Ten Years Beside an Empty Shell
"Keep this with you always."
"You made this yourself?"
"Mm-hm. Can you tell? Every one of my fingers is a disaster."
"Ah—yes. I can see it. ...You must have suffered a great deal."
"Ahem! Of course it hurt! But I made it thinking of you, Kadrian."
"...Thank you."
"*Thank* you, he says."
Freya flashed a mischievous grin.
"That means Kadrian's time belongs entirely to me from now on, you know? You're in real trouble now, Kadrian."
"..."
Was she simply too young back then?
Far from being flustered by her words, Kadrian felt his heart pound all the harder. The sense of belonging wholly, irrevocably to someone's life — of being woven into that person's existence in return — struck him as something wonderful.
But Freya, once so vibrant and full of life, collapsed one day without warning.
Not even the most renowned physicians in the empire could identify what ailed her.
Then the High Priest appeared, and uncovered the cause.
"Her soul... is gone."
The heir of House Flanker had been reduced to an empty shell.
Everyone raged, certain it was the work of black magic. Yet no clue to reclaiming her soul could be found — nor any proof of black magic at all.
Not the mages of the Magic Tower, not the priests of the Temple, not a single royal of the imperial family.
No one.
And so the years slipped by, indifferent to their grief.
Kadrian spent ten years alone, keeping watch over his fiancée's empty shell.
Everyone urged him to let go, but he could not.
His soul had already chosen its master, long ago.
Then one day, ten years on, a small village not far from the ducal residence came under attack by black magic.
In the chaos of containing it, the senses connected to Freya — still sleeping on the fifth floor — were abruptly severed.
Freya's body itself, lying dormant on the fifth floor, had vanished.
Kadrian left the village in Norbert's hands and scoured every corner of the empire in search of her. With no idea where to look, he began with the Temple and the Magic Tower. He visited the old Flanker territory, the imperial palace — it seemed he searched every place his feet could carry him.
"Your Grace... you must rest, if only for a little while. At this rate, you will collapse before she is found."
Not even Ed's pleading could make Kadrian stop searching for Freya.
Then word came from the ducal residence. A survivor had appeared at Teridana Beach.
"It may have something to do with her disappearance. I will remain here, so return ahead of me, Your Grace."
And so Kadrian left Ed behind and returned to the ducal residence alone.
The "survivor" dragged into his office was none other than Freya.
God in heaven.
The moment she walked through the door, Kadrian gave thanks to the divine.
But it did not last.
Her behavior, as though she remembered nothing at all. The eyes that studied him like a stranger. The faint, inexplicable killing intent lingering in her gaze — all of it troubled him deeply.
Worse still, he could sense an alien energy clinging to her very being.
"Fill in the gaps."
In the end, Kadrian postponed his joyous reunion and resolved to prepare for the worst.
Yet nothing could be confirmed with certainty. He even made her drink the World Tree Sap, but that only deepened the confusion.
'And then, even the butler thing...'
She had grown into her role splendidly within the promised two years.
Of her own accord. By her own ability.
To the point that no one would believe she had spent ten years lying motionless in bed.
Even now, two full years later, Kadrian still could not be certain.
Whether the soul dwelling in that body was truly Freya's — or the scheme of some black mage.
"Haah..."
Kadrian leaned his head back against the headboard. He gazed quietly up at the crimson sky for a long moment, then slowly closed his eyes.
Now, at last, I have to decide.
Upon arriving at the ducal residence, my first stop was the veterinarian, where I presented the clump of fur.
"The fur will grow back in no time. There's nothing to worry about. Just make sure she eats well and gets plenty of rest."
"Thank you."
The veterinarian, Renda, touched a single fingertip to the furball's nose. The furball gave it a sniff, then sharply turned its head away.
"Meow!"
"..."
Renda chuckled softly.
"What a docile little thing. Most cats don't warm up to people this easily."
"Haha..."
I laughed awkwardly.
'Docile,' is it.
I suppose that's how it would look to someone who couldn't hear what this furball was actually saying.
The wretched thing had yowled nonstop the entire carriage ride back to the ducal residence.
Cat yowls tangled up with what sounded suspiciously like human speech, and my head was a complete wreck by the end of it.
Judging by that sharp, biting way of talking, it was anything but docile — and yet it dropped its guard so quickly and adapted to human hands so readily that it seemed docile all over again...
'Perhaps it belonged to someone once.'
Well, I'd know the answer soon enough, once we had a proper conversation.
'Ha...'
I pressed a hand to my forehead for a moment, purely out of embarrassment at myself.
'Does the very idea of holding a conversation with a cat even make sense?'
For a fleeting instant, I genuinely wondered if I was going insane.
Cradling the furball in my arms, I headed toward my quarters.
"Oh my, Freya? What on earth is that in your arms? Goodness — it's a cat!"
The servants I passed along the way caught sight of the furball and came swarming over.
"Is it a kitten?"
"No, it's simply small from going hungry."
"Oh dear, then we'll have to feed it properly. Hold on, take this with you. It's chicken breast I dried out — not sure if it'll eat it, though."
"Thank you."
"Want some milk as well?"
"No, thank you. I hear you're meant to avoid giving them human food whenever possible."
"Ah, is that so."
"Hey, Butler! There's fresh-caught fish over here too! Take it!"
"Yes, I'll come back down later."
"Got it!"
Barely arrived at the ducal residence, and already the furball was soaking up an explosive amount of attention.
'See that, furball? You followed the right person — now you're drowning in food luck.'
I smirked down at it, taking credit where none was due.
Whether it heard me or not, the furball simply unleashed an enormous yawn and squirmed about, arranging itself into a comfortable position.
Leaving the crowd's fuss behind, I hurried to my room.
Once inside, I took a moment to survey the energies around me.
Setting aside the mass of servants, I checked only the key figures. Aide Ed was in the garden, and Sir Allen was at the training grounds.
'Heading toward the back mountain, I see. Planning another swim in Redianar Lake, no doubt.'
How diligent of him.
And then the Grand Duke.
'Hm? Not the lower floors?'
His presence wasn't on the third floor, where his office was — I could feel it from the fourth-floor staircase.
'Ah... he's headed for the fifth floor.'
The place where the Grand Duke's secret lay hidden. The one place he visited without fail, once a day, whenever he returned from campaign.
Something enormous was surely concealed up there.
'When the time comes for me to return to the Tenasis Empire — if I somehow fail to take the Grand Duke's head, I'll be sure to shake loose whatever that fifth-floor secret is before I go.'
Just then, the Grand Duke's presence vanished in an instant near the entrance to the fifth floor.
He had stepped through the fifth-floor door. Whether it was a barrier or some enchantment, the moment anyone crossed into the fifth floor, the presence of the Grand Duke or of Aide Ed simply ceased to exist.
'The Grand Duke entering the fifth floor means he won't be coming to find me for a while.'
Having confirmed I had a stretch of peace ahead of me, I set down the wide, plush cushion I'd carried up from downstairs beside the bed — and placed the black furball on top of it.
Perched on the cushion, the furball peeked up at me. We held each other's gaze for a moment before it gave a haughty little hmph and began primly licking its front paws clean.
And all the while, it muttered sideways at me:
"..."
It clearly hadn't the slightest inkling that I might actually understand what it was saying.
'Bold one, aren't you.'
I regarded the furball in silence, then picked up the water pitcher from the nightstand and poured water into a deep, polished dish — and set it down beside the cushion.
At that, the furball's gaze flicked back and forth between the dish of water and my face.
Its expression was utterly transparent: What? What? What is this? What is happening right now?
Hmmm. The furball rolled its blue eyes this way and that, deliberating gravely, before speaking again.
Before it could even finish, I fished the chicken jerky out of my pocket and laid it on the cushion.
Only then, apparently convinced at last, the furball jolted upright in shock and sprang off the cushion.
"..."
Quick on the uptake, aren't we.
I let out a quiet sigh as I watched the furball, every hair on its body bristling stiff, baring its teeth with a fierce little kyahk!