Mace was gripping the back of a long bench, her body turned as she watched me enter the prayer room with a smirk plastered across her face.
I knew it. This rotten nun.
She must have seen and heard everything. I could easily guess what that smile meant.
First theft, now eavesdropping—her character was truly terrible.
I immediately pulled out a cigarette, put it in my mouth, and slowly approached Mace.
"Laughing while watching someone get disowned—that puts my mind at ease a bit."
I sat down next to her and lit up, forcing myself to sound nonchalant.
Mace kept her gaze fixed on me, her lips still twitching with amusement.
She closed the distance and leaned in close, shouting right into my ear.
"What I need is Mace!"
"Fuck, I must be crazy..."
"What I need is Mace!!"
"I'm not deaf, you crazy bitch..."
Mace grabbed my shoulder and cackled for a while before sitting back down on the bench.
I just took deep drags from my cigarette, feeling dizzy.
Mace's laughter had subsided somewhat, but her voice was still loud.
"That was fun! First time anyone's confessed to me!"
"Be careful walking alone at night when you're out doing your hobby from now on."
"...So she was your older sister. She doesn't look much like you, Ain."
I was startled by her suddenly lowered voice and looked at Mace.
The playfulness had vanished from her eyes, though she was still looking at my face.
But a smile lingered on her lips.
The smile she wore when treating me kindly.
"...We were raised in different households. I'm an illegitimate child, you see."
"Your sister was really pretty though. Her hair was all shiny and flowing."
"What am I supposed to do about looking like this..."
"She really cares about you, Ain."
A hollow laugh escaped me.
I looked down at the floor where the still-present sun had erased the shadows, not at Mace, and spoke.
"Don't worry. She's the type who'll come close like that, then kick you away the moment you're cast out."
"She didn't seem that way to me."
"That's what's scary. I never once doubted she was on my side."
"But Mace won't betray you!"
Fuck, I must have been fooled.
Mace returned to her usual grinning smile and climbed onto my lap.
She was waving her hand to disperse the smoke from the cigarette in my mouth, finding it too harsh.
"...Should I put it out?"
"No. You haven't even smoked half of it. Take your time."
"You're damn heavy for someone who doesn't eat anything."
Mace puffed out her cheeks and stomped hard on my foot.
Actually, I'd said it to hide my embarrassment—she was exactly the weight I'd expected.
A light body, less than half my weight.
"Actually, I've seen your sister a few times. She doesn't seem to remember me though."
Since she held the position of Treasurer, Iris was something of a celebrity.
Unlike someone else, she was the proud eldest daughter of a prestigious family.
I'd heard she was academically excellent and handled work efficiently, earning the Academy's favor.
"Back then, like when she entered the prayer room, she had a controlled and dignified gait and demeanor."
"How about that? In front of me, she always fumbles around like an idiot."
Mace leaned more of her body against me.
The weight on my lap, still light, increased slightly.
"Ain, you don't like hurting her, do you?"
"......"
If it were other family members, I hated them enough that tearing them apart wouldn't be enough.
Every bit of treatment I received from them would never be erased from my heart, even if I died hundreds or thousands more times.
If I had the chance, if not for this disability and this shitty talent that couldn't cast a single spell, I would have gladly beheaded them myself.
But what about Iris?
My sister, whose memories of treating me kindly still remained vivid in the frame of my mind.
The fact that we shared only half our blood couldn't diminish the value of what she had given me.
And the memory of being abandoned by her, which occupied an even larger space in my mind, erased all those memories without a trace.
The attitude that prioritized the wishes of the family who abandoned me over the pain I suffered—that's what made me avoid Iris.
"Still, it's true I don't want to see her."
This was about right.
Just uncomfortable enough that when I inevitably became aware of Iris's presence, my heart felt uneasy.
I was done with being anxious about when I'd be abandoned next.
"You'll need alcohol today."
"You bet. The moment I leave the Academy, I'm heading straight to a tavern..."
"Liar! You said you needed Mace!"
She seemed to have developed a taste for teasing me.
Who could have predicted it? That a nun would enjoy eavesdropping.
My ears were probably red by now, given how Mace was giggling.
"I'll be going now. See you tomorrow."
I stood up and stubbed out my cigarette in my pocket.
Mace's hand was gripping my clothes.
"Should I come with you? I was thinking of indulging in my hobby for a bit."
"...You mean you want me to buy you dinner?"
Hearing my words, Mace started laughing with that grin again.
"Let's go. I can't buy you anything expensive today."
.
.
.
As always, I gave Blessings to the gathering beggars, then headed to the tavern with Mace.
Mace kept trying to stuff every strange thing she received as payment into her mouth, so I frantically stopped her.
Most of it didn't even count as escorting—I just watched from behind while smoking.
"You worked hard today too."
"You too, Ain!"
We clinked glasses at the bar table.
I had ultimately committed the sin of leading a nun down the path of corruption.
Though unlike last time, I made sure she couldn't chug recklessly—just a few glasses of weak alcohol together after Mace's hobby activities ended.
Mace seemed to have the makings of an excellent drinker, as long as she showed restraint.
Just as I accompanied Mace in her hobby, she accompanied me in mine.
Someone's hobby was charity work, while mine was nothing but drinking.
Mace herself didn't seem to care much.
Still, watching Mace drink glass after glass in her nun's habit, saying how delicious it was, gave me a somewhat guilty feeling.
I'd actually been drinking less.
Thanks to that, my phantom limb pain worsened day by day, but I smoked more cigarettes and slept more comfortably than before.
Even saying I drank less, it just meant going from three or four bottles a day to one or two.
As the time I spent with Mace increased, the daily routines I'd been neglecting gradually came into view.
The time I spent stuck in the tavern's shadows during the day decreased.
I began to care about the taste of the food served at the shop, not just the alcohol.
I started noticing what I'd newly found, not what I'd lost.
"Mace, how did you end up coming to the Empire?"
Usually we had an unspoken rule not to probe too deeply into each other's pasts.
But I'd had some drinks, and the conversation we'd had in the prayer room that afternoon came to mind.
...Or perhaps my interest in her had simply deepened.
I wouldn't deny it.
"Missionary pilgrimage. My turn just came up."
Mace's expression fell slightly.
Just from the occasional information she shared about the monastery, I'd guessed her past hadn't been entirely smooth.
"It's a faith that's now shaken to its very roots. But still, it's all I know."
"...Will you return to your homeland when the pilgrimage ends?"
At my question, Mace shook her head.
That face with slightly downturned eyes—it was an expression I'd never seen before.
"I can't. I can't go back."
Having said that, Mace set down her glass and turned her gaze to the customers sitting in the shop.
That profile, as if chewing over regrets.
That expression of resignation toward what was lost and what had passed—I knew it well.
The image of myself in the mirror before it shattered came to mind.
But I found myself feeling quietly relieved inside.
Was it because I felt our shared circumstances more keenly?
Or was it because, unlike others, I could be certain Mace wouldn't leave me behind?
"What about you, Ain? Do you have somewhere to return to?"
"Even if I could, I'd refuse."
Hearing my answer, Mace smiled again.
After failing to control herself and gulping down more than half a glass at once, Mace spoke.
"I want to say something presumptuous."
Mace stared at my face with eyes drowsy with alcohol.
I realized that when those blue eyes sank silently, I became particularly vulnerable.
Even knowing what story she would bring up, I couldn't resist those eyes and let myself be fooled.
"...Go ahead."
"I'd like to recommend you try talking with her at least once."
"You mean Iris?"
"I think the goodwill she has toward you is genuine. Even if, as you said, it's goodwill that might not last."
Mace seemed to be talking about opportunity.
For some reason I didn't know, the way back to her homeland had disappeared for Mace.
It seemed she was worried I might be robbed of even the chance to choose, like she had been.
"If I'm abandoned again, just imagining what would happen then..."
Before I could finish answering, Mace's hand touched mine holding the glass.
With her arm and head resting on the table, Mace looked up at me and spoke quietly.
"I'm here, you know. Mace is. If you're abandoned, you can come find me anytime."
Though her tone was playful like when she teased me in the prayer room, it wasn't a smirk but a sincere smile.
A suggestion closer to concern than persuasion.
A suggestion that didn't try to break me down but gently urged me.
"...I'll think about it."
It was impossible to flatly refuse that suggestion, that smile before me.
Hearing my answer, Mace returned to her usual grinning smile.
Mace started drinking again, but I couldn't.
Because her hand remained touching mine holding the glass.
Because I didn't want to pull it away from me as if rejecting that hand.
I sat quietly without a word, just feeling the touch of that hand.
.
.
.
Though we'd brought up a somewhat gloomier topic than usual, the warmth of our drinking session had deepened before it ended.
I sent Mace back to the Academy and headed home.
I hadn't drunk enough for the alcohol to properly take effect.
More than Mace's suggestion itself, the goodwill in her recommending it to me resonated more deeply.
I knew I wasn't being treated as someone weak who only deserved pity from her.
That fact made me happy. It had been a long time since I'd experienced being in someone's special position.
Before opening the door and entering my house, I noticed something strange about the padlock I'd fastened when going out.
It was burned to a jet-black color along with the hinges.
Soot, ash, and what was clearly molten metal from the lock dirtied the floor.
'Fucking bitch, doesn't she ever get tired.'
I gently opened the door that wasn't fulfilling its role.
As if it were natural for her to be there, Giselle sat on my bed reading a book.
Her words about coming again apparently weren't complete nonsense.
Giselle broke in using every method imaginable, day after day.
Today she seemed to have melted the lock with magic and invaded.
I could see the emptied ashtray and bottles, the fragments scattered on the floor all neatly cleaned up.
This crazy bitch climbed through windows when I locked the door, and broke down the door when I locked the windows.
Who knew the young lady had talent for burglary too.
"You're back, Ain. You'll catch a cold wandering around at such a late hour."
My chosen response every time I faced that bullshit was indifference.
First Iris, now Giselle. They really got me today. Sleeping at home was out of the question.
"I really want you to read this book too, Ain. You can come home late today, so together we can..."
-Creak
I closed the door again as if there had been no interruption and turned away.
Fortunately, she didn't cling to me in that bizarre manner outside.
I'd given up asking Giselle anything or expecting answers to questions.
No matter what I asked, she only spouted incomprehensible bullshit that only she understood.
I headed back to the Academy.
To that place where I could sleep, even if it wasn't home.
To that place where night's darkness had replaced the day's shadows.
Walking the quiet corridors of the Academy at night when everyone was asleep had become familiar by now.
I carefully opened the prayer room door without making a sound and looked at Mace lying on the floor.
"Zzz..."
Her sleeping habits were still terrible.
Watching Mace snore and toss about in her blanket, I lay down on the long bench in the prayer room.
The quality of the bedding no longer mattered.
The sound of wind rustling through leaves outside the window was enough.
Even without the song now, this space felt incomparably comfortable to me.