Vestige (4)
Vestige (4)
Levina fell asleep holding my hand, making a soft, rumbling sound.
It was very much like a cat's purr.
Waking her and telling her to leave the room was out of the question.
Even in sleep, her brow remained faintly furrowed.
Come to think of it, only a few years had passed, yet her face was subtly different.
Levina's face back then had been etched with exhaustion.
I rose carefully from the bed.
I then draped the nearest blanket over her, covering her up as best I could.
Slowly, I opened the door and closed it again, careful not to let the hinges creak.
The hallway was dim with faint lamplight.
Just then, the door next to mine cracked open a sliver.
A familiar face peeked through the gap.
"Do you hit women too?"
The girl next door.
Her voice wasn't sleep-thick, but languid like someone just waking.
"Guess so."
I answered.
I didn't feel like making excuses.
At that, the misunderstanding only deepened—her face flushed red.
"At least close the window, or keep it down a little."
She yawned, small.
Words like these left me with nothing to say.
"Sorry."
She rubbed her cheek with her index finger, looking awkward, then spoke.
"......Ah, yeah. I accept your apology."
The girl cleared her throat with a small cough.
Then she asked.
"Anyway, is it true you're being kicked out of the family?"
"Well, I don't know if I'm being kicked out or not."
"Hope you get kicked out soon. Then at least I won't hear noises before bed."
"......."
"Oh, just kidding."
The girl waved her hand, telling me not to make that kind of face.
She looked at me for a moment, then pulled a candy from her bosom and tossed it to me.
This time too, the door wasn't fully open. The candy bounced off the gap, hit the floor—I snatched it on reflex.
I peeled the wrapper and tossed it in my mouth.
Lemon flavor.
Sour and sweet.
"Tasty."
"How did you catch that?"
The girl asked.
Her eyes widened a little.
"It looked like it might fall, so I caught it."
She stared at me as if I were strange, then shut the door.
The hinge gave a small creak before the door closed.
I rolled the candy around in my mouth and trudged off toward the church garden, moving by habit.
The cold night air brushed my cheeks.
After walking like that for a long time, I leaned back against a suitable bench.
Looking around, not a single person was in sight.
I brought the cheap tobacco to my lips and lit it.
White smoke scattered into the night air.
I conjured a handful of water beads above my palm.
Hollowing out the inside space, I lit a light and spun it around in the air, playing with it.
Somehow, the academy felt unfamiliar.
Students whispering as I passed by, teachers singling me out and scolding me when I dozed off in class, people avoiding me as if catching a disease the moment they mixed words with me.
Each and every one of them—killed by demons or hiding somewhere trembling, meeting their end—left me disoriented.
Still, with such a powerful and magnificent Saintess keeping me at her side solely for my sake and my happiness alone, never letting me go—maybe it was to be expected.
That part, I don't seem to regret.
Perhaps it was my innate, rotten, shitty bastard nature as a son of a whore and a half-blooded illegitimate child that I couldn't care less about whichever brave noble lords distinguished themselves on the front, be they court mages, sword saints, knights, whatever.
Even commoners struggling desperately, shouting some grand cause for humanity—none of it landed.
Whether those peasants died or the soldiers who fought for humanity starved to death—what was that to me?
Just as my death held no concern for those people, their deaths held little value to me.
But Estelle's death—maybe not to others—held value to me.
Because she went to die for someone everyone hated, and she acted as if utterly joyful, as if it were worthwhile.
Therefore, I had to become a worthwhile human being.
Serepina's death was pitiful.
Like me, always stepping wrong, slipping and falling until giving up—she seemed like that.
Looking back now, I really did seem to pick only the worst things to do.
Levina—well, that's not a topic I want to bring up.
I thought we'd gotten fairly close.
I thought we'd drawn a little closer, understood each other—but coming back to see this mess first thing, well, that makes me a little sad.
"Hey, smoking in a place like this is a bit wrong, don't you think?"
"Think of the people living around here too."
A whispering voice came from behind my back.
Startled, I turned around on the bench to look behind me.
Without my having gone to find her, Estelle was standing there.
The moment I looked at Estelle, I met those red, red eyes.
Tears trickled out.
Just seeing her, they streamed from my eyes.
Was it because I was sorry, or because I missed her—my mind went blank, and thinking was hard.
I stopped myself mid-motion from rising and hugging Estelle tight, held back by the fact that this was our first meeting—a slight, very slight ache—and kept my mouth shut.
If I opened it now, I felt like I might burst into tears.
Estelle flinched at the sight of me suddenly shedding tears.
"You—are you okay? Did you get dumped?"
Estelle approached, her tone slightly playful, and then our eyes met.
Backlit, I must have been hard to see.
Her steps faltered.
"......Ravin?"
A voice so small yet so distinctly clear.
"Right—was his name Ravin?"
Estelle murmured.
Her brow furrowed faintly.
"Have we met somewhere before? I have no memory of it."
She wore pure white priestess robes.
Red eyes and pure white hair made her stand out vividly even in the dim night lamplight.
Or maybe I'd spent so many days with Estelle that I could recognize her instantly from just a silhouette brushing past.
Just as I was, I wanted to reach out to Estelle, to say I missed her, to speak to her.
"Still, we must have met somewhere."
Estelle approached, speaking.
"Coming on to a man alone in the middle of the night with a tone meant to seduce him—that's not really my style."
I laughed hollowly, speaking.
My voice trembled a little.
"Not like I've had practice. I'm always busy coming on to me—can't you see my face?"
My insides felt scraped raw. I swallowed hard and slowly let the smoke settle me, inhaling and exhaling.
I fished a cheap smoke from my bosom and held it out to Estelle, who looked like she had no intention of leaving.
Estelle smiled coyly and accepted the cigarette.
"Maybe we met like this that time too."
"Probably not."
I answered.
"I don't have a light, though."
Estelle spoke with the cigarette between her lips.
I approached and conjured a flame at my fingertip, lighting it for her.
"You were a mage?"
Estelle's eyes widened a fraction.
"Not a mage, no."
"Then what could it be—where did I meet you?"
"......."
"My chest stings—does that make you a heretic or a demon?"
Estelle drew close to me, softly pressing her fist to my chest.
A small thump sounded.
"Just kidding."
She whispered.
"It feels incredibly comfortable."
"Cheap tobacco's still tobacco."
I said, taking a step back from Estelle.
"I must have run into you at the Edelgard estate a few times."
"Ah—you're that bastard-born with a decent enough face, but... you don't seem quite the type?"
Mid-sentence, Estelle wiped at the corners of her eyes.
No tears were visible.
"You do know who I am, right?"
Estelle asked.
"Who wouldn't know you."
"Still, isn't it a sin not to bow your head?"
Estelle burst out laughing alone at a remark that wasn't even funny.
Her laughter spread quietly through the night garden.
"Anyway, meeting like this is fate too—wouldn't you want to meet every night?"
"Chatting with me while smoking this stuff—you're the only one who does."
We'd already decided to do that.
Always spending time alone together in the church, just the two of us.
We'd even whispered love to each other, you know.
Memories don't disappear, but traces remain, lingering in patches—isn't that more painful?
Traces only visible to me, with no one around to find them—always only me...
When I didn't answer, Estelle sat on the bench across from me, looking at me as she started to smoke.
After finishing a whole stick, she gestured for more as if it were the most natural thing, waiting for me.
I wordlessly handed over another, and she waited for me to light it.
Estelle exhaled a long stream of white smoke.
The smoke slowly dispersed between us.
She said nothing.
I said nothing either.
All we did was puff away at the smoke.
Who would clean up the ashtrays—always the staff prowling around—if we just gathered it in one place, they'd tidy up well.
Those red eyes seemed to glow in the darkness like the embers at the end of the cigarette.
The way she brought the cigarette pinched between her fingers to her lips was slow yet utterly natural.
After we'd been smoking for a long time, I opened the pack. Only two sticks remained.
Estelle took both out herself.
She stuck one in her own mouth and waved it, asking for a light.
I lit it for her, and she passed the lit one to me.
And for herself, she pulled a match from her pocket and struck it.
Fssst.
The match flared with a sharp hiss.
I watched it and smiled a little.
No lighter, she'd said.
"I'll come find you. Where are you staying?"
At that, Estelle didn't answer with the church—she shook her head.
"I'll come to you. Tell me where your room is."
Estelle approached and naturally stroked my right cheek, speaking.
And as if it were the most natural thing—her drawing close—it surprised even her. She stood there for a long moment, dazed, staring at her own right hand.
"Or maybe I should just stay here—the church is annoying too."