My Bride (5)

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

Bitter with frustration, she let a grumble slip.

Yet Kardia, perhaps glad to have drawn any reaction from Noi, smiled and said, “My apologies.” He cradled her cheeks in both hands and made her meet his eyes.

“I didn’t notice I was making you lonely. Forgive this useless husband.”

Husband, fiancée—he always spoke in vague terms. He kissed the crown of her head. His lips then descended to her brow—and then to her temple.

(Eh?)

A kiss on the brow she was used to; it had been a nightly routine.

But when his lips moved from her temple to the corner of her eye, then to her eyelid, Noi panicked.

“H-hey! What do you think you’re doing!”

“What? Treating you like my bride.”

“You’re the one who said I’m still fifteen!”

“I’m a hundred and eight.”

With Noi squirming on his lap, Kardia tilted his head as if to ask, And what of it? He wrapped both arms around her neck so she couldn’t get away.

(—~~! This man!)

Because he had no intention of taking responsibility. Since he meant to kill his bride eventually anyway, a few kisses to keep her in a good mood were nothing to him.

(I don’t even make him feel the slightest disgust!)

Because she was too much a child to have any allure.

It enraged her that he seemed to think a bit of food would cheer her whenever her mood was bad—and that he thought she had complained only because she was sulking.

“If you want to get on my good side, try calling me by my name.”

Before she knew it, she had said it in a sulky tone.

—She had noticed early on that Kardia was consciously avoiding saying her name.

But the name she had given was “Noi.” Calling his bride—even a make-believe one—by the same name as his master must have embarrassed him; she had let it go. She’d had that much composure before.

After realizing she liked him, though, it became painful to be reminded again and again that, to him, she could only exist in the role of a “temporary bride.”

(I hadn’t meant to say it.)

Caring about something like this—there was no end to how uncool it was. As expected, Kardia only gaped at Noi’s childish demand. That stoked her embarrassment all the more.

She yanked free of his arms, jumped to her feet, and fled at full speed.

(Idiot. I said something idiotic.)

Now Noi crouched wedged between Kardia’s bed and the wall, hugging her knees.

(So embarrassing. I want to disappear.)

Ever since she had noticed she liked Kardia, she had been thinking things like that. She had lost her mana, and now even her heart had grown weak—she had no idea what to do.

(If only I could erase these feelings—)

She pressed a hand hard to her unmanageable chest—and a shadow fell over her.

“Noi.”

Her body lifted lightly.

It was the first time she had ever heard Kardia speak her name.

“I’m sorry. You’re so unbearably cute… it always made me want to brag that you’re my bride.”

It was a perfect apology—so perfect she could tell the truth was hidden beneath it.

But she also knew she had to accept it here.

He was apologizing for her blunder as if it were his own. If she didn’t cling to this chance, she might never be able to apologize to Kardia herself.

Pouting forever would be childish, and she wasn’t truly his bride; she had no right to that kind of indulgence.

Noi’s mouth drooped; then she clung tight around Kardia’s neck. It was the best she could do.

He let out a sigh of relief she could feel even through their bodies.

Noi blinked.

(Really?)

The big hand stroking her back was far more careful than usual.

Perhaps even this was a lie. And yet—

(Did you… maybe get a little flustered thinking you might have angered me? You, Kardia?)

The gentleness of his arms made Noi feel the answer was yes.

‘…Master. I’m scared.’

‘That’s not all, my bride.’

‘But you know… being with you, little by little I’ve come to understand what that person felt back then.’

‘…If I say I was afraid—will you believe me?’

‘I could never hate you—not even if the sun fell.’

‘…And I thought maybe you liked girls.’

(…Surely not everything was a lie.)

She recalled the Kardia she had known.

Even if there had been one lie, not everything about him could be false.

(…Then—fine.)

For some reason, the thought settled perfectly into place.

Noi tightened her hold around Kardia—and in that instant, a smile slipped out, so natural it surprised even her.

“—Do you,”

“Mm?”

For the first time in a while, a soft voice came from Noi.

“—have someone you remember when you look up at the stars, when you smell autumn on the air, when you find something delicious, when you stub your pinky toe?”

“…Some kind of riddle?”

Kardia’s voice bounced with joy at her tone.

To lock her feelings tight inside her, Noi closed her eyes.

(So I… wish that someone like that will appear at least once in your life.)

For Noi, that someone was Kardia.

She let go, faced him head-on. Kardia wore an anxious, childlike look, as if afraid she would pull away again.

Seeing it, Noi chuckled.

(To the world—and to you—)

(she would give up this body.)

The gentle light of an Indian summer poured through the window.

That day, Noi accepted her second death.