The Girl's Dream Is Warm, And Reality Is Cold

After a light stroll around the town, and watching the same performance we'd seen before once more,

I brought Lyriette back to the mansion.

These days, Lyriette's outings had become quite a bit freer, so there was no need to force ourselves to spend too much time outside.

"Lyriette, are you in here? Lyri— ah."

"What is it, Abel?"

While I was sharing thoughts about today's outing with Lyriette in her room,

Abel came rushing in, and upon seeing me, jumped back in surprise.

It seemed the incident from a while back was still firmly lodged in his mind.

Lately, he'd been scrambling to flee in fright the moment he saw me.

"S-sorry, Uncle. I didn't know you were with her..."

"It doesn't matter. More importantly, I believe I asked what's going on?"

Wondering if he'd come to pick another pointless fight with Lyriette, I snapped at him sharply, and Abel, in a voice that seemed to shrink into itself, showed me the wooden sword in his hand.

"I— I came to spar with Lyriette."

"A spar?"

What kind of spar?

It was true Abel had periodically asked Lyriette for sparring matches before.

But those had only ever been for the purpose of tormenting her, never to hone each other's skills.

In fact, since that incident last week, I hadn't once seen the two of them cross swords.

Which was only natural, I supposed.

From Abel's perspective, he must have realized he was now the weaker of the two.

'Does he have some other scheme in mind?'

Unable to shake the seed of suspicion, I glanced over at Lyriette.

"That's what he says. Lyriette, what do you think?"

"I'm fine with it. I've been a little bored swinging a sword by myself all the time."

This too was a fairly unexpected response.

There was no need to cross blades with someone so unpleasant.

Perhaps it meant Lyriette had grown that much mentally.

Enough that even seeing Abel, who had once been like a nightmare to her, no longer frightened her.

"In that case, I'll come along as well. Abel, that's fine, isn't it?"

I didn't think the current Lyriette would be soundly beaten by Abel.

But just in case he was plotting something, I decided to observe, to be safe.

If Abel had a guilty conscience about this, he'd surely tuck his tail and run.

But—

"Yes. That's fine."

Unexpectedly, the boy nodded firmly.

As if he had nothing to be ashamed of, even before the heavens.

What's this? It's like he's suddenly become a different person.

Has this brat's time finally come?

***

Hm, it seems my prediction was right after all.

It looks like Abel's time really is drawing near.

I'm no god of death, and I have no eye for seeing a person's lifespan.

But in this moment, I could be certain of it.

Otherwise—

Thwack! Crack!

"Gah!"

"Shall we stop here, brother?"

"No, not yet! Keep going until I say stop!"

"Yes, if that's what you want..."

—there was no way that madman would get up and charge back in, even after being thoroughly thrashed by Lyriette.

In his eyes burned a fighting spirit I'd never seen from him before.

It made me wonder if this was really the same Abel Argent I knew.

He seemed to have transformed into the kind of hot-blooded, never-give-up character common in comics or web novels.

'And yet, he can't land a single hit.'

Actually, more surprising than Abel's transformation was the level of Lyriette's skill.

She'd already had more than enough talent to begin with.

But it seemed that in just a week, she'd widened the gap between herself and Abel once again.

Back then, it had at least been close.

Had she trained in some sort of Room of Spirit and Time or something?

Now she was calmly dodging or blocking most of Abel's attacks,

And controlling her strength just enough not to seriously hurt him, landing only the precise decisive blows needed to break his stance.

I wouldn't say she was just one level above him—two levels seemed more accurate.

'So this is the power of the Sword's Yearning.'

Truly, a genius blessed by the Star's Blessing was something else.

Oden would be shocked if he saw this later.

Whack!

"Aargh!"

Ah, this is it, I thought.

Abel had pushed forward more recklessly than expected, so even with the current Lyriette, it seemed she'd put a bit too much force into it.

As Abel took a clean hit to the forehead and collapsed weakly,

Lyriette, startled, rushed over and held out her hand.

"S-sorry, brother. I put a little too much force into that..."

"Damn it, don't bother with pointless apologies. That tone of voice is even more irritating."

Abel swatted her hand away sharply, somehow forcing himself back up on his own.

Seeing that, I thought—his personality doesn't seem to have changed after all.

What is this, this near-obsessive determination to keep sparring?

"That's enough for now. If you really want to continue, take a rest first before resuming."

"Yes, Uncle."

"...Understood."

At my signal, the two of them put some distance between each other.

Normally I would have gone straight to Lyriette first,

but today, unable to resist my curiosity, I walked over to Abel instead.

Since I'd brought two water canteens anyway, I handed him one and casually struck up a conversation.

"Good work out there, Abel."

"Good work? I just got beaten pathetically."

He grumbled as he spoke, but somehow he didn't seem all that upset.

"Well, I suppose that in itself counts as hard work. Anyway, there's something I'd like to ask, if that's alright?"

"Yes."

"I'd like to know why you suddenly asked Lyriette for a sparring match."

"...."

At my question, he glanced sideways at Lyriette.

Ah, so he doesn't want to say it in front of her.

I immediately cast a sound-blocking barrier to cut off the surrounding noise.

"This should do it, don't you think?"

"A... barrier?"

"Yes. Lyriette won't be able to hear your voice. So speak freely, without worry."

Only after hearing my confirmation did Abel cautiously open his mouth.

"Honestly, I don't really know myself. Why I insisted on that sparring match."

"If the person involved doesn't know, who would?"

"I just did it on impulse. Ever since I lost so pathetically that day, the scene kept replaying in my head, over and over. Especially—I was furious at her. At Lyriette."

His tone grew more heated as he spoke, then quickly calmed again.

"But strangely... the more I thought about it, the angrier I got—not at her, but at myself. That I'd resorted to such dirty tricks and still lost. It made me so angry I couldn't stand it."

"Recognizing shame is a good thing."

Honestly, I found it a bit unexpected.

The Abel I knew had been arrogant to a degree that seemed beyond redemption.

And now this same person was feeling shame and anger at himself?

I wondered if this, too, was some elaborate smokescreen,

but seeing his lips trembling faintly, I doubted it.

If this was acting, he ought to be on a stage somewhere, not here.

"And even knowing I couldn't win right now, I wanted to cross swords with her. Even if I tasted crushing defeat again, I wanted to keep at it until I won."

"So this is what you'd call a competitive spirit."

"Competitive spirit...? Is that what this is called?"

Wait, does this kid not even know what a competitive spirit is?

I was momentarily stunned by his question,

but thinking back over Abel's life, it made a kind of sense.

From what I remembered, Abel had been strong enough, up until age sixteen, that he had no rivals anywhere around him.

Even now, he'd likely defeat almost anyone except someone on Lyriette's level.

Which meant he'd never even had the conditions necessary to develop ambition or a competitive drive.

He hadn't needed to make any real effort at all to overpower most opponents his age.

'There's no villain without a story. So it seems even this kid had a bit of that in him.'

Well, his case was quite different from Lyriette's.

Still, even if he'd now gained a bit of ambition and started to reflect on himself,

that didn't erase all the wrongs he'd committed until now.

I certainly had no intention of looking on him favorably just because of this.

He'd simply become, compared to before, a little more human.

That much, and no more.

"Given what you've done to Lyriette, I won't say I'm ready to see you in a good light just yet."

"...Yes."

"But at the very least, keep in mind that a person who shows genuine effort can change both themselves and those around them."

"Understood, Uncle. Thank you for the advice."

As he straightened his clothes and turned to leave, I called out to the back of his head.

"So, should I take this as you acknowledging Lyriette?"

At that, he turned his head slightly and grinned.

It was the same smile I remembered from the old Abel Argent.

"I'll admit she's fit to be a member of House Argent. But I won't concede the position of heir. I'll be knocking some sense back into that brat again soon enough."

Honestly. Trying to act tough even now.

But that answer alone was enough to satisfy me.

At least for a while, he wouldn't be picking pointless fights with Lyriette.

Once Abel disappeared from the training grounds, Lyriette—who had already changed out of her sweat-soaked clothes and returned—voiced a question.

"Uncle, where did brother go?"

"He left ahead of you. Why? Did you want to spar a bit more?"

"No, that was enough. I was hitting brother so one-sidedly that somehow..."

Ah, this kind-hearted child.

Abel had done all those things to her, and this was the extent of the guilt she felt?

"...I couldn't hold back anymore. I thought it was right to stop there."

"I—is that so?"

"Yes."

Ah. That wasn't quite what I'd expected.

Truly, my niece, the genuine villainess.

Her way of thinking really was on a different level.

So she'd been quietly venting all that pent-up resentment after all.

'Abel might end up beaten to a pulp before long.'

Well, it's a grave he dug himself. Nothing to be done about it. He'll have to bear it.

Honestly, I'm a little curious to see it happen.

"I should go deliver flowers to Father and Mother now."

"Yes, go on then. Good luck."

"Okay!"

I patted Lyriette's head as she answered energetically, and picked up the wooden sword in her place.

'Lyriette said she'd go alone, but...'

Just in case, I should probably watch from a distance.

Somehow, I had a bad feeling about this.

***

I used a spell of invisibility to hide myself and followed after Lyriette.

"Haah, haah...!"

She held the two flowers carefully to her chest as she ran, and she looked so adorable doing it.

If I were her father, I think I would have smiled just from seeing that.

"F-Father! Mother!"

"......?"

Before long, Lyriette ran into Edmund and Cassdia, who happened to be passing through the corridor.

Cassdia in particular frowned faintly the moment she heard Lyriette's voice,

but since Edmund was right there, she didn't let it show, answering instead with a gentle smile.

"What is it, my daughter?"

That saccharine voice sent chills down my spine just to hear it.

If there's such a thing as a serpent's tongue, this must be exactly it.

"Here! Today's the Star's Feast, so... um, it's nothing much, but it's a gift for the two of you."

"A gift?"

But even the formidable Cassdia seemed quite taken aback upon receiving Lyriette's gift.

Naturally.

Given everything she'd done to Lyriette so far, she surely never imagined the girl would give her flowers, of all things, for the Star's Feast.

Edmund, on the other hand, showed no reaction whatsoever.

He didn't even manage a smile, let alone accept the flowers.

In the awkward silence, Cassdia, unable to bear it any longer, reached out to accept both flowers on his behalf—then hesitated.

She'd probably just remembered Edmund standing right beside her.

"Th— that's right. Thank you. Dear, won't you say something too..."

She shot Edmund a pointed look,

but—

"......"

He simply gazed down at Lyriette with indifferent eyes, then turned away.

No—I wasn't even sure he'd truly seen her at all.

Those eyes, like the eyes of a rotten, dead fish, held nothing in them.

"Fa... ther...?"

Lyriette murmured, staring blankly as Edmund walked away.

"D-dear? Dear!"

Even Cassdia, it seemed, hadn't expected this much, and hurriedly tried to call out to him, but Edmund had already vanished around the far end of the corridor.

Left behind, the two flowers tumbled to the floor.

Lyriette picked them back up, but their stems had snapped, and they hung limp and lifeless.

"...Fuck."

My fist trembled.

I wanted to run over that instant and drive it straight into that man's face.

But I forced myself to hold back.

Not because he was my brother.

Not because he was the head of the family.

But because he was Lyriette's father.

Even after a lifetime of indifference, blood was still blood.

And knowing Lyriette's overly kind-hearted nature, if she saw her father beaten to a pulp, she'd probably only end up feeling guilty about it herself—better it not come to that.

"Hiiuck...!"

Just as I was wrestling with this conflict, a sorrowful sob brushed past me.

By the time I came to my senses, Lyriette had already disappeared around the corner I'd just walked past.

Without looking back, I went after her.