Episode 10
"Terminally ill, something like that? It can't be……."
"That 'it can't be' is correct."
Liandor answered shamelessly.
Of all things, it had to be a terminal illness. There were so many other possible settings, yet of all things.
A strange feeling, as though her heart had plummeted, settled in her ears, along with the distant chatter of the crowd contrasting with the soft music of the ballroom.
Helen, who had rarely been ill, was greatly shocked. The backstory Liandor presented was exactly the same as the reason spread through society for why Count Platini's eldest daughter had left the estate to live in Hexelof. She had never once told Liandor about this—how could he possibly know?
Many had wanted to know why the young girl had been torn from her parents' embrace. They merely wanted sweet candy for their idle curiosity, making no effort to distinguish truth from falsehood.
Thus, the Count had spoken.
"My daughter has fallen ill with a disease of unknown cause and requires long-term convalescence."
When the hitherto healthy Count's eldest daughter suddenly contracted an incurable disease of unknown origin, those who studied the healing arts grew curious about the young girl.
However, Count Platini sharply cut off their curiosity, saying his young daughter needed rest and could not receive visitors.
The matter, which was soon concluded, left a wound upon the young girl. The false reason thus spread through society became taboo within the villa at Hexelof.
As time passed, even within the capital where the Count's estate stood, people forgot that the Count's daughter had left for Hexelof.
Helen could not look straight at the man with black hair.
"Liandor."
The great magician who had made it possible for Violet to return to Helen's body and wake upon her death had become terrifying.
"How much do you know about me?"
"Helen……."
He merely called her name softly, giving her none of the answer she wanted.
At that moment, a doubt lodged itself in Helen's mind.
'Could Liandor be the one behind all of this? The one who made Helen Platini live as Violet Driphon?'
She told herself it was a ridiculous thought, yet she found herself stepping backward. Blinking rapidly, she slowly moved her feet away.
Liandor reached his hand out toward her.
"Helen."
"Don't."
The hand that had tried to grasp her stopped in midair.
"Don't say anything. I don't want to hear it."
Helen thought. It was her fault for not having doubted him from the very beginning.
"But who are you? Do you know me?"
"I was the one who woke you. Through the power of magic."
"Will you put me back to sleep? For a very long time."
"Are you asking me to kill you? To the very person who saved you?"
"I never asked to be saved."
Having lived in another person's world for so long, she should have known the moment she woke to find a stranger in her sight.
If he woke me, he could have just as easily made me sleep.
The realization, coming far too late, felt nothing but terrifying.
"I was a fool to believe. I believed every word you said."
"……."
"Tell me it isn't true. That you didn't do this, that it was only a coincidence!"
As deep as her trust had been, so too surged her sense of betrayal. The days she had spent with him during their brief time together flashed past like a galloping lantern.
At times like friends, at times like family. Their close bond had been founded on trust, and now that it was shattered, she could not imagine reverting to what they were yesterday. No—if even that trust was something Liandor had fabricated? Everything became doubtful and confusing.
Through brimming tears, his figure appeared blurred.
"What is the reason? Did you hate me? Did you make my life more miserable?"
Even as malicious words surged from her, Liandor only bit his lower lip, unable to speak rashly. He did not know that such behavior tore Helen's heart to shreds.
Helen crumpled the hem of her dress in her hands. Emotions engulfed in betrayal and resentment threatened to burst forth wildly. No—if there had only been wine, she would have been of a mind to pour it over Liandor's head.
With that in mind, she grabbed Liandor's shirt front and pulled his upper body forward.
Only after meeting her eyes, blazing with contempt, did he give the answer she sought.
"I wanted you to be happy. Truly."
At that incomparably arrogant answer, Helen released his shirt.
"Happy? You may think you saved me for my happiness, but in truth, you killed me. You made the people I loved live in a world without me. You made it so the people I loved couldn't even recognize me."
Helen, who had been backing away slowly, turned and left with her face buried in her hands. She wished to awaken from this nightmare, terrible enough to die from.
Liandor, unable to catch the departing Helen, spat out a quiet curse.
"Damn it."
The timing was terrible. He had intended to keep this from Helen, but his worthless mouth, running ahead of his mind, had ruined his relationship with her.
It wasn't too late. Even now, if he erased the memory of Helen being terminally ill from their minds and replaced it with another memory, all would be well.
Yet, contrary to his heart, he could not perform the simple magic of weaving an unseen formula and merely flicking his fingers.
Before covering her face with both hands, Helen had looked at him with contempt. To think he would use magic again after being subjected to that gaze.
"No. I just need to erase Helen's memory too."
But wouldn't she find out someday? If she turned away with that contemptuous expression again, what then?
Countess Platini and Baron Blend approached Liandor, who had run his hands through his neatly combed hair.
The Countess asked Liandor, who stood alone.
"Where has Helen gone?"
When Liandor, his eyes unfocused, said nothing, Baron Blend, standing beside the Countess, spoke.
"It seems I am not to the young lady's liking, Countess."
"No way……"
The Countess's face twisted. As though finding a wealthy young bachelor were an easy task!
The Countess laughed awkwardly and gauged the Baron's mood. To start a newly planned venture, she needed capital. She had found someone to provide it—she couldn't let that one child ruin everything.
"Baron, I shall bring my daughter at once, so please wait a moment."
Unlike the smile she had worn for the Baron, the moment she turned her back, her face contorted in anger, and Liandor stopped the Countess's steps.
"That's right. She will return. If you wait a little, she will surely come back."
As Liandor flicked his finger, the family crest engraved upon the Countess's face vanished.
* Sibello
Walking thoughtlessly, she found herself before long at a place she had often visited when she was Violet.
In the garden decorated like a small meadow, a wooden swing stood. It had been specially crafted for Violet, who had never had cause to leave the imperial palace.
Helen seated herself gently upon the swing, grasping the ropes in each hand. When she had been Violet, she would ride the swing to shake off idle thoughts.
She tried to clear her dizzy mind as she used to, but an unexpected voice reached her.
"Violet?"
"……!"
Reflexively turning toward the voice, she saw an unbelievable figure. Lucas Driphon. The Emperor of the Empire emerged, parting the darkness.
She quickly descended from the swing and offered her respects to the Emperor.
"I greet Your Imperial Majesty."
At Helen's greeting, Lucas felt a pang of regret. He had grown weary of the heated festivities and stepped out of the hall to get some air. Then, suddenly missing someone, he had hurried to the place she often frequented.
The day was dark, and a faint mist lay upon the ground, so he had mistaken the person sitting on the swing for Violet. After all, no one had used the swing since she departed.
"Ah…… I mistook you for someone else. But who might you be?"
"I am called Helen, the eldest daughter of Count Platini."
"Helen."
He had heard that name before. He had heard that Count Platini's eldest daughter had contracted a terrible disease and left for long-term convalescence, yet it seemed she still lived.
In Lucas's eyes, Helen did not look sick, contrary to the rumors. They said it was a disease of unknown cause and impossible to cure—had she perhaps discovered a treatment?
"Is your health well?"
"……It is well."
"That is a relief. The Count must have suffered greatly."
Was that why the Count had seemed in good spirits today—because his daughter's health had been restored? He resolved to return to the hall where the party was in full swing and offer the Count a congratulatory drink.
As Lucas stepped forward with a light heart, Helen spoke.
"I would not dare disturb Your Majesty's time. I shall take my leave."
It was a resolute tone, exactly like the Count's. Yet within it lurked a faint tremor.
Helen sought to flee from this moment. She sought to distance herself from the fact that this man was Violet's only family, whom she had encountered once again.
But then, where was she to go?
She had fled Liandor's lies and come to a place where Violet's traces remained; if she had to flee again, where could she possibly go this time?
Was there anywhere she could go at all?
Helen bowed her head to Lucas. Unlike the greeting that had marked their meeting, this was a farewell.
Still, it was a relief. It seemed he had not forgotten her last wish to live happily. It was a relief that her brother seemed to be living happily.
Just as she tried to leave without regret, Lucas blocked her path.
"Young lady, have we perhaps met before?"
It felt as though her breath had stopped. At a single word from the man, everything she had forgotten, every emotion she had suppressed, came surging back to life.
Helen slowly turned her head and looked upon the person she had dearly cherished.
"No. This is the first we have met today."