Justice Does Not Yield (2)
The aimless pen tip wandered through empty air. After idly tracing blank lines for far too long, a bead of dried ink dropped with a soft tap, leaving a blot on the white page.
Where was he even supposed to begin? He had agonized over it for more than an hour, yet his hand still refused to move. Only after that long stretch of deliberation did three sentences, drawn straight from the heart, finally take shape on the letter.
Dear Master,
It's me.
I got a job.
Stay healthy always.
— Claus
"..."
For a moment he pictured the face of the man who would receive it. The content was perfectly serviceable if the goal was to mess with that damn old coot, but he also had the uneasy feeling it might earn him a surprise ambush someday.
Fine. Maybe I should show a little more manners. There's still the bond between master and disciple, after all. While I'm at it, I can roughly explain what I'm doing, why I can't head home for a while, and toss in a few packets of good tea.
"...That'll do."
Once everything was finished, the letter had become something quite ordinary. He was getting by well enough, earning decent money without any hard feelings, living a stable life. And it looked like things would keep going smoothly for a while yet.
Still, he figured he ought to write down at least roughly what kind of work he was doing. So how had he explained it, roughly speaking...?
"Lord Claus. Are you heading out?"
"Hm? Ah, yeah. I've got a letter I need to send."
"Shall I prepare a carriage?"
"Nah, walking's fine."
"Then I will have the escorts stand by. Gale, Yuph. Get ready."
...He had simply written that he was helping people and making them happy. That was always what his master had drilled into him. Power without responsibility is nothing but violence, so always act with an altruistic heart.
Thankfully, he seemed to be upholding that creed pretty well so far. At least since coming here, he had been of use to people more often than he had caused them trouble. He had never even asked for help over anything trivial.
"I will inform the Master that you are stepping out briefly. More importantly, Lord Claus, the weather outside is rather chilly."
"Is it? Guess I should throw on a coat, then."
"I will prepare one at once."
"Thanks."
He reached out to take the coat, only for a sleeve to slide smoothly over his arm, soft lining brushing against his skin. By the time he registered what was happening, the coat was already on him and the attendants were bowing at the waist.
Right, so what else did I write... Probably emphasized that I'm living a perfectly ordinary life. Master always warned me I'd get tangled up in trouble and begged me to live as quietly as possible.
So he had told him not to worry on that front either. That the neighbors sometimes tossed him apples, that he chatted warmly with the local kids. That ought to count as a pretty ordinary life, right?
"Lord Claus. What about your shoes?"
"The usual ones are fine."
"Understood. Gale. Low heel, soft lining, no sharp lines—lace-ups."
"Yes, sir."
At the reply, three or four shadows flitted past in a blur. When he arrived at the entrance and stretched out a foot, a pair of shoes sat exactly where it needed to be.
Preparations complete, he stepped out through the front door. With a crisp series of movements, a cluster of men formed ranks. Lined up on either side, they held their postures without the slightest waver while he crossed the courtyard.
The moment his steps turned toward the gate, a clean, powerful voice rang out across the mansion grounds.
"Safe travels, Lord Claus!"
"...Mm."
Receiving that grand send-off, he suddenly recalled the closing line of the letter. After fretting over how to wrap it up, he had finally scribbled something down without much thought.
It was his own assessment of the life he was living now. Holding that sentence in his mind, he set off once more.
...Something does feel a little off, but all things considered, I think I'm living a pretty decent life.
"I hear you are meeting with the Elders this time, Lord Claus."
"That's right. How'd you even find that out?"
"Word has already spread throughout the organization. That this time you will formally assume your rank."
"Well... yeah, something like that..."
"I hold you in the highest respect, Lord Claus."
Jeff, who was stuck to his side as always, offered him a show of respect. There was no mockery in it—he bowed with a perfectly straight face, so it seemed to come from the heart.
Is meeting the Elders really that weighty a deal? What kind of people are they, anyway? Claus decided to sound him out a little.
"So, what exactly does 'Elder' mean? Are they just old guys who've retired?"
"That is an excessive oversimplification. Those individuals are legends of this trade who have accomplished countless great deeds. People like me would not even dare meet their eyes."
"Ahh. So have you ever met them yourself?"
"I have not."
What? So you've only heard the rumors, then. When Claus gave him a skeptical look, Jeff seemed to feel a little guilty and hastily added more.
"They are that difficult to see. Even the Master has met them only a handful of times."
"So there are almost none of them left. And they still have this much influence?"
"It is respect for the legends. Of course, it is rare for them to intervene actively in the organization. There are few who remain active to begin with."
"Then... it's basically just a title, huh."
In the end, the usual empty formalities. He had been a little tense under the weight of the word "Elder," but it didn't seem worth fretting over that much. He'd just go meet some old man like his own master and that would be the end of it.
Jeff, however, clearly did not have the brainpower to think that far. He forced an awkward smile onto his lips while continuing in the same calm tone.
"It is not a matter for the likes of me to discuss. I would not even dare speak such words aloud."
"Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Still, I figure I ought to know who I'm meeting before I go. You haven't even heard their names?"
"Even their names are unknown. I was only told that you will be meeting the Master's own teacher. I am well acquainted with that person's renown."
"Famous?"
"A legend. Said to be cold, rational, and calculating. The one who shared the Master's childhood as well."
"..."
A teacher who's been with her since she was little. Somehow this is starting to sound like my own story. Of course, his own master was a whimsical, emotional, soft-hearted old freak who got attached far too easily.
Just as that old coot had shaped Claus's personality, this teacher had no doubt shaped the present Lia. The thought of how harshly the man must have treated that little girl sparked a pointless hostility in him.
"That guy. Did he ever get married? Any other kids?"
"I have heard nothing of the sort. Though if he did have children of his own, would the Master's seat not belong to them now?"
"Or maybe he just had a proper family somewhere."
"I do not know. Everything about him is a secret."
"Hmph. Figures."
So in the end a lonely widower had snatched up one kid and taught her how to swing a sword. No matter how generously he tried to look at it, his lips kept twisting. From the outside it must have looked like a thoroughly spiteful expression, because a worried question floated over.
"Are you all right, Lord Claus? You appear quite displeased."
"Nah, nothing like that. I just... really want to meet this Elder already."
"You must have been looking forward to it."
"Something like that. Figured I'd like to see just how amazing this person is."
"I... see."
When the sarcasm got this thick, even someone without much tact could usually catch the vibe. And Jeff was not that dense, so he quietly steered the conversation elsewhere.
"In any case, since the letter has been delivered, would you care to stop for a meal somewhere nice on the way back? Or at least a light snack."
"Then let's hit the usual place. I'm suddenly craving something sweet."
"Understood. You mean The Day the Fairy Sings, yes?"
"Yeah. While we're at it, let's grab some snacks for Lia too."
He had gone through a hair-raising experience there recently, but it was still a solid shop. Sweet cake. A comfortably busy crowd. Interior décor that conjured up a pastoral mood. A place that left your heart warm no matter when you visited—something like a grandmother's attic.
He headed there expecting a similar feeling this time. But the moment they stepped through the entrance, a distinctly different atmosphere greeted them.
"Huh. Was it always this packed?"
"Indeed. This is hardly the hour for a crowd."
"And no kids today either. Usually around this time they'd be pouring in after school."
"There are more adults instead. Men, specifically. Incidentally, Lord Claus—forgive me if my memory is simply failing me."
"Yeah?"
"That person... has she always worked here?"
There was a faint tremor in the question. Looking over, Claus saw puzzlement in Jeff's eyes—and a thin thread of excitement in his breathing.
Only when he followed the pointing gaze did he realize that the excitement was, in fact, attraction.
"Uh..."
"..."
In the middle of a shop packed with men stood a single woman in a pure white dress. Pale skin that matched the white fabric, golden hair cascading over it in elegant waves—an instinctive gasp almost escaped him.
But that fragile sound was swallowed straight back down his throat by the apricot-colored temptation visible through the thin cloth. Could you even call it clothing? Boldly bare shoulders, a deeply scooped back, and a full, soft chest that kept snaring the eye—his mouth went dry.
Who is she? This beautiful stranger who appeared out of nowhere in a secluded little cake shop... He already knew the answer, but he only managed to open his mouth after she turned their way and offered a shy smile.
"Oh my. Claus."
"Ru... is that you?"
"It's nice to see you again."
Ru greeted him with a bright flush of color, but Claus could not find words for a long moment. She had only changed her clothes, yet he could not tear his eyes from that snow-white face that had once looked so frail.
Or, more accurately—there was nowhere else safe to look. The slightest downward shift of his gaze threatened to land on things he absolutely should not be seeing.
"What are you doing here? And dressed like that..."
"Working, of course. I can't simply sit around doing nothing forever. The owner here was kind enough to hire me—I can't tell you how grateful I am."
"But those clothes..."
"I hate feeling restricted. And inside the shop there's no need to worry about the sun. Does it... not suit me?"
She gave one of the shoulder straps a light tug, letting the already loose fabric slip even further. Afraid something truly unmentionable might come into view, Claus instinctively shrugged off his coat and held it out.
"Y-you'll end up flashing people. At least put this on. Everyone's staring."
"It's fine. The stares do bother me a little, of course, but..."
"Then wear it anyway. You'll feel rotten if the wrong kind of people keep ogling you—people like me, for example."
"...If it's you looking, Claus, I don't mind."
The timid little declaration left him speechless. He knew, in some abstract way, that this was a cliché situation—but he had never imagined it happening to him, so only an equally cliché reply tumbled out.
"People will get the wrong idea if you say things like that."
"And if it isn't the wrong idea?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that if it's you, Claus, it's fine. My first impression of you was wonderful too..."
"..."
"...As I told you back then, I truly wanted to get closer. Would that be all right?"
She might have meant to whisper it for his ears alone, but it was more than loud enough for the men escorting him. And those men were tactful enough to avert their eyes for his sake.
Then there were those still-pleading eyes turned his way. Claus did not look away from the woman wrapped snugly in his coat. Who in their right mind would deliberately smash a stage this carefully set?
The moment he made up his mind, he seized the edges of the coat he had draped over her and pulled them tight. Then, to the slightly startled eyes looking up at him, he murmured in a low voice: