I decided to stay in Iris's room at the manor for a while.
Was I swayed by her persuasion?
Or was I afraid of hurting her with words meant to distance myself at this point?
Though it's true that her words about it being okay to break down gave me sudden relief.
Maybe I just latched onto an excuse to ease my guilt.
Or perhaps I simply didn't want to return to a house that would revive memories of being with Mace.
And maybe, just maybe, if I barely avoided the approaching end, I could escape the worst outcome.
Iris immediately vacated the dormitory and applied for a leave of absence.
Perhaps thanks to her usual conduct, the approval came quickly.
She forbade servants from entering the room and devoted most of her time solely to nursing me.
My scrapes and muscle pain healed in less than a day.
The fever no longer burned as hot either.
"A-are you... okay...?"
"It's just simple withdrawal symptoms. You don't need to worry."
What I truly feared wasn't something like that, but metaphysical things like uncontrollable phantom limb pain and nightmares.
The trembling in my remaining arm and the pain in the nonexistent part wouldn't subside.
It was the same even when Iris secured my arm with a splint.
After much deliberation, Iris, who had briefly left, returned hugging a box full of something.
The items she laid out one by one on the bed were alcohol and cigarettes.
But they were of a different class from what I smoked and drank.
"Y-you're still not fully recovered, so... u-use them in moderation..."
Cigars—thick ones with gold bands, presumably what Douglas smoked.
The alcohol was all expensive brands hard to order even at taverns.
There was even a handmade wine sold in limited quantities by a renowned brewery.
"I've never even tried cigars. Just go to a general store and buy me any cigarettes."
Iris immediately picked up a cigar cutter with a luxurious leather handle and skillfully snipped off the end.
"Ow."
"H-huh?"
"I was joking."
"...?"
I felt inexplicable pain watching the thick cigar's tip get snipped clean off.
Iris brought a flame to the cut surface of the cigar and began toasting it, rotating it this way and that.
The cigar she handed me was hot enough to burn my lips.
"Surprising. You're quite skilled. Do you smoke too?"
"N-no... When Father asks... I-I occasionally bring them to him..."
The first drag of cigar smoke was incomparably heavier than cigarettes.
I'm no gourmet, but perhaps due to the cork and spice notes, I felt a strange sweetness too.
"Fuck, this is strong as hell."
"U-ugh... Is it... bad...?"
"It's smokeable."
Meaning it didn't suit a tongue accustomed to mediocre cigarette taste.
One of these could probably buy dozens of packs of the cigarettes I smoke.
Caterpillars eat pine needles, and Ain smokes cheap tobacco—that seems to be the natural order.
Still, perhaps thanks to the tar and nicotine I'd inhaled after so long, my head cleared a bit.
I repeatedly inhaled and exhaled smoke more like cumulus clouds than heat haze.
Iris had even placed a glass ashtray within reach, procured from somewhere.
"T-the alcohol... um... just a moment..."
Iris, who had been pondering with a wine bottle for a while, disappeared somewhere again.
Shortly after, she returned with lemons clearly brought from the kitchen and other things wrapped in paper, and began mixing something with wine in a flask.
"Vin chaud."
"Y-yes... you remember..."
I recognized it immediately from the sweet smell.
It's a beverage made by boiling wine mixed with fruit and sugar.
She made it often when I had a fever.
Though all the alcohol evaporates so you can't even taste it.
"I-it's hot, so... blow on it..."
"Am I a child...?"
Memories rose with the steam from the heated flask.
It didn't taste like alcohol at all, just sweet and sour.
But perhaps because lately the only things wetting my parched tongue had been water and thin soup, it was delicious.
Iris sat across from me, sipping the vin chaud poured into small teacups.
The smile she wore after hearing my reason the day before was hard to find.
She wore a gloomy expression throughout, perhaps because she'd taken a leave from the Academy she'd been attending without issue.
"...It's good. It's been a while."
"R-right...? B-Big Sis is drinking it for the first time since childhood too..."
"Did you steal the wine from Douglas's cellar again this time?"
"S-steal... Father said to take it out whenever I want to drink..."
What different treatment.
I got beaten until dust flew on a rainy day just for secretly taking a sip of rum that had been gathering dust.
Back then, before I'd properly learned about alcohol, it didn't taste like much anyway.
I was just curious because among the gorgeous stalactites and oak barrels decorating the cellar, it occupied a corner alone.
I thought it resembled me too.
"You make both potions and vin chaud well. Whether it's herbology, alchemy, or just cooking, you're skilled. I knew your major was magic."
"I-I learned it as a minor... I always liked herbs..."
"Come to think of it, you were an honor student. How annoying."
"W-why do you say it like that..."
I meant it as a joke, but it seems I only deepened her gloom.
Iris's drinking slowed, and she just fidgeted with her cup.
I set down the empty flask on the table and spoke.
"You didn't need to take a leave of absence."
"Wh-what...?"
"It's an overreaction. You promised to let me go back once I recovered."
Iris also set her cup down on the floor.
Does she really not want to look at my face today?
Her gaze remained on the floor.
"S-student council work was hard... I was planning to rest anyway..."
"You have no talent for lying. When you're so good at everything else."
"..."
Judging by her lips wavering, she seems to have something she wants to say.
Iris, who had been glancing at me, suddenly stood up from her chair as if resolved.
*Crash*
"Eh?"
"Oh my."
The teacup placed by her feet tipped over, and dark red liquid soaked the carpet.
I reached out to wipe what had gotten on Iris's slippers and skirt.
"I-it's okay..."
Iris crouched on the floor and placed both hands together on the carpet.
A fine snowstorm began to blow between her fingers.
The stain gradually shrank, then disappeared without a trace.
When Iris withdrew her hands, a small grape-colored ice appeared on the carpet.
Ice shaped like flower petals, carved with stems and leaves.
I'd forgotten because I always used Iris as a match substitute.
Ice magic was what she handled best.
"...Your skills have improved a lot."
"I-I practiced a lot..."
When she was young, she could only make a few crooked leaf pieces at best.
I remember receiving ones she made from spilled water or puddles after rain.
Even when we got into the bathtub together, whenever the water grew cold, Iris would surprise me by secretly creating ice and pressing it against my neck or back.
Yeah, I admit it. There are a hell of a lot of good memories.
I understand that the kindness she showed me wasn't simple charity either.
...As Mace said, she must have genuinely cared for me.
Iris handed me the ice flower she picked up from the floor.
The painfully cold ice began melting from the surface as soon as it touched my hand, warmed under the blankets.
Before I knew it, the water and ice in my palm had become as warm as body temperature.
"If you have something to say, say it now."
"N-no... I don't..."
"Don't hem and haw with that expression and claim you don't."
"U-ugh..."
"If you don't speak within three seconds, I'll never listen. 3, 2, 1."
"O-okay! I-I'll say it..."
Iris, who had finally decided to relieve my frustration, opened her mouth.
"W-was calling me Big Sis... t-that unpleasant...?"
"...That's why you've been dejected?"
"B-but Ain... you keep calling me 'you'..."
"Isn't it ridiculous to keep saying 'Big Sis, Big Sis' at our age?"
Actually, I changed the honorific planning to cut ties in advance.
The resentment disappeared long ago because of the unexpected sides she showed in the previous life.
I just don't want to carve her out of my life again, no matter how much I invest in the relationship.
Even if something inexplicable accumulates through repeated cycles, it won't restore the sense of loss I felt.
"T-the reason for the change... there are other things too... You still can't tell me...?"
"Isn't war enough? It changes everything."
War itself never changes.
However, it transforms everything under its influence into an irreversible form.
Well, actually I became like this because various misfortunes piled on top of that.
Iris still looked like my explanation didn't satisfy her.
Sometimes I can't tell if she's oblivious or perceptive.
I just decided to choose the second-best option.
"Big Sis."
"Y-yes... A-Ain..."
Called by an insignificant honorific, Iris's face brightened immediately.
It reminded me of when I first called Mace by name, making me uncomfortable.
"The vin chaud was good, Big Sis."
I said this while hiding the already melted ice in my palm.
No matter how much I take a trip down memory lane with Iris or taste delicacies, my mood won't improve.
But I thought there was no need to ruin the mood of the person with me too.
I helped the brightened Iris clear away the cups and flask.
Iris tried desperately to make me lie down again, but the illness had already vanished.
The cigar I'd been holding had long since gone out.
"I-I'll come again at night... After the servants leave... Let's take a walk in the garden together..."
"The room is comfortable. I won't need to go out."
"I-if you only stay in the room... it's no different from when Ain was at home..."
That's what I wanted.
I wanted to hole up in a corner of a room, waste some time, then disappear like dandelion fluff.
Seeing my blunt attitude, Iris touched my forehead again.
"Y-your fever has gone down a lot... Let's get some fresh air... okay...?"
I've thought this before, but she has a strange sense of distance.
She stutters whenever she speaks, yet her body touches me as it pleases.
This time too, I chose the easy path.
I just nodded without saying much, choosing the path that would erase the shadow cast over Iris's face.
Relieved, Iris left the room with a much brighter expression.
Left alone in the room, silence crept back in to settle once more.
Iris said she'd come at night, but outside the window it was already as dark as evening.
The sound of willow branches hitting the window echoed louder than usual in the quiet room.
...The sound was excessively loud.
As if someone was deliberately grabbing and shaking the branches.
As if wanting the person inside the room to know they were here.
A thick branch swayed once greatly, and a nightmare arrived a bit early.
Bleached white hair turned golden, catching the setting sun.
Then, like the contents of the spilled cup earlier, red eyes sparkled on the windowsill.
"Ah, I knew it. You were here, Ain."
It was Giselle.