Episode 6
The capital was divided into the downtown area, called the Golden District, and the relatively quiet outskirts, depending on one’s distance from the Imperial Palace at the center. Renowned nobles built grand mansions near the Imperial Palace, and the location and size of those mansions became the very measure of a house’s power.
Count Platini’s manor lay between the downtown area and the outskirts. The first person to greet Helen upon her return to the manor after a long time was a woman she had never seen before. Dressed in a pink gown, the woman looked to be around her age, and her brown hair and green eyes bore an uncanny resemblance to the Count.
Helen found herself quite flustered when those large, round eyes stared straight at her. Wondering if something was on her face, she wiped both cheeks with her fingers, but nothing came off.
The woman in the light pink dress blinked her bright, round eyes several times, then opened her mouth. No—before that, she had seized both of Helen’s hands.
“Sister!”
“Sister?”
Unlike Helen, who had ridden in a carriage for a long time, the woman’s hands were warm. For someone like that, the first word from her mouth to be “sister.” Helen furrowed her brow at the single word.
She had never had a younger sister. The mother who gave birth to her had died not long after delivering her, so there could be no full-blooded sister.
Then did that mean they were half-sisters, sharing the same father but different mothers?
Even if her guess was correct, she felt she couldn’t shake off an unpleasant, uneasy feeling. Helen pulled her hands free.
“I was never told I had a younger sister.”
A shadow fell over the woman’s face at Helen’s tone, laden with suppressed displeasure. A hint of distress could be seen in her expression.
“It seems Father never spoke of me.”
“The only letter I received from him said nothing but to return.”
Upon hearing Helen’s answer, the woman’s pupils shook violently. She tucked a lovely stray lock of hair behind her ear and turned away.
“...Come inside for now. It’s cold out.”
Helen watched the woman who called her “sister” enter the manor, puzzled.
Is it cold?
It would be no exaggeration to say that Helen Platini had spent most of her life in Hexelov, located at the northernmost tip, and she had long since grown perfectly accustomed to the cold northern lifestyle. Therefore, no matter that it was winter, the capital—situated far to the south of Hexelov—was nothing in comparison. Even so, the weather right now was quite mild.
...Or perhaps she had a fever and simply couldn’t feel the cold?
“Liandor, are you cold?”
“Of course it’s cold. It’s winter. There’s snow piled on the ground, too.”
Liandor turned his head slightly to the left and looked down at the snow-covered ground. The tracks of the carriage wheels remained clear upon it.
“Why? If I said I was cold, would you take off your coat for me?”
At the playful question, Helen firmly fastened the front of her overcoat. Was that something for a person wearing a thick scarf and gloves on both hands to say? She couldn’t even ask if he wanted her to give him one of her gloves, let alone her coat.
It seemed he had grown wary of the cold ever since catching a chill last time. Even a great mage could not avoid falling prey to the cold, apparently.
Helen shook her head and walked toward the door the woman claiming to be her sister had entered.
As they went straight up the stairs, the woman introduced herself as “Rosie Platini.”
Before long, the place she reached with Rosie Platini was one Helen knew well. It was the room she had used as her bedroom before leaving for Hexelov by the Count’s order.
“This is...”
Helen’s words trailed off as she stepped inside. It was exactly as it had been in the distant past. Traces of time were visible here and there, but to this extent, it was very well maintained.
Helen placed her palm against the wallpaper. The ivory-colored wallpaper was full of elaborate patterns. The color was the same as in her memories, but she could not recall the pattern.
“It’s your bedroom, Sister. I touched it up a little, but I didn’t change much.”
“I see.”
Indeed. How many years had passed? Enough time for the wallpaper to have worn out, and if no one had lived there for a long period, it would have become an eyesore.
Yet, as if to prove Rosie’s words were true, aside from the wallpaper, there was little that differed from her memories. The bed and bedding, the wardrobe and vanity, even the small bookshelf were all the same.
Helen removed her hand from the wallpaper and approached the wardrobe. She pulled the handle. Inside, which opened with a light tug, various dresses hung neatly. They looked incomparably expensive compared to the dresses in the bags the manor’s servants were unloading from the carriage.
“I prepared them after hearing that Father had sent a letter to you. I didn’t know what colors you liked, so I prepared as diverse a selection as possible; I wonder if you’ll like them.”
“...They’re pretty.”
“Really? What a relief. But will you keep speaking formally to me? I am your younger sister, after all.”
“Does it bother you?”
“Not exactly, but...”
“Then please bear with it a little. Today is the first I’ve learned I have a younger sister.”
Rosie seemed to have known for a long time that there was a daughter born to the Count’s late first wife. But the one called “Sister” hadn’t even known she had a younger sister—who could know how she felt right now?
It’s fine if she thinks ill of me. If she despises me, I would be all the more grateful.
Helen closed the wardrobe door. Not enough time had passed since she returned to the manor for her to wear fancy clothes. While she did not know whether she would stay here for a day, a week, or a year, what did the dresses in the wardrobe matter?
Even if she were to wear them, it would only be after speaking with her father, Count Platini, for the first time in over a decade.
While still holding the wardrobe handle, she heard Rosie’s voice from behind. Rosie was fidgeting with all ten fingers, showing her anxiety.
“But it’s all right if I call you Sister, isn’t it?”
Sister. To want to be called “Sister” rather than her name. Did she really think of her as a member of the family? In truth, it didn’t matter what she thought. Just as Count Platini had done, his daughter Rosie Platini might turn her back on her at any moment.
She did not want to go through something she had already experienced a second time. So she decided to draw a line with the people of House Platini. If she built a high wall from the start, it could become uncomfortable during her stay at the Platini manor, so she would do so only moderately.
Helen removed her hand from the wardrobe handle and turned around to face Rosie.
“That much is fine.”
Rosie’s cheeks flushed red at Helen’s smile. Rosie glanced about with restless eyes before finally speaking the words she had wanted to ask ever since she first saw Helen until they arrived at this bedroom.
“Sister, who is the man outside the door?”
“The man?”
If she was asking about someone inside the manor, who could say? Helen thought it wasn’t something to ask of a person who had been driven out over a decade ago. Rosie herself, having stayed in the manor far longer, should know better.
While Helen tilted her head in confusion, more information about the man outside the door came out.
“A man who is completely white. If his clothes were white too, I would have thought he was a snowman.”
She wondered who that could be—it was Liandor. His unusual appearance must have aroused her curiosity. His hair was so white it could not compare to blond hair; it must have been astonishing as well.
“Ah, Liandor. He is a friend.”
“A friend? Not a lover, but a friend?”
“Is that strange?”
“It’s not strange, but...”
“He is a good person. Well, more so than he looks.”
Helen quickly amended her words regarding Liandor. At this point, she was sugarcoating it. First impressions were important, after all. He ought to recognize the sincerity of her efforts on behalf of his less-than-trustworthy first impression.
Meanwhile, she grew curious as to why he was standing outside the door. Liandor should have followed the manor’s servants and been guided to the bedroom he would use. It didn’t seem like he had stormed out because he disliked the bedroom. If he was a great mage, he could easily change the interior of a bedroom.
Helen asked Rosie to wait a moment and opened the door. Just as Rosie had said, Liandor was pacing in front of the room.
She approached Liandor, who stood with his hands behind his back.
“What are you doing here?”
When Liandor turned around in surprise, Helen was, in turn, several times more startled by his expression. She had been about to scold him, asking what he had been thinking so seriously about to be so shaken, but his white eyes, tinged with a distinct silvery glint, flickered. It looked as though he was doing so while looking straight into her own eyes, so she pressed her lips firmly shut.
“Ah... I was just wondering if you were still alive.”
“Well, I am alive. Did you think I was dead?”
“I just was.”
“I see. How is the bedroom?”
“I already miss Hexelov.”
“To be honest, so do I.”
She did not know if Liandor felt the same, but the moment she set foot in the manor, she felt as though her breath were caught in her throat. Still, because the memories from her childhood remained, it was not unfamiliar, but it was frightening.
And soon, the most unforgettable memory surged over her as vividly as if it had happened only yesterday.
“...!”
The Count’s voice, cold and low, and a child slumped on the floor, wailing loudly. The people gripping the child’s arms and the carriage carrying the child away. The night when all of that took place. Even the moon that had not risen that night—everything.
Helen did not believe the Count had called her for no reason. He might have grown senile and wanted to see his kin, but the letter that had arrived at the Hexelov villa last week was the first time he had asked after her well-being. Even without peering into his inner thoughts, he had clearly believed he had fulfilled his duty as a father all this time by sending money and necessities at regular intervals.
What plan had led him to call back a child he had abandoned so long ago? Perhaps he intended to send her even farther away than Hexelov, scheming to ensure she could never return, no matter what. The question she had pondered throughout the carriage ride became fear that crept over Helen.
Liandor pulled Helen out of the most wretched memory of her life, one in which she had been momentarily trapped. The white-haired man was reflected in her summer-colored eyes.
“Want to go back? Just say the word. When we go back, we might not need to take the carriage.”
“Wow. You’re telling me that now? You’re really terrible.”
If he had said so from the beginning, the misfortune of suffering in a carriage for an entire week would not have befallen her!
Helen was not one to fare well in carriages. It was only thanks to Liandor’s magic that she had been able to lessen her motion sickness even somewhat.
“Well, you didn’t ask.”
Liandor shrugged.
“Wow. Even worse!”
How could she ask when she didn’t know! Who would have known there was another way to travel that entire distance without taking a carriage?
The resentful and sorrowful Helen desperately prayed to someone whose name she did not know. That Liandor, who had made her feel so resentful and sorrowful, would have a very frightening dream tonight. If he did not sleep tonight, then tomorrow night at the latest.