Sediment

I returned to the manor and immediately collapsed onto the bed.

Crushed beneath a newly added nightmare, I sweated and ruminated on the sins I'd committed today.

The guilt served as a fine seasoning for a night spent alone.

I sent away Iris, who wore a worried expression, and fell asleep tearing at the bed sheets with my hand.

When I woke, I found myself lying beside Iris, who was sleeping soundly next to me.

Judging by the saturation of the shadows, it was still early dawn—the sun wouldn't rise for quite some time.

A camisole—something I hadn't seen in a while.

When I tried to move my hand beneath the blanket, I found Iris was holding it tightly.

When I give her my room, where does she usually sleep?

From between her slightly pursed lips came an even softer sound of breathing.

She makes the same expression when sleeping as she did when we were young.

With her yellow eyes closed, a childlike innocence showed on her face.

...Wasn't my sudden attempt to close the distance with Iris the worst choice I could have made in that moment?

She already looks like she wouldn't be strange if she were broken.

Even if it's only half, we share blood.

The affection Iris shows me has long since exceeded the bounds of normalcy.

I slowly withdrew my captured hand, careful not to wake her.

"Ain... Are you awake...?"

But Iris, sensitive to my movements, woke up.

Her half-open eyes, still heavy with sleep, gazed at me.

"Sleep more."

"Where are you going...?"

"I can't sleep, so I thought I'd take a walk."

"I'll come with you..."

She still tried not to let go of my hand resting on the bed.

I lay back down, looking at our hands now more deeply intertwined than when I'd tried to pull away.

I turned to face Iris and spoke.

"Unnie."

"Mm... Ain..."

Her voice answered, more drowsy than her eyes.

"I like you, you know. Quite a lot, actually."

"Y-yes... Hehe..."

When was the last time I saw Iris smile like that?

"I tried to resent you, tried to keep my distance. Both failed spectacularly."

"B-but I'm glad we ended up together anyway..."

"Yeah. But, Unnie."

I touched a strand of Iris's blue hair with our joined hands as I spoke.

"It's not love, this feeling.

No matter how much I think about it, it's definitely not love."

Iris's eyes slowly opened wider, and her parted lips began to close.

"It's true I was tempted by the promise in the garden.

If you want this crippled body, I can offer it to you as much as you want.

Not just this lover's imitation of holding hands, but kisses, embraces, even joining our flesh."

I caressed her face with our joined hands.

As if telling her to imagine what I was saying.

Iris's pale face flushed red enough to see even in the darkness.

"But everything that comes back as compensation for the love you give will be nothing more than expressions of my gratitude.

I might feel unavoidable pleasure while holding you, but love that didn't exist won't sprout."

To add persuasiveness, I spoke with my lips against her earlobe, which had turned even redder than her face.

"We're siblings, no less. You know full well how others would see us.

We'd have no choice but to keep it secret.

If we're caught, you and I would both be treated as crazy human trash who fuck each other as siblings."

Still holding Iris's hand, I slowly rubbed her stomach over her camisole.

"We couldn't parade through the streets openly like other lovers.

Our child would never see the light of this world."

I withdrew my hand and examined Iris's expression.

I'd hoped my words would wake her from her dream, but it seems I only deepened her delusion.

Her flush hadn't subsided in the slightest.

"Are you satisfied with that?"

"Y-yes..."

"Is that really what you want, Unnie?"

"I... I don't even like children... I-I think I'd be happy enough..."

"Even though I can't feel any emotion from touching you like this."

I pulled Iris's waist toward me, practically embracing her.

We pressed so close I could smell the scent in each other's breath.

"S-so close..."

"Wouldn't that just be lust, then?"

"I-it's fine... Whatever you say... I've already made up my mind..."

She whispered at a distance where our lips could touch.

Her eyes held a dreamlike quality, glistening with moisture.

"Y-you came to me... Not to someone else... That's enough..."

Iris's smile was carved with unmistakable fulfillment.

Yet I find myself increasingly repulsive.

"I-I'll cherish you..."

And then, if we suddenly face a Bad Ending and everything turns to bubbles in an instant—

I'll be adding weight to my sins once again.

I didn't voice this thought.

It's the temporary refuge I chose.

I shouldn't blame the person who decides to accompany me there.

"...I'll go out for a bit. Can I go alone?"

"I-if you're late, I'll worry..."

I threw on the clothes hanging on the chair and stepped into the hallway.

Perhaps because I lacked alcohol, the vivid sensations left the touch still lingering on my fingertips.

I wanted to run until I vomited, or beat someone to death.

It would be even better if I were included in that "someone."

I passed through the door and garden as quickly as possible.

So beautiful things wouldn't linger long in my sight.

Though I was still within the manor grounds.

Past the stone walls and paths, I reached the place where I'd spent most of my childhood.

A scarecrow on a circular sandpit built on the grass, with a tent pitched beside it.

The training ground I'd visited every time I swung a sword.

I hadn't expected it to still be here.

Going under the tent, I saw swords standing on racks.

Both wooden and real swords were in impossibly good condition.

Not only were they well-maintained, but their sharpened blades gleamed.

Among the maintained swords, I grasped the wooden sword most familiar to my hand.

I approached the straw scarecrow and began swinging mindlessly.

It wasn't even swordsmanship—more like club-swinging.

I could barely remember when I'd last held a proper sword.

Relying purely on strength, I pounded until the iron rod embedded beneath the scarecrow was nearly pulled out.

The flowing sweat cooling in the cold dawn breeze wasn't refreshing at all.

As my stiffened muscles loosened, I felt the wooden sword handle crumbling in my grip.

Before I knew it, I was striking the wooden sword against the bent iron rod.

The broken handle dug into my palm, drawing blood.

The vibration climbing from my fingertips made the blood flowing from my wrist tremble.

"Who's..."

I turned at an unfamiliar voice breaking the night's silence.

My ragged breathing had risen to my chin.

"Ain?"

It was Roxanne, holding a cigar in her hand.

Like yesterday, she wore her military uniform, standing on the hill leading to the training ground, looking my way.

"Um, are you training...?"

Well, she's the only one in the family who'd come here to train.

Even so, I never imagined she'd be handling the maintenance of the swords I'd once entrusted to her.

I noticed the golden gleaming sword hanging at Roxanne's waist.

"Perfect timing. Come here and get in position."

"Huh? Suddenly...?"

"Let's have a match. Like when we were kids."

Roxanne's eyes—the same as mine—widened in confusion.

The gaze that had been fixed on the destroyed scarecrow now turned elsewhere, and I knew exactly where.

Roxanne was looking at where my arm used to be.

I tossed the broken wooden sword aside and drew a real sword from the rack.

Swinging it a few times in the air, I spoke to Roxanne.

"Don't worry. I have absolutely no intention of asking you to go easy on me."

"Uh... Are you okay...? Your expression is a bit scary..."

"Your tongue's fucking long.

What, afraid you can't beat one defective bitch with a cripple's hand?

Don't tell me you forgot your swordsmanship just because you got a bit dumber."

It was a provocation I'd thrown out half-doubtfully, but it seemed quite effective.

No matter how low Roxanne's self-esteem was, in the end, she couldn't live without the sword.

After grinding her cigar into the ground once and pocketing it, Roxanne approached me.

"...You're going to use real swords?"

"Shut up and draw your sword.

Let's see how much you've improved playing soldier in the army."

"You don't have to say it like that... A duel should be done with full strength."

Seeing Roxanne's hardened expression as she drew her sword, my worries seemed utterly useless.

The gap in talent I'd felt since childhood was clearly palpable.

I had no intention of winning.

If I got beaten by Roxanne until I died, my head might clear up a bit.

I just thought it was more convenient to borrow someone else's hands than to self-harm.

I kicked aside the fallen scarecrow to make space.

I'd never learned swordsmanship for one hand.

I'd told Roxanne to get in position, but I just held my sword up.

"...Were you a two-hander?"

"Huh? Ah, ah... I switched..."

I suddenly felt something off seeing the size of the sword Roxanne had drawn and her stance.

Not only was she gripping the sword with both hands, but it was excessively large.

The swordsmanship popularized mainly for knights commonly uses one-handed swords.

The reason is simple. You need your free hand to cast magic.

Two-handed swords are for cripples like me who can't even use magic.

It doesn't matter.

This isn't a proper duel—I just want to get beaten up.

However, even as the tense air continued to flow within the circle, our swords never clashed with sparks flying.

Roxanne sheathed her sword again and stretched out her hand, beginning to mutter something.

Pronunciation I couldn't understand, a language broken into fragments. Runic Script.

Roxanne was chanting.

Seeing the surroundings darken, it was at least intermediate-level magic.

'Are you fucking kidding me?'

I kicked off the ground and rushed at Roxanne.

Reacting to my movement, I lightly kicked the pommel of the sword she was trying to draw again.

I dropped the sword I was holding and punched Roxanne's face as hard as I could.

Judging by the amount of blood spraying, she'd properly cast protection.

I approached the fallen Roxanne and stepped on her stomach as I spoke.

"I told you. I have no intention of asking you to go easy.

You know better than anyone that you'll lose if you waste time casting long-chant magic in a duel.

If you're not going to do it properly, I'll kill you right now."

Roxanne wiped the blood flowing from her nose with her hand and answered.

"Cough... That's not... it..."

"Not what?

I asked for a duel, not to watch a disabled person's performance.

I should have noticed when you started using that useless two-handed sword."

I grabbed the collar of Roxanne lying on the ground and lifted her up.

"I-it's really not... Believe me..."

"Then pick up your sword again. This time, don't hold back.

If you're serious, I'm no match for you at all..."

"I'm... also struggling because of that..."

The blood on Roxanne's face becomes transparent enough to see the skin beneath.

Her tear-filled eyes welled up again.

"I'm saying I didn't hold back..."

"......"

My throbbing head finally began to slowly settle.

I released the collar I'd been gripping.

The tensed muscles relaxed along with my strength, and I slumped down.

I ended up sitting face-to-face with Roxanne, who was still stroking her neck and holding back tears.

"...What is it, then?"

I was no longer angry, just empty.

It felt like I'd added another thick stroke to my self-loathing.

I sat there blankly until Roxanne's crying subsided.

"I... haven't been able to duel properly in a long time..."

"...You expect me to believe that?"

"It's true... I can't swing like before...

I don't even remember how I used to fight...

I don't know how to respond, when to use magic...

Even when I come to the training ground, I just maintain the swords and leave..."

I looked at Roxanne's sword rolling in the sand.

The sword, clearly different from what she'd used before, now looked like an impractical ornament.

"Then the two-handed sword. What's the reason?"

"......"

Roxanne, with her knees up and chin buried, mumbled.

"You used it too..."

"I use it because I can't cast magic, so I'm trying to add more strength."

"W-well, it's the stance I've seen the longest around me... so I tried copying it..."

"...You had teachers, masters, and other sparring partners."

"I told you... I distanced myself after enlisting..."

How utterly miserable.

To think she's so broken she can't even be used as a tool for self-harm.

I swept back my hair, stiff from sweat that had already cooled.

I searched my pockets, but having rushed out, I hadn't even properly brought cigars.

"...Got a cigarette?"

"Y-yeah... Want one?"

I nodded, and Roxanne took a cigar from her case and put it in my mouth.

I lit Roxanne's cigar first with the matches I'd received.

Seeing how awkwardly she held the smoke, it seemed she'd only recently learned to smoke.

...The dried tear stains beneath were distinct.

I felt like I'd vented my anger on a child who couldn't even properly resist.

Looking at Roxanne again, the military uniform didn't suit her at all.

"Sorry for hitting you. I'm leaving."

"N-no... I'm sorry I couldn't be a sparring partner..."

"Don't apologize. Get your face treated."

I brushed the sand off my pants and left the training ground, leaving Roxanne behind.

Watching the sun now beginning to rise, I headed toward Iris, who would be waiting with sleepless eyes in my room.