Because It Was You

Footsteps approached — slow, measured, as if the sound itself had been made on purpose.

Seeing who was coming toward them, everyone fell silent as if by prior agreement.

Cedric drew near, bowed his head to Rhea, and spoke.

"His Highness requests a brief audience."

"Now?"

"Yes."

Rhea rose from her seat and addressed the others.

"I may be a while, so please start the meal without me."

"Yes, Leader."

Penny fidgeted in her seat, clearly itching to follow — but when Rhea never invited her along, she sank back down, looking thoroughly dejected.

Cedric escorted Rhea to the Black Star.

The carriage door stood open. Having been inside once before, Rhea climbed the folding steps without hesitation. She had assumed Cedric would follow — so when the door shut behind her the moment she stepped inside, she was caught slightly off guard.

Just the two of us?

Her eyes met Carion's. He was already on his feet. At his gesture, she took the seat across from him.

"There was nowhere else we could speak in private."

Rhea glanced around the interior of the carriage.

"Is it soundproof?"

"Not perfectly, but not so poorly that we'd need to borrow your abilities, Princess. A conversation at this volume won't carry outside."

Rhea had a fair idea of what the Black Star represented. It was a carriage bestowed by the Emperor himself, a symbol of the Commander-in-Chief's authority, and almost certainly the place where every critical classified document was kept. Not just anyone was permitted inside.

The circumstances were different from the other day. Then, three other people had been present. Now the door was closed, and they were alone. Everyone outside would have their senses trained on this carriage. Creating a situation ripe for gossip was entirely out of character for the man she had come to know. For any ordinary matter, he would have settled it briefly outside, or waited until they reached the capital and met in a properly formal setting.

So this isn't an ordinary matter?

"What is this about?"

Rhea studied his face closely. Carion was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful.

"...What did you mean when you said my condition was not a curse?"

Rhea frowned, puzzled. Was that question important enough to warrant all of this?

"Is something wrong with your body?"

Caught off guard, Carion's gaze flickered.

"Since when? What are the symptoms? No — wait, let me start over. That day in the forest, when I saw you, you looked as though you were in terrible pain. Has that kept happening?"

Carion let out a quiet sigh.

"It's usually milder than that day. It comes in periodic episodes, like seizures."

He had spent his entire life concealing this weakness. Having to speak of it now left him with a faintly shameful feeling he could not quite name.

"Periodic — how often?"

"When I was young, every three or four days. For the past several years, about once a month."

Every three or four days?

The thought that it must have been unbearable crossed her mind unbidden.

"Was what happened in the forest that day just a regular episode, on its usual cycle?"

"No. It was unlike anything I'd experienced before. Nothing like that had ever happened."

So it was a rampage, after all.

Whether it had been the fierce heat of the wildfire, or some effect her spirit had had on him, there would have been a cause for his spirit's outburst. But the cause hardly mattered now. Knowing it would not produce a cure. He was not a man with an illness.

"Are there any signs of an episode starting now?"

"No. Last night..."

Carion registered how close Rhea's face had drawn and shifted back a little. It made no difference. She closed the distance he had just created.

"What happened last night?"

"An episode occurred."

"You mean the first one since the night of the wildfire?"

"Not exactly."

"Your Highness. Please tell me everything, in detail. That's the only way I can look for a solution."

Carion described the symptoms of the past several days — what he had felt, and how the pain had been growing steadily worse.

Rhea stared at him as though she could not believe what she was hearing.

"How can a person be this stubborn?"

Carion was at a loss for words. It was an expression he had never heard directed at himself in his life. Who would dare call an imperial prince stubborn?

"Why would you sit there and endure it for days? You know I can help you."

And what if the spirit rampages again?

Carion regarded her flushed, agitated face for a long moment.

"Does the Kingdom of Zephyros have some peculiar religion? Is the princess a saint who would sacrifice her own body to save everyone?"

Rhea looked at him, baffled by the sudden turn.

"Or are you a physician? Do you have some noble ambition to devote your life to treating every patient you meet?"

"What are you talking about?"

She shot the question back, unable to make sense of any of it.

"I know you can help me, Princess. If it were a matter of sharing a treatment, or a method for compounding medicine, I would have asked for your help already. But for you to help me—"

He stopped midway, but Rhea understood perfectly well what he had left unsaid.

She blinked rapidly, flustered. Her hands, resting on the table, found each other and began to fidget for no reason at all. All at once she became acutely aware that they were alone together in a closed room, the door shut.

In her previous life, she had forgotten she was a woman. That did not mean she had been ignorant of such matters, or some naive child. She had simply run toward her goal, the way she always had. If someone would die or be hurt otherwise, and it was something she could bear herself, she had been willing to bear it. Only now did she realize how strange that must have looked.

Watching the color rise in Rhea's face, Carion's gaze wavered. Seeing her embarrassed like this made his fingertips itch. He felt his own face growing warm in turn.

"It wasn't — it wasn't like that. I wasn't throwing myself at you to... to..."

"To what?"

"...seduce you."

Carion let out a short laugh.

"Quite the forceful seduction."

"It was not!"

Rhea glared at him as he chuckled — then the fight went out of her eyes, and she laughed along, helplessly, at nothing in particular.

After a while the laughter faded, and the carriage fell quiet. An awkward silence settled between them, and yet, strangely, both of their expressions had softened. The wall standing between them felt, if only a little, as though it had grown thinner.

"I'm not a saint, and I'm not a physician."

Her gaze dropped to the edge of the table. She had finally understood how badly her actions could have been misread, and she could not quite bring herself to look at his face.

"I simply wanted to help you. I couldn't just leave someone in trouble standing right in front of me, and—"

She stopped, shaking her head. That, too, invited misunderstanding. She lifted her chin and met his eyes directly.

Because you are her son. Because I know how deep her suffering was when she lost you.

She could not explain that to him. Who would believe she had already lived one life and come back? She would be lucky not to be taken for a madwoman. And even if, against all odds, he did believe her, a greater problem remained. Your mother sent me to save you — that was something she could never say. From what Rhea knew, the relationship between mother and son was painfully complicated.

Nella's expression had always been composed. She spoke of her own life as though it belonged to someone else. And yet that day, Rhea had thought she looked somehow sad.

"I can't tell you the reason right now. I can help you, and I want to help you. Could you trust me? We're..."

Rhea could not read the expression of the man looking back at her. It was a face that buried its feelings deep, as if he were wearing a mask. He had been that way from the day they first met. The reason it did not unsettle her was not only his appearance — the way he suppressed his emotions resembled Nella as well. And so, looking at him, Rhea's heart gave a small, sharp ache.

Nella had once said to her:

When she had heard those words, the faces of everyone she had lost came rushing back, and the tears had spilled over all at once. Only later did it occur to her what Nella had really meant: that there had been no good people around Nella herself.

And perhaps there were none around him, either.