RIYP 02

Chapter 2

The story itself was nothing more than a common superstition, of course. Drinking a hundred bottles of dew was never going to create magical power where none existed.

Deep down, I already knew the answer.

But a desperate ten-year-old couldn’t endure doing nothing.

If I tried ordering the servants to help me, they would obviously ridicule me for believing such nonsense. More likely, they wouldn’t listen to me at all. I’d be lucky if they didn’t immediately report that “the young lady has finally gone insane.”

In the end, I snuck out into the garden alone late at night.

And the next morning, I was discovered unconscious after slipping while collecting dew and smashing my head against a garden stone.

That incident turned me into the laughingstock of the entire country.

People mocked me openly, saying that not only had I failed to become a mage, but I had even proven myself mentally deficient.

Naturally, the news enraged my father.

“You idiot! You can’t even manage to stay quiet like a dead mouse without dragging your father’s name through the mud?!”

The only person who stopped him from immediately sending me off to some remote monastery was—

“My dear, please calm down. This happened because I failed to care for the child properly. Blame me instead.”

My mother.

While Father calmed himself by holding the hand of his beloved young second wife, I found myself thinking:

How can someone like her exist?

Mother was my complete opposite in every possible way.

She had been born a commoner, yet awakened magic more powerful than anyone else’s and climbed to her current position through her own ability.

No matter how easy social advancement was for mages, very few had ever reached the heights Mother had. Even if Father had already been over forty at the time of their marriage and she entered the family as a second wife, she was still the Duchess of Ricard.

Meanwhile, I…

…was a useless incompetent who could do nothing.

And despite that, I was an unqualified fraud who possessed the title of duke’s daughter solely because of luck.

People often sneered that I had turned out this way because Mother’s bloodline was lowborn.

I was the single blemish upon Mother’s otherwise perfect life.

And yet—

Mother never blamed me.

Father and my brother couldn’t hide their sighs and contempt whenever they looked at me, but Mother never did.

“It’s alright, Riche. Of course, being unable to use magic is a serious flaw, but that doesn’t mean you’re completely worthless.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Mother firmly believes our Riche can prove that herself.”

She was right.

Following Mother’s wishes, I gave up on magic and devoted myself to other pursuits.

I learned ancient languages and numerous foreign tongues. I mastered etiquette so thoroughly that no one could criticize my behavior. I learned accounting and household management as well.

I didn’t want to become someone shameful.

And I wanted, even a little, to help the only person who protected me despite being such a stain upon her life.

Before long, I was translating ancient magical texts for Mother’s convenience and helping manage the household in her stead whenever she was busy.

“Our lovely, admirable Riche.”

Mother smiled brightly like a rose in full bloom.

“I knew you could do it. See? You found your usefulness so quickly.”

Those sweet praises, falling one drop at a time.

Whenever I heard them, it felt like perhaps it was alright for me to exist after all.

I can’t become a mage, but I can help Mother, the greatest mage of all.

A tiny, fragile sense of pride began growing inside my chest.

Other people and the outside world remained harsh toward me, but thinking of Mother made it bearable.

By the time I reached adulthood, I was handling most of the duchy’s internal affairs.

Every day, I translated ancient magical texts and copied magic circles in Mother’s place. The calluses on my hands never faded, but I didn’t mind. My fingers, twisted from gripping pens so often, were a source of pride to me.

Seeing a satisfied smile cross Mother’s usually sensitive expression was my reward.

That was why I didn’t even mind fixing her hair, touching up her makeup, or arranging her clothes to suit her demanding tastes.

“See? The only person who works exactly the way I like is my daughter!”

Whenever Mother, dressed magnificently, kissed my cheek in appreciation, my pride reached its peak.

And yet…

Whenever I stood alone after seeing off Mother’s carriage, my heart always felt uneasy and hollow.

I’m doing well now. Things are so much better than before.

Then why was I still so anxious?

Why was I still so terrified deep down?

Looking back now, perhaps that was when I first began vaguely sensing the dark truth lurking beneath life itself.

The cracks in my ordinary life began appearing several months before my twentieth birthday.

Around that time, Mother became unusually sensitive. Sometimes she would isolate herself for days, claiming she felt unwell.

Yet despite that, she refused to see physicians or healing mages, which worried me terribly.

“Riche, are you there?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Then one day, after a long while, Mother called for me.

She said she would attend His Majesty the Emperor’s birthday banquet.

Thinking perhaps she was finally recovering a little, I helped prepare more diligently than usual. I was invited as well, but my own appearance became an afterthought.

Even at the Imperial Palace, I attended carefully to Mother’s needs. I fanned her, brought her cool drinks, and when she looked tired, I escorted her to a lounge and massaged her feet.

By the time we returned home, Mother looked far more cheerful.

I felt relieved, believing the outing had refreshed her spirits.

But the truly strange things began after that.

“Mother?”

As though the joy she displayed the previous evening had been a dream, Mother locked herself inside her laboratory.

This time, she secured the door even more firmly than before.

“Are you in there? Please answer me.”

No matter how many times I called, no response came.

Several helpless days passed.

Strangely enough, even the weather remained gloomy during that time.

Looking back, it wasn’t only the weather that felt strange.

Even the familiar halls of the mansion somehow felt alien. The shadows gathered in the corners seemed darker than usual—so much so that they occasionally sent chills through my body.

Mother occasionally emerged.

But every time she did, she looked exhausted, and no matter what I tried to do for her, she seemed irritated by my presence.

Is it because she’s tired? Or is she seriously ill?

Even when I brought meals, she barely touched them. Even when I offered to clean her room, she absolutely refused to open the door.

There was nothing I could do.

Eventually, buried beneath mounting worry, I reached for the laboratory doorknob for the first time.

Hm?

The handle, which I expected to be firmly locked, turned weakly beneath my hand.

“…It was open?”

How long had it been unlocked?

I didn’t know.

Until then, I had never once considered trying the handle. Going against Mother’s wishes had never crossed my mind.

But the door opened.

And as though enchanted, unable to resist, I stepped inside Mother’s laboratory.

“Mother…?”

No answer came.

There wasn’t even the slightest sign of anyone inside.

How long had she been gone?

Had she simply gone for a walk?

If so, I thought I might at least tidy the room while I waited.

So I opened the inner door—

never imagining I was about to confront the anxiety that had lurked beneath the foundation of my life all along.

“Wait… what is this?”

How could I even describe it?

It was broad daylight outside, yet Mother’s laboratory was pitch-black.

Not ordinary nighttime darkness, either.

It felt as though living darkness itself was writhing inside the room.

As though it had opened its jaws wide, trying to swallow every last trace of light in existence.

Literal darkness.

No matter how close I held my hand before my face, I could see nothing.

…Had I gone blind?

For one horrifying instant, that thought crossed my mind.

But I quickly shook my head and steadied myself.

Mother must be experimenting with some new form of magic… right?

Yes. That had to be it.

It was the most reasonable explanation I could desperately force myself to invent.

Yet even I couldn’t truly believe it.

Instinctively, I understood.

This darkness was dangerous.

Not merely because I couldn’t see a single step ahead—

but because something far more dangerous and evil was lurking silently within it.

No. That can’t be true.

Don’t think such things.

Scolding myself for my weakness, I felt around the wall, trying to find my way back outside.

Before long, my fingers touched something.

But before I could retrace my steps, brilliant light suddenly burst from my fingertips.

“——!”

It lasted only an instant, but it looked as though light itself had escaped from my body.

What was that?

Before I could think further, dizziness struck me.

“Ugh, wait…”

Staggering, I regained my senses to find myself collapsed on the floor before a wall.

The suffocating darkness had retreated slightly, leaving the surroundings dimly visible.

But I was too shocked by the sight before me to even question it.

The entire wall was covered in grotesquely twisted roots like dead tree roots warped and bound with wire, like grotesque bonsai deliberately mutilated into unnatural shapes.

“What in the world…”

At that moment, something shining among the twisted roots caught my eye.

The light wasn’t strong, but a faint glow seeped out from within the tangled roots.

For some reason, I instinctively understood that this light was the only reason I could still barely see.

Did it start glowing because I touched it?

Then suddenly, agonizing pain twisted through my stomach.

“——!”

It felt as though invisible hands were crushing my internal organs.

My body folded over instantly as nausea surged upward.

“Ugh…!”

But the taste filling my mouth wasn’t sour stomach acid.

It was the unfamiliar metallic stench of blood.

I hurriedly pulled my hand away from my mouth.

It was soaked red.

“…Blood?”

I couldn’t understand what was happening.

I stared blankly at the blood I had vomited when suddenly the room began darkening again.

“——!”

Looking up, I saw that the pearl-like object embedded among the roots was flickering weakly like a dying magical lamp.

And in that moment, for reasons I couldn’t explain, I became certain that I absolutely had to take it out before the light vanished completely.

Driven by that overwhelming conviction, I groped across the experiment table until my hand found a knife.

A sharp silver dagger.