Chapter 27 - Fairies and Mysterious Material Desires
Claire did not remember how she had managed to escape from the House of Stylus. She wandered aimlessly through the streets, and before she knew it, she found herself in front of Gilrem's house.
She had unconsciously sought out someone who would forgive her for showing weakness.
When she pleaded with the maid of the House of Fanaria, the maid hurriedly informed the master of the house and welcomed Claire with a smile. The adjutant, surprised to see his superior—who rarely visited—show up, escorted Claire to a room.
The House of Fanaria was noble, albeit of lower rank. Normally, it would be polite to announce one's visit beforehand.
But if it was someone from the House of Weavy, the House of Fanaria had no authority to refuse. They would mistakenly assume it was a serious matter concerning the Knight Corps, which was helpful.
Claire sat in a soft chair and stared blankly at the white steam rising from her cup.
Gilrem waited for Claire with unreadable eyes, maintaining his silence.
Claire took a sip of tea. She could barely taste it.
Yet, compared to the black tea served at the House of Stylus, she found it significantly more delicious.
"...!"
Claire covered her mouth with her small hands. She thought she must not cry.
The earlier scene came back to her mind.
Even if she were possessed by a demonic being, she might have been allowed to punish her. But surely, that man would accept her no matter how vicious she might be.
And if she were to point her sword at that woman, what would happen?
—Because it was Louis.
Cold yet kind, result-oriented, serious, and rarely touching women.
Claire Weavy had prided herself on being the woman closest to him. Until that day when her heart became distorted.
She had once thought to give up. But since she couldn't, she tried to face him squarely and honorably as a knight should—and in doing so, tried to regain her own sense of self.
And she had been forced to witness such an obvious scene, seemingly filled with someone's malice, right before her eyes. Her surging jealousy and negative emotions inevitably surfaced.
Because that dress was one I chose!
The dress Elenoa wore today was one she had chosen together with Louis five years ago.
A beautiful, asymmetrical skirt with drapes that made use of the fabric's edges.
—How foolish. Ah. What am I.
"I was used to this. I am a knight. Born for my master, dying for my master."
Gilrem probably didn't understand even a fragment of the situation. Nevertheless, he refrained from interrupting, which made him a capable adjutant.
"I'm not so childish that I can't even endure this. I'm used to it."
Given a sword instead of toys, raised under the whip, with education carved into her mind, she had lived on.
Before meeting Gilrem, the only existence who was kind to Claire, who received abuse-like education, was Louis. "Are you alright?" "This is medicine, please use it." "You're doing well despite your injuries not having healed."—Remembering his gentle voice made her want to die.
"What was wrong with me? Was it because I had no chest? Was it because I was short? Was it because I wasn't feminine enough?"
Was it because the skin on her palms and soles was hard? Was it because her blood blisters were ugly? It couldn't be helped; this was who she was.
The only thing she possessed was her vivid red hair. And a height that was troublesome for wielding a sword.
She had lived trying not to be conscious of femininity, which would only hinder her duties as a knight.
In contrast, what about that woman? A slender, feminine body. Shiny silver hair that seemed to pair with Louis.
A hateful woman.
"...How foolish..."
I, who entertain such filthy thoughts, am a hateful woman many times over.
If this anguish were given form, it would take the shape of Elenoa. Floating a cruel and beautiful mockery like a monster, looking down on the woman struggling and suffering in jealousy.
Under the same roof. Right next to him. In a safe place, making his meals, smiling gently and gracefully without interference—a life where she would be liked.
If she were in such a position, he would surely look at her.
Overwhelmed, gasps that were neither breathing nor sobs seeped into Gilrem's ears.
It had been a long time since he had seen her so weakened. As far as Gilrem remembered, young Claire had always been crying. Weak, weak young master.
Claire Weavy was not fit to be a Corps Commander.
Born into the House of Weavy, possessing strength beyond her stature, with no one else to succeed the previous Corps Commander—that was her misfortune.
She, who had been elevated to that position, surely understood it herself.
Gilrem had supported her.
Yes.
Gilrem's master was neither the King of this country nor his father, but only this small, fragile Claire.
"It's about Elenoa, isn't it?"
No matter what he asked, Claire wasn't listening. Knowing this, Gilrem muttered again.
"It's alright. That woman's existence is not acceptable in this country."
—In short, it would be resolved if that out-of-place fairy disappeared.
Gilrem averted his gaze from Claire.
Outside the window lay the dark, dark color of night.
Tonight, she had practiced fire magic. Elenoa sat on Louis's palm, breathing raggedly. The specks of light dancing around her were proof that the self-cleaning effect unique to fairies had activated.
Louis entered the bedroom and lit the lantern.
Then, bringing the exhausted, panting girl closer to the silver cage, she hopped in on her own.
A small cushion was laid inside the cage, so Elenoa began to rest slowly.
"This was a little while ago, but I was careless."
Sitting on the bed, Louis brought up the topic again. After hearing Claire's story about the "lost pass," another matter had come to mind, leading to this conversation during dinner, which had been left unfinished.
Elenoa had completely forgotten about such stories. "Hm? Ah, that story," she said, raising her body and turning to face Louis inside the cage.
"My hair was stolen, right? Can't such things be tracked with magic?"
"If you were here, it wouldn't be impossible to track the hair, but it seems it's already 'gone.' Burned, or something."
"What do they think people's hair is?"
The 'Fa-A:Ha' stored at the Research Institute—Elenoa's hair—had been stolen.
At the Research Institute, stored materials were treated as shared property. However, there was a rule that one had to write the used materials, their quantities, and finally sign on a designated form.
But when the custodian checked, it seemed only the fairy hair did not match the remaining count.
"Since it is shared among the mages, anyone registered as a member of the Research Institute can take it out. Due to the nature of mages, they dislike violating rules, so I thought such things wouldn't happen."
"Bad people spring up everywhere, don't they?"
"Indeed. Thank you for those words, which are unthinkable from the past you who believed all humans were evil."
"I understand you're picking a fight with me. ...But while jumping to conclusions isn't good, I have a hunch about the kinds of people who would do something like that."
Silence fell.
Louis had also been considering the possibility of that trio, who had recently been forgotten.
"...Well, however, suspecting without evidence is not commendable. There are no traces of magic use, so we can't track mana either. I apologize for causing you trouble, despite you providing part of your body."
"Well, it's fine. I haven't suffered or anything."
"I didn't really want to, but since I'm helping with management, I made something new, so this shouldn't happen again."
"Made what?"
"Surveillance, or something around that area. Please don't ask for details."
Confidential matters, perhaps. When Elenoa tilted her head, Louis gently averted his gaze elsewhere.
"...Haa."
"What? What's wrong?"
"No, just a slight palpitation."
"Are you alright?"
"I won't be alright, so please stop looking up at me like that... It makes me want to shove blood into that mouth."
"...Yeah, I'll stop."
It was clear she was not alright. Elenoa worried that he might be becoming ill.
Waiting for her stamina to recover, she jumped out of the cage. Standing on Louis's knees, who was surprised as he had been preparing to sleep, she grabbed his clothes tightly and looked up. Louis's heart was squeezed tightly as well.
Louis suppressed a complex impulse: he wanted to crush this female fairy, yet he wanted to be gentle; he didn't want to be hated, but perhaps he could try being hated.
As for Elenoa, she was full of confidence that there was no need to worry since she wasn't looking up at him.
"There was something I wanted to ask. Is there anything you want?"
"...There is only one thing I want."
"What would be good?"
"Why do you ask such a thing?"
"Because you buy me clothes and support me, so I want to do something for you occasionally. I've also properly received my salary, so I can buy somewhat expensive things."
"I consider buying clothes and supporting you as necessary investments, though."
"I won't be satisfied. I'm the type who can't settle down if I'm always being treated."
Pressed like that, Louis smiled as if troubled. He realized that he was someone who could express everything—being troubled, sad, or happy—just by smiling.
And so, he covered it with a smile and did not speak unnecessary words.
His answer was something Elenoa herself could do nothing about.
Without saying anything to her, Louis gently detached her, who was still grabbing his clothes, and returned her to the cage.
"I still won't tell you."
"You're mean! I don't remember raising you to be like that!"
"Yes, yes, go to sleep now."
Closing the cage lid would make her anxious, so he left it open. Even so, she was obedient and did not jump out or persist. Louis sometimes thought she was like a well-trained small bird.
When he extinguished the lantern's flame, Elenoa, having given up, also collapsed onto the cushion. Then, with eyes superior to humans, she watched Louis get into bed.
There was a brief pause.
Louis looked at the cage with eyes accustomed to the darkness.
Their gazes met with a blink, but perhaps due to the darkness, there was no awkwardness.
He said,
"It is something you will obtain eventually."
He said something unwilling to Elenoa.
"Eventually?"
"Yes, eventually. At that time, I will have you accompany me, so please don't worry so much about it now. More than half has already been fulfilled. So—"
Before he could finish saying "Good night" in a voice blurred by sleepiness, his eyes closed.