Before Reading:

If you didn’t come back last Sunday

for the 2nd part of chapter 24, go back and read it now! I only

wanted to post the full chapter on NU, but it uploaded it automatically… oups!

If this is the real end – 8

            In

a story, there is always a theme. If we compare this strange life to a story, I

wonder what would the theme be? And what kind of lesson was included in it?

“Al, do you know this book?”

            When

I showed him a book I quietly pulled out from under my pillow, Al dexterously

rose one of his eyebrow and tilted his head. Maybe he thought it was a little

unsatisfactory for a daughter of a n.o.ble family to read this neither thick nor

thin book. However, its readability was probably one of the reason it became

popular even among the members of the high society, regardless of their rank.

As there weren’t many characters, the human relations.h.i.+ps weren’t complicated.

Only the love story between the princess of the neighboring country and a

knight was developed.

“Of course, I know it but…”

            What about it? Al glanced at the book I

was holding while making an overly serious expression that showed his doubts.

Because that book became a hot topic of conversation among n.o.bles for a while,

as the subordinate of an aristocrat, it wasn’t strange for him to know it. We

hadn’t talked about it, but he probably had at least heard the t.i.tle.

“Is something wrong with this book?”

            Al

who was standing too far away to reach the book took one step forward and

looked at the novel I presented. He seemed to hesitate about whether or not it

was alright for him to receive it. His right hand hanged out in the air a short

while before it returned to its original position without taking the book. 

“I wonder if you have ever read this

book, Al?”

            When

I asked him, as expected he shook his head to answer negatively. After I

briefly told him the outline, he replied “Oh, it is that kind of story…” while

nodding his head with an uninterested expression. Marianne had also been like

this but it still became popular in the high society and people who showed the

same reaction as Al were few.

“And so, what is so special about

this book?”

            The

princess of the neighboring country and a mere knight, those two main

characters who would normally never have been wedded to each other, transformed

the story into a magnificent romance, it was a romantic tale whose contents

were all over the place. Although those two characters were confronted with a

harsh destiny, in this country there were many n.o.bles who had never been wedded

together due to the difference in social rank. If you picked them up one by

one, you would surely find an even more dramatic story. That’s why Al couldn’t

find any interest in the content of this novel. Rather, he seemed to be

suspicious of the book itself, doubting if there wasn’t any trick to it. His

blue eyes were zealously staring at the front and back covers. However, there

was nothing special about that book. Nothing was different from the one you

could usually purchase in general bookstores, it was a good that could be

obtained the next day after requesting it from our usual supplier. Suffice to

say, as a romance novel its cover was very plain.

“… This book you see, belongs to

father.”

            I

tried to prevent my voice from trembling. But I didn’t think I did a good job

at it. The words tinged with an unsettledness surpa.s.sing what I had imagined

left a reverberation in the room that had fallen silent. Even though I intended

to pretend to be calm, suddenly, my fingers lost their strength. The book felt

on the carpet with a thud, its pages were turned even while there was no wind.

As I was about to reflexively move to pick it up, with his gaze Al held me back

and did it himself with natural movements. I remained lying on the bed, simply staring

at the book that fit in his palm. It was at that moment I noticed my own hands

were shaking. I released the breath I had unintentionally hold up. My heart

which should have calm down was slightly pounding. Was it really alright to

continue like this and narrate the truth? Suddenly, I realized I was afraid and

shut my mouth.

“It belongs to master?”

            Al’s

voice was tinged with doubts, probably because he knew that person wouldn’t

give me something like this. In those repeating lives of mine, in this lifetime

that wasn’t that long, the things father gave me were few. If I thought about

it, the necklace I received the year of my social debut was the only item I

could declare having received from father. As for other things… … such as the

books needed for my education as a lady, the dress I wore when invited to

another house, or the ornament handed over through mother, in the first place,

I didn’t think father had been involved with them. Mother had delivered them

personally, saying “Your father gifted them to you,” but the truth was probably

different. She probably pitied me who never received anything and said this. And

so, mother wouldn’t know what this romance novel was and father wouldn’t give

it to me. Al also knew this. As my escort, he had noticed the unnaturalness of

my swallow relation with father.

            When

I said in a low voice to the frowning Al, “I stole it,” he opened his eyes wide

in an interesting reaction. Since his expression was so different from his

usual face, I burst in laugher unintentionally, a disgraceful chuckle rising

from the depth of my throat.

“… Lady…”

            Seeing

me react like this, I guess he thought I was teasing him. A hint of protest

mixed in his voice, he peered into my eyes.

“… It is the truth you know.”

            I really stole it, I repeated it again,

lifting myself properly from the bed this time. Compared to earlier, I felt

that most of my weariness had faded. Now that it was no longer the time to

laugh and dodge the issue, Al silently swallowed his breath. Stealing one’s own

father’s possessions was not something that should be done, the other families

aside, in our house, it wasn’t permitted. To say nothing of the fact the

offender wasn’t Silvia but me. If father were to learn of it, he would condemn

me without allowing me any room to explain myself. No, maybe the word “condemn”

was a bit too much. However, I would be abused with cold-heart words like “I

don’t remember raising such a daughter,” and I would likely be locked up in my

room. He would give me an inconspicuous punishment so that it wouldn’t become

known by outsiders. But if Silvia had been the offender, there was no doubt he

would have laughed and forgive her, saying something like, “this helpless

child, what will I do with you?” And it would stop at him gently rebuking her,

“keep your pranks to a moderate level.” Did he trust that child this much, or

did he just simply suspect I was a harmful existence for this house? Although I

imagined various possibilities such as this one, in the end, I knew nothing.

“Lady, can I hear your reasons for

doing this?”      

            Not

daring to approach the topic of me stealing things, Al looked at the book. He

was pondering strongly with his head tilted on the side, probably because no

matter where he looked there was no trace of the mechanism he had expected to

find. Did he think of the possibility of hollowing out the contents to hide

something precious inside? But very few people would use such a cla.s.sic method.

“There is no trick to it you know,” when I repeated this once again with a

smile, Al moved his line of sight to observe me instead. He seemed to be

wanting an answer to his question.

“… reason, a reason you ask…”

            However,

I didn’t have an answer when asked “why?” It could be said I had found this

book by mere coincidence, or that I was lead to discover it by something. I

felt that I had been driven by some circ.u.mstances and guided by a great force,

and as a result, “I couldn’t help but find it.” Probably no one knew the

answer. If someone did know, then it would only be the being called G.o.d.

“I am sorry Al. I cannot tell you.

So, I would be happy if you do not ask me.”

            As

I shook my head in refusal, he narrowed his eyes that were like the color of a

deep sea. This gesture was like trying to ascertain something far away.

“… No, it is also me who was too

intrusive.”

            I

smiled wryly seeing my escort with his head lowered in a slightly depressed

state. Perhaps he was truly perceiving that he “had been too intrusive.” The

one in the wrong wasn’t Al, but I couldn’t tell him everything here and now.

For that reason, I laughed and glossed over the issue, “It is fine, I am also

sorry.” As usual, Al answered, “There is no need for my lady to apologize” with

his gaze still lowered. He himself was surely quite sick of repeating this

sentence, yet each time I would apologize, he kept saying those same words. He

hasn’t changed since long ago. From long, long before, without any change, he

tries to be my escort knight.

            The

first time I found this book was in one of my past lives; it truly happened by

chance then. I, who had already been married to Soleil, was visiting my parents’

house to ask father advices about territory management. However, in spite of

having made an appointment in advance, father was absent. When I asked the

steward, he unapologetically explained that in order to help the feeble Silvia

to recuperate, he, mother and Silvia and headed for a villa in the suburbs.

After being asked if father didn’t know I was coming today, the steward laughed

with an embarra.s.sed expression that was saying he thought father knew. He lowered

his head and added in a forced way that they had seemed to be in a hurry. In

other words, I thing he wanted to explain there had been no time to contact me.

I had to desperately gulp down the lump of heat that had welled up in the depth

of my throat at that moment. Then, I conducted myself as if I was a

broad-minded and very tolerant person and said, “If it is for Silvia’s sake

then it cannot be help.” I persuaded myself I was no longer the young daughter

of a n.o.ble. I warned myself that this was part of politics, part of my work. If

it wasn’t an interaction between family members, then I won’t be hurt that

much. I should think that a work agreement had been revoked. Therefore, it wasn’t

that difficult to fabricate a smile. The steward who thought I would surely fly

into a rage smiled and commented, “My lady has also become a magnanimous

person.” I didn’t know if it was sarcasm or his true opinion, but I had enough

composure to at least thank him. That was how much experience I had acquired. I

wasn’t the me from the time I knew nothing. I understood well what must be done

in order to protect myself. I a.s.serted myself forcibly and thought that despite

the fact I could have predicted father’s conduct, I had been negligent in

confirming it.

            After

the steward left, I remained alone in the corridor, deep in thoughts as I

heaved a sigh. Why did things always turn this way? In this corridor devoid of

windows, there was nothing else but some flower vases, some wall-decorations

and a gloomy silence. Even if you concentrated you sight on it, my shadow was

almost invisible. The scenery wouldn’t change even if it wasn’t here. I gazed

at the ceiling, thinking my life might be like this too. Hoping that a black

bird might be lurking there, my line of sight glided over the luxurious

candelabrums lined up at regular intervals. 

            And

then, nearly unconsciously, I clutched the door k.n.o.b of father’s study.

            It

was an unexpected action for my usual self, but for some unknown reason I felt

I had to do this. In fact, the door which should have been locked opened very

easily. Until that moment I had thought that thick door should have been heavy,

yet I remembered it felt light as a feather. I understood that if me

trespa.s.sing in the study without father’s permission was discovered, the

problem wouldn’t be settled with a simple apology. But as if another ego had

sprout by itself, my feet developed a will on their own and moved arbitrarily. Rather

than feeling I was creeping in, it felt like I “simply entered inside” and I

didn’t feel any guilt. That shrewd father of mine, there was no way he would

forget to lock his study. Therefore, regarding the fact it wasn’t locked, it

would make sense for it to only be an accidental incident. Perhaps I felt that the

one to blame wasn’t me but the servants.

            It

was at that time I got hold of this novel.

            On

the top right corner of a bookshelf taller than a person. The book was put away

in such a place as if to forget its very existence unless you intended to fetch

it voluntary. In other words, it was in a place where it wouldn’t be seen

unless you prepared something like a stepladder. I didn’t even know myself why

I had noticed such a place. But, as if I felt something was there, I pulled the

chair for the guests which was placed in a corner and climb on it. Since he had

went to the villa father wouldn’t appear suddenly. I had already lost the

feeling of tension. 

            …

… Why did father have a romance novel?

            That

was the first impression I had of it. He wasn’t a person interested in others’

love stories, much less in a work of fiction, it would probably never even

catch his attention. That was the kind of person my father was. Even I myself,

as my maximal priority was to fight against my hapless fate, while I knew that

book was popular in the high society, I never thought of reading it. Because I

had heard it was a usual story of love between people of different social caste

you could find everywhere. That’s why, I felt a sense of discomfort with the

fact such a book was in father’s study, and while pondering about it whit a

tilted head, I turned the pages. Not even knowing that an important secret was

hidden there.

“Al, can you open the book at its

last page?”

            Not

telling anything, I suddenly asked the confused Al who was touching the spine

of the book with his long fingers to turn the pages. He was making a perplexed

expression but still followed my order without showing any reluctance in

particular. Since it was just a matter of opening the book it didn’t take any

time at all. Then, after a moment of silence…

“… … Silvisama…?” He squeezed out

the name of my little sister.       

            When

I found this book in father’s study, I confirmed its content without delay and

heaved a sigh when I saw it was undoubtedly the same as the story I knew. I

didn’t know if it was a sigh of relief or discouragement. Anyway, the weight on

my shoulders was removed as there was nothing recorded about the happenings

controlling my life. Then, at that time, I found that thing.

“Is it a sketch? No, it’s a

portrait… isn’t it?”

            I

quietly nodded at Al’s question. That’s right. That was what was drawn on the

white sheet, on the very last page of this novel. A picture drawn with a messy pen

that looked like a scribble. Yet, this image was also accompanied by a pathetic

feeling of it being an ephemeral and fleeting dream. Like Al, I had also

thought it was a painting of Silvia. Feeling a bit afraid at how jealous I was

of that adored child, I had closed that book. Even if our mothers were

different, the fact that both Silvia and I were father’s daughters wouldn’t

change. … … It was how things should have been. And yet, these really small

details showed off the difference in the affection we received, making my heart

creak. My fingers which were tracing the book’s back cover were slightly

trembling, and from the bottom of my heart I felt pity for the parents of my

first life that had abandoned me. Pretending to be calm again after having

taken a few deep breaths, when I tried to put back the book to its original

place … what was the sudden feeling of discomfort I sensed? I didn’t know what,

but I felt that “something” was wrong.

“That, you see Al… it is not

Silvia.”

            If

you opened the book once again and looked closely from cover to cover, you will

derive the answer in due course. The date, era and father’s name were engraved

there. All the paintings father drawn had his signature and the date, it seemed

to be a habit of him and it proved it all. It proved that what was written down

here, had been made long, long before Silvia was born.

“It isn’t Silvisama…? No, but… her

face… looks a lot like hers.”

            The

woman on that piece of paper had almost the same face as Silvia. Because she

wasn’t drawn in color, it couldn’t be proved it was a different person. Humans

with delicate silver hairs like those of Silvia were very rare in this country.

If that woman in the drawing had blond hairs, just by seeing her people would

have understood she was a different person. But that woman who was drawn with

only dark ink was simply smiling cheerfully like she was gazing at something

outside a window.

“This is, Silvia’s real… mother.”

            A

date anterior to Silvia’s birth. A face that was similar to hers. The fact that

father drew it. From all these, it wasn’t that hard to deduce the answer.

“… Silvisama’s mother?”

            The

question was why was it drawn “in this book”? The “me” of that life who

discovered this book took it out of father’s study and brought it back to the

estate I was living with Soleil. Then, I hided it in the dresser in my room. It

was after this that I began to act in order to sweep away the doubts that had

arisen in my heart.

            I

had to meet the author, to meet them, and talk with them.

            It

wasn’t like I was threatened by someone, yet I still had the sensation I was

practically being coerced. For me who already had become “the next marquis’

wife” and possessed several connections, I had a few means of tracking down the

author who was living somewhere in this country, so I didn’t think setting a

meeting would be difficult. Then some time pa.s.sed, and it happened like

expected. It fell on the palm of my hands, like a raindrop falling from a

cloudy sky. The end which was exactly like I had imagined was lying in wait.

“She is a beautiful person, isn’t

she? She looked almost the same as Silvia…”

“This person…”

            Al

heave a sigh of admiration and astonishment, his gaze fixed on the portrait of

the woman. His blue eyes clearly displayed his curiosity. I couldn’t see any

other emotion apart from this one. It made me feel relieved. If Soleil had been

the one looking at that picture, surely, he would have searched for Silvia’s

features in that woman drawn in ink. Then, these thin iced eyes of him would

slightly loosened and he would smile broadly while his fingers would gently

trace the lines of the portrait. Tenderly, as if they were touching Silvia.

Because I could imagine this scene quite clearly, something was wrong with me

too. Or else, had I seen this scene somewhere in one of my lost lives?

“But still, it’s mysterious, isn’t

it?”

            Al

removed his line of sight from Silvia’s mother and looked at me with a bitter

smile. Then he tilted his head and said,

“It’s natural that Silvisama’s

mother had existed… no, of course it’s natural, but…”

            It’s somewhat hard to believe, said Al

without any ill will nor deeper meaning. He was simply stating a fact. There

were some who were convinced that Silvia, with her weak const.i.tution and whose

existence itself was fleeting and ephemeral, wasn’t a real person. They

wouldn’t be surprised if they were told she was born from a flower seed. It

certainly felt strange and mysterious that a woman who gave birth to such a

Silvia existed. The first time the “past me” was confronted with this fact, I

had also thought the same thing as Al. For that reason, I secretly tried to

imagine the person that no one knew about. The hair color of the person who was

Silvia’s mother. Her eyes, her voice. I wonder if she spoke with that tone, if

she made such gestures, with what kind of expression did she embrace Silvia… …

Silvia’s weak const.i.tution, did it come from her blood lineage? There were

many, many things I wanted to ask and to know. But I won’t get those answers.

Because I will never meet Silvia’s mother.

            On

the other hand, there was something I understood without having to do any

research. This book was “father’s book”, but this didn’t indicate who its owner

was. Exactly as stated, I meant this in the literal sense.

            Inside

the book, a certain knight was drawn. A man belonging to a middle ranked n.o.ble

family who fell in love with the princess of the neighboring country… her

escort knight. That was exactly… …

            My

father.

            When

I reach that truth, rather than feeling a shock run through my body, it felt

more like both a sudden realization and a feeling of resignation. Ah, I see. I simply understood. For our

society, it was only a common, morganatic (cross-cla.s.s) love. But for the

involved persons, it was the greatest romance of the century. It was such a

dramatic story that it became a book. Although it was presented as a “work of

fiction” for the rest of the world, but the characters weren’t completely

fictional. However, my mother wasn’t the princess of a neighboring country. It was

something I was sure of as her real daughter. And if she wasn’t, it meant the

protagonist of this book wasn’t mother.

            But,

it was also true that my mother wasn’t born in this country.

“… Lady?”

            As

I was completely immersed in my thoughts, Al called out to me with hesitation.

I continued to think while looking at his face. If I wanted to tell him

everything, then I had to do it now. However, by doing so there was a

possibility the road ahead would divert greatly.

            “Alfred is so pitiable. Because he had you

as his master, he died.”

            The

words I heard in one of my lives emerged in my mind. While I hesitated over

what I should say, at the moment I slowly opened my mouth…

            …

… Knock, knock.

            Someone knocked at the door of my

room.

Nocta’s thought:

Tadadada! And destiny crushes yet

another big event for Ilya and Al. But who could that possibly be?