Bloom of Good Faith
A crimson stem and a pure white rose—no, how the hell was I supposed to explain that?
It was already miserable enough being possessed in a world I didn't understand, in the body of a trash that everyone hated. But who would have thought the skill they'd handed me would be such a defective product, with even the system window description half-baked?
And in front of this blood-chilling woman, no less.
It wasn't like I could just confess, "Actually, this is a skill the system gave me!" If I did, I'd either be branded a lunatic or end up dead.
"...What exactly do you mean by proof...?"
"Exactly what I said. Show me clearly, right before my eyes, that strange power you used isn't some blasphemy that will harm the family."
Camellia's amethyst eyes, looking down at me, flashed coldly like a blade.
I could feel the cold sweat trickling down my spine in real time. I ran every possible excuse through my head at the speed of light, but none of them added up.
Should I just pretend it was a talent I'd been hiding all along? Or claim I suddenly awakened after losing my memory?
There was no way she'd missed the way my eyes were shaking like an earthquake, unable to find their footing.
"I'll warn you—you should abandon any thought of brushing this off with a convenient lie. The Rian Rojer I know was a weak, pathetic piece of trash who couldn't even control his own body, let alone use mana."
Wow, hearing myself called trash right to my face was a new experience.
But what she was saying meant she was certain the old 'Rian' didn't have a shred of this kind of ability.
Completely cornered. My escape route was cut off.
Just in case, I frantically called up the status window in my head, but as usual, only half-hearted text floated there, mocking me.
[Skill: Kaleidoscope Thorn Flower (F)]
"Haah..."
Eventually, a suppressed sigh forced its way through my bloodless lips.
No matter how much I racked my brain for excuses, I couldn't fool that woman's eyes. Rather than wagging my tongue clumsily, getting branded a true dark mage, and being burned at the stake by the Inquisition, it'd be better to serve up the truth with generous seasoning.
"To be honest, I don't really know either."
"...You don't know?"
Camellia's sharp brow furrowed minutely, and the air in the office felt like it dropped ten degrees.
"That day when I lost my memory and was nearly thrown out of the Head's Office. When I got back to my room, I did feel something squirming inside my body—a very alien and unpleasant sensation."
Swallowing hard against the pressure constricting my throat, I rattled off my words quickly, as if reciting a prepared script.
"At the time, I just thought my body was sick from the psychological shock and ignored it. But then it suddenly burst out in the garden yesterday. Even I don't know what this power is, or how to control it."
As if wronged, I clutched my chest tightly over the thin shirt. This wasn't method acting to survive. It was 100% pure sincerity with my life on the line.
I'm just as frustrated that there's no skill description, you old hag!
"If you, Lady Head, judge that this is truly a blasphemous power that defiles the family... I won't cling on pathetically any longer."
I paused for a moment, then raised my head to meet her amethyst eyes directly.
"Those excommunication papers you threw at me back then—I'll sign them right now and walk out on my own."
Inside, my heart felt like it was about to leap out of my mouth, but I set my expression to the most resigned, desolate, and resolute look I could manage.
This was my final gamble.
A nuance of 'responsibility'—something the original trash Rian Rojer would never have uttered. If this worked, at least she'd drop the suspicion that I was a dark mage selling out the family.
Silence filled the office. Camellia just stared down at me without a word.
Ah, had I overdone it? What if she actually brought out the documents?
Just as my lips were parching, Camellia's gaze, standing right in front of me, lowered slowly.
To my chest. More precisely, to where my heart was—the spot I'd defiantly clutched as I dared her to bring the excommunication papers.
She withdrew the hand that had been supporting her chin and abruptly pressed her palm against my chest.
"Ngh...!"
A heat like a blast furnace rushed through the black leather glove. Even just the heat radiating from the glove was so overwhelming that I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling like my thin ribs would shatter and my heart would be cooked alive—
...Huh?
The heat that had been so vicious it felt like it would sear my skin had, the moment her hand touched my chest, subsided as if by magic. Startled, I cracked my eyes open to see the cold amethyst eyes looking down at me trembling minutely, as if an earthquake had struck them.
The aura that had been rampaging as if to tear my throat out moments ago was nowhere to be seen. Hers was a strangely dazed expression.
"...Indeed. I sense no trace of blasphemous demonic energy."
At the declaration that slipped from her red lips, the breath I'd been holding burst out in a rush.
I was alive. It had worked! At the very least, I'd avoided the crisis of being torn apart or thrown out of the mansion to die a lonely death!
Just as I was internally rejoicing like crazy and about to collapse from weak knees—
Her fingertips, which had been pressing against my chest, slowly traveled up my collarbone and then clamped firmly around my chin.
"Eh?"
"Just because it's not demonic energy doesn't mean it's safe."
A gaze completely different from before—sticky and obsessive—slithered down my face like a snake.
"It's a bizarre, unknown power that doesn't even appear in the family records. Show me with your own eyes that you won't be devoured by that power you can't even control yourself."
Are you out of your mind?
At her persistent demand, cold sweat trickled down my spine.
My humble plan to just hole up in my room, recuperate quietly, and look into it slowly was completely shattered. If I tucked my tail between my legs and said I couldn't do it, what would happen to me then—?
In the end, I had no choice but to confront it directly with my own body.
I needed to figure out how this bizarre skill worked anyway, and showing it off right in front of this blood-curdling woman was probably the most certain proof.
'How the hell did I make it bloom in the garden yesterday?'
Clenching my trembling fist, I desperately racked my brain. The only clue written in that half-baked status window.
[Target's mental and physical stability]
Ah, right. When I'd thought I wanted to calm Camellia down somehow, the skill had activated.
That thin sliver of goodwill hidden behind the pretense of putting someone at ease. If that was the trigger for this skill—
Staring straight at Camellia, who was gripping my chin, an unpleasant and alien sensation, like blood flowing backward from deep inside my body, began to writhe.
Here it was. This filthy sensation.
I concentrated all of that horrifying feeling, as if cramming it into my thin, pale right arm.
—Crrk, squelch!
"Guh... ngh!"
In an instant, the tender skin of my right arm tore open with a gruesome sound of splitting flesh.
No matter how many times I experienced this sensation of something wriggling out from inside, forcing through living flesh, I could never get used to it. Even though I'd only localized it to my right arm, the terrible pain, as if every joint were being ground in a blender, ruthlessly battered my entire body.
Thump. Thud.
Tearing through my flesh, drinking my blood like wine, the voracious, dark-crimson vines twisted above the back of my hand and finally burst into buds.
It wasn't the ominous, blood-soaked rose I'd bloomed in the garden yesterday.
At the end of the grotesque thorny vine—
On the most gruesome flowerpot of my torn flesh and blood—bloomed a single pure white rose, so clear and innocent it stung my eyes.
And at that moment—
The acrid, suffocating heat of Camellia that had been pressing heavily on the Head's Office was washed away, like a lie, by the subtle fragrance radiating from the white rose.
"My, ability... ngh... seems to have... the effect of... putting people at ease."
My voice came out horribly shaking.
Inside, I was screaming for my life, tears and snot everywhere, but at least I had to let her know what this damn skill did. Forcing my blue, trembling lips upward, I drew the most tender and gentle curve I could manage.
"This flower..."
I bit my tongue to endure the pain, and the metallic taste of blood rushed in, but I kept my expression perfectly controlled. No resentment or fear directed at this iron-blooded woman—just blind goodwill.
"...Is it of any help... in calming Lady Camellia's... mind and body?"
My blood-soaked hair, drenched in cold sweat, clung damply to my forehead. Tears I'd forced back welled up in my eyes. Holding out the white rose dripping blood toward her with effort, I smiled gently and desolately.
The moment I offered the pure white rose dripping with blood, the silence that had been weighing down the Head's Office stretched taut.
Internally, I wanted to grab my tattered arm and roll on the floor, but I barely held onto my sanity by digging my remaining left hand into my thigh until it bled—
"..."
Camellia's amethyst eyes, which had always looked down at me with languid arrogance, shook with an almost grotesque intensity for a single moment.
Her gaze darted rapidly between my thin right arm, brutally torn open, and the miraculous pure white rose blooming in that gruesome blood. The Lady Head's aura, which had been rampaging so fiercely moments ago as if to wring my neck, was nowhere to be found.
Instead, she slowly, very cautiously, reached out her hand.
I knew it wasn't to threaten me, at least. But scary was still scary!
Just as I was about to flinch and screw my eyes shut—
-Swoosh.
Camellia's hand in its black leather glove gently wrapped around the white rose in my hand. No, more precisely, it softly cradled both my injured hand holding the flower and my pale cheek at the same time.
"...You, just what—"
Her voice, so close I could feel her breath, was trembling strangely. A face I'd never seen before—the cold, arrogant Lady Head's iron-clad composure had completely crumbled.
More than the warmth coming through the glove, her shaking eyes, filled with my reflection, transmitted a desperate longing so vivid it felt like it would pierce through my skin.