“Are you feeling a bit more clear-headed now, Brother?”
“Yes. Still quite confused, but it's roughly coming back to me…”
*Thwack!*
“Guh!”
“Uncle!?”
I struck the back of his head with all my strength, and Edmund crumpled forward.
Abel, startled by the sight, stared at me, but I brazened it out.
“He still seemed dazed, so I merely woke him up.”
“That's odd, considering he was speaking normally just now…”
“There was a fly sitting on the back of his head. An unusually large one.”
“It looked like there was mana gathered in your hand—”
“You're mistaken.”
Of course I'd put mana into it.
With just my raw strength, there was no way I could deal any real damage to this man, who was, in his own way, still a swordsman.
“Let, let it be, Abel. Your uncle's venting his anger is only natural.”
I haven't even finished venting yet—what is he talking about?
But since he seemed to understand his own guilt, I decided to let it pass for now.
Some day, another chance to knock him upside the head would surely come.
“Anyway, I've gotten the gist of the situation. From the looks of it, you consumed the Tears of Remembrance.”
“…Yes.”
“Did you miss your first wife that badly?”
“…I'm sorry. I have no excuse, even with a hundred mouths.”
“Well, I don't intend to blame you for missing her. No one knows better than I how much you loved my sister-in-law.”
The problem was simply what that longing had driven him to do.
“It's a shameful excuse, but I never thought it would turn out this way either. At first, it was only to forget my grief. But somehow, things that should never have disappeared began slipping, little by little, into oblivion.”
“Are you saying now that you never intended to forget Lyriette and my second sister-in-law? How shameless of you to say that.”
“N-no. No, of course it isn't a lie, but… I don't expect to be forgiven my sins because of it.”
Well, honestly, I'd thought as much myself.
Considering the narratives of the characters who appeared in this story, that felt like the fitting explanation.
*There's no villain without a reason.*
That was the motto of the work titled *The Beloved Young Lady*, and something the original author used to say all the time.
And indeed, in the original story, most of the villains who had any real weight to their characters had their own circumstances—misunderstandings that blew up out of proportion, or situations that spiraled out of control against their will.
But that didn't mean I had the slightest intention of shielding Edmund.
The fact remained that this bastard, unable to let go of his first wife, had tried to forget his second wife and even his own daughter.
Only—he had *tried*.
Whether the act was intentional or not changed how heavy the sin weighed, made it slightly less damning.
That was the only difference, really.
And besides, absolving him of that sin wasn't my job to begin with.
“Well, never mind. Your memory will likely keep slipping for a while, so set state affairs aside and focus on recovering. And I'd like you to spend more time with Lyriette.”
“Lyriette? Who is Lyri— Guh!”
So there's still confusion in his memory after all.
Well, it's not as if my magic alone could heal him completely.
I'm not telling him to play the father he never was, not entirely.
It's simply that only by having Lyriette close by can the memories now drifting back toward oblivion be held in place.
“You saw it yourself. I've only managed to delay things somewhat with my own power—the drug's effects haven't vanished entirely. Unless you want to forget your wife and daughter as early as tomorrow, I suggest you comply quietly.”
“I understand. I'll keep it in mind. Cassdia, I've caused you trouble as well.”
“No. I…”
At Edmund's apology, Cassdia bit her lip and looked away.
Seeing that, I walked over to the empty chair and sat down.
Truthfully, there were many things I needed to ask this woman too.
Perhaps even more than Edmund.
“Since we're on the subject, Sister-in-law, there are a few things I'd like to ask you as well.”
“…Yes. Go ahead and ask, young master.”
Cassdia seemed to have some idea of what I was about to ask, and she sat down demurely on the bare floor.
Her face was etched with worry.
At a glance, she almost looked like someone who'd given up.
“Sister-in-law, you must have known about the abnormality in Brother's body, haven't you?”
“…….”
“What are you saying, Uncle? Mother knew about this…?”
“I-is that true? How could Mother have known…?”
At my question, Cassdia said nothing.
It was only the two stepchildren she hadn't birthed who raised their voices in confusion.
“Think about it logically. Who in our household has spent the most time by your father's side, more than anyone else?”
“That would be Mother.”
“Yes. But as you just saw, that symptom of memory loss happens intermittently. It's not something a mere drug can fully control. Which means it must have happened fairly often even in ordinary times.”
I lifted the vial in my hand with mana and set it down gently in Cassdia's palm.
She gripped it with trembling fingers, biting her lip.
“And yet the wife who shares his very bedchamber knew nothing of it? That doesn't add up. There's only one possibility. She hid this fact deliberately.”
I looked at Cassdia as if to ask, *isn't that right?*
After a fairly long silence, she finally parted her heavy lips.
“…Yes. I knew.”
“M-Mother! Why didn't you tell us something so important?”
“Yes! If you'd at least shown him to a physician sooner…”
“Because she was afraid.”
I cut off the two of them, answering in Cassdia's stead.
By the time I'd reached this conclusion, most of the answers were already laid out before me.
Among them, naturally, was the fact that Cassdia had deliberately hidden this, and the reason why.
“Sister-in-law. I'm sorry to speak so freely of the past, but I imagine your relationship with Brother wasn't particularly smooth after your marriage. Am I right?”
“That's correct. Ours was a relationship born from nothing more than a single night's indiscretion.”
“It was my mistake. Even now, whenever I think of it, I feel nothing but guilt toward Cassdia.”
Though no child had come of that night, Cassdia had been a maiden at the time.
And the youngest daughter of a fairly esteemed count's household, no less.
Of course, House Argent had more than enough power to smooth over such a mistake.
But Edmund Argent wasn't the type for that.
At least, as far as I remembered, my brother in his younger days had been an unusually kind-hearted man.
No matter how ravaged or confused his mind had become,
having seen the proof of that night's indiscretion marked upon the bedsheets, he must have sworn to at least fulfill his minimal duty.
The problem began there.
A marriage that began not from love but from some other excuse could never remain smooth for long.
Edmund had naturally stopped giving Cassdia any attention.
And truthfully, if things had simply ended there, it might not have been so grave a problem.
From Cassdia's perspective, she had the backing of a ducal house behind her,
and there was no one nagging her to fulfill her duties as a wife—it must have been, in its own way, comfortable.
But—
“It wasn't a single night's indiscretion. If that's the case, then the story changes entirely.”
“…….”
What would happen if what Cassdia had wanted most, all along, had been neither the house's prestige nor its wealth?
“B-Baal. What are you talking about? That night was my mistake—”
“No. The young master is right.”
“Cassdia?”
Unlike me, who nodded knowingly at the expected reaction, Edmund stared at his wife with a face full of bewilderment.
“Of course, it began as an indiscretion. It's shameful, but I coveted the position of lady of House Argent. So that day, I approached my husband with inviting eyes.”
Cassdia recounted the past with a strange calm—it sounded almost like a confession of sin, and yet also like the fond recollection of a memory.
“In the end, things worked out well. I gained the position of lady of the house, and my own family benefited greatly from it. And since he was still pining after his lost first wife, he never made any difficult demands of me. But one problem arose.”
Cassdia's gaze turned toward Edmund.
I couldn't quite put into words the emotion held in that complicated look.
It seemed resentful, and yet also seemed loving.
Perhaps this was what people meant when they spoke of feelings all tangled together at once.
“I fell for him.”
…So that's how it turned out, after all.
“At first, it was curiosity. I wondered just how much he must have loved that woman, to still be grieving so deeply. But somehow, before I knew it, I found myself envying that woman terribly, and I came to love this man who never neglected me, even though I was only his wife in name.”
“Cassdia…”
It seemed Edmund had never once considered that Cassdia might genuinely love him.
Well, that made sense.
Love wasn't a prerequisite for becoming husband and wife.
Love is an emotion that only a select few, even among lovers or married couples, ever truly come to hold.
“And it's rather funny, isn't it? As time went on, I began to hate that woman more and more. Why did she leave a man like this alone in the world? Why wouldn't she disappear from his heart, even now?”
So it wasn't the husband who wouldn't look at her that she'd come to hate—it was Viola.
Ironic, certainly, but I supposed it was a thing that could easily happen.
“Was that also the reason you tormented Lyriette?”
“Yes. By chance, I saw a portrait of that woman, and her eyes were so similar to this child's. I ended up venting my misplaced jealousy elsewhere. Of course, I don't intend to ask for forgiveness for it.”
“Mother…”
Even after hearing all this, did Lyriette still call her Mother?
Well, I suppose it couldn't be helped.
For Lyriette, a stepmother she'd seen every day for nearly ten years would inevitably feel more like a mother than a birth mother she'd never even laid eyes on.
Quite a strange thing, really.
“At any rate, around that time, I found out he was taking some kind of medicine. At first, I hated it. I thought, ‘so he's trying to slip back into that woman's skirts again.’”
A complicated look settled into Cassdia's eyes.
“Then one day, he came back from the studio after taking that drug. But he mistook me for that woman. He held me, saying he loved me… and we spent a heated night together.”
“Ah…”
As if everyone had already guessed what came next, the other three let out sighs of understanding—everyone but me.
“…It's shameful, but at the time, I was happy. Even knowing full well that what he saw wasn't me, even as he called another woman's name while holding me in his arms… still, in that moment, at least, I was being loved.”
A pitiable woman.
There was no other way to put it.
What exactly was this thing called love, that it could shatter a marriage—no, an entire family—so thoroughly?
“A day became a week, a week became a month, a month became a year… and I grew more and more used to that life. Thinking back on it now, perhaps it wasn't only he who was intoxicated by the drug. Perhaps I was intoxicated too.”
Was it the drug she'd been intoxicated by, or love itself?
No one could say for certain.
Cassdia, still seated, bent forward at the waist.
Her hunched shoulders trembled, and clear droplets fell upon her politely folded hands.
“…I truly, truly am sorry. To him, and to this child. If only I had come to my senses a little sooner. If only I hadn't been such a narrow-hearted woman. Everyone could have been happy.”
Whether to hide her tears or to press on with her apology,
Cassdia forced her voice to remain composed even as it caught in her throat, and continued speaking.
“Starting tomorrow, I will leave House Argent. That is the very least atonement I can offer.”
“Cassdia, that's—”
“…Mother.”
Edmund's voice, trying to stop her, was drowned out by another voice.
Everyone turned their heads at once to see a girl standing there, visibly suppressing a whirlwind of emotions.
“I am not fit to be your mother, Lyriette.”
“I know. I don't intend to forgive any of it—what you did to me, or the fact that you never stopped Father. Not a single thing.”
But—
With that preface, Lyriette drew in a deep breath.
“If you truly wish to atone, I don't think leaving this house is the answer. Shouldn't you instead say that you'll try, with everything you have, to be Father's wife again, and our mother again? Isn't that what you should say?”
“…….”
Her tone was undeniably sharp, but no one in that room failed to grasp the true meaning behind her words.
In other words, she was offering a chance.
The very person who, more than anyone else caught up in this tangled web of relationships, had been forced to spend the past ten years of her life in darkness, caught between warring giants like a shrimp crushed between whales.
“I don't know how long it will take. When the day will come that I truly, deeply come to think of Mother—no, of Lady Cassdia—as my mother in my heart. Even I don't know that.”
*When.*
Somehow, that single word struck deep into my heart.
I see.
So this child truly believes it.
However long it might take, even if it took an entire lifetime,
she was certain, without a doubt, that the day would come when she'd think of the woman before her as her mother.
“But even so, I want to start over. Because we're 'family.'”
“…Are you truly giving me a chance?”
“Whether it's a chance or not depends entirely on you, Mother.”
“Ah…”
The form of address that had shifted to "Lady Cassdia" returned once more to "Mother."
Cassdia wasn't foolish enough not to understand what that meant.
I don't remember much of what conversation passed after that.
Only that the sound of the Argent family's weeping filled the studio.
And when I finally turned my head at the very end,
I felt, somehow, as if I'd met Viola's eyes within the canvas.
Only then did color return to this once-empty studio.
Faint still, but unmistakably present.
If that isn't what one calls magic, then what else could be?