So the first day passed, and the next day passed, until it was the day before he was set to leave the estate.
“Wow, so did Ern learn magic all by yourself, self-taught?”
“That’s right. My body wasn’t in good shape, so all I could really do was hole up in my room and read books.”
“That’s really impressive.”
“From what I hear, you’re pretty impressive yourself, Young Lady. My senior told me you learned without any proper teacher, yet even the Sword Saint praised you.”
“Heh, it wasn’t that big a deal.”
Before he knew it, Lyriette and Ern had grown unrecognizably close.
When on earth had they hit it off like this?
At first, Lyriette’s attitude toward Ern had been quite prickly—had something changed her mind?
From the second day on, she’d started talking to him freely, without any hesitation.
They’d grown close so quickly that she’d even asked Baal to call Ern over for her.
Well, if they’d gotten along, that was a good thing.
That kid had a screw loose here and there, but he had a good heart, so he’d surely get along fine with Lyriette.
“Lyriette, the meal’s arrived.”
“Yes, Uncle.”
“Then I’ll be on my way. Enjoy your meal, Young Lady.”
“Thank you. It was fun, thanks to you.”
“Likewise.”
That didn’t mean Baal’s work was done, though.
Come mealtime, the two of them were still left alone in the room, and feeding Lyriette by hand remained his responsibility.
“Isn’t it too hot?”
“No, it’s just right.”
“What should I get you next time?”
“This time, meatballs…”
After repeating this ritual a few times, he’d gotten fairly used to it.
He’d figured out exactly how many times he needed to blow on the soup before it was cool enough to eat.
And he’d gotten a rough grasp of Lyriette’s tastes.
“You don’t seem to like vegetables all that much, surprisingly.”
“Th-that’s not true. I’m not a child.”
When he pointed at the salad bowl she’d left conspicuously untouched—
Lyriette’s cheeks reddened as she vehemently denied it.
Even when a child insisted she wasn’t a child, it carried not one ounce of credibility.
“For someone who says that, you’ve barely touched the salad these past few days.”
“It’s just that cucumbers and cherry tomatoes are a little… weak for me. I eat lettuce and everything else just fine.”
“What about kale and chicory?”
“Those too, a little… b-but I can eat them.”
But if you took all of that out, there weren’t many vegetables left, were there?
Back when Cassdia had been tormenting her in earnest, meals must have been meager.
It was a wonder she’d managed to survive on such a picky diet.
“That’s usually called being a picky eater, you know.”
“Ugh… D-does Uncle dislike children who are picky eaters?”
“I wouldn’t say I dislike it, but it’s better to eat a variety, if you can. It matters for growing up too.”
“Growing up…”
He’d only tossed that out because it was the sort of thing you’d say to any child.
But somehow Lyriette rolled the word around in her mouth, looking conflicted about something.
“All right. I’ll try eating some. Tomatoes first.”
Oh, she was actually going to try?
It wasn’t easy to see a ten-year-old resolve to fix her own picky eating purely by will alone.
His niece really was different, in every possible way.
Touched, Baal picked up a cherry tomato with his fork and brought it toward Lyriette’s mouth.
Pop.
“Eek…!?”
The instant the cherry tomato burst, Lyriette’s expression twisted into something utterly bizarre.
A sound came out of her mouth like a kitten that had swallowed the wrong bit of food.
The tomato’s distinctive sourness seemed thoroughly unwelcome to her.
Lyriette squirmed and writhed, trying to somehow endure the taste.
Even the way her adorable little tongue poked out and then darted back in—
he shouldn’t say this, but it looked terribly cute.
“Are you all right?”
“Hnng… It’s, it’s too sour, Uncle.”
“You don’t need to force yourself. Fixing your picky eating matters, but there’s no point if you can’t enjoy your meal.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll try one more. Give me another.”
Puzzled by the almost obsessive resolve in her voice, he obediently fed her one more cherry tomato.
He repeated the same process until the bowl that had held the salad was completely empty.
Clap, clap.
Impressed, Baal clapped from where he sat, and Lyriette looked at him with a startled expression.
“Well done, my Lyriette.”
“D-did I do well, Uncle?”
“Of course. That’s my niece for you. But don’t push yourself too hard trying to fix it all at once.”
“N-no, I have to. I want to grow up quickly, you see.”
I suppose kids this age really do have their own ambitions about becoming an adult.
Come to think of it, I was the same way as a kid.
He even remembered once being told that eating a bowl of rice cake soup on New Year’s Day made you a year older.
He’d tried to force down three bowls and ended up throwing up.
He felt a small pang of regret, wondering if he’d planted some needless notion in her head.
But seeing Lyriette chew her vegetables carefully with such a proud expression, he thought—well, maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.
Watching Lyriette absorbed in her meal, he quietly observed her.
He sensed it was about time to bring up the subject.
He hadn’t originally intended to say anything, but he felt it was better to address it, at least once.
“…How are you feeling, Lyriette? You’re not sick anymore, are you?”
At the words, spoken with as gentle a smile as he could manage, Lyriette’s face turned pale as ash.
***
Lyriette felt as if the breath had been knocked clean out of her.
At a glance, it sounded like he was simply checking on her physical condition.
But his expression, his tone—they told her this wasn’t merely a routine check.
*Uncle knew all along.*
Of course. There was no way he wouldn’t have seen through such a flimsy act.
It had only ever been a matter of when he’d notice.
And she could tell, too, that Baal wasn’t particularly angry.
There wasn’t a trace of anger mixed into his voice.
If anything, he was asking this question because he’d taken her feelings into consideration.
“…Yes, Uncle. I’m fine now.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Neither of them bothered to specify what exactly was “fine.”
Neither of them bothered to ask, either.
They both knew, without needing to say it,
that what they were referring to now was hardly something as simple as her physical health.
“I was quite worried. I kept wondering if my niece might fall ill again while I was away.”
“That won’t happen. Also, you said ‘niece’ again.”
“Let that one slide, won’t you? It was my own way of showing affection.”
“Still, no. Everything else is fine, but ‘niece’ is forbidden.”
“Why is that?”
“There’s a reason.”
Even Lyriette didn’t know quite what that reason was.
At first, honestly, the reason had been simple enough.
No one had ever called her name so gently, so tenderly, before him.
But for some reason—
though Lyriette herself couldn’t quite name it—she’d begun to notice that the reason had been slowly shifting, deep inside her heart.
Strangely, whenever he called her “niece,” a corner of her chest ached as though a stone had been placed upon it.
“I see. If you say so, then it must be so. In any case, I’ll be leaving tomorrow, but please do stay well in the meantime.”
“Yes. Don’t worry, Uncle. I’ll eat my vegetables properly, train hard, and grow even closer with my family.”
At her answer, brimming with determination, Baal’s hand came to rest atop her head.
The same gentle touch as always.
The same warm gaze looking down at her with tenderness.
If it were possible, she wanted to stay just like this forever.
But that wish could never come true.
For the first time, Lyriette pulled her own head away from his touch.
Meeting his slightly startled gaze looking down at her, she smiled, chin lifted with a hint of pride.
It was her own small, adorable rehearsal for standing on her own.
*Even if it’s a month, even a year, even ten years—*
She resolved to endure it, no matter what.
It was her first goal—to stand before Baal without shame, when they were reunited again.
“Well, seeing you so full of confidence puts my mind at ease. It’ll be a long week, but do stay well in the meantime, and—”
“…Excuse me? A week?”
But even as she was steeling her resolve inside, the sudden, unexpected words that drifted into her ear made her mind snap back upright.
Startled by her reaction in turn, Baal blinked, then racked his brain over the past few days before asking, sheepishly, with an awkward expression.
“Did I not tell you? When I leave the estate this time, I’ll be back in a week.”
“No.”
“…….”
What sort of absurd twist was this?
*That’s the expression I should be making, not you,* Lyriette shouted inwardly.
“I—I’m sorry. I suppose I was so preoccupied with not having told you about leaving at all that I forgot to mention the most important part…”
As Baal scratched his head awkwardly, looking ashamed of himself—
Lyriette broke into a shy, radiant smile.
“There’s nothing to apologize for. If anything, I’m happy.”
“You’re happy?”
“Yes. The fact that you felt bad about being away for only a week means that’s how much you cherish me, Uncle.”
It was a rather generous interpretation, to say the least, but Lyriette’s heart swelled all the same.
If he hadn’t thought much of her at all,
he’d have simply brushed it off coldly—what was the fuss over just one week apart?
But he hadn’t.
Even though she’d only feigned illness over a mere week’s absence, he had gone out of his way to comfort her warmly.
*I’m happy.*
That fact stirred up a joy she couldn’t quite put into words.
“Did you think you’d be lonely too, Uncle, even being apart from me for just a week?”
“Of course. Not being able to see my adorable ni—no, Lyriette…”
“Hmph.”
So close.
If he’d just uttered one more syllable, she could have used it as an excuse to bury her face in his chest.
“Parting with family is always a lonely thing. Whether it’s short or long. Even if you don’t fully register their presence at first, sooner or later you come to realize there’s an empty space where they used to be.”
“Family…”
Why was that?
Once again, a corner of her chest ached.
It was true—he and she were family.
Family more precious than anything else, perhaps even more precious than her own life.
There was no lie in that fact.
Lyriette had no intention of denying it, either.
And yet, ever since that long speech he’d given her about love, there remained a question in her mind that simply refused to leave.
*Is family really supposed to feel this tender, this achingly precious?*
She wouldn’t feel sad just because she hadn’t seen her father’s face for a day.
She wouldn’t feel any pang of longing just because she hadn’t spoken with her mother for a day.
Even if her brother found a lover, she didn’t think it would make her sad.
And yet they were, without question, her precious family.
That much was certain.
But strangely, that standard simply didn’t apply to the man before her.
If she didn’t see his face for even a single day, she felt as though she might stop breathing.
If she couldn’t speak with him for even a single day, thorns would surely sprout in her mouth.
If he ever found a lover, the mere thought of it was enough to suffocate her.
No matter how many times she asked herself, no answer ever came.
Surely, he and she were family.
Surely, he himself had told her so.
There shouldn’t be a shred of error in anything he said.
Lyriette had always followed and upheld Baal’s words as though they were golden law.
But—
*—That, too, is a kind of love. Only, it’s different from love between a man and a woman. It’s simply the kind of bond that’s possible between family members who cherish each other especially dearly.*
For some reason, at this very moment, that advice he’d once given her drifted back through her mind,
and at the same time—
*You’re wrong.*
For the first time in her life, Lyriette realized that Baal’s word, which had always been like heaven itself to her, was wrong.
She didn’t know what exactly was wrong.
She didn’t even know the answer.
But she knew it, instinctively.
He was wrong.
“Uncle.”
“What is it?”
“Fool.”
“…?”
And so, for the first time that day, Lyriette was able to hurl an adorable little insult at him with the brightest smile she had ever worn.
He was a fool.
A fool who didn’t even know what she herself had already realized.
But she couldn’t blame him.
Because she, too, had clearly realized at some point that she was becoming a fool herself.
Otherwise, there was no way she’d still be wandering, unable to find an answer to her own heart.
***
That night, Baal had a dream.
“…-le, ……Uncle.”
He felt something soft pressing against his chest.
Faintly, at the edge of his hearing, a woman’s voice drifted to him.
“Ngh…”
A groan slipped from his sleeping mouth.
As though resisting something, he flailed his arms clumsily and kept shaking his head.
“No. I’m your—”
As if in answer to the words that had slipped from his mouth in his sleep, the hazy shape of a woman hidden within the blurred dream grew clearer and clearer, until she finally spoke in a honeyed voice.
“You taught me yourself. That this is love. I can’t hold back any longer. Un—no, Baal.”
“Ack!”
He shot upright!
At the voice ringing clearly in his ear, Baal bolted up as if launched.
By the time he noticed, his whole body was already drenched in cold sweat.
“Wh—what was that…?”
He felt as though he’d seen something terrifying in the dream, but he couldn’t quite recall it.
Even for an 8th Circle mage, recalling the details of a dream just had was no easy task.
“Fwhh. Fwhh…”
Meanwhile, beside him, Lyriette was still off in her own world, breathing softly and evenly as she traveled through dreamland, none the wiser.
Only then did Baal return fully to reality. With a bitter smile, he pulled the warm blanket up over her.
“…I nearly woke her up for nothing.”
Thanks to a nightmare had by an unworthy uncle, he’d nearly cut short the sleep of an adorable niece who had nothing to do with any of it.
After smoothing back a few strands of hair that had fallen over Lyriette’s face, Baal smiled and settled back down, hoping to find sleep once more.
