"Hmm-hmm~."
A cheerful little hum slipped from Lyriette's lips.
Today, her mood was exceptionally good.
She'd been worried lately, thinking about her uncle, but after spending the whole day with him yesterday, that worry had eased—just a little.
*I guess it really was a misunderstanding after all.*
Someone as kind as her uncle would never leave her behind.
That conversation she'd overheard back then—there must have been some kind of mistake.
*No. It's still too soon to relax. I can't be sure.*
But that thought lasted only a moment.
The instant she recalled the conversation between Baal and someone else that she'd distinctly, clearly heard that day, worry came flooding back in like a rising tide.
Relieved, then worried.
Relieved again, then worried again.
Lyriette's mood swung back and forth minute by minute, like plunging between hot and cold baths.
"...What have you been doing this whole time?"
It was only much later that she realized someone had been watching her the entire while.
Morning training had, as always, gone on without fail today.
Abel, her sparring partner, had been sprawled unceremoniously on the ground, and after finally hauling himself up, he was staring at her like she was some kind of oddity.
Well, it was understandable. From where Abel stood, all he'd seen was Lyriette alternating between grinning and pouting, as if she'd caught some kind of manic fit.
"Ah, it's nothing, Brother."
"As someone who just watched your face for the past minute, 'nothing' is the scarier answer."
"Uheheh..."
Lyriette scratched the back of her head awkwardly.
She used to be the type who never let anything show on the outside, no matter how much she agonized within. But ever since she'd started living with Baal, her expressions had grown noticeably more transparent.
"Is something wrong?"
"Just a little bit."
"I take it this has to do with Uncle."
"Ho—how did you—!?"
Was he reading her mind?
Lyriette's eyes went wide. Abel—the boy who'd never had a shred of tact in his life—had guessed her thoughts in a single try.
"Well, considering you're someone who wouldn't even blink when the whole family used to torment you, there's really only one reason you'd be sighing like you'd lost the whole world."
*So?* Abel added, prompting her.
"Has something happened to Uncle?"
"It's not quite something that 'happened.' It's just... my own private worrying, that's all."
"Then I'm asking why you're worrying. It might be something I can help with."
*Not that you'd trust me, though,* he added with a wry smile.
Not too long ago, this so-called brother had done nothing but hurl abuse and violence at her—one-sidedly, at that. It made sense she wouldn't trust him even now, bringing this up.
Still, thinking this might be her first real chance to let him act like an actual brother, she decided to listen.
After a moment's hesitation, Lyriette carefully opened her mouth.
"Actually, I think Uncle might be planning to leave the estate."
"Uncle? Does he have some urgent business?"
"I don't really know. It's just that, a while ago, I went to his room and happened to overhear part of a conversation through the door with someone."
"Hm!"
Abel propped his chin on his hand and shifted into a cross-legged sitting position.
He'd realized this was a topic that would need a somewhat lengthy discussion.
"Uncle left the household the moment he came of age, originally. I don't see anything particularly strange about it."
"Yes, I don't think it's strange, either. It's just... that..."
"...You don't want to be apart from him?"
"It's embarrassing, but... yes."
"Nothing to be embarrassed about. That's a perfectly natural feeling."
As Lyriette nodded, her cheeks flushing pink, Abel spoke up in her defense.
No matter how much she tried to act mature, Lyriette was still only a ten-year-old girl.
And she'd only just now, for the first time, come to have someone she truly, deeply cherished.
And now that person was suddenly leaving, without any explanation.
Even putting herself in his shoes, it was more than reasonable to feel this way.
"You don't know how long he'll be gone?"
"No. I wasn't told anything about that. I really only caught a brief snippet..."
"What do you want to do?"
"What do you... mean?"
For the first time, Lyriette tilted her head to the side, unable to grasp the intent behind his question.
"Exactly what I said. Do you want to keep him from leaving, or would you rather smile and send him off, promising to see him again? That's what I'm asking."
"...Even if I answer honestly, you won't think less of me?"
"Honestly."
This time, Abel let out an incredulous laugh, unable to help himself.
As if he were in any position to judge anyone else.
"Here I am, sitting right in front of a sister who accepted a good-for-nothing like me as her brother, and you think I'd blame her for something like this? Heaven would strike down three generations of our family for that."
"Wouldn't three generations mean our whole family dies...?"
"Oh, wait."
That wasn't good.
He couldn't let his own worthless self, as both a son and a brother, drag their innocent parents and sister down with him.
Abel hastily backpedaled, deciding he alone would take the divine punishment if it came to that.
Watching him flounder, Lyriette burst into laughter.
Thanks to that, some of the tension seemed to ease, at least a little.
"Honestly, I don't want Uncle to leave. Whatever the reason may be."
"Then why not just stop him?"
"How could I possibly do that? Uncle is the one who saved me—saved my entire family. It would be like pulling someone out of the water, only to demand they hand over their belongings as thanks."
In other words, she felt guilty.
And though she didn't say it to him, the real reason weighed far heavier than that.
*I don't want Uncle to hate me.*
At the very least, he believed her to be a good child.
He always used to say it, like some habitual phrase.
That his niece was almost too kind for her own good.
Objectively speaking, Lyriette probably did count as a kind child.
It might sound harsh for a ten-year-old, but she was kind to the point that people might even call her a pushover, and it wouldn't be strange at all.
But recently, Lyriette had come to a realization.
She wasn't a kind child—she had simply been a child who knew nothing.
Not knowing the value of money, she had no greed for it.
Not knowing the value of honor, she had no thirst for it.
Having nothing worth calling her own, she had no possessiveness either.
That was how it had been.
*Had been.*
Until she was reunited with the man named Baal Argent.
*If I hold Uncle back out of my own selfish desire, he'll surely come to despise me.*
Of course, he had always been a gentle, tender uncle toward her.
But that was precisely why she was afraid.
Afraid that his sharp gaze might one day turn on her.
Afraid that he might see through to the narrow-hearted self who wanted to exploit his generous heart.
*I think I get it, more or less.*
Meanwhile, Abel had managed to infer, at least partially, what Lyriette truly felt inside.
And at the same time, he'd arrived at the advice best suited to her situation right now.
He himself was not a kind child.
Unlike Lyriette, he was a boy who'd become quite the expert at scheming and lying.
Which meant he understood the tactics of a "bad child" better than anyone.
Sometimes, it was entirely possible to appear outwardly good while secretly plotting like a scoundrel.
"Alright. I get the gist of how you feel. So how about trying this?"
"Do you have some clever plan?"
"Not clever enough to call a plan, really. More like a shallow trick. Chances are it'll get found out pretty quick."
In fact, Abel had used this very method before, only to get caught and thoroughly beaten by Cassdia for it—more than once.
But that was only because Cassdia knew all too well just how skilled Abel was at lying.
Lyriette, on the other hand, was different.
She'd told so few lies in her life that you could count them on one hand—which meant that when she did lie, it carried more credibility than most people's honest truths.
"Feigning illness."
"...Feigning illness?"
"That's right."
After all that dramatic build-up, Lyriette blinked at the single phrase Abel had thrown out.
Seeing his sister looked a bit slow to catch on, Abel straightened his posture and launched into a more detailed explanation.
"I've used this method to skip sword lessons four times, no less. Got caught by Mother on the fifth try and got scolded for it, but since this would be your first time, you should be fine."
"B-but isn't that still lying?"
"Not every lie is necessarily bad. At our age, that much mischief will be seen as cute, if anything."
"....."
It was an outrageously shameless thing to say, and yet, oddly enough, it carried a certain persuasive weight.
"Besides, if his adorable niece is sick, how could he just up and leave? Uncle would surely stay by your side, at least until you got better."
"But that's not really solving the root problem."
"You're one to talk, when you clearly know the real solution and still can't bring yourself to use it, out of hesitation."
A sharp point.
Lyriette found herself wondering if the boy in front of her was really the same foolish brother she'd always known.
"Well, if it really pricks your conscience that much, you don't have to use it. I'm just offering a stopgap measure."
"Thank you, Brother. But..."
*I could never do that to Uncle—I'd feel too guilty,* the words caught in her throat, then sank back down.
She didn't know why she hadn't been able to say it.
It probably wasn't for any particular reason, Lyriette told herself, jumping to the conclusion.
"Leaving already? We haven't even gone five rounds today."
"I'd like to go see Uncle for a bit."
"Can't be helped, then. I'll handle the cleanup, so go on ahead."
"Okay."
Rising from her seat, Lyriette gathered her wooden sword and left the training grounds.
Feigning illness.
A band-aid solution, at best.
She thought that if it had been before, she wouldn't have hesitated at all—she would have wiped that word from her mind instantly. And yet, somehow, it kept circling back through her thoughts.
***
She'd said she was going to see Baal, but before that, Lyriette decided to take a short walk, just to settle her thoughts.
Now that early summer had arrived, the estate grounds were bursting with pretty flowers—not just in the gardens, but along the walking paths and even between the stones of the pathways.
*Would Uncle like flowers, I wonder?*
Would he be happy if she picked a few pretty blossoms and brought them to him?
It was a fleeting thought, but Lyriette quickly brushed it away.
Not because she thought Baal disliked flowers, but because she worried it might make her look like a naughty child, picking flowers without permission.
Lately, every single one of Lyriette's actions had come to revolve around Baal.
If she thought he'd be happy, she did it. If she thought he'd dislike it, she didn't.
She hadn't been exaggerating when she'd said she thought about him all day long.
*I think my thoughts are settling down a little.*
As she continued walking beneath the warm sunlight, the tangled mess in her head seemed to gradually smooth itself out.
Deciding she'd walked enough, Lyriette was just turning her steps back toward the mansion when—
"You there, little lady."
"Yes?"
At the sound of an unfamiliar voice from somewhere nearby, Lyriette turned her head to the side.
"Wow..."
The moment she confirmed the identity of the voice that had called out to her, a soft gasp escaped Lyriette's lips.
Brown hair, neatly grown just past the shoulders.
A well-defined nose and a slender jawline.
And deep, dark black eyes.
Standing before her was a strikingly beautiful woman.
Though her figure had almost none of the curves typically associated with womanhood.
But to a ten-year-old girl like Lyriette, that sort of thing wasn't something she paid much mind to.
*Pretty.*
That was the only thought that came to her.
Along with, of course, the question of who this person was.
"I'm sorry. I wanted to take a walk, so I declined the escort and came in alone, only to end up lost. By any chance, are you the young lady of House Argent?"
"Ah, yes...! I'm Lyriette Argent. If it's not too rude of me to ask, may I know who you are?"
"How rude of me, forgetting to introduce myself. I'm Erne Chesper."
The woman smiled brightly as she gave her name—a smile that even young Lyriette could tell was captivating.
Her voice was a touch lower and huskier than most women's, which struck Lyriette as curious.
But even that only added to her charm, somehow.
"So you're Lady Chesper. If you need directions, I can help. Is there someone in particular you're looking for?"
People who visited her household usually arranged appointments in advance.
Assuming Erne was likely one of those visitors as well, Lyriette posed the question.
But for some reason, Erne burst out laughing.
It was a laugh tinged with a strange sort of mischief.
"Heh, thank you. Actually, I came here to escort Baal Argent away."
"......Excuse me?"
But Lyriette didn't have a moment to spare wondering about the reason behind that laugh.
The instant Erne's words registered, her thoughts simply stopped functioning.
*Uncle? Escort him away?*
It was the one thing she'd least wanted to hear.
She felt that sticky, viscous something—the thing she'd been desperately suppressing these past few days—welling up in her chest once more, crawling up her throat.
And by the time Lyriette began to guess what that feeling actually was, her eyes, fixed on Erne, had already changed.
"May I ask what kind of relationship you have with my uncle?"
"Let's see. I suppose you could call it a fairly special one."
Erne answered with a playful smile, one finger resting against her cheek, her tone deliberately ambiguous as she defined the relationship between them just so.
"...I see. Please, follow me, then."
Lyriette turned on her heel, her voice suddenly clipped and businesslike.
Not yet realizing that this sticky, unpleasant feeling coiled in her chest was something others might call hostility—or perhaps jealousy.