Riersha kept stealing glances at the sword Isierd was holding.
From what she had glimpsed a moment ago, it looked as though he had been in the middle of a fencing lesson.
On top of that, he surely had a mountain of other things to get through—she found herself worrying whether it was all too much for him.
I should just show him this quickly and leave.
It would be better for Isierd, she thought, if she said what she had to say and went on her way. He was almost certainly exhausted and desperately wanting to rest.
Riersha held out the manuscript she had been clutching tightly in her hands.
“Here.”
Isierd stared blankly at the brown envelope.
She gave it a small wave, urging him to take it, and he did.
“Read it.”
Isierd’s hand paused as he flipped through the pages Sonnet had written. His ice-blue eyes drifted slowly toward Riersha.
“…What is this?”
“It’s gonna be how your story gets known to the world.”
“….”
“…But if you don’t want it, we don’t have to do it.”
She meant that completely.
If Isierd—the person this was actually about—refused, Riersha intended to destroy the manuscript entirely.
The truth was, she hadn’t thought about this part at first.
But as things had moved forward, a realization had suddenly struck her.
What if it were her?
What if her own story were shared with the world without anyone ever asking for her consent?
I almost made a terrible mistake.
Riersha watched Isierd with a faintly anxious expression.
She had even considered that he might be angry simply because the manuscript had already been written.
…What if he’s really upset?
The sound of pages turning, one by one, filled the room.
A moment later, Isierd’s calm, pale blue eyes settled on Riersha.
“Why?”
“…Hm?”
“Why do you want to make this known?”
“Well…”
Riersha hesitated.
The truth was, this plan hadn’t been made purely for Isierd’s sake. If anything, Riersha’s own desires played the larger part.
“If I’m being honest…”
“….”
“More of it is for me.”
Isierd looked at her steadily, silently. He was telling her to continue.
Riersha kept going.
“I want to keep the Empress in check—she’s a threat to our family.”
“….”
“And for that, I need you.”
“….”
“The second reason is you.”
It was unfortunate, Isierd thought, that he wasn’t the first reason—but there was nothing to be done about it. The people Riersha cherished most were her family.
Still, it was also true that this plan was meant for him.
“I want you to be able to go back safely and reclaim your rightful place.”
She meant it from the bottom of her heart.
Until she finished explaining, Isierd said nothing—giving no indication of what he was thinking.
Some time passed in silence.
“Let’s do it.”
“What?”
Isierd gave his permission simply, without a single qualification attached.
Riersha’s eyes went wide, as though she couldn’t quite believe what she’d heard.
“You’re not angry?”
“Why would I be?”
“….”
“You said this is for me too. Are you lying?”
“No!”
It wasn’t a lie.
But she had clearly stated that the first reason was for the Arachrene family. She had said outright that she was using him.
Did he misunderstand somehow?
For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, Riersha felt she needed to make Isierd understand more clearly.
“So what I said just now means that I’m…”
“Right. You need me in order to protect your family.”
“….”
“And? I came to House Arachrene for exactly that reason from the very beginning.”
Oh.
Riersha fell silent.
Right. That’s true.
Isierd had been brought here by Pernoa as a card to play from the start. She had known that all along—and yet a strangely unsettled feeling settled in her chest.
Everything she had just said felt like hypocrisy.
There is truly no one in this place who cares for Isierd sincerely.
And it wasn’t just this place. There was no one in the entire world who truly looked out for Isierd.
And Isierd already seemed to find that situation natural—something he had long grown used to. So much so that even being told outright he was being used didn’t stir so much as a flicker of anger in him.
“Isierd…. It’s okay to be angry about something like this.”
When you’re happy, you should be able to say you’re happy. When you’re sad, you should say you’re sad. When you’re angry, you should say you’re angry.
Because if you didn’t, no one would ever know.
But Riersha already understood why he was the way he was, and so she let the words die in her throat.
Because no one had ever listened when he complained, Isierd had simply let go of everything.
“You really are strange.”
Isierd, who had been quietly listening to her, wore an expression that had shifted into something peculiar—the look of someone observing a genuinely baffling creature.
“I understand what you’re saying. But I really am fine.”
“…Are you sure?”
“You didn’t deceive me. You told me the truth.”
As if that alone were enough, Isierd held the manuscript back out to her.
“…Yeah. Thank you for understanding, Isierd.”
Riersha took the manuscript back and held it tightly.
⁂
The Kadimo Troupe.
It was renowned throughout the Declair Empire as the home of its most skilled acrobats.
More than that, the Kadimo Troupe had earned tremendous love for its breathtaking and fantastical performances.
“Adil! Have you decided what the next show is going to be?”
“No.”
Adil, who had been staring at the empty stage, shook his head.
“Still? You know there’s less than two months until the next performance, right?”
“I know.”
Rozetta asked in alarm, and Adil ran a hand through his hair with barely concealed irritation.
“But I can’t just do something ordinary. Everyone expects so much from the Kadimo Troupe.”
“…That’s true, but still.”
Rozetta’s brow creased with worry.
If they went much longer without a performance, some of the troupe members might find themselves in serious financial trouble. The Kadimo Troupe was beloved, but it didn’t take to the stage particularly often.
“So what are you going to do?”
“There’s still time. It’ll be fine.”
“…Why not ask House Arachrene for help?”
After a beat of hesitation, Rozetta ventured the question carefully.
The moment she did, Adil’s expression darkened into something fierce.
“Absolutely not.”
Rozetta wore the look of someone who had expected exactly that answer. She knew well what Adil was wary of.
“If that’s your decision as director, there’s nothing I can do. But don’t forget that the members trust you, Adil.”
“….”
“They’re staying even when other troupes make them good offers—because they believe in you. You know what I mean.”
Rozetta left those words behind and walked away.
Left alone, Adil’s thoughts grew complicated.
Some of the troupe members had families to support, and just as Rozetta had said, he couldn’t keep letting time slip by like this.
“This is going to drive me mad.”
The Kadimo Troupe had turned down patronage from every noble house it had ever encountered—and as a result, it was drowning in debt. In truth, the reason they had agreed to a contract with House Arachrene in the first place was because the debt from their stage productions had grown so severe that the troupe had been on the verge of being sold off for next to nothing.
In exchange, House Arachrene had cleared those debts.
The sum had been considerable, and the man who had introduced himself as Rosinante had laughed heartily.
“Even for the Kadimo Troupe, this figure is quite unexpected. Well—I suppose it’s still a bargain, all things considered.”
Adil let out a long sigh.
Should I go back and find that man again?
It might be best to ask him to look after the troupe members’ needs until performances could begin again.
Of course, resolving a situation like this was part of the reason they had entered into a contract with House Arachrene in the first place—but…
Adil had never felt entirely comfortable with that arrangement.
All nobles were the same in the end.
At first they pretended to respect the way the Kadimo Troupe was run, but you never knew when they might bare their teeth. Eventually, House Arachrene would try to pull the troupe in whatever direction suited them, whenever it suited them.
As Adil rubbed his face in frustration and kicked at the floor, the sound of a man’s footsteps echoed through the empty venue—where no one should have been at all.
He turned toward the sound, and there stood a man he had never seen before.
“…Who are you? The doors should have been locked.”
“My name is Oberon. I serve Lady Riersha, who is the owner of this troupe.”
“Ah.”
The moment the name Riersha was spoken, Adil gave a nod of recognition.
I believe they said the troupe was a birthday gift for the youngest daughter of the Duke’s household.
The thought that a troupe he had spent his entire life building could be reduced to someone’s birthday present in another person’s eyes left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Adil couldn’t bring himself to be particularly gracious.
“A man as occupied as yourself, serving someone so distinguished—what brings you to a humble place like this?”
