Coloring (13)
Coloring (13)
Estelle hit him.
First with her fists, then with her feet.
Like a child splashing in puddles on a rainy day, only the spray wasn't muddy water.
The dull thud of impact echoed through the empty room.
Flesh and bone colliding, a scream tearing loose.
Every sound blurred together into a strange, dissonant noise.
Watching an obese middle-aged man get pulverized while gurgling out wet, repulsive sounds wasn't exactly a pleasant spectacle.
The room smelled of sharp copper and stale dust.
Perion fought back at first.
Cursed, thrashed.
It didn't help.
There was no wasted motion in Estelle's movements.
She moved with the ease of long practice, smooth and almost bored.
One kick, and several ribs gave way with a sharp crack.
"No, stop! It's broken— my arm! Aaargh!"
Perion's arm bent at an angle that didn't belong on a human body.
The crack of bone rang out sharp and clean.
Estelle paused briefly.
Then she laid her hand gently over the shattered limb.
A soft glow spilled from her fingers.
Crrrack.
Bone ground its way back into place.
Perion's screaming lurched into disbelief.
He stared at his own mended arm as if it were a lie.
Then Estelle kicked it again.
Crunch.
She was smiling.
A faint smile curved her lips, but her eyes stayed dead.
Whenever he was nearly gone, she healed him.
Then went back to beating him.
Without pause, without fatigue.
His body kept recovering, but the pain didn't seem to fade.
Now his eyes held nothing left but terror.
Perion no longer looked at Estelle.
His gaze swung toward me, standing in the corner of the room.
What remained in his stare was a desperate, frayed plea.
"P-please... spare me...!"
His voice came out shredded.
Blood and spit mingled and ran down his chin.
"Anything! I'll give you anything! Money! Women! Anything!
Please, just stop that crazy bitch!"
He started crawling toward me.
Dragging his ruined body across the floor, smearing a dark trail behind him.
Flecks of his blood dotted my trousers and shirt.
Warm and tacky.
The metallic reek stung my nose.
I thought, vaguely, that it was filthy.
"You two don't talk things out?"
"No, I don't want to mix words with him."
She had a fistful of Perion's hair, holding it like a soiled rag.
"I'll wait downstairs a bit."
My voice sounded so calm it surprised even me.
As if I were stepping out for air during a tedious play.
Estelle looked at me.
My reflection sat in her pupils.
She tilted her head slightly.
"Mm? Ah, yeah. The butchering is a little gross, I guess.
Rest downstairs. I'll finish up fast and come down."
She turned back to Perion.
Without a word, I left the room.
Behind me, Perion's scream resumed.
It faded with every step down the stairs.
The ground floor was silent.
The household staff Estelle had put to sleep lay collapsed in the corridors.
Every face was peaceful.
Sunk into some profound, saccharine dream.
It felt uncanny, almost unreal.
I stepped around them carefully and made my way to the dining room.
Moonlight seeped faintly through the windows.
I took a clean white cup from the sideboard.
Found a kettle and boiled water.
Tore open a pouch of coffee beans—it smelled rich, probably a high-quality stock.
I ground the beans and filled the filter.
Poured the hot water in a slow stream.
The soft sound of dripping coffee filled the quiet of the room.
The dark, roasted fragrance faintly smothered the blood-smell still clinging to my nose.
I waited until it finished dripping and filled the cup.
Steam curled upward.
I leaned back in a chair and let the scent settle around me.
The warmth of the cup felt good.
Good enough that the muffled noises still drifting down from upstairs were easy to let slide past.
That was when I heard it.
The mansion door opened cautiously.
Creeeak.
I didn't turn my head.
Just stayed still, holding the coffee.
Light, hesitant footsteps.
They stopped in front of me.
Slowly, I looked up.
A girl stood in the darkness.
I couldn't recall her name, but I knew the face.
That girl who always clung to Kyle's side like a shadow.
She wasn't wearing a uniform, but it was definitely her.
The one the old Ravin used to mock for playing at knighthood despite being a mere girl, if memory served.
Honestly, my opinion still hadn't changed much.
Born into a decent noble family, could have fallen in love with a functional human and lived happily—but instead she chose a life skulking behind someone else.
Meanwhile, someone else had his precious engagement shattered, got kicked out of his house, and was now watching the lunatic Saintess's personal snuff film.
Raised like a treasured jewel by her family, and in return she traded away a love-filled life with someone for the pleasure of stepping on other people's heels.
She stared at me blankly.
Her gaze swept over the collapsed servants in the hallway, lingered on the bloodstains on my clothes, and then landed on the coffee cup in my hands.
Her pupils dilated wide.
Her lips trembled faintly.
She tried to say something, but no sound emerged.
"Uh..."
The moment I opened my mouth, she shrieked.
"Eeek!"
She yanked the blade from her belt.
But her hands were shaking so violently the tip wobbled all over the place.
It looked less threatening and more just pitiful.
"R-Ravin Edelgard! When I first heard, I thought it was just a false rumor! Now just— just don't resist—"
When I first heard.
Thinking back, I remembered Serepina grabbing me, demanding over and over whether I'd been frequenting the church.
I'd barely had time to let the words register before the noise upstairs had swept the thought away.
Creak.
Estelle coming down the stairs.
At the sound, the girl jolted and looked toward it.
Her face drained to a frightened white.
As though she'd seen a ghost.
"Eeyiiik!"
Shaking, she staggered backward.
Then she spun around and bolted like a madwoman.
Stumbling, nearly falling, she didn't stop.
Bang!
She slammed her face into a wall, clutched her forehead, then scrambled up and fled out the door.
Silence settled over the dining room again.
I watched the door where she'd vanished for a moment.
Then I looked back at my coffee.
It had cooled a little.
I drank what remained slowly.
Not long after, Estelle came down.
She stretched with a refreshed expression, like someone who'd just woken from a truly restful sleep.
Her black clerical robe was now so drenched in blood it had turned a dark reddish hue.
Even in the dim light, the tacky texture was practically visible.
"Mmm, that was refreshing."
She hummed cheerfully and approached me.
"Something happen? I heard weird noises down here."
Without so much as asking, she took the coffee cup from my hand and had a sip.
Then grimaced.
"Ugh, bitter. No sugar?"
"No idea. Not my house."
Her gaze caught on something lying on the floor.
A small silver pendant.
It was engraved with an old-fashioned crest.
Estelle picked it up and handed it to me.
"Yours?"
"No. Someone dropped it while running away."
"Ah, that. Hmm. First time I've been caught."
Instead of answering, I took the cup back and drank.
She snickered at the sight.
"Don't worry. I'll smooth it over. You and I have spent the whole night, from last evening until now, offering prayers of repentance in the church. Just the two of us. All night. With the Saintess. Very piously."
She draped an arm over my shoulder and pulled me close.
The scent of blood on her body mingled with a faint trace of wine.
Not so much repulsive as just odd.
"Anyway, you're way better-looking than I thought. A bit too much like Levina for my taste, but that might actually make it more interesting."
"Suddenly?"
"Your problem is you're too composed. Brewing coffee in a situation like this."
"The beans looked pretty nice. Figured the owner would've wanted to share."
"That pig bastard? I'm just glad he didn't slip sedatives into it before you served it."
She stole the cup again and took another sip.
This time she didn't make a face.
"Actually, maybe this coffee is kind of good. Tastes better once you get used to it."
Her red eyes fixed on me.
"Anyway, what I meant was you've finally started looking less handsome.
When I first saw you, it was so startling. You looked exactly like her. I thought it was her all grown up."
Estelle reached up, touched my face, and pinched my cheek.
It didn't hurt.
Now I understood why she always fussed with my face whenever we met.
She might have been seeing two people superimposed in the most literal sense.
The fingers that had been tracing my face brushed over the bloodstains on my shirt.
"This won't wash out easily. I'll buy you a new one.
Let's wear plain clothes and walk around the city together sometime later. I've wanted to try that."
She laughed, pleased.
Then she wrapped her arms around my neck and leaned in close.
So close the tips of our noses nearly touched.
"In a few days, we're going out to play again. Just like tonight."
Her breath carried coffee, blood, and the sweet trace of wine all tangled together.
We returned to the church.
Estelle fetched clean clothes from somewhere and told me to change.
While I did, she pushed two long benches together side by side to form a makeshift bed.
She took plush cushions from the altar, arranged them, and draped a purple velvet cloth over the top.
It looked surprisingly decent.
"Now, lie down."
She said it the moment I came out after changing.
Estelle had also shed her blood-soaked black robe and changed into an ordinary white one.
"......Here?"
"Obviously. We're supposed to have spent the whole night repenting together, remember? Stop arguing and lie down."
I lay down on one side of the joined benches; the wood groaned, but it was more comfortable than I expected.
Estelle lay down next to me.
We looked up at the ceiling together.
Moonlight filtered through the stained glass and rippled across the vaulted ceiling.
Neither of us spoke.
Only our breathing echoed softly inside the quiet church.
I could feel the warmth of Estelle's body beside me.
It was warm.
"......Hey."
A long while later, Estelle broke the silence.
"Never mind. Good night."