Say It (1)
Today, my lady was behaving strangely—stranger than usual, anyway.
She was always strange, but this was different in kind.
And no wonder. She was performing good deeds, of all things, which she never did.
If you asked me what crime good deeds could possibly commit to deserve such suspicion, I would have no ready answer. But from where I stood—watching her at close quarters every single day since the day she was born—this was something I could not have imagined even in my dreams.
Here was a woman who, given a hundred good deeds in this world, would mix ten cruel ones among them and twist the meaning of the whole.
A woman raised in a great house, who looked down on every soul in it as naturally as she breathed.
And that lady—
"Um... my lady?"
"What."
"What are you doing right now?"
"Can't you see?"
She was holding a broom and cleaning her own room.
I closed my eyes for a moment and opened them again, but since the sight had not vanished, this could only be a dream.
My lady was still sweeping the floor, and she even frowned at a patch of dust left in the corner.
"You are sweeping the floor."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because it's dirty."
The my lady of ordinary days would have summoned a servant the moment she spotted something dirty. No—before she even called, I would have dealt with it myself, and she would never have spared such a trivial matter so much as a glance.
Today, though, was different.
She was carrying the broom with her own hands, checking the pleats of the curtains, even rearranging the teacups on the table.
"The sunlight's too strong."
"Shall I close the curtains?"
"No. Closing them all the way makes the room feel stifling."
My unease grew by the minute.
What on earth could have changed my lady like this?
The dust on the floor, the angle of the curtains, the two teacups, the sweets that were not too sweet, even the faintly scented tea—every last detail was aimed at one person.
"Is Lady Veloa coming today?"
My lady's hands stopped.
So it was true, then. People do not change so easily.
"Who said that?"
"There are two teacups."
"A guest could come."
"No guest has ever prompted you to clean with your own hands, my lady."
"The after-class summons are almost over."
Only then did I notice the desk calendar she had been staring at.
The month-long promise made with Lady Veloa.
The contract—that she must come to the annex whenever my lady called her after class—was now drawing to its close.
"Lady Veloa will be counting down to that last day."
"I imagine she will."
My lady did not deny it.
On the contrary, her face said she found the fact all the more delightful for knowing it.
"That's exactly what bothers me."
"What does, my lady?"
"That happy face of hers. The one that thinks it's almost over."
I could not bring myself to answer.
So this was not a good deed after all—it was the tidying of a room's traps before the prey arrived. That had been the right way to read it all along.
"My lady. Lady Veloa has not yet fully recovered."
After choosing my words with care, I added, cautiously:
"It would be wise not to push her too hard this time."
A while ago, I overstepped.
I meddled too deeply in how my lady treated Lady Veloa, and she informed me of my place again in a voice like ice.
That was the day I called her "my lady" for the first time in a long while.
Since then she had treated me as usual again, but that did not mean everything had been wiped clean. I knew that, which was why even now I spoke carefully.
"Isabel."
"Yes."
"I'm not planning to torment her today."
"Is that the truth?"
"Half of it."
"And you expect me to believe that?"
"Don't believe it. Just listen."
Just then, footsteps sounded outside the door.
Knock, knock.
"Come in."
The door opened, and Lady Veloa stepped inside.
"Lady Arzen."
Her voice was calm, but a deep weariness lay beneath it.
My lady gestured to her with a face that was, for once, almost meek.
"Sit."
"This shouldn't take long."
"Then sit a while anyway."
Lady Veloa seemed about to refuse, but in the end she took the chair across from her.
I poured the tea.
A lightly scented blend, chosen by my lady herself.
Ordinarily she would have served something cloyingly sweet or overpoweringly fragrant and savored her guest's reaction—but not today.
Truly, it was a strange day.
"You've come to report, haven't you?"
"You knew?"
"Your family sent a letter about the gold mine, didn't they?"
Lady Veloa's face stiffened.
"I see it's been confirmed."
"Confirmed as partially factual."
Lady Veloa spoke slowly.
"Thanks to the trading house and the appraiser that Lady Arzen introduced, the initial verification apparently proceeded quickly. On that matter, I—"
She fell quiet for a moment, and I could see she was gritting her teeth.
"Thank you."
Ordinarily, my lady would have teased her.
Oh, how lovely it was to see her bow her head. How short her thanks was. How stiff her voice sounded.
"You seem to know my family's situation without my having to explain, so I will come straight to the point."
Lady Veloa's hands tightened over her knees.
"If we cannot manage the bonds maturing now, the family's credit will collapse before the mine's value is even established."
"And?"
Lady Veloa fell silent for a moment.
In that instant, I understood with perfect clarity why she had come here.
This was no mere report. She had come to ask for help.
From the one person she least wanted to ask.
"My family has—"
Lady Veloa lowered her voice.
"—instructed me to report the confirmation of the gold mine to you, Lady Arzen, and to respectfully request your assistance with the follow-up appraisal and the restructuring of our debts."
"Respectfully. I like that even better, hearing it from your own mouth."
There it was. The civility had not lasted long.
Lady Veloa did not bow her head. Instead, she looked my lady squarely in the eye.
"I am requesting your help."
"Help with what?"
"The bonds need their maturities adjusted, or a partial buyout to buy us time. My family has judged that with the trading network of House Arzen, a negotiation with our creditors would be possible."
"I think I've said this before, but forget your family's thinking—what do you think?"
"..."
Lady Veloa's hands trembled, faintly.
"I—"
"Yes?"
"I do not wish to owe you any more than I already do. But Veloa does not yet have the strength to stand on its own."
Lady Veloa swallowed.
"If the mine is real, my family can rise again. But if we collapse under the old debts before that happens, then none of it means anything."
"So you came to me? Even though you hate bowing your head?"
My lady's face had become utterly satisfied.
Even by my standards, it was a remarkably sinister expression.
"Good."
"...Name your terms. I do not accept help without payment."
"Why not?"
"Least of all from you."
What an extraordinary woman she was.
Any ordinary person would have bowed their head by now, offered their thanks, done everything possible to avoid provoking her.
But Lady Veloa was different.
She had come seeking help, yet she kept her guard up. She needed this, yet she would not yield an inch.
I thought I understood, a little, why my lady was so obsessed with her.
"Then one condition."
"Which is?"
"The after-class summons aren't over yet, are they? Don't tell me you thought they were nearly done."
"..."
"Too bad for you."
Lady Veloa's jaw tightened.
"Surely you don't mean to extend the contract?"
"No. That would be boring."
"Then what?"
"For whatever time remains of your summons—every time you come to this room, you report to me in person."
"I've just given a report."
"Not that kind."
My lady set down her teacup.
"Standing before me. Politely."
Lady Veloa's brows shifted, the barest fraction.
"Saying what?"
"Saying this."
My lady enunciated every word, crisp and clear.
"I, Roseline Veloa, require the help of Lady Serena Arzen."
I swallowed a sigh.
In exchange for holding the Veloa family together, my lady intended to press down on Lady Veloa's pride, right where it would hurt most.
"...You want me to say that with my own mouth?"
"Yes. Because your family truly does need my help."
Lady Veloa's hands were shaking.
Whether from rage or from shame, I could not tell. Perhaps it was both.
"You really are—. Must you shame me in this way?"
"No."
My lady tilted her head slightly.
"I want to see your face when you admit the truth."
"..."
"While hating me."
"..."
"And saying with your own lips that you need my help."
Lady Veloa glared at my lady for a long moment, but she could not refute a word of it.
She had no way to.
House Veloa had pride in abundance and nothing else, and it was crumbling—and the only hand that could hold that crumbling house together belonged, of all people, to my lady.
For Lady Veloa, that had to be the most shameful thing of all.
Harder to bear than needing help was the fact that the person offering it was Serena Arzen.
"I am not leaning on you."
"I know."
"I am doing this for my family."
"I know that too."
"Then why set such a condition?"
"Because you already know all that, and you're still ashamed of it."
Lady Veloa was silent for a long while. Then, slowly, she opened her mouth.
"...I will say it."
"Good."
"But do not misunderstand."
She spoke without lowering her head.
"When I say those words, it will not be because I have submitted to you. It will be for Veloa's sake."
"I know."
"And I will not forget this humiliation."
At those words, my lady's face bloomed into pure delight.
"That's exactly why it's good."
"..."
"Don't you forget it."
Lady Veloa rose from her seat.
"My report is finished. I will take my leave."
"That condition I just mentioned—starting today."
"..."
"Say it."
Lady Veloa's lips parted, then closed again.
Thank you.
I request your help.
This is for Veloa's sake.
The woman who had spoken those lines so readily mere minutes before could not, before that one sentence, so much as steady her breathing.
My lady waited.
With a face of perfect, gracious kindness.
"Take your time."
"..."
"It has to be said today, after all."