423 – On Repentance -6-

“Ha ha… so this is what happened.”

The hour when the full moon, swollen with the night sky, deigned to show its face. I sat with the Young Lady on the edge of the bed, reminiscing about memories of long ago.

[Found an ugly little beggar.]

“Puhaha…! You had my proper name, but called me beggar.”

“But Ricardo was so grimy back then, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Even so… I’m hurt.”

“I’m not hurt, so it’s fine.”

An old memory.

To revisit a story from over a decade past, now as an adult, felt like retrieving a letter in a bottle cast into the ocean.

To think I’d ever be looking through a diary with the Young Lady, who loved eating more than reminiscing, was something I never imagined.

From childish, innocent phrases,

to the start of each day sketched with dreadful drawing skills. Every little page was delightful, impossible to look away from.

-I’m hungry today.

Only… about half the diary was filled with stories about food, which brought a bitter smile to my face.

“Ricardo.”

“Yes.”

“Why did this pig only write about eating?”

“Didn’t the Young Lady write this herself?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then wouldn’t the Young Lady know?”

“That’s right.”

-Grumble.

“Hungry.”

What a funny person.

I could confidently boast that she’s the funniest person I know.

The Young Lady’s diary even documented the side dishes she had for dinner that day, and included tasting notes saying the soup was too salty.

The most absurd thing of all was the note scrawled densely at the bottom of the diary page.

[Things I want to eat tomorrow.]

Steak, Chicken, Hamburg.

The young miss’s madness, meticulously noting down what she wanted to eat tomorrow, without fail. It seemed like no two menu choices ever overlapped, and now I knew the reason why.

I traced the densely filled diary with my fingers, asking softly,

“It’s all just talk about food, isn’t it?”

“I was growing!”

“…”

“Eep?! Why are you looking at me like that!”

“Then, when you’re 100, Miss, will you become a giant?”

“Yup.”

A small smile escaped me at her declaration that her dream was to be a giant, and I conjured an image of her in my mind.

-Ricardo. Gimme food.

-…

‘…That’s a bit frightening.’

Just imagining her as a giant, with a monthly food bill that would easily surpass 1000 gold, made my spine feel like it might snap.

“Eep!! Don’t look at me like that!”

“Hahaha! Understood.”

Only after hearing the young miss’s scolding, for having seen through my ridiculous thoughts, did I cease my pointless musings and begin turning the diary pages once more.

[Olivia is 10. Still hungry.]

From childhood, now into her adolescence.

[A divine avatar of hunger resides in my right hand. Guh… I have to stop. If I move any more, that thing inside me will… ]

-Thump.

The diary was slammed shut.

“Ricardo. Skip this part quickly.”

Her expression was more serious than I’d ever seen, along with it.

Looking into the young miss’s earnest eyes, a cruel smile tugged at my lips. It felt like I’d stumbled upon something I shouldn’t have seen.

Everyone has at least one dark chapter in their life. Especially for adolescents reaching 15, a malady often arises, that incurable disease which makes them think that they have opened their eyes to something ‘special’, was what was contained within it.

“Uh oh…?”

The young miss was shaking her head violently as she stared at the diary.

-Woosh. Woosh.

“No.”

-Bwoong. Bwoong. Bwoong. Bwoong.

“This is… the pits.”

I began to question her, a cruel smile playing on my lips at the young lady’s intriguing reaction. Perhaps this was the fabled ‘Grimoire of Shadows’ I’d only heard whispered about in legends?

I’d already secretly read it as a child, but seeing the young lady so flustered, I couldn’t help but want to tease her a little more.

I’d assumed her adolescence was dominated by her appetite, but after sneaking a peek at her laughing at her reflection in her room, I realized that everyone is pretty much the same.

-Heu-hee-hee… I am the Witch of Hunger.

-…Pfft.

-I shall fill the world with emptiness!

-…The Witch of… *Pffft*… Hunger.

-I must endure. Eee-eek… My magic is too dangerous…!!

-Kheu-heu… Kheu-heu…

Knowing so much about the young lady’s embarrassing past, I indulged in a little greed and addressed her.

“I believe something was written there.”

“…Don’t remember it.”

“The Witch of…”

-Hwaaah…

“Oh?”

She was ripe.

Like a perfectly ripened tomato, the young lady was done, unable to say a word.

“Young lady?”

I poked her lightly with my finger. I figured she’d fainted from mortification.

“… Eee-eek.”

“…”

“Eee-eek…”

She might break if I teased her too much, so it would be best to avoid digging any further. I should save it for later, to tease her with for years to come.

I smiled faintly and pretended not to know anything, directing my words towards the young lady.

“It slipped my mind.”

“Hwee-ee…”

“We could always look at it again…”

“Don’t look. If you look, I’ll die.”

The young lady, having snatched the diary, flipped through it with nimble fingers, wriggling her toes. Seemed she was trying to skip the parts where she’d been afflicted with… what was it called? Middle-school-itis?

“Here. Start reading from here.”

“That part looked like it might be interesting too.”

“Eeeeek!”

“I shall refrain.”

Truly, she was the most endearing person in the world.

-Flick.

‘Hmmmm…’

-Flick…

The more pages that turned, the more I felt like I’d forgotten something. Like I’d written something in that diary, but the memory remained just out of reach, a nagging feeling. It had been two years since I’d last peeked into the young lady’s diary, so the memory wasn’t surfacing so easily.

Surely it was something important I’d written… like a letter, maybe…

“Next page.”

Just as the thought started to crystallize, the young lady chided the hesitating hand, preventing the memory from fully returning.

Seemed I’d penned something comparable to her own cringe-worthy, dark history note.

‘Don’t know…’

As the diary neared its end, the young lady’s expression soured. Usually, she’d be badgering me for a midnight snack or to tell her about some trashy drama, but she showed no reaction, no demands. I just shrugged and let out a soft sigh.

She was hiding something…but what it could be eluded me.

Right now, the young lady’s expression looked like…

“…”

…like someone who just discovered a “Fool” sticky note plastered on their back. Asking the reason would probably earn me a severe scolding, so I refrained.

“…Young lady?”

“…Hm?”

“Is something the matter?”

“No. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Haha…”

Really, I’m clueless.

The young lady turned the pages with a placid expression. With each day’s account she flipped past, a smile would flit across her face; when she saw the story about the chocolate we fought over, she’d muse over “Oh, that happened,” displaying a benevolence unlike her usual self.

And I…

“Scared.”

I was unnerved by the Lady’s reaction, so unlike her usual self.

Because, truth be told, when someone is unusually calm, it’s often a harbinger of ill tidings.

“If you’re going to scold Ricardo, it would ease my mind if you did it now.”

“No. Why would I scold Ricardo?”

“…”

Whatever the reason, I just hoped the Lady would cheer up.

The diary’s entries were gradually approaching more recent events. We were nearing the record that marked the beginning of all the tragedy.

[Academy Entrance Ceremony.]

My expression hardened at the large title scrawled across the diary page.

Even a fellow like me, who believed in letting sleeping dogs lie, didn’t want to revisit the academy days with the Lady.

They were tales she had spent a long time trying to forget.

The pain of Mikhail too.

The regrets over a love unfulfilled.

And the incident that had earned her unwanted animosity.

We had been struggling together to keep it all locked away in a box of time, refusing to open it.

Of course, recalling her academy days didn’t mean she hated or disliked the Lady. It was all in the past, and even if that situation were to arise again, I was confident I could handle it better; I wouldn’t run away.

Just one thing.

There was only one thing that frightened me.

“Shall we skip ahead?”

I feared the Lady might be consumed by guilt more than I might be. If she were to dwell on her time at the academy, she might grow despondent.

Despite my cautiously offered suggestion, the Lady shook her head, speaking calmly.

“No.”

She wouldn’t hide.

“…”

What wind had blown?

What had triggered this?

The Lady’s unusual demeanor caused me to bite my lip and place my finger on the diary entry detailing her academy days.

[I dislike Ricardo. I hate that the beggar interferes in everything.]

-…A tight grip.

“Why would you follow me all the way to the Academy and embarrass me like this… I really hate it. Really! Really! I really hate it.”

“Milady…?”

“…”

[Today…]

And from the moment I started flipping through the diary.

[I saw Ricardo crying.]

Wordlessly, I stroked the cover of the diary.

I had already seen this diary once.

I had secretly read this diary once, behind Milady’s back.

…For some reason, my heart felt constricted.

Was it because I didn’t want to see the fact that Milady disliked me that I was feeling like this? Or was it because my sincerity, my utmost effort, went unacknowledged? I couldn’t tell.

“…”

My lips kept drying out, and I found myself stealing glances at Milady’s expression. Afraid that she might still harbor such feelings even now….

“Heh…”

I forced a cowardly smile.

“Shall we stop here?”

I ended up suggesting we stop at this point. We had remained warm to each other, so there was no need to dredge up the stories of the past, I said.

“It’s too old a story to be interesting.”

I spoke words I didn’t mean.

“It’s all in the past now, isn’t it?”

Let’s not unearth the pain that time had forgotten, I said to Milady, who was staring blankly at the diary.

“And it’s all been resolved.”

We hugged each other and apologized, so let’s not rediscover these feelings, I begged, silently.

Otherwise.

-Squeeze.

Milady looked like she was about to cry.

“Milady.”

I steeled my trembling heart and spoke to Milady. We no longer needed to dwell on ‘repentance.’

“Shall we have a late-night snack?”

Milady, who would normally have nodded with a smile, remained silent. She just bit her lip, her eyes glued to the words written in the diary.

“-Kkraaakk…”

I don’t think I can do this anymore.

“Sniff…”

I can’t bear to see the young lady’s shoulders trembling faintly.

“It’s all in the past now. We’ve reconciled, and we’ve both reflected…”

I didn’t want to unlock the box sealed with the lock of time, only to inflict pain again.

“Please stop…”

“Ricardo.”

But,

“The next page…”

My plea seemed far too weak to break the young lady’s resolve.

The memories, colored by my own inadequacies, were being turned, one by one, by the touch of the young lady clutching them tight.

“My lady…”

Her fingertips trembling, she pressed down firmly on the back of my hand, filled with an emotion I didn’t understand. She was asking me to turn the page, assuring me she was alright.

“…”

Unable to resist her delicate fingertips, I squeezed my eyes shut and turned the diary page.

One page.

Two pages.

Three pages.

After several pages.

My hand stopped moving at the sight of a title.

[A Way to Undo Everything.]

“I can’t do this anymore.”

I didn’t want to show her bad memories anymore. It was already a waste of time to tell her only stories filled with good memories, I didn’t want her forcing her way into such small moments of her life.

She laughs more heartily than anyone when she laughs.

Appears more nobly than anyone when she is the aristocrat, and shines more brilliantly than anyone when she shines. I didn’t want to inflict any more sorrow on a person like that.

But.

“Move your hand.”

The young lady was telling me she wanted to see that memory again.

“…”

“Hand.”

“…”

“Move it.”

I moved my hand, which was covering the diary, and squeezed my eyes shut.

That instant.

My pupils widened, seeing the small piece of paper that slipped from the shaking diary.

‘No way…’

The young lady, disregarding my startled gaze, lowered her head, picked up the fallen letter, and spoke.

“Ricardo.”

Without looking into my eyes.

“Why did you write this…?”