Spun Of Thread Or Love (2)

Rinary shook her head vigorously from side to side—but Aidoni did not back down.

“I will help!”

Aidoni’s steady, clear voice rang through the tailor’s.

“I’ve never woven mana into the thread itself, but I’m very good at handling mana. I promise I’ll be useful.”

“B-but two people can’t spin the same thread…”

Only one person could interfere with a given spell—that was how the world worked.

Just as two people could not both hold the same embroidery needle or the same knife, magic born of one person could be handled by that person alone.

“I can spin the thread while you do the weaving, or we can split it—one spins the warp and the other the weft.”

But if what they needed was fabric rather than loose thread, Aidoni argued there were plenty of ways to divide the work.

“Treat me like a magical tool for spinning thread and use me as such. Let me work here and live in. If there’s no place to sleep, you may let me lie on the floor.”

“Wh-why go that far… It doesn’t have to be our shop…”

Rinary faltered.

“Of course, it’s also because every other shop has refused us and we’re in trouble. But more than that—I absolutely want to see Noi-sama wearing a dress made from this cloth.”

When Aidoni pressed her case, color returned to Rinary’s cheeks.

“And besides, your sense of color—I adore it. I want to see a dress you’ve made from the ground up.”

Rinary drew a breath at Aidoni’s strong words, lifted her downcast gaze, and gave a small, firm nod.

“…All right. I’ll try.”

“Hooray! You don’t mind, do you, Kardia-sama!?”

Hands thrown up in delight at Rinary’s resolve, Aidoni turned to the purse-bearer. She must have expected Kardia to agree with a beaming smile—but his expression had gone pained.

“Hmmm…”

Cold sweat slid down the faces of Aidoni, Rinary, and even Noi.

“The fabric is wonderful, and having a dress made would help enormously. But Aidoni—you were entrusted to me by the Weavers’ Enclave. I couldn’t forgive myself if I made a sweet girl like you labor and then put you up in a strange place.”

Aidoni and Rinary, brimming with momentum a heartbeat ago, wilted in an instant.

“For our shop, too, a big commission would be a godsend. And for all I look now, I once worked at the palace. I’ll take responsibility for receiving the girl.”

A mage who had served at the palace—meaning a royal court mage. The same background Noi had a hundred years earlier.

(So she chose to spend her later years for her granddaughter’s smile.)

A palace mage would have been in high demand even in retirement. Yet she had chosen this small, loving shop.

“I do understand that you are worthy of trust.”

Even so, Kardia offered the faintest smile—and declined Ibomia’s kindness.

Silence settled over the tailor’s, broken only by a single sigh.

“…Then I’ll move in too.”

The one who raised a hand was Ornis.

“Just lend me a patch of floor. I can sleep anywhere.”

Aidoni, whose great eyes had looked on the verge of spilling tears, lifted her face.

“I can’t let her stand at Kardia-sama’s side wearing a shabby dress. I’ll serve as guard and stay by Aidoni.”

At Ornis’s words, Noi shot her small hand up straight.

“Th-then I will—!”

“What could you possibly do when you can’t even roast a potato properly? If you come, sensei will feel obliged to come too. Bringing a crowd would only trouble Ibomia-san.”

Cut off without mercy, Noi reeled in shock.

Kardia soothed the sniffling Noi with a chuckle, then looked to Ornis. It was a mentor’s gaze—the look of someone trusting a disciple.

“I can leave it to you?”

“With my life.”

Ornis laced his fingers and bowed his head.

“…I hate to impose, but please look after the children.”

Kardia bowed deeply to Ibomia, who accepted with a broad, toothy grin.

That night, Noi spent time alone with Kardia.

Nobles kept a country house in their domain and a townhouse in the capital, going back and forth with the social season.

But Kardia had never planned to come to the capital at all—so a convenient townhouse was out of the question. The two of them stayed in a room at an inn.

The guest room lacked for space but was clean. For Kardia, as long as the bedding was comfortable, that was enough. It wasn’t a lavish place for wealthy nobles or merchants, but the sort of inn travelers could take without fuss. There was a stable for the horses and a room for the coachman.

And the view from the window was splendid. Open it, and you could take in the capital’s beautiful nightscape at a glance. As Noi was looking out, Kardia spoke to her.

“What were you talking about on the way out?”

Just before they left, the seamstress Rinary had stopped Noi.

“She asked what motifs I liked—for reference for the dress.”

“Oh? And what did you say?”

Ready for bed, Kardia reclined on the mattress and beckoned. Noi shut the window and pattered over.

She put a knee on the bed and opened her mouth to answer—then closed it.

(…Why? I feel all squirmy somehow.)

Noi had told Rinary: stars.

She couldn’t forget the beauty of the stars she had seen above the lake at night when she went out with Kardia.

But telling him she had chosen her favorite motif from that memory felt—embarrassing, somehow.

“Um… what was it again? I forgot.”

With her face tilted up at an angle and sweat trickling down, Noi spoke. Kardia raised one eyebrow, but no matter how woodenly she lied, he was no boor who would press her.

“I see. Tell me when you remember.”

Kardia took a few strands of her white hair between his fingers and brought them to his lips. Lately, even something that small made Noi’s chest tighten.

“I’ll put out the light.”

Kardia quenched the lamps with magic.

It no longer felt strange to lie in the same bed. Kardia pressed a goodnight’s kiss to her brow, then spread his long black hair over the sheets and lay on his back to sleep.

Noi lay properly on her side and placed a hand over the spot that had ached earlier.

“When I say I hate him, it hurts here.”

She remembered Aidoni’s words, trembling with tears, and fear pricked her.

(When Aidoni says she hates him, it hurts here…)

Noi grabbed at her clothes with her small hand.

(…Do I hate Kardia?)

Every time that tightness seized her chest, she was thinking of Kardia.

She couldn’t believe Aidoni was lying. The girl had been shaking, yet she had bared her wound to Noi.

When Ornis volunteered to remain at Tailor Nima, Aidoni had bitten her lip, as if determined to show none of her feelings—neither joy, nor sorrow, nor relief.

Whenever it was about Ornis, Aidoni lost her composure. That was why Noi could not think she was lying.

(…But me? Me hating Kardia? That can’t be.)

Afraid, Noi spoke up to Kardia even though he might already be asleep.

“Kardia.”

“…Mm.”

As expected, Kardia’s voice came half-asleep—half his body already surrendered to dreams. Noi closed her eyes and let her heart speak as it wished.

“I love you.”

“Eh?”

Saying it out loud was easy. It settled cleanly into place.

Relief washed over Noi, and drowsiness crashed in.

“…What did you just say?”

Kardia pushed himself up.

“Faaah… good night, Kardia.”

“Wait, hey—bride?”

Noi let the sleep take her. It had been a day of running here and there, one thing after another—of course she was exhausted. Her eyelids pressed shut and wouldn’t open again.

“Hey, you—bride?”

Drifting on the edge of dreams, Noi thought how rare it was for Kardia to try to stay awake once he’d gotten into bed. It really was unusual.