Sharon Pierce's Exhaustion
Sharon Pierce's Exhaustion
The Snowblade Swordmaster, Asilia, steadily regained her strength.
It had been a long time since she had returned to the northern estate.
Yergina, Richard's second daughter, showed Asilia every consideration to ensure her comfort.
Thanks to that, Asilia's recovery proceeded smoothly.
Warmth returned to her body.
Her long hair recovered its luster.
As her depleted internal energy replenished itself, glittering frost mana instinctively gathered around her.
When she walked through the manor, even the most upright knights found their gazes drifting toward her.
That was why Asilia sensed it.
This estate was no longer a place she belonged.
It was the manor Richard Pierce had built.
His traces lingered everywhere.
Asilia was not incompetent.
Not so incompetent that she had to remain on the foundations constructed by the man who had consumed her.
Even the annex where she'd stayed with her young daughter—the only place that had felt like home—had been gone for a long time now.
Just as she had made up her mind, a reply came from her disciple.
【 Lichten Academy — Aether Class Swordsmanship Instructor Recruitment Notice 】
"...That child, really. Heh."
For the first time in a long while, a full smile spread across Asilia's face.
Ian.
A truly lovable disciple.
How could one person be so profoundly considerate, so skilled at reading the hearts of others?
Because she had been able to form a bond of master and disciple with Ian, the long years she had spent trapped within the dantian no longer felt wasted.
But precisely because of that, she had overlooked something.
Sharon Pierce.
Her precious daughter.
Within Asilia's heart, another worry was beginning to bloom.
"Thank you for the meal, Mother."
A small table set for only Asilia and Sharon.
Sharon's hands trembled faintly as she rose.
"I'll return to my room first."
"Yes."
Sharon swayed as she turned toward her room.
Watching her go, Asilia shut her eyes tight.
Except for meals together, Sharon barricaded herself in her room.
She was never that kind of child.
Sharon's hands were hands that, not a single day had passed, had gripped a sword.
And it wasn't just that.
The dark circles deepening day by day.
The growing unease in her eyes.
Her own daughter, Sharon, was clearly falling apart.
And the reason lay with Sharon herself.
Asilia's heart ached.
Because she had been separated from Sharon, she had been unable to correct her daughter's misguided path.
She had failed to walk beside Sharon and guide her onto the right road.
That was a failure Asilia had to set right.
Seeing her daughter after so long filled her with overwhelming joy.
She wanted to hold her for years.
But.
Now was the time to give her daughter instruction.
— Knock, knock.
Asilia tapped on Sharon's door.
From inside, only a faint rustling answered.
Asilia carefully pushed the door open and entered.
A spacious room, a bed in one corner.
The pure white blanket bulged outward.
Just large enough for someone to be sitting inside, hugging her knees.
A murmured monologue leaked from within.
"...Ian. Yes. You were right. Everything about you was right. Every single thing, without exception—you were entirely correct. Heheh..."
A self-deprecating, hollow laugh.
Since she was young, Sharon had always been bold and upright.
She was a child who had possessed such high pride that she would never bend her convictions when she believed she was right.
But now.
"...It wasn't you. You never cursed me. You never obstructed my path. You weren't a Blood Rock Sect member. None of it was ever you. Ahahaha..."
In Asilia's eyes, all she saw was a girl who had lost her direction, trapped and adrift inside a room.
Asilia knew exactly what was causing Sharon to crumble.
— The truth is, with Ian Blackangus...
Ian.
Her own disciple.
— ..That is what happened, Mother.
Just hearing about Sharon and Ian's relationship painted a vivid picture.
She could see Ian wholeheartedly looking after Sharon.
Whenever Sharon hit a wall in her training, he would stand nearby and assist with magic.
When her equipment couldn't withstand her mana, he would gift her a magnificent sword.
Ian was a warm person.
When he cared for someone, he did so with genuine sincerity. Without ever making a show of it.
From the explanation, it seemed he had been just a little more earnest when it came to Sharon.
But at some point, things had gone off course.
Sharon had begun to suspect Ian.
And Sharon had believed her suspicions were justified.
That was the beginning of the tragedy.
"Ah-ha...ha. Ian, I cursed you and loathed you so much, you know. But it wasn't you. Everything was my own delusion. Heheh! Isn't it laughable? Me, suspecting you all on my own, getting angry all on my own. How utterly dumbfounded and stupid I must have looked in your eyes. Ahahah...ha."
The blanket quivered faintly.
The silhouette of heaving shoulders was visible.
Asilia knew Sharon.
Sharon was someone who pursued what she believed was right.
Once she set a single goal, she was a child who advanced only toward that path. Cold, decisive, unwavering, disciplined.
Like a sharp-edged, naked blade.
Sharon had believed her suspicions about Ian were right.
So she had pressed forward.
And she had been wrong.
Sharon.
That child's deeply held certainty had shattered.
For the first time, everything she had believed was false.
It must have been a monumental shock.
"Uehehehehe...!"
Under shock, grass bows its head.
A tree topples over.
A sword shatters to pieces.
Sharon was a sword.
So she shattered to pieces.
"Wouldn't you rather just kill me? Hehehe... That would honestly be better. Ahh. I'll just end my own life instead. Yes. Since I was wrong about everything, I'll just take my own life. That's what I'm saying. How about it? Would that comfort you, even a little? Ian. Answer me. Answer... please."
Her only daughter was falling apart.
Asilia wanted to hold her daughter.
With all her might. Tight.
But.
She couldn't.
For her disciple's sake, and for her daughter's sake.
Asilia's lips parted.
"Sharon."
A flinch.
The blanket quaked violently.
Then, a moment later.
— Rustle.
Sharon pushed the blanket aside and showed her face.
"...Yes. Mother."
Hazy pupils.
Deep black circles.
Blood trickling from bitten lips.
And despite it all, a smile barely clinging to her mouth as if nothing was wrong.
At the sight of her broken daughter's smile, Asilia felt the inside of her heart collapse.
Which was precisely why.
She spoke more firmly.
"Go and ask for forgiveness."
It was a statement with no preamble, no context.
But it was enough.
The corners of Sharon's mouth, which had been holding on by a thread, crumbled.
She squeezed her eyes shut as if she lacked the courage to face the world.
The tears that burst forth traced down her chin and soaked her clothes.
From her mouth, choked, unintelligible sounds leaked out.
"Ah. I can't. An apology... He'll never accept an apology... Ian will never accept my apology... There's no way he will."
Hic. Hic.
Her child's tears, such violent weeping—it was a first.
But Asilia simply watched in silence.
Only when Sharon Pierce's convulsive sobs had subsided did her lips open.
"Sharon Pierce."
"...Hic. Yes, Mother."
"What are you hesitating for?"
"...What?"
"My daughter is a child who, when she sees something she believes is right, advances without hesitation."
"...Yes. Ha. But..."
"Sharon. If you've realized your wrongdoing, then you know what the right thing is. Move forward."
"Ah. Ha, but..."
Sharon hung her head.
Her lips trembled faintly.
Tears dripped down.
"What is troubling you?"
At Asilia's question, the lips she had barely kept sealed parted.
"... He must be disgusted by a woman like me. He won't even see me."
"That may be so."
Knowing that child Ian's personality, he was probably treating Sharon as if she didn't exist.
That was something even more terrifying than hatred.
Asilia exhaled a small sigh and pulled out a notepaper.
Scratch, scratch.
"Deliver this to that child."
The hand with which Sharon accepted the slip trembled violently.
Asilia added, addressing her directly.
"An apology must be made until the other party accepts. Even if it takes a lifetime."
Sharon simply nodded, tears streaming down her face.
Eternal atonement.
Once the path was laid, advancing forward.
That was what Sharon had always excelled at—and what she could do now.
It was the only path left.
◆
Lichten Academy.
The Dessert Research Society clubroom.
I looked down at Sharon, standing outside the door.
Then I fell silent.
I had nothing to say to Sharon.
She was the one who had come to me. She could speak first.
"......"
For a moment, Sharon looked up at me.
With the expression of a puppy moments away from being scolded.
It didn't suit her at all.
"If you have nothing to say, I'm closing it."
I shut the door. The Promotion Battle was right around the corner. There was too much to do. I had no intention of wasting time.
But soon after.
Knock, knock.
I opened the door again.
"W-wait!"
Sharon cried out urgently.
Hahh—
She drew a breath.
Then carefully parted her lips.
Her voice sounded like it was crawling on the ground.
"May I come inside? I have something to..."
"I'd rather hear it right here. I'm busy."
Sharon bit her finger, flustered.
- I-if I hand this over, I'll have no way to meet him again.
After muttering something like that under her breath, she pulled a small slip of paper from her pocket.
"...I, I have something to deliver. A message from my mother."
"A message from my master?"
"Y-yes."
What was this?
I checked the note.
— Thank you, my disciple. Thanks to you, it seems your master will find work as well.
It was probably a response to the job posting I'd sent.
A single line, almost absurdly brief.
So brief it made you wonder why she'd bothered to send it at all.
And that was exactly how I grasped the meaning buried in this note.
"Thanks. Well then."
"W-wai...!"
Sharon thrust her hand between the closing door and the frame to stop it.
Then, as if startled by her own action, she yanked her hand back immediately.
"Ian. C-could you spare just a little..."
"Sorry. I have a lot to prepare today."
Everything had a priority.
And right now, the majority of my priorities were aligned with the Promotion Battle.
Regrettably, Sharon's priority wasn't among my considerations.
"Thanks for delivering this."
"U-um, Ian— "
— Slam.
I closed the door.
It wasn't an excuse; I really was busy.
It was already approaching early lunchtime.
I needed to make Snow Blossom Tomatoes as compensation for Elena.
— I-I'm sorry. I apologize...
Ratta-tat-tat-tat.
Ignoring the sounds filtering through the door, I concentrated on Snow Blossom Fruit production.
Counter to its appearance, this stuff requires a fair bit of focus.
I had just finished making a few Snow Blossom Tomatoes when—
Ratta-tat-tat!
—the persistent knocking changed in tone.
"It's me, Brother Ian!"
Elena?
I let only her into the clubroom.