Having heard the mission Baal gave him, Abel had gone to find his father Edmund, grumbling all the way but full of bravado.
But—
"Abel, please leave for today."
"Yes… ma'am."
Because of Cassdia's firm dismissal, he had no choice but to return with his shoulders drooping.
In the end, wandering aimlessly, Abel decided to find something he himself could do among the things left undone.
And then one person came to mind.
His younger sister, Lyriette, who right now would be alone in her room, quietly nursing her sorrow.
Baal, the person she psychologically leaned on, had stepped away for a while.
So Abel decided that, at least for that time, he would stay by her side, and made his way there.
"Have you stopped crying?"
"Yes, Brother."
"…I see."
He had to regret that action within three seconds.
What had he been thinking, barging in without any plan for how to handle this awkward atmosphere?
No matter how much he'd resolved to change his heart, it wasn't as though his relationship with Lyriette had improved overnight.
'You idiot!'
Having sat Lyriette, whose eyes were still swollen, down on the bed, and pulled up a chair for himself, he sat there blankly, mentally clubbing himself over the head.
She'd only just gone through something like that.
Even alone, her heart would be in turmoil—what was the point of an unwanted guest showing up and making her fidget uncomfortably?
"…Well, I'll be going now. Take care of yourself."
Realizing belatedly that he'd had plenty of enthusiasm but no substance, Abel awkwardly began to rise.
"Brother."
"Y-yes?"
But Lyriette's voice, which always trembled faintly whenever it was directed at him, today caught him clearly and firmly.
"May I ask you one thing?"
"What is it?"
"Do you still hate me, Brother?"
"……"
A question so composed and yet so sorrowful, it seemed impossible it had come from the mouth of a mere ten-year-old.
Abel's hand unconsciously clenched into a fist.
But making an effort not to show it, he sat back down.
"That's a question I should be asking you."
"What?"
"Don't you hate me? I've done such petty, small-minded things to you, over and over, up until now."
"……"
The roles had reversed.
This time, it was Lyriette who fell silent.
"I did… hate you."
"Did? Why past tense?"
"Honestly, I think I probably still hate you even now. But more than that, I hated myself."
"Why?"
Even Abel, the perpetrator, could see that Lyriette had done nothing wrong.
So why would she hate herself?
"Thinking about it, I realized I never once asked you why you hated me. If I had asked just a little sooner, if I had tried to fix things just a little sooner… maybe you wouldn't have had reason to hate me, and I wouldn't have had reason to hate you either. That's what I thought."
"You're far too kind for your own good. Most people wouldn't think that way at all."
If their positions had been reversed—if Lyriette had been the older sibling and had tormented him like that—
He was certain he'd have spent every night plotting ways to kill her.
"Did you think something similar about Mother, too?"
"Yes."
"Why go that far? If it were me, I think I'd have dreamed of cutting ties entirely."
Of course, giving up the glory of House Argent wasn't something one could easily choose.
But considering the pain Lyriette must have endured, it almost seemed like the better option.
"Cutting ties, hm… I suppose. But that's because we're family."
"Family?"
"Yes. No matter how much we hate each other, no matter how fiercely we fight, we're family. I couldn't bring myself to choose to abandon that. I just had to believe things would get better someday."
Mature.
That was Abel's brief impression, hearing Lyriette's forthright answer.
Far more mature than he himself, two years her elder.
No—perhaps more mature and thoughtful than anyone else in the entire household.
'So it wasn't me who was fit for House Argent. It was Lyriette all along.'
Whatever pride he had left was crushed even further.
And yet, strangely, Abel felt lighter instead.
He was learning for the first time how easy, how comfortable it could be, to simply and cleanly acknowledge someone else's worth.
Because he couldn't do even this one simple thing, had he repeated that disgraceful behavior of his, over and over again, all this time?
'No—back then it was even worse.'
Back then, his eyes had been all but knotholes, blind to everything.
It wasn't merely a matter of realization.
If he'd had eyes capable of objectively judging someone else's worth, he never would have sunk this low in the first place.
"So why did you hate me, Brother?"
"Because I thought you didn't belong in House Argent."
"I can't really deny that."
When a bitter smile touched the corner of Lyriette's lips, Abel abruptly rose to his feet.
"No—even if you can't deny it, from now on, I'll deny it in your place."
"What?"
"It's fortunate I've realized it, even now. It wasn't me who belonged in House Argent. It was you, Lyriette."
"Wh-what are you saying? There's no way you don't belong in House Argent, Brother…"
Was she really trying to shield even a wretch like him?
Moved by that boundless generosity, Abel felt his emotions grow even more complicated—as though he'd just glimpsed the difference in the sheer scale of their hearts.
"Well, I don't intend to force this into your head. And I haven't given up either. The position of heir is still mine to claim—that hasn't changed."
"That sounds just like you, Brother."
"…Was that a compliment?"
"O-of course it was a compliment."
That didn't sound like it.
It sounded more like she thought he was a man who didn't know his own limits.
The words rose to the tip of his tongue, but he forced himself to swallow them.
Even if she'd said as much, he had no strength left to argue back.
Because it was, in fact, the truth.
"By the way, Brother."
"Hm?"
"Why are you opening up to me like this? And I'm curious why you're trying to be kind to me."
Bewilderment welled up in her pure, innocent eyes.
To call something this small "being kind"—
He couldn't even fathom how low her threshold had sunk.
But since he himself was the one who had made Lyriette this way, Abel offered a bitter smile and kindly explained.
"I'm not really trying to be kind to you. Wiping my mouth clean and changing my attitude a little, now of all times—it won't undo my past wrongs. But."
His throat felt oddly parched.
Abel poured water from the pitcher on the table into a cup, took a sip, and continued.
"When I saw you—who never so much as blinked in front of me no matter how much I tormented you—come back crying so wretchedly, I just thought that at the very least, I shouldn't be like this anymore."
"…I see."
Correcting past wrongs was impossible.
The water had already been spilled.
But he had to do his best, if only to avoid spilling it again.
That was the sole realization Abel had come to.
He had no wish to play the saint now, no wish to play the good older brother.
Like Baal had done—devotedly caring for Lyriette and basking in her admiring gaze—that wasn't what he wanted either.
But even if he couldn't become a "respected brother"—
Shouldn't he at least remain her "brother"?
As Lyriette had said, that was probably what family meant.
"So what do you intend to do now?"
"About what?"
"That flower. You're not planning to go try giving it to her again, are you?"
No matter how much inner strength Lyriette had beneath her gentle exterior—
Having already been coldly rejected once, he assumed she wouldn't have the courage to try the same thing again.
And part of him wanted her to give it up.
If she reached out again only to be broken once more, he couldn't even imagine how much it would hurt her.
"No, I'm going."
"You're serious?"
"Yes. Because I'm Father's daughter, and even though she didn't give birth to me… I'm Mother's daughter too. I want to give it to her, no matter what."
But hearing Lyriette's resolute answer, Abel found he couldn't bring himself to stop her.
"I see. If that's what you've decided, I won't stop you. Except."
"Except…?"
"I'm coming with you. I didn't manage to prepare a flower, but I suppose I'll have to ride along on yours and take a little credit myself."
When Abel grinned and declared his intent, Lyriette's face went blank for a moment before quickly blooming into a soft smile.
He might say it like that, but his true intentions were surely different.
No doubt his real plan was to be there to comfort her, in case her flower was rejected all over again.
The Abel Argent of the past might not have thought that far.
But the Abel Argent of the present—she had no doubt at all that he would.
"Thank you, Brother."
"I'm the one tagging along here—it feels strange to be thanked."
"Still, thank you."
"Enough. Anyway, if you've made up your mind, shall we go now?"
"Yes!"
Lyriette picked up the bent flower once more, and left the room together with Abel.
'Mother told us to leave, but surely it'll be fine for just a moment.'
Cassdia was quite a difficult person when it came to Lyriette, but if he was there beside her, she surely wouldn't turn them away so coldly.
"I'll announce us."
"Ah, yes."
Soon enough, they arrived before the bedroom door of the Argent couple.
Abel pushed aside Lyriette, who was about to knock, and stood before the door himself.
"Ahem!"
He cleared his throat lightly, took a deep breath, and was about to knock—
—Aaaah!
A sharp scream rang out from inside the room, and both their nerves snapped taut.
"Mother!?"
"B-Brother! Quickly, open the—!"
"Right!"
Realizing there was no time to wait for a reply, the two of them rushed inside.
"……!?"
"Uncle…?"
There, they found their father, Edmund Argent, hanging limp and lifeless.
And Baal, gripping him by the collar of his sleeve, dragging him toward the window as though hauling him off to a slaughterhouse.
"U-Uncle! What are you doing!? Don't tell me you struck my father—!"
Whatever fault Edmund might have—
No matter what, as long as he was still Abel's father, he couldn't stand by and watch someone lay hands on him carelessly.
As Abel glared, demanding an explanation, Baal let out a deep sigh.
"Don't worry. I just put him to sleep, that's all. Though honestly, I'd have loved to actually beat him senseless."
The addendum tacked onto the end nagged at him, but after checking Edmund's condition and confirming there was no sign of outside force, the two of them let out a sigh of relief.
"Perfect timing—I was just about to come fetch you two. Come along, both of you."
"Come where, exactly?"
When Lyriette voiced her confusion, Baal gave a bitter smile and reached out his hand.
"To confirm the truth."