Coloring (4)
Coloring (4)
For a long moment, Levina said nothing.
Her gaze traveled between the blood dripping down my arm and the shattered glass scattered across the floor.
Like someone who couldn't quite determine how to interpret the scene before her.
The tangled emotions that surfaced on her face soon vanished behind that familiar blank mask.
The same wearying expression I saw every day.
She exhaled, irritation and exhaustion both, and lifted one brow to underline her displeasure.
"Ravin, I don't know where you picked this up, but do you really think anything's going to change?"
Her voice was lower and colder than usual.
It didn't frighten me.
Because this person would keep acting like a son of a bitch even if you groveled on your belly begging forgiveness.
"The expulsion from the family was decided by Father, and there's nothing more I can do for you."
She began to walk, slowly, circling the room.
Like a surveyor.
"You're not at an age where throwing a tantrum solves anything."
Her eyes didn't settle on me.
They moved over the dust, the clothes strewn about, the broken liquor bottle.
She scrutinized everything with the same meticulous care, as though each object were an extension of who I was.
But she never once looked at me directly.
That was Levina.
"Right now, you are an utterly pitiful, defective human being — though I'm not sure there's ever been a time you weren't."
She came to a stop in front of me.
And looked down.
The way she always did.
I hated that gaze, that expression, that whole posture.
"Do you honestly think there's a single person who'd care if you hurt yourself? Someone who'd turn around and notice, hm? Even children sent off to convents for causing trouble tend to avoid this sort of thing. Everyone knows it's a cheap stunt — the kind of petulant nonsense only overgrown brats pull."
None of it really landed.
I wanted to scream that I was in agony, that she should bring Estelle to me at once, but keeping my mouth shut was the smarter choice. Right now, I was someone who'd never exchanged a single word with Estelle.
She looked at the wound.
The blood hadn't stopped. It was still running.
Her expression didn't change.
"Or is it about the broken engagement? You do realize how laughable it is for an Edelgard to come apart over some girl?"
I'd intended to stay silent, but the mention of Serepina pulled a sarcastic retort out of me before I could stop it. Serepina, at least, was not — no. She was never 'some girl' to Ravin.
"Right. Maybe it is about the engagement. I heard you'd already settled everything with our illustrious Heir Apparent without ever bothering to speak to me."
Levina looked at me, offering no reply.
Her blank mask shifted into something unfamiliar — an expression I'd never seen — and she stood there, still.
I crushed the spent cigarette into the ashtray. Then I pulled out a fresh one and put it between my lips.
I opened the matchbox with my left hand. A fine tremor ran through my arm. I took out a match, my hand shaking like an idiot's, and struck it. A sharp hiss, and the flame flared. But my trembling hand couldn't bring the fire to the tip of the cigarette. The flame danced briefly in the air and then died.
"Ah, fuck. No — not noona. Levina. Light this for me?"
She didn't answer. Didn't move.
She just looked down at me.
I suppose even she was caught off guard. To be fair, if I saw someone calmly smoking a cigarette with a gashed-open arm, I'd probably struggle with how to react too.
I tried again. This time, I steadied my fingers. A second flame flared, and I managed to light the cigarette.
I held the smoke in, and my head swam. The pain in my arm seemed to recede a little.
When I exhaled, a pale curtain of smoke veiled the space between us. Levina's face was visible through it. Still expressionless.
"Noona?"
"Sorry. You hated being called that, didn't you?"
"That's not —"
"What. It's common enough. People who die for love."
I answered her flatly, without avoiding her eyes. As if I were talking about someone else entirely.
"That's it?"
I only nodded. Without a word.
Her brow twitched, barely perceptibly. My easy compliance had clearly strayed outside her expectations. She must have thought I'd push back, or at least offer some excuse. It had been a long time since I'd done anything of the sort.
"Is that really all you have to say?"
Now the irritation in her voice was undisguised.
She stepped closer and delicately plucked the cigarette from my fingers, then stubbed it out — not in the ashtray but on the table. The red ember crackled and died.
I didn't have the strength to stop her. It just felt like a waste. I hadn't even smoked half of it. My pockets were light these days. Every single cigarette mattered.
"Whatever I say, you're always right. No — you have to be right."
"..."
"It must have been two years ago, maybe three. I begged you to forgive me — just once — swore I'd never do it again. That was the last time, you said. You're never going to listen, no matter what I say."
I answered with a faint smile. Getting angry, showing frustration — it would have made me feel too pathetic.
Levina didn't respond. She only stared down at me with that rigid face.
I leaned back against the sofa. Closed my eyes. Whether it was the blood loss or just exhaustion, my head was spinning. Falling asleep right here didn't seem so bad.
"...Get up."
Levina's voice cut through. It felt slightly less sharp than before. Maybe I imagined it.
"I'll call for a physician. Stay conscious until then."
I didn't open my eyes. I lay there motionless on the sofa. I didn't have the energy to answer.
Not long after, I heard the sound of her leaving the room. Heels clicking away, then the door closing.
The room fell quiet again.
Though the smell was still foul. Shattered liquor bottles, the distinctive reek of stale alcohol and old cigarette smoke, and the iron tang of blood.
My eye caught the cigarette Levina had crushed out. A thin line of smoke was still rising from it — it hadn't gone out completely.
I grabbed it with unsteady fingers and tried to get it back between my lips, but the blood running down my arm doused the ember.
I don't know how much time passed.
The door opened again.
Estelle walked in, glancing around my room. For some reason, I thought I caught the scent of apples.
"Just as rumored. A complete sty. Booze, stale cigarettes — ugh. Do you ever clean this room? Your sister was right. It doesn't feel like a place where a person lives."
Her voice was light, carrying a teasing lilt. The Saintess, Estelle, in her white clerical robes.
"Most useless nobles in your position would be raging by now, screaming 'How dare the likes of you presume to lecture me.' But you're a bit different, Young Master. Or maybe you're just in too much pain to speak."
She surveyed the room, and at last her eyes met mine where I lay on the sofa. For an instant, the mischievous smile on her face stiffened — just barely. She stared at me, blankly, for a moment. But it passed. She shook her head slightly and her usual expression slipped back into place.
"Wow, you look terrible."
Estelle spoke. Her voice was bright, but there was something cool tucked inside it.
She came closer and crouched down in front of me. Maybe it was her playful manner, but the joke slipped out before I could stop it.
"Don't people usually knock?"
"The Holy Spirit, blessings, the word of God — they all arrive without announcement."
"I'm not exactly a devout believer."
She shrugged and let the remark pass.
"So. Did you do this alone? Or did someone help?"
Without any particular care, she lifted my bleeding arm. Cold fingers brushed the wound. A sharp spike of pain twisted my face before I could stop it.
She watched my expression and laughed as if she found it entertaining.
"Looks like it hurts. Well — you tore open living flesh. Of course it hurts."
She rose with a grin. Her gaze swept over the table, and she picked up my cigarette case.
"Mind if I smoke?"
"Only if you light one for me too."
"Guess I'll never get another chance to smoke a cigarette lit by the Saintess herself, will I?"
She pulled out two cigarettes. One went between her own lips; the other she placed between mine. She struck a match and lit her own first. Then she took the unlit cigarette from my mouth, placed it between her lips, and lit it from hers — before returning the now-lit one to me.
Even she seemed a little flustered by what she'd just done. She covered it well, didn't say anything about it.
I drew deeply. The familiar smoke filled my lungs. She took a long drag too, then frowned slightly.
"This tastes awful."
She said it with a small, curling smile.
Then she stretched her hand over my arm. From her palm, a soft, warm light flowed out. The torn flesh began to knit together at a visible speed. New tissue formed, the skin smoothing over. Blood still clung to the surface, but the wound itself was gone — not even a scar remained.
"No thank you? Levina did all but beg on her knees for my help, and she'll handle the compensation, but basic courtesy exists, you know. Does House Edelgard not teach such things?"
A memory of a conversation we'd had before surfaced, and I let out a dry, involuntary laugh. I answered quietly.
"Thank you."
"...Ah. Uh, yeah."
She clearly hadn't expected a straightforward expression of gratitude. Her reply came out awkward, and she averted her gaze.
After a brief silence, she spoke again, as if the thought had just occurred to her.
"Hey — have we met somewhere before?"
"No. I don't think so."
I answered evenly.
She tilted her head at that.
"Really... strange. Your face doesn't feel like one I'm seeing for the first time."
She seemed to mull it over for a moment.
"Right — the Forbidden Archive. That caused an uproar for a while. I might have seen you at the Disciplinary Committee hearing. Weren't you the one who caused the incident?"
"You're the one who did it."
Estelle's expression froze mid-breath. Then the smile returned to her face.
"Me? Why?"
"Who knows. Just a feeling."
Just as she'd done once before, Estelle snatched the cigarette from my hand with a lightning-quick motion. Her eyes narrowed, sharp with interest, as she regarded me.
"How much do you know?"