“.......”

“.......”

“SNRK.”

“Hey.”

“Ah, sorry.”

“Could you stop laughing?”

“Sorry, sorry.”

The way he twitched his mouth and tried to hold it in just made it more annoying. Though if he cackled out loud, that would be even uglier to look at, right?

“Ugh! This is pissing me off!”

Camilla narrowed her eyes at Jainer sitting across from her.

“Impressive.”

“What is?”

“No matter where you go, there’s never a break from incidents.”

“Guess I must’ve been a real bastard in a past life.”

“Co... what?”

“Ah, I don’t know either.”

That little red Yongyong punk!

Next time I see you, I’m chopping down a branch with autumn leaves right in front of you.

Why are you doing things nobody asked you to do and making a scene?!

“Did you really get some kind of divine blessing?”

“Divine blessing, my ass.”

Jainer, who still didn’t properly understand his own ability, found this whole thing fascinating.

He kept asking, so she gave vague answers and brushed him off. Because it was annoying.

“Everything that does whatever it wants is so damn annoying.”

Camilla swept her gaze around with a slightly ferocious look. What if there were spirits hanging around this garden too?

Just let me catch you.

I’ll tie up those fluttering wings for real! If you really get on my nerves, I’m calling Aisla!

“Who’s doing whatever they want?”

“There are things like that. Colorful, fluttering things.”

“What?”

Jainer let out another light laugh.

“You really have a lot of secrets.”

“...I don’t want to hear that from you, of all people.”

Who in this world had more secrets than him?!

“So it’s even more fun.”

“I’m not living like this for your entertainment.”

He gave a short chuckle, then suddenly reached out.

“You’ve got dust on you.”

Camilla reflexively leaned back, but he lightly caught her shoulder.

“I’ll get it.”

Was there dust near her eye?

He carefully brushed at the corner of Camilla’s eye. The tickle made her face scrunch on its own, and her eyes squeezed shut.

“It’s not coming off easily.”

“I’ll do it myse—!”

As Camilla tried to pull back again, Jainer’s hand moved away first. At the same time, her eyes went wide.

“Seems it already fell off.”

“Brother.”

Someone had grabbed Jainer’s hand and pulled it away from her.

It was Ludville.

“Ah, is that so? When did it fall off? I didn’t notice.”

Jainer answered with shameless ease and quickly withdrew his hand. Ludville looked at him in silence for a moment, then sat down off to one side.

“Did you finish training?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you end up he—”

“Rube said you and that man were here.”

His hair still wasn’t completely dry, like he’d washed up and come straight out. What was so urgent that he came out with it still wet?

“Perfect timing. I made pudding this morning to give you. I’ll bring it now.”

And while she was at it, she planned to grab a dry towel too.

She considered making Dorman do it, but he hated being in the same place as Jainer—so today as well, he’d disappeared without a sound, and she couldn’t see him anywhere.

Come to think of it, he’s been slacking off at the drop of a hat lately, hasn’t he?

That little bastard. Not even doing his attendant work properly, huh? Starting tomorrow, I’m making him work at the café all day.

You’d better be ready.

“Just wait a moment.”

Camilla grumbled to herself and headed straight for the kitchen. By now, the black tea pudding would be nicely chilled.

“.......”

“.......”

Once Camilla was gone and only Jainer and Ludville remained, a heavy silence settled.

The first to speak was Jainer.

“You two get along much better than I expected.”

That familiar gentle smile formed at the corner of his mouth.

But Ludville immediately saw that his eyes weren’t smiling at all.

“Because we’re family.”

At that short answer, Jainer let out a quiet snort. At the sound of it, Ludville’s gaze flashed cold.

“No blood shared, yet you’re family. Ah, my apologies. That was rude of me.”

“That applies to you as well, doesn’t it.”

It meant: you and I are the same in that neither of us shares blood with Camilla.

“I’ve lived with her far longer.”

For once, Ludville even added something after his answer, then returned to his usual indifferent expression.

“True enough.”

Jainer nodded lightly.

“If I could go back, I’d look for her first.”

Go back? Where?

“Now they say I can’t go back anymore. What a shame.”

Ludville watched him steadily as he said something incomprehensible, but Jainer offered no explanation—he only smiled quietly.

“Ah, no.”

“I told you. Keep that up and you’ll grow mold on you!”

“How does mold grow on a living person’s body?”

“Yours will be the first.”

At the noisy voices, both men turned their heads.

Camilla was dragging a man along by force.

It was Ravi.

“Ah, I’m starving.”

Ravi—who’d been shut up in the laboratory since yesterday—yawned as he trudged along.

He’d been heading to the kitchen to take a break and grab a snack, and—

“Hey!”

“...Damn it!”

Unlucky enough, he ran straight into Camilla.

He tried to bolt immediately, but Camilla snatched him up.

“Hey! You!”

SMACK!

“Agh! You—! Did you just hit me?!”

Does it even hurt? You’re basically a zombie.”

“Zombie? What’s that?”

“Quit talking back and come with me.”

“Why? I’m busy.”

“Want me to cut off the Mana Stone supply?”

“Hey!”

In the end, he got dragged out as-is—while she kept pouring constant nagging into him about needing to get some sunlight.

“Don’t even think about moving until you finish all that.”

“I have to move to eat.”

“Eat instead of wasting time on wordplay.”

“Eat—...You know, your mouth is getting rougher and rougher.”

“It’s a good thing it’s only my mouth.”

“Then who did I just get hit by?”

“Who knows, I wonder who.”

“Shameless.”

Behind the bickering pair, attendants and maids trotted along carrying trays. On the trays was a variety of simple foods for Ravi to eat.

“Hah.”

Watching the scene, Jainer’s eyes curved prettily.

“So even half-blood is better, then.”

“.......”

Ludville answered with silence instead. But the look in his eyes as he watched Camilla and Ravi was tangled and complicated.

*****

“Mom! That—buy me that!”

“Again?”

“Moooom!”

“Ugh... Fine. Let’s go.”

“Yay!”

With darkness fallen, the capital streets seized people’s steps with an even greater brilliance and delight than daytime.

As befitted a night packed with festival heat, the streets were lined with all kinds of events, and above, dazzling fireworks stitched patterns across the sky, whipping the crowd’s excitement even higher.

Children walking along holding their mother’s or father’s hand, the other hand stuffed full of snacks, wore faces overflowing with smiles.

BOOM!

“Wh—....”

“Uh, Mom....”

“I’m scared....”

On a night when the entire capital burned hot with festival cheer, even the sound of fireworks reached the luxury residential district planted in the heart of the city.

BOOOOM!

When the fireworks burst, faint light seeped into a space where darkness lay thick.

A vast expanse so wide its end couldn’t be seen.

As if it were an exhibition hall, °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° countless statues stood densely arranged.

There were statues kneeling with hands clasped in devout prayer, and angel sculptures with both arms raised high as if they might fly into the sky at any moment.

Not a single sculpture held the same pose as another.

If there was one common thread, it was this: every statue’s expression was either crying or grotesquely twisted.

“Uh... h-hic...!”

But then, from among the countless statues, an actual small sobbing sound leaked out.

An angel statue on its knees.

On closer look, it wasn’t an ordinary statue.

It was a little boy who looked only about six years old.

From the mouth of the child—his shoulder blades adorned with wing decorations—came nonstop whimpering.

And yet, even while crying like that, the child didn’t disturb the kneeling posture of prayer in the slightest.

“Ah... it hurts.”

“Mom... uh... h-hic...!”

From a few other “statues” nearby, crying sounds followed one after another.

SLAM!

“......!”

But the next moment, at the harsh sound of a door being thrown open, the crying stopped as if it had been a lie.

The children couldn’t even breathe properly. With footsteps drawing closer, their faces—frozen as if terrified—grew even paler.

STEP.

The one who approached them slowly was a man in his mid-forties.

His hair, a bit on the long side, was neatly swept back. He gave off a fairly intellectual impression, but behind his glasses, his eyes looked especially sharp.

The Viscount of Orléans.

He was widely famous for his deep understanding of art and for sponsoring impoverished artists.

On top of that, rumors said his devotion was so strong that the amount he donated to the temple each year was staggering.

And for good reason: with the immense wealth passed down through generations of his viscountcy, he’d never experienced financial hardship even once in his life.

“The wings are attached very well.”

A satisfied smile formed at the man’s lips as he stopped before the child in the angel statue’s guise.

His eyes, fixed on the wings, brimmed with rapture. As if it were truly beautiful, he kept letting out admiring exclamations.

“You’re really like an angel.”

“H-hic!”

“Goodness... Does that mean, with this piece too, I have to give up on a smiling face?”

“Uh... u-uh...”

“If you smiled, you’d be even more beautiful.”

He clicked his tongue briefly, sounding regretful.

Then he picked up a brush he’d set aside. In his other hand was an unknown liquid.

After soaking the brush thoroughly, he began carefully applying it to the crying child’s body, with meticulous devotion.

At the viscount’s behavior—moving the brush with solemn focus as if he were an artist—the child’s crying only grew louder.

“Please... h-hic! Spare me, mister....”

“My goodness, I’m not going to kill you!”

The Viscount of Orléans reacted as if he had been frightened instead, like the child had said something terrifying.

Then, wearing a bright, innocent smile, he spoke as if soothing them.

“You’re going to live forever. In this beautiful form.”