The Spark of Suspicion

The spark of suspicion was easily extinguished.

She hadn't seen the inside of the prayer room, so perhaps even more debris had come down in there than outside. Or maybe another impact had struck from within.

Nox said he'd look into the situation, so I can just ask him then.

By the time she managed to shake off the lingering unease, they had reached the main gate. Cecilia spotted the Weberdin family knights and the coachman waiting in front of the temple entrance.

It was her chance to end this awkward escort.

She quickly turned to the Holy Knight and offered a polite farewell.

"You need only see me this far."

"I will watch until you depart safely."

"There are so many Weberdin knights here already. Thank you for escorting me today."

At her courteous refusal, Miguel reluctantly inclined his head.

"Then I shall look forward to the day we meet again, Saintess."

Instead of kissing a lady's hand the way most knights did, Miguel placed a hand over his own chest and bowed in silence—the greeting of the Holy Knights.

Once the man had finished his plain farewell and withdrawn, Cecilia turned at once toward her own knights, as if she had been waiting for this exact moment.

"The matter I asked of you?"

"We found him."

From between the burly knights, a man who had shrunk himself as small as possible came hesitating forward.

A frame large enough to rival the knights themselves, that awkward posture, and the familiar robe—

"Rien."

At the sound of his name, the robed man flinched and lifted his head. That beautiful face she never tired of seeing, no matter how many times she looked, was gently revealed.

She had given that quiet order to the family knights who had come running late after hearing of the accident.

Knowing Rien's personality, he wouldn't have left first out of worry for me. And the only person who would walk around a sacred temple with a pitch-black robe pulled over his head is Rien.

The fact that they had caught him like this meant her prediction had been fairly accurate.

"Lady Cecilia."

Like a child who had done something wrong, he fidgeted and twisted the hem of his robe in his hands.

She had wanted to ask why he had been at the temple, why he had been standing in that exact spot—

But his words came faster than her question.

"A-are you hurt anywhere…!"

"As you can see, I'm perfectly fine."

She returned the line she felt she had already said a hundred times.

Even after hearing the answer, he could not shake his anxiety. Only after he had thoroughly scanned her hair, her face, her shoulders, her waist and hands, her legs, and finally her feet did his shoulders finally sag.

Thank goodness. Pretending not to hear his soft murmur, she opened her mouth.

"More importantly—what brings you here, Rien?"

"That is…"

She had been purely curious; there had been no anger in her tone. Even so, his head slowly drooped lower and lower.

"Rien?"

"…"

After waiting patiently for his answer, Cecilia let out a small sigh. She was already far too exhausted to keep standing in the middle of the road like this.

She brushed past him and climbed into the carriage. Then she looked back at the man still standing frozen in place.

"Aren't you getting in?"

Fortunately, the invitation did not seem to put him in any particular difficulty. Rien scrambled up into the carriage in a hurry.

The moment he settled across from her, the carriage gave a jolt and began to roll.

"Rien."

His shoulders were still rigid with tension. Through the silver rims of his glasses, Cecilia quietly watched the violet eyes that trembled like a small boat before a storm.

Judging by that attitude, this wasn't just a sightseeing trip that happened to cross paths with me.

"I never expected to run into you at the temple. Just asking out of curiosity—you didn't follow me, did you?"

It had been half a joke.

The man went deathly pale. He furrowed his smooth brow, bit down hard on his lower lip, and clenched his miserably trembling hands into fists.

"Th-that isn't it at all. I never once intended to tail you or make you uncomfortable, Lady Cecilia! I simply heard the Grand Temple was nearby and thought it might be nice to look around… I did know you were visiting, but that is— I mean, I…"

At the far more intense reaction than she had expected, Cecilia carefully covered the back of his hand with her own.

"I'm not scolding you."

"…Did I behave so horribly that I've upset you?"

His long lashes fluttered pitifully.

Had some ex-lover or first love once torn into him with cruel words? She had already thought of him as someone with low self-esteem, but this was excessive.

Cecilia roughly rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. After choosing and discarding several carefully crafted sentences, she finally let a single unadorned truth fall out.

"No. What I meant to say was that it would have been nicer if you'd just asked to come along."

"…Am I truly allowed to accompany you?"

Rien asked with the desperate urgency of an abandoned puppy.

Severe. This is severe.

His low self-esteem was one thing, but the way her own good sense was crumbling under that attitude was hardly normal either.

Still better than some arrogant, insufferable personality, I suppose.

She had always been weak to soft, endearing things.

Having shaken off even the last shred of awkwardness, Cecilia willingly offered the affirmation this man who so clearly needed praise and reassurance seemed to require.

"Of course."

She even deliberately added a bright smile. The man who had parted his lips slightly flushed crimson across his cheeks.

"So it's all right, then."

He murmured the words, then turned the hand that had been resting beneath hers so that their palms met, gently interlocking their fingers. Like a well-fed puppy, he curved his eyes in pure satisfaction.

That smile was so dazzling it was almost hazardous.

I nearly went blind again.

The visual stimulation today had been excessive. She made a mental note to ask Melanie for a warm compress for her eyes once they got home, and continued her questions.

"It looked like you came out of the prayer room. Did you offer worship?"

"Ah… yes."

"You said you came from the capital. Do you believe in the God?"

That was unexpected.

In this country, to believe in the God meant one served the divine rather than the Emperor. In other words, it meant standing against the Emperor's faction.

The palm that had shared the same warmth as hers slipped free. Rien dropped his gaze to the floor and nodded without a word.

"Hmm, is that so? Then the next time I have reason to visit the temple, we can go together."

"Y-yes!"

His answering voice was thoroughly flushed with emotion.

Cecilia let out a soft laugh and turned her eyes to the window.

Over the scenery sliding past, she quietly watched the faint reflection of the man in the glass.

His mouth had softened into a gentle curve, as if her suggestion had made him truly happy. In contrast, the corner of Cecilia's own lips had already returned to its proper place.

He believes in the God, does he.

A lie.

That couldn't be true.

Because Rien was a mage.

There had been a time when a colleague of hers, driven half-mad by endless, repeating experiments, had been drowning in stress. She had told him that all mental strain originated from hormones and neurotransmitters, and had recommended something as simple as a serotonin agent.

"Please, can the T just shut up already."

She had been scolded on the spot for it.

If only she had known back then that there existed a treatment that was both cheaper and far more effective. Her colleague would never have had to empty his empty wallet on a psychiatric clinic, and she would never have been cursed at for the medicine that "didn't work."

Inside the Marquis's study, where the entire Weberdin household had gathered, Cecilia sat with Charles—who had trotted after her all the way—settled on her lap, and was currently experiencing the true greatness of animal therapy.

The warm temperature, the rough little tongue licking her fingertips, and the soft fur.

"This is outrageous!"

Even with the Marquis right in front of her, face flushed red as he fumed and ranted, she was able to remain perfectly calm.

"An accident inside the temple—and of all people, it had to be Cecilia! Those Dilanche bastards must have orchestrated this!"

The Marquis slammed the newspaper he had been gripping onto the table.

There were moments when the Marquis, who always appeared so composed, saw his boiling point drop unusually low. Those moments came whenever the Imperial Family and their lackeys were mentioned.

Dilanche, is it.

Cecilia leisurely turned the familiar family name over in her mind.

Without difficulty, she recalled a lesson with Rien.

"At present, there are two prominent magic houses in the Empire."

"Magic houses?"

"Yes. If the sacred Weberdin family is the solid backbone of the Temple, then the Dilanche ducal house—the magic family—can be called the right hand of the Imperial Family."

She also remembered something the Marquis had once said at a luncheon.

"Just thinking of those Dilanche dogs running wild already gives me a headache."

Even then, the Marquis had made no attempt to hide his hostility toward Dilanche.

Everything the information pointed to was the same: Dilanche was Weberdin's principal enemy.

That was no doubt the basis for the Marquis's suspicion that Dilanche stood behind the accident.

When the Marquis, having finished his urgent schedule and returned to the territory, first heard of his daughter's accident, he had already been certain.

This was no mere accident. It was a scheme cooked up by Dilanche—of that he was sure.

Whether his faith in the Temple ran too deep, or his enmity toward Dilanche ran too hot, she could not say.

In truth, either way, the answer was already decided.

Nox, who had been watching their father's rage with perfect composure even without Charles for comfort, refuted the Marquis's claim.