Chapter 70

“Good grief. There’s really no need to be this depressed.”

“Don’t you think it’s about time you lifted your head? Here, look out the window—the sky is beautiful.”

Irene and Lucas offered words of consolation for what felt like the hundredth time.

Under a clear autumn sky, a peaceful farm road meandered between vineyards heavy with hanging clusters of grapes. They were in a carriage, having departed the Frenzel estate to return to the Royal Capital.

Thanks to the swift completion of the royal mission, they were heading back early, with about three days of the harvest festival holiday still remaining. Normally, the air inside the carriage would be filled with conversation brimming with a sense of accomplishment and liberation, but—

“…Even so… even if you say that…”

Ever since they had left the mansion, one person had remained sunk into her seat, shrouded in a dark, gloomy cloud. None other than Elma.

This attitude of hers had actually persisted since yesterday’s harvest festival.

“Oh, what a sublime figure! Such beauty—it’s simply beyond the realm of humanity!”

“And man, look at this haul! This isn’t just a normal amount of earnings!”

“You’re the one who turned those Magic Moths into beautiful butterflies? Wow, that’s a miracle for the ages, a feat worthy of the scriptures!”

Precisely.

Elma had spent several hours being relentlessly praised for her “abnormality” by Erich and the other locals, who were ecstatic over the festival atmosphere and her overwhelming beauty and achievements. For her, it was an experience she could only describe as traumatic.

“N-no, please, this much is… it’s not particularly… it’s ‘ordinary’—”

“Gaaahhh! Did you hear that, everyone!? Look at the humble heart of our Angel!”

“Oi, Erich. You really have to show the Angel your gratitude. How about we use all this money she gave us to build a bronze statue?”

To top it off, the locals—who were already drenched in wine—started suggesting such things in the heat of the moment.

“Oh, I like that! I’ll let you build it right in the middle of my vineyard!”

“Wait, wouldn’t that be inconvenient for the rest of us to go worship? We should build it in the center of town, like a church.”

“And naturally, people will gather there every day, and it’ll become the place everyone in the territory longs to be, right?”

“Right! And then it’ll become a catchphrase: ‘Let’s meet in front of the Elmael Statue today.’”

“Even letters asking someone out will say: ‘I’ll be waiting for you in front of the Elmael Statue.’”

“And when a kid misbehaves, we’ll say: ‘Lady Elmael is watching!’”

They laughed uproariously as they spun their delusions. Having been freed from the threat of the Magic Moths, the people of Frenzel were all cheerful, frank, and mischievous.

Among them, Elma alone stood with a twitching expression—.

“…I wonder what on earth I did to deserve being given a nickname and having a commemorative statue planned for me before I even knew it…”

Elma’s expression as she muttered her confession inside the carriage was utterly dark. To use an analogy, she felt like someone who had a poem they wrote late at night framed on a wall and recited to anyone and everyone.

Lucas and Irene couldn’t help but cast sympathetic looks her way.

“Well, in the end, His Highness managed to prevent the construction, so it all turned out fine.”

“Yeah. Deborah had already drafted the proposal, Kevin was deliberating, and Lord Jonas was about to pass it, so it was a real close call.”

The enemy had been within the inner circle.

“I am terribly sorry for causing such trouble in that regard as well…”

Elma lowered her gaze, looking even more dejected. Incidentally, due to various circumstances—specifically, being clung to by a departing Deborah who wailed, “Please, please let me sear your face into my memory so that I can recreate Your Ladyship’s noble countenance in my mind without a single error until we meet again!”—she was currently exposing her true face.

Her long lashes cast faint shadows on her pale cheeks, and her dawn-colored eyes, tinged with melancholy, possessed an indescribable depth that drew people in. The sighs escaping her lightly colored lips were distressing, and her slumped shoulders were so fragile that merely being near her felt like a blow to the chest.

If the current Elma were to whisper “Have mercy,” her sorrowful appearance was potent enough to make half the men on the continent come running with their wallets wide open.

Lucas and Irene exchanged whispers in low voices.

“—Hey, Irene. Can’t you do something? This version of her has been launching attacks on my psyche with the ferocity of a top-tier magical beast for a while now.”

“Just tell yourself that compared to her full-blown smile, the visual violence is only at about fifty percent.”

As fellow members of the Elma Victim’s Association, a sense of solidarity and even friendship now wafted between them. Irene, understanding from a quick exchange of glances that she was to take the lead, cleared her throat.

She shifted the angle of her legs and peered directly into the face of Elma, who sat beside her. Then, she spoke up deliberately.

“Listen, Elma. It might be selfish of me, but I’m actually glad that you failed to be ‘ordinary’ this time as well.”

“‘This time as well’…”

“Don’t get hung up on that. It’s a fact, so it can’t be helped. —But thanks to that, you’ll still be with us. When I think about that, I’m happy.”

Even as she ruthlessly cut off the moping Elma, Irene’s voice was gentle. She spoke with all her heart to convey that Elma was an important friend to her, and that her presence alone made at least one person happy.

“So what if you couldn’t get an official stamp of approval for being ‘ordinary’? So what if you’re a bit eccentric? You are always my pride and joy—my favorite friend. The thought of being able to spend the rest of the harvest festival and all the days to come with you makes me very happy.”

“…Irene…”

Elma gasped slightly and widened her eyes at the straightforward words.

“…………”

However, after a brief silence, she took on a sulky expression and muttered.

“…But I wanted to go back home during the harvest festival.”

“Elma…”

Faced with such a blunt rebuttal, Irene was at a loss for words.

A harvest festival where families gather to celebrate the fruits of their labor.

As they accepted the fact that it was only natural for a child who hadn’t even reached adulthood to want to go home, a sharp pang of hurt shot through their chests—the realization that, perhaps, they themselves weren’t reason enough to make Elma want to stay.

“…You really wanted to go back that badly, didn’t you?”

“I truly did.”

Elma nodded firmly in response, and the pain in Irene’s chest only intensified.

But then.

“I wanted to take Irene with me and introduce her to my family.”

“Eh…?”

At those unexpected words, Irene’s emerald eyes flew wide. As she stood there dazed, Elma pouted her lips slightly, as if to say Why the ‘Eh?’

“Was it not you who taught me, Irene? You said that on the day of the harvest festival, families gather to look back on the year, dance, open barrels of new wine, and—introduce their close friends to one another.”

“…!”

Irene was struck speechless; she had no idea Elma had remembered that. Unaware of her friend’s shock, Elma continued to mutter in a low, sulky voice.

“I also wanted to ‘buy small trinkets at the market to give as gifts’… but in the end, I couldn’t go shopping at the market, and… our flower crowns weren’t a matching set either.”

“…”

Irene finally understood.

Elma had believed Irene’s earlier lecture on “how a harvest festival should be” and had wanted to go to the market solely to carry it out with earnest sincerity. The reason she had looked so troubled despite the massive pile of flower crowns offered by the crowd was this:

She didn’t want just any flower crown.

She wanted a matching set with Irene—the first friend she had made in the outside world. Because to her, that was the “proof of friendship.”

“…Your Highness. Is it possible to change the carriage’s destination toward the east?”

Clutching an indescribable sensation akin to vertigo, Irene raised her hand with a dead-serious expression.

“We shall not return to the Capital. We will spend the remaining days of the harvest festival at my home. It is a homecoming. Yes, a homecoming with a dear friend in tow. I don’t care what my superiors, the workplace, or His Majesty the King says—I won’t let anyone get in our way!”

“Permission granted.”

Irene’s proposal, delivered with a spirit that could rend silk, was fortunately granted an immediate go-ahead.

“I am not so boorish as to force a return to the Capital after hearing that.”

“Eh…?”

The one left bewildered was Elma. Having been so absorbed in her own grumbling that she was completely left behind by the sudden turn of events, she stared at her friend in wonder. “Um, so that means…?”

Gripping both of Elma’s hands tightly, Irene declared:

“Elma. We’re doing it—the harvest festival. I may be the daughter of a mere Baron and unable to provide a room like the one at the Frenzel mansion, but I can certainly host a particularly close friend.”

“…”

“And we are going to do everything I told you before. I’ll introduce you to my family as my best friend, and then we’ll all look back on the year, dance, and open a barrel of new wine. There are markets in the Neumann territory too. We’ll buy trinkets there, exchange presents, and wear matching flower crowns. Is that clear? This is now a settled matter!”

As Irene finished her breathless declaration, Elma’s eyes grew round.

And then—

“…”

Slowly slipping her hands from Irene’s grasp, she softly pressed her own palms against her cheeks.

“…This is the first time… I’ve ever been invited to a friend’s house. I’m so happy.”

Her cheeks flushed a faint crimson, like a rose beginning to bloom. Her dawn-colored eyes grew slightly red and moist as if struck by the morning sun, and the white palms resting at the corners of her mouth could not entirely hide her lips, which were breaking into a smile of irrepressible joy.

It was her true expression, visible only because her makeup and glasses were gone. Her appearance was so lovely it could stop one’s breath, and so endearing it made one’s heart ache.

“…!”

Both Irene and Lucas let out a sharp gasp, clutched their chests simultaneously, and collapsed into a crouch on the spot.

“What a direct attack…! Just now, I saw a vision of myself accidentally reaching for a new door (an awakening to a new fetish or obsession)…!”

“Endure it, Irene. Beyond that door lies a demonic realm…! Dammit, I almost hugged this ‘lifeform from outside the bounds of common sense’ right here and then.”

Elma furrowed her brows in suspicion at the two of them slumped together on the carriage seats.

“…Exactly what kind of pose is that?”

“What kind of pose do you think it is!? Why don’t you put your hand on your own heart and think long and hard about it…!”

When Irene snapped back in a fit of redirected frustration, Elma tilted her head even further in confusion. “Is this also some kind of general gesture?” she asked, obediently placing her hand over her own heart.

The carriage, modest but comfortably furnished, followed the peaceful farm road leisurely toward the Capital while bathed in the autumn sunlight. Inside the cozy seats sat three people with their hands on—or rather, pressed against—their hearts.

Elma watched her companions, who remained hunched over despite nothing in particular happening, with a look of utter bewilderment. Eventually, she pulled her arm away and muttered to herself.

“…The ‘ordinary’ of the outside world is truly difficult, isn’t it?”

Contrary to the road stretching out before her, her path toward becoming “ordinary” seemed to remain as steep as ever.