Chapter 180 - Good Night, Sweet Dreams (2)
They went to the temple and placed the Mana-Absorbing Bracelet on Irma's wrist. She was still vomiting as before.
Unfortunately, there was no dramatic change in her appearance, so all they could do was wait and see how things progressed.
Irma said her nausea had subsided, then drank a potion and fell asleep as though collapsing from exhaustion.
They panicked, thinking her condition had worsened, but a priest explained, "Her magic has probably stabilized, allowing her to sleep soundly." Reassured, they left the room.
While Dahlia had been in the room, a messenger had come to inform Volf that Irma would receive the Perfect Heal spell the following day.
Relieved by that news as well, they decided to return later to visit Irma and check on her condition.
Dahlia asked Marcella to contact her at any time if anything happened, then left the temple with Volf.
She would have loved to go straight to bed, but she was so hungry that she couldn't sleep without eating first.
She had barely eaten anything that morning and had skipped lunch. Now, it was almost sunset.
When their stomachs growled at exactly the same time inside the carriage, they were so embarrassed that they ended up laughing together.
Volf got out of the carriage along the way and bought some food from some street stalls.
Once they returned to the tower, they warmed up some soup they had in stock and had it for dinner alongside the hot sandwiches, crepes, and cut fruit from the street stalls.
Between their hunger and exhaustion, they ate with unusually little conversation.
Just as they finished dinner, the bell at the tower's gate rang.
Looking out the window, Dahlia saw that the carriage waiting outside belonged to the Scalfarotto family.
Volf went out and returned with a large black wooden box handed to him by the coachman.
"My brother sent this to congratulate you on completing the bracelet. It's the same Skullrat Erba as last time."
Inside the black wooden box was a flower that looked like an enormous salvia.
There seemed to be more of the lustrous white flowers than there had been in the previous gift.
With practiced hands, Volf plucked the flowers and rolled them up. Then he began squeezing their clear, nectar-like liquor into a cup for Dahlia and a glass for himself.
The room quickly filled with the flowers' cloyingly sweet fragrance and the pungent scent of strong alcohol.
As before, Dahlia drank hers straight while Volf diluted his with sparkling water. They raised their glasses in a toast.
The liquor was as sweet as nectar yet remarkably strong, and it tasted just as delicious as it had the last time.
Thinking of Guido, who had sent them the liquor, Dahlia turned to Volf with a question.
"What should I give Lord Guido in return? There's this gift, of course, but he's helped me with so many other things as well…"
There was the matter of her noble patron, the Fire Dragon scale she had received from Jonas, and the Perfect Heal spell for Irma. The list went on. Dahlia wanted to repay him properly, but she had been told that he wouldn't accept money.
She kept receiving things from him, so she wanted to give him something tangible at the very least. The problem was that she had no idea what would make a suitable gift.
"Oh, he said he'd like two expedition stoves whenever you have time to make them. He wants to keep them in his office at the royal palace."
"Surely he isn't planning to grill dried seafood in his office, is he?"
"I'd like to think… even he wouldn't go that far."
Volf hadn't sounded entirely convinced. And why was he looking away?
An office in the royal palace filled with the smell of grilled dried seafood, clothes and documents absorbing the lingering odor… The more Dahlia imagined it, the worse it seemed.
Wouldn't Jonas, Guido's attendant, put a stop to grilling dried seafood indoors?
"Wait, do you grill dried seafood indoors at your estate, too, Volf?"
"That's not a problem at our place. We've converted two rooms near the kitchen into designated areas for the compact stoves, and the servants take turns grilling meat and dried seafood there and eating it to try them out. You know, once you start eating, the smell actually becomes rather pleasant, and you stop noticing it. My brother and Jonas-sensei will surely understand once we all eat together…"
"…I see."
So, if everyone ate together, they'd come to understand one another. Right. That certainly sounded like a wonderful way to foster mutual understanding.
Dahlia made up her mind. She would gift them four expedition stoves, along with a set of highly effective room deodorizer and fabric deodorizer.
"Tobias said he didn't want any payment for his work. I offered to pay him at least for the time he spent on it, but he turned me down."
"You've gone back to calling him by his first name."
"It was awkward to address him otherwise while we were working. But I don't think we'll be seeing each other very often anymore."
Unless they happened to work together on another magic tool like this one. But something like that was unlikely to happen often.
"Also, Professor Ozwald asked for a dozen bottles of scorpion liquor, the cost of the materials, and my assistance with the next large-scale magic tool project as payment. So I haven't paid him a labor fee. I can repay him with my work eventually, but I'd like to give him something before then. I just can't think of anything suitable."
"It's true that with Ozwald, it's hard to tell what he wants."
"I'll consult Ivano about it."
As it happened, some time later, Ivano would present Ozwald with a large quantity of dried forest serpent meat. Dahlia, however, would remain unaware of this.
・・・・・・・
・・・・・・・
"Was enchanting the bracelet pretty difficult?"
"Yes, it was. But I learned a lot. Professor Ozwald's mana control was the most impressive. It was delicate, fast, and perhaps even more precise than my father's. I only managed with Tobias's help, so starting tomorrow, I'll have to go back and work on my mana control from scratch."
Answering Volf's question, Dahlia began talking about making the bracelet.
As he watched her animated profile, something continued to bother him.
"Dahlia, do you ever regret not being able to work with Orlando anymore?"
"I do feel a little sad about it, but I'm enjoying things more now. You don't have to worry about me."
Dahlia's favorite phrase was ‘I'm fine.’
He was sure she'd only ever tell him that she was fine and that nothing was wrong.
She pretended she had no lingering regrets or pain, surely hiding her wounds deep inside.
The moment he thought that, words he probably shouldn't have said slipped out.
"But Dahlia, you said you 'loved' him…"
"Huh? I never said anything like that… Oh! The anti-eavesdropping magic tool cuts out bits of sound, so you must have only heard that part. That's not what I meant! I was talking about the color of his magic!"
Dahlia waved both hands, desperately trying to deny it.
Volf felt a little relieved by her explanation and asked her to clarify.
"What do you mean, the color of his magic?"
"When Tobias enchants waterproof cloth, its surface turns blue before shimmering in rainbow colors. It reminded me of the blue sky after the rain. It was beautiful, and I liked it… That's what I meant. I wasn't talking about him as a person."
"So that's what you meant. Sorry, I just… thought you might still have feelings for him…"
"He's my senior apprentice and my colleague. We talked about that today, too. Besides, I already told you before, didn't I, Volf? I said I didn’t have any lingering attachments."
"…Right. You did."
Volf remembered asking Dahlia that very question when they had reunited and happened to run into those two as well.
An idea suddenly occurred to him, and just as he had back then, he asked her again to make sure.
"Any lingering feelings?"
"Not at all."
Dahlia answered without hesitation, just as she had that day.
After that, he asked her about what had happened in the workshop that day.
Dahlia answered every question he asked without faltering once.
The uneasy feeling that had been nagging at him washed away completely, like grit swept away by running water.
But when they were nearing the end of the topic, Dahlia was the one who looked a little stern.
"I mean, I appreciate that my father, Tobias, and Mr. Ivano all want to protect me, but am I really that weak? Weak enough that they have to shield me behind their backs?"
"You're not weak, Dahlia. You're plenty strong. It's just that men are creatures who want to step forward and protect others."
"What troublesome creatures. I'd rather stand beside someone. I don't want to be kept behind them for protection. I want to stand right next to them."
He almost told her that she really was strong after all, but stopped himself.
Perhaps as a snack to accompany her drink, she picked up a thin slice of apple between her fingertips and began crunching on it. She looked a little like a rabbit.
"Oh, there was a letter from my father tucked inside the grimoire. It was addressed to Tobias, though."
"You read it too, didn't you, Dahlia?"
"Yes. It was basically asking him to look after me, and I was just about to get a little emotional when the postscript ruined absolutely everything."
"Was it really that bad?"
"…It said, 'I'm leaving all my portrait prints to my son as his inheritance. Say that you'll clear them out and hide the ones you like.' I wanted to demand an explanation from my father about what on earth he was thinking."
If anything, I was the one who wanted to ask Mr. Carlo that question.
Between this and what had happened last time, I had no idea what expression I was supposed to wear or how I was supposed to react.
"If they're called an inheritance, I can't just burn the portraits, can I? I've heard they could fetch a decent price if I took them to a secondhand bookstore, though."
"Um… would you like me to take them to a secondhand bookstore for you?"
Taking the utmost care not to step on any of the traps laid all over the ground, he somehow managed to ask.
"Would you mind? If there's someone willing to take them, that would be fine, too. Since he called them an inheritance, giving them a proper resting place would be better than burning them… But would that really count as giving them a proper resting place…?"
Dahlia began to agonize over it, staring into the distance, so he poured more liquor into her cup.
It seemed he had avoided the traps, but that didn't make the question any easier to answer.
He decided to quietly dispose of the portraits later.
"I hope Irma gets better soon."
After letting some time pass, he changed the subject. Dahlia nodded with a smile.
"Yes. You must be worried since you haven't actually seen her, Volf. Irma has lost weight, but she's still so strong and composed. Seeing her made me think, 'That's Irma for you.'"
Although Volf had gone to the temple, he hadn't been able to visit Irma herself while she lay in bed in her nightclothes.
As a result, he had spent almost all his time with Marcella while they were at the temple.
"I'm looking forward to next year. We'll have to think about a celebration, too."
"You look happy, Dahlia."
"Yes. I'm glad I became a magical toolmaker. I'm glad I have the company, too. I'm happy that, together with you, Volf, I was able to help Irma."
From the way Dahlia's speech was becoming increasingly monotonous, he could tell the alcohol was starting to get to her.
But she looked so delighted as she drank that he was tempted to squeeze another flower into her cup.
"Here's to the happiness and bright future of Marcella and his family of three. Cheers!"
"To the happiness and bright future of the three of them. Cheers…"
After several more toasts, Dahlia gazed intently at him.
The light in her bright green eyes suddenly dimmed, and she looked as though she might cry.
"Dahlia?"
"…Volf, please live longer than I do."
At those words, he nearly let the glass slip from his hand.
Carefully setting the still-full glass on the table, he asked her again, meeting her gaze.
"What do you mean, all of a sudden, by 'live longer'?"
"Please live longer than I do, Volf."
"But I'm technically older than you, Dahlia. Shouldn't I be the one to go first, if we're talking about the natural order?"
He couldn't understand why Dahlia had suddenly started saying things like this.
He wondered if this had something to do with him being a Scarlet Armor, but her next words only confused him further.
"I'm older than you on the inside."
"Does that mean you think I'm childish on the inside?"
"…Anyway, I'm much, much older than you. So you're going to live a long life, Volf. You have to live longer than I do."
It seemed Dahlia had gotten rather drunk. She kept repeating things that made no sense in a tone that sounded as though she were patiently explaining something to him.
Volf gave a wry smile and, finally giving in, answered her.
"…If that's what you want, I'll do that."
"Good!"
Looking thoroughly satisfied, she nodded, turned sideways on the sofa, and let her head gently tip against the backrest.
She closed her eyes and sat motionless, still holding her empty cup.
"Dahlia…?"
There was no reply. The only answer was her soft, peaceful breathing.
Come to think of it, she'd slept for only about two hours that morning, and she hadn't gotten much sleep the day before yesterday, either.
Someone like him, accustomed to light sleep during expeditions, might be able to manage, but for an ordinary person, it must have been exhausting. On top of that, she'd used a tremendous amount of magic.
And then there was the strong liquor. No wonder she'd gotten sleepy.
She'd looked so delighted drinking it that he'd kept refilling her cup without thinking. He regretted that now.
But what was he supposed to do with her, sleeping at an angle on a single-seat sofa?
He hesitated to wake her, so Volf watched her sleeping face for a while.
Her sleeping face looked somehow innocent, utterly defenseless.
Apparently, she wasn't wary of him in the slightest.
"…Wary?"
Volf said the word that had popped into his head aloud and couldn't help laughing.
If she felt no need to be wary or even conscious of his presence, and that was a sign of her trust in him, then he was happy with that.
His friends sometimes told him that their relationship was strange or that they were below even children in elementary school, but he didn't care.
He knew all too well how precious it was to have a friend with whom he could speak honestly and simply be himself.
As long as they could keep laughing together side by side, just as they were now, that was enough.
He gently lifted Dahlia and carried her over to the three-seat sofa.
The blanket he'd borrowed that morning had already been put away, so he covered her with a nearby throw.
He'd also heard about how she'd fallen off the sofa, so he moved the table aside and shifted all the single-seat sofas opposite it..
The sofas now formed something resembling a makeshift bed. This way, even if Dahlia rolled over in her sleep, she wouldn't fall off.
Even while he shuffled the furniture around, Dahlia showed no sign of waking up.
She looked completely at ease in her sleep.
He reached out to straighten the stray strands of hair falling across her soft-looking, pale cheek, but stopped just before touching her.
"…I must be drunk, too."
Volf slapped his cheeks with both hands.
He'd meant to give himself a light slap, but it made quite a satisfying smack.
There was no need to worry about locking up. The Green Tower was practically equipped with two locks.
Dahlia had explained that only registered users could open the gate, and that once the gate was closed behind them, there was no need to lock the door itself.
If anything, the real problem tonight was that he was here while drunk.
"…Good night."
The sound of his own casual words suddenly brought back a memory.
The first time he'd gone out to eat with Dahlia, she'd said, "Good night. Sweet dreams."
It was an ordinary expression in this country, something people said to family and friends before going to bed.
But he hadn't heard those words—or said them himself—in more than ten years.
With his fellow knights and comrades in the barracks, a simple "Good work today" or "I'm turning in first" was enough. At the estate, all he ever heard was the formal "Good night, Sir."
That was why he'd been so surprised by the warmth he felt when Dahlia said those words to him.
Since the day he'd met Dahlia, he hadn't had a single nightmare about his mother's death.
If only Dahlia could be spared bad dreams, too.
He never wanted her to have that dream she'd told him about—the one where she died alone, unable to ask anyone for help. No, he didn't want her to suffer through any kind of nightmare ever again.
The throw was a little too small to cover Dahlia's entire body.
Volf adjusted the throw lower down and covered Dahlia's shoulders with his own jacket.
Fortunately, it wasn't particularly cold tonight. She should be fine and wouldn't catch a cold.
"Dahlia, good night. Sweet dreams…"
Whether his prayer-like whisper reached Dahlia's ears as she slept was anyone's guess.
Satisfied by the faint smile that seemed to grace her sleeping face, Volf quietly left the room.
Comments
Post a Comment