask in the praise: As expected of Dorothea Carnot!
But even the Master-class Magic Tower Master failed.
Could I—a mere Expert—pull it off?
No. Impossible, subjectively or objectively.
That's why my hands shook.
A late-blooming realization.
I was the only one here not taking this seriously.
“They said… I received Winter's Kiss. That no human power could fix it.”
Her words struck like lightning, my head spinning.
I'd heard that name before. Where? Northern books. A folktale collection. Yeah. Got it.
Children kissed by winter.
It described kids born overflowing with ice attribute ether from the start—stillborn, or freezing to death soon after.
Actually, not born with it, but endlessly surging from within, creating the illusion…
A beautiful name, cruel beyond measure.
Sounded like a blessing, but it was a death sentence.
And yet.
A child handed that sentence at birth.
Stood calmly, seemingly fine, before me.
…No, not fine. Not at all.
Her body.
Existed not for growth, but pure survival.
Most functions—for recovery, health, sturdy organs, a human life—
All consumed enduring the endless internal surge of ice attribute ether.
Everything.
Her body functioned not for a proper life, but just to avoid freezing solid.
Pain in the process? An afterthought. Yet her flesh couldn't fully withstand it. A twitch of ether tore meridians, burst them; stray ice froze muscles, wrecked organs.
…Ilisha.
She was imprisoned in the cramped jail of her own flesh.
Not alone, either.
With the monstrous cellmates of chill and agony.
Knowing that, she looked different now.
Not some flighty, dim-witted sword-slinger.
But a sacrificial lamb, mocked by fate, barely clinging to life.
“You received that… and survived this long…?”
“Mm, the Magic Tower Master said… I was meant to be born with a constitution strong enough to surpass Father. Fated that powerfully, so I guess I endured somehow?”
She smiled, but I couldn't fathom how.
How smile when birthright talent was stolen?
…Body liable to shatter any moment. How?
It was downright terrifying now.
“Ilisha. No matter how sturdy your birth, with Winter's Kiss… someday the ether will overwhelm your body.”
Should I say it? Or not?
Stop here?
It'd be okay to stop.
Anything more was meddling.
Even a clueless fool like me knew that.
If she knew, it'd rip open wounds.
But.
If she didn't know her fate?
…That'd be crueler still.
So.
With trembling voice, hoping she did know, I revealed her doom to Ilisha.
“Surviving this long is near-miraculous. But… it won't hold forever.”
Just a few more words.
Ilisha listened.
Lucia held her breath, ears strained.
Just spit it out.
My mouth wouldn't cooperate.
How to phrase it?
You're dying soon?
Won't live long?
Fated for a short life?
Forcing the words out, the cruelty escaped.
“…You probably won't last till adulthood.”
Lucia froze mid-breath.
Her blank face terrified me, always.
But its meaning? Obvious.
Refusal to believe.
Me too.
I refused too.
Wished it a shitty joke, a lie.
But Ilisha.
“I wondered what big revelation you'd drop.”
Twirling her hair sheepishly, she giggled like a girl sharing a coy secret.
“Yeah. Just like you said. I'll probably die around when I hit adulthood.”
She said it so breezily amid giggles, like remarking on the weather.
That nonchalance? Terrifying.
“…You knew?”
Lucia murmured to Ilisha, still dazed.
“Knew? More like guessed? Figured that'd be my curtain call, roughly.”
“You knew… and still thrashed your body around like that?”
To her baffling question, Ilisha gave a faint, awkward smile before answering.
“I didn't wanna live just grateful to be alive. And… since death's coming someday. Can't I cut loose a little?”
“…Ah, fuck.”
Lucia buried her face in her hands and crumpled to the floor.
To her.
To Ilisha.
I could do nothing.
“…Sorry.”
The apology tumbled out, directionless.
But Ilisha just cocked her head, puzzled.
“Why are you sorry, Dorothea?”
…Why?
How to explain?
Your talent withering unborn?
Me, powerless to help?
Clueless on words, I just clutched her hand tight.
Cold. Soft.
Ilisha glanced between Lucia and me, then flashed a faint smile with consoling words.
“Don't look so grim. I haven't kicked the bucket yet, right?”
Meant as comfort, but that line stung cruelest.
Not yet.
We three knew its meaning too well.
And Ilisha smiled at us.