17

The bath Beth prepared today was for the neuralgia of Olivia’s mother, Miria.

“Beth’s baths are the best!”

Miria knew that guests had come to the royal family’s detached palace where her daughter worked as a maid.

It was a small village. Word quickly spread that they were staying at the best inn in the village, run by her childhood friend.

She had heard that the guests were only two people: an extremely beautiful count from the neighboring country, and his plain fiancée.

Because this village was a hot-spring cure village, nobles traveling incognito sometimes visited.

She had not paid it any particular attention.

Several years had passed since her daughter began working as a maid at that mansion.

Because Olivia could use cleaning magic, she was valued as a maid in noble households.

The work at the detached palace mansion paid well, but her daughter had been frightened, saying the master of the mansion was always in a bad mood and looked terribly frightening.

But because Miria’s neuralgia had worsened and she could no longer do much work as a cleaner, Olivia had endured it and worked at the detached palace to support the family. Miria’s younger child was still small.

Miria’s heart had ached, thinking she had to let Olivia quit that terrible workplace someday, but she was frustrated with her own body, which could not move as she wished because her neuralgia had worsened.

The guest girl at the detached palace seemed to be about the same age as Olivia, and Miria had begun hearing the name Beth often from her daughter when she returned from work.

It seemed that Olivia got along well with that girl named Beth, and Olivia was sometimes invited to the inn where Beth was staying, and, unbelievably, was allowed to take a bath there.

“What are you thinking, letting yourself take a bath at a noble-sama’s inn?”

In the eyes of society, that counted as disrespect.

A commoner who committed disrespect against a noble could not complain no matter what punishment they received.

Miria, who had once worked in the Royal Capital, scolded her sheltered daughter that way, but it seemed that this guest girl was a commoner, and because their stay had become long-term, she had been wanting friends, and her fiancé, the count, also welcomed Olivia’s visits.

According to Olivia, that girl named Beth was a very good-natured girl.

She was apparently a genius at preparing baths, and not only Olivia, but also Mason, the steward of the detached palace, and even a blind magician who was another guest at the detached palace, all came to the two’s inn to visit and receive baths.

Even when Miria asked what kind of bath it was, Olivia only said it was the best, that everything flowed away, and that Miria would not understand unless she tried it.

Olivia explained it poorly, in the way young girls often did, and Miria could not grasp the point, but in any case, it seemed to be the best bath.

Miria had paid it no mind.

Then one day.

“She said Mama should definitely come take a bath too, so we’re going today!”

As soon as Olivia came home, she made Miria, who had been lying down because her body ached from neuralgia, stand up, and with a big smile, she pushed firmly at her back.

Her daughter, who had always worked while fearing the mansion master’s mood, had recently begun smiling more, and had also become more talkative.

Beth’s baths are the best, her daughter had begun saying with a smile.

“Wait, Olivia! I have nothing to do with this, do I? This is too shameless, even for you!”

Dragged along by her daughter, who would not listen to her mother’s protests, Miria visited the inn room, where a plain girl welcomed her in.

“You’re Olivia’s mother, aren’t you? Hello. The bath is ready.”

The plain girl named Beth, who welcomed the reluctant Miria, said only that and handed her a large towel.

And then,

“Mama, today Beth made a bath just for you. Hurry up and try it.”

With the two young girls smiling brightly at her, Miria, bewildered, was herded into the luxurious bathroom.

(Oh… It really may be just as she said. This is very nice.)

Miria knew the baths at this inn well.

Before her neuralgia worsened, Miria had sometimes been hired as a cleaner during the busy season.

But even though this should have been the bath Miria knew, it felt entirely different in comfort.

On the walls of the bathroom, forest plants familiar to Miria had been arranged with truly excellent balance.

They should have been plants found anywhere, plants that were not unusual at all to Miria, but each and every one of them had been placed in just the right spot, in just the right amount, as if they were very precious and very comfortable there.

The plants, treated like treasures, appeared to be very well cared for, and they were full of life.

They were all plants that liked steam, and it made Miria feel as if they were welcoming her, who had come to take a bath.

(It feels as if I’m in the forest.)

And from the luxurious bathtub, an extremely pleasant green fragrance rose.

(I wonder what scent this is.)

The bathtub was filled to the brim with fresh Abeeb hot-spring water.

In this hot-spring cure village, it was not unusual for Miria to enter fresh hot water either.

But she was always the last in the family to bathe, so it had been a long time since she had entered brand-new hot water. And in the bathtub filled with clean new hot water, something wrapped in cloth was floating.

It seemed to be moss and irises Beth had gathered in the forest, wrapped in clean cloth.

From those completely ordinary things, a very good fragrance came, blending into the hot water.

Drawn by the green fragrance, Miria gently slipped her foot into the bathtub and timidly soaked her whole body in the water.

She entrusted her whole body to the large bathtub and let the strength leave her body.

The scent of green moss and earth combined with the scent of the iris’s green leaves, and it was truly pleasant.

She took a deep breath and slowly stretched out her legs.

The hot water, infused with the gentle components of moss and iris, was smooth, and its touch was very kind to Miria’s aged and utterly exhausted body.

The pleasant hot water and steam seemed to seep into her heart and body.

(When was the last time I truly cared for my own heart and body?)

She let out a deep sigh of relief. Then, the fatigue that had hardened deep inside her heart and body surfaced and began to flow out.

Her family always came first.

Every day was dizzyingly busy and exhausting, with housework, child-rearing, and work.

Her own body was always put last. Much less her heart.

Her husband, who was away working, only came home a few times a year.

The one who protected the house and the children was herself.

When her neuralgia began to hurt and her body stopped moving as she wanted, the first thing she felt was sorrow.

It was sorrow from disappointment in herself for becoming useless to the household.

If these hands, these legs, did not hurt, she could have done more laundry for her family.

If she had been able to work more, she could have sent her daughter to the city where her husband was.

She could have baked sweets for her younger child.

Of course, Miria’s house had a bath too.

It was a bath used every day to keep the family clean.

But Miria, chased by housework and work, no longer remembered ever slowly taking a bath for the sake of her own heart and body.

The fragrance rising from the hot water was truly wonderful.

(Olivia said this was a bath prepared for me.)

Miria finally realized that Olivia had been worried about her mother’s heart and body.

Her daughter, who had somehow grown so much, had been blessed with a kind heart and a kind friend.

And that kind friend named Beth, a guest from a neighboring country, had prepared a wonderful bath for Miria, a stranger and Olivia’s mother.

Soaking her body in the bathtub of Beth’s bath, prepared for her sake, Miria cried a little.

She felt as if her heart and body, which had ached for many years, were being quietly healed in the bath.

It was a bath that felt as if her pain was evaporating, as if something moist and good from the iris and moss was entering the places where it had evaporated, and as if it was carefully loosening the depths of her heart, which had grown sorrowful from pain.

(Maybe I may care for myself a little more.)

Her eldest son would come of age next year.

Olivia, too, had grown enough to work splendidly at the mansion where she had seemed to suffer, and to make a wonderful friend.

(I’ll do my best again starting tomorrow.)

With her overflowing tears as they were, Miria plunged into the bathtub with a splash.

Riding on the bubbles she saw beneath the hot water, she felt as if the sorrow deep in her heart had dissolved away.