MCFLS 15

Chapter 15

Why am I doing this sibling thing with you? The sharp retort had surged to the very tip of my tongue when my eyes met Adrian’s.

“Cyril.”
“Yeah?”
“Take me to Tesart too, later. It snows a lot there, right? I want to see the piled snow.”

Absurdly, that single request settled the thorny turbulence in my heart instantly.
Cyril stared blankly at the moment Adrian’s expectant eyes crinkled with joy.
The whole noisy debate about being siblings or whatever had long since vanished from his mind.

“What’s there to see in snow?”
“I want to try building a snowman. You know it doesn’t snow that much here.”
“You’re not a kid…”

Cyril paused briefly before replying curtly, but the atmosphere didn’t turn hostile. His words carried a certain warmth. Adrian shot him a look, though not an unfriendly one.
“Hey, Cyril, if it’s okay, will you take me too?”
“If I go, you’re going too, Reed. Why even ask?”
“I thought you might leave me behind… I was just curious about life in other regions.”

As if Cyril’s permission as the person in question was irrelevant, the siblings were already acting like they were about to embark on a journey to Tesart.
‘These siblings really don’t give you time to think, as always.’

It was a scene he was all too familiar with now. Cyril shook his head as he thought.
I just want to stay with them a little longer, even just a tiny bit more.

The carriage sped along a quiet forest path. The oak trees lining both sides shook their dry leaves as if welcoming the carriage.
Rustle, rustle. The voice of fallen leaves followed wherever the carriage passed.

As the clear sky, hidden between broad leaves, began to gradually reveal itself, Cyril stretched his hand out through the half-open window.
‘Cassinel really is warmer.’

It was a return after about a month, having departed for Tesart a bit early.
Cyril had decided to stay in Cassinel a while longer.
There were several reasons.

First, he was concerned about the siblings. Given the considerable time they’d spent together, it seemed they’d need sufficient time to part properly.
That said, it wasn’t solely because of the siblings either. His marksmanship still hadn’t reached a satisfactory level, and there were many areas where he was still clumsy.

Wanting to present a more perfect image as the successor, Cyril expressed his intention to remain in Cassinel before his father.
The Duke looked at Cyril with an unreadable expression but ultimately permitted it.
However, he added that he couldn’t grant him too much time.

‘You probably need time to sort things out too.’

The Duke of Tesart’s words, spoken as Cyril was leaving, were laden with meaning. Perhaps he had seen through his son’s flimsy excuse.
Anyway, his objective was achieved. Cyril looked out the window with a light heart.

The carriage, having just emerged from the edge of the forest, entered the road leading to the estate.
The closer they got to Cassinel, the more at peace Cyril felt.
‘It was truly dreadful when I first came.’

And then, a thought occurred to him, and a faint smile touched his lips.
This scenery, which now seemed utterly serene, had appeared as desolate as being dragged to hell back then.

To think he had acted like an old man waiting to die, at the mere age of six. Looking back now, it was laughable.
As he recalled those early days, a face naturally came to mind.
Cyril pictured the image of that little girl who blinked incessantly upon the vast plains.

The image of her grinning like a fool with missing teeth, sniffling with teary, upset eyes, swinging a sword relentlessly with an unnecessarily cute face….
The same face surfaced countless times, each with a different expression.
Cyril, thinking of the child growing steadily in his memories, closed his eyes.
He wanted to return to Cassinel immediately.
“…What do you mean, do what?”

Cyril frowned as if he’d heard something utterly bizarre.
“I’m asking you to describe my face.”
Adrian, who had uttered this nonsensical statement, answered Cyril’s question back with shameless boldness.
“Are you feeling unwell?”

After staring at Adrian silently for a while, Cyril placed his hand on Adrian’s forehead. The large hand easily covered not just her forehead but her eyes too.
“I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine.”
“You’re not about to feel unwell?”
“…I said no, right?”

As Adrian said this, she escaped from Cyril’s hand. The sensation of the warmth disappearing was more regrettable than he’d thought. Cyril pointlessly clenched and then unclenched his fist.
“If you don’t trust Cassinel’s doctors, you could even call Jerome.”
“Our teacher is perfectly fine. I’m fine too.”

Judging by her earnest replies, she certainly seemed fine. In fact, she had even come out to welcome him, happy about the news of his return, so it was unlikely anything had happened in that short time.

Then why on earth was Adrian asking questions like what her face looked like?
And with that strangely bashful-looking expression to boot…

“…Don’t you have a mirror in your room?”
“I do. But that’s different. That’s me seeing with my own eyes.”
“What do you care how others see your face? You never cared before.”

If Adrian had been very interested in her own appearance—or even slightly interested—she wouldn’t have been stealing Reed’s clothes to wear as her own.
Just think of how many pairs of trousers she had torn through.
Until their height difference became too great, it was no exaggeration to say Reed’s wardrobe was Adrian’s domain.

“I’m just asking, okay? Just. So can you please just give me an answer, Cyril Valentin?”
“…What kind of answer do you want? Just what you look like?”
“Yeah. Don’t think too hard. Just, tell me honestly.”

Even his middle name, Valentin, had come out. If he stalled any longer, Adrian would probably press her lips together and leave, so Cyril decided to muster a reasonable answer.
‘It’s just a face like any other…’

He thought cynically, but he knew better than anyone that wasn’t true.
Adrian wanted him to speak ‘honestly,’ but unfortunately, that was impossible.
If he truly expressed Adrian as she was, exactly as she appeared in Cyril’s eyes, she would be horrified.

Wouldn’t anyone? If she were in her right mind, she couldn’t possibly stay silent hearing lavish praise from a friend she’d spent eight years with, delivered right to her face.
And Cyril thought it would be better to have his mouth sewn shut than to utter that praise himself.

“You’re just…”
“I’m just what?”
“Ordinary.”
“…Really?”

Two eyes, one nose, one mouth.
She had everything a human should have, so from a species perspective, she was utterly ordinary.
Of course, that was entirely separate from how much craftsmanship each of those features boasted.
He could almost hear his conscience vanishing at that point, but Cyril pretended not to notice.

Adrian seemed a little disappointed by the bland answer. You could tell just by her pouting face as she glanced at the mirror positioned behind Cyril’s shoulder.
“Then, Cyril, what do you think you look like to you?”

Adrian, who had been staring at her own face—which wouldn’t change no matter how much she looked—asked again. A hint of inexplicable anticipation colored her words.
“I’m ordinary too.”

This question was easy. Cyril answered immediately, as if asking what the point was.
The expression on Adrian’s face, which had been waiting for his answer, brightened instantly.
“Thanks for answering!”
“…For saying ‘ordinary’?”
“Anyway!”

Adrian turned away with a brighter face than when she had entered the room. Humming on her way out definitely didn’t seem entirely normal.
Why is she like that?
Bewildered, Cyril furrowed his brows.

He should have called Jerome.
Cyril belatedly regretted his careless choice.
“What on earth is wrong with you?”
“Why are you suddenly asking what’s wrong?”

Adrian, retorting lightly as if she had no idea, looked down at her book.
A disapproving gaze bore into the top of Adrian’s head.
“Why aren’t you coming to the shooting range?”

Reading a book in itself was understandable.
But skipping the shooting practice she loved so much, just to read? That wasn’t like Adrian. Reed, maybe, but not her.
And it wasn’t just shooting. It had been quite a while since she last showed up for swordsmanship training either.
It wasn’t something forced on her, so it wouldn’t be strange if she stopped at any time, but the timing felt rather abrupt.

‘What’s that now.’
Cyril’s gaze moved to the book Adrian was reading.
More precisely, the dried rose placed between the pages felt oddly conspicuous.
Adrian didn’t do sentimental things like that.
Using a dried flower that could crumble at any moment as a bookmark, when she had perfectly good bookmarks… And for someone as clumsy as Adrian.

“I’m trying to cultivate some refinement too. Is there a problem?”
“…Did Countess Parthe threaten to kill you if you didn’t?”
“I doubt the Countess has the power to do that.”

Adrian looked at Cyril with a pitying expression.
It was quite a blow to his pride to receive that look from Adrian of all people, but he didn’t have the leisure to dwell on it now.
Adrian was acting strange.
To be precise, she had been acting strange since Cyril returned from Tesart.
He didn’t know what exactly had happened during the little over a month he was away, but Adrian was definitely acting strange.

‘If only Reed were here…’
Reed was currently away visiting the Bluea family. So, there was no one to give him a straightforward answer anymore.
The problem was that he couldn’t pinpoint exactly how Adrian was acting strange.

It was certainly odd that she was holed up in her room, abandoning the guns she loved so much… But that alone wasn’t enough grounds for complaint.
She had started dressing with more care, styling her hair—which she never paid attention to before—in odd ways, and other incomprehensible behaviors followed, but even those were hard to take issue with.

“You’ve been acting strange lately.”
Unable to find the right words, Cyril threw a direct pitch. His voice was lower than usual, betraying his frustrated feelings.
“What’s strange about me?”
“Everything. Everything is strange. You, who never even looked in a mirror before, are carrying a hand mirror around.”

Why was she constantly wearing those dresses with big ribbons she used to find cumbersome and hate? Why had her way of speaking become so refined…?
There were countless points to criticize, but the most troublesome part was that none of them were actually valid points of criticism.

“Anyway, you’re strange.”
The quiet remark flowed out like a sigh.
After swallowing all other words, that was all that remained.