My Bride (4)

“Kardia!”

He remembered a smile like a tiny dandelion—one that no longer ever turned toward him.

The everyday life that had felt so natural changed completely after a certain day.

She smiled less. She no longer made a ruckus in a big voice, no longer toddled after him, no longer met his eyes, no longer called his name—at least, far less often.

Kardia could not believe he had once taken all of that as “of course.”

She had been here at most a few months. For someone who had lived a hundred years, that span was no more than a blink.

And yet in only that much time, Noi had painted over the “of course” that Kardia had cultivated over a century.

“What are you doing?”

Kardia popped into view in front of Noi, who had been wandering about the house. Seeing her startle, he turned his body and hopped down from the roof.

His manor had been relocated from the ground. When he did, he had sliced out a piece of the original manor as if cutting a pound cake—deciding, This size will do—so one corner had rooms and roof chopped off mid-way.

That made a step, and the roof was easy to climb; now and then he went up there. But it was a spot you wouldn’t reach unless you walked every last inch of the house, so it seemed Noi hadn’t known it existed.

Seeing Noi wide-eyed and thudding with nerves, Kardia gave a soft laugh. It felt like ages since she had shown him an expression like this.

“I was looking for Ornis.”

But in the next instant, she reverted to the recent Noi.

A puppet-like face with her feelings pressed flat.

“Did you need something?”

Hiding his disappointment behind a smile, Kardia asked gently.

“I had something I wanted to ask him.”

“You want to know something? I can answer most things.”

Ornis had gone down to the surface on Kardia’s errand—to fetch books from the lord’s residence for Noi, who seemed like a different person, so lacking in spirit.

As Kardia brushed the dust from his clothes—dirty from the rooftop—Noi spoke up, plainly ill at ease.

“Ah—no, um… It won’t do if it’s you, Kardia. Sorry.”

The words stabbed deep into Kardia’s chest.

He was torn between wanting her to know how much it hurt and wanting her never to notice.

Kardia masked his agitation with his practiced smile.

“…Since we’re here, let me ask—do you like Ornis?”

“Hm? I do.”

Noi answered with an offhand look. He knew that face. It was the same face she had worn when she said to Kardia, “I love you!”

(…I see. I see.)

Relief hit so hard his knees nearly gave way. The wave of slackening was so great he wasn’t sure it even counted as relief.

He simply rode it out with his eyes closed, letting his trembling heart pass.

(…And yet—)

He hadn’t heard her “I love you!” in so long.

Just imagining he might never hear it again made his steps falter.

(—Then what about me?)

A question he once could have asked so easily. Noi would surely have answered with her usual smile, “I love you!”

But now, there was no way he could ask.

(To be… afraid—)

It was a feeling toward another person he hadn’t had in a very long time. For Kardia—who no longer feared mages, not even the king—it had been ages since fear had come to visit.

“…I’m getting jealous of Ornis.”

This was his limit. He thinned his true feelings down and down, shaved the words until they were barely fit to show.

His voice came out far weaker than he had imagined—though a sly corner of his mind thought, With Noi, that might work.

(You’d look apologetic, wouldn’t you? And say, All right then, together…)

But Noi betrayed his hope.

“Sorry. I really do need to talk to him alone.”

Paying no mind to the weakness in his voice, she started walking the house again in search of Ornis.

Stunned, Kardia could only watch as her long, white hair slipped beyond the cut edge of the wall and disappeared.

Noi went back inside to look for Ornis. When she opened the door, the ground rumbled—zzz. This time the things in the house rattled and shook; it wasn’t her imagination.

(…It shook again?)

If it wasn’t an earthquake, what was it? She thought to ask Ornis later—then shook her head. There was something more urgent.

(I have to ask Ornis how much he knows about Kardia…)

Ornis had known Kardia’s abdomen had hardened. That must have been the Demon King.

Thinking back now, the time Kardia’s mana had run wild and he’d taken to his bed was surely because of the Demon King’s mana as well.

And the people at Kukuvaya’s enclave, where he had gone for advice—perhaps they knew of the Demon King lurking within Kardia too.

(…So it really is just me. I don’t know anything.)

Noi gave a bitter smile and lowered her eyes—when her arm was yanked.

Startled, she turned—and there was Kardia, the one she’d just parted from. His breath was uneven; he must have chased after her in a hurry.

“What is it? Did you forget to say something?”

Assuming he’d followed because he had some business, Noi asked—but Kardia only scooped her up without a word.

It was the first time in days he had lifted her. Lately, whenever she sensed he might, Noi had slipped smoothly away. In time, Kardia had stopped forcing it out of consideration for her, and she had let her guard down.

(T—too close…!)

At this distance, it was far too close. As if everything she’d ignored were a lie, Noi panicked at being picked up.

(His face is close. His heartbeat is close… At this rate, I’ll die.)

Her love—discovered at the same moment as his lie—made a mess of her heart.

(…But this is all, all of it. He does it to make me the vessel.)

The swelling love and the embarrassment deflated at once. Kardia peered at her—his face pained at the sight of her crestfallen look.

“…Hey. What’s wrong?”

“?”

“Lately, you don’t seem like the you I know.”

The rasp of his voice carried a plea. Seeing the pathos on Kardia’s face, Noi was seized by guilt.

(You’re not the Kardia I know, either…)

Still holding Noi, Kardia sat right where he was. He slid a hand behind her neck and pressed her head to him. Her whole body was wrapped against his shoulder, the two of them pressed together, close.

Unused to the posture, Noi tensed and created a sliver of space between their bodies.

“…You haven’t had much energy, so going down to the surface would be hard—but how about a picnic? I can prepare something delicious. If there’s anything you want to do, I’ll make it happen.”

An invitation that once would have set her heart dancing now filled her chest with lead.

(You don’t have to try that hard to keep me pleased—I’m not going anywhere.)

“Hey, my bride.”

A title that had meant nothing.

They had entered into the engagement knowing full well neither truly meant to marry.

She should have understood, and yet—somewhere in her heart she had surely hoped.

(How mortifying. So, so mortifying.)

The most mortifying thing was herself—such a fool to fall this hard for a man who wouldn’t even say her name.

“…You don’t even think of me as a bride.”