SBCF 10

Chapter 10

Clang!

The window rattled violently with a loud noise, as if someone had thrown a stone at it.

The maid who had been standing by the window, secretly wiping away tears, flinched in surprise.

“What, what was that?”

She turned her head.

A foolish-looking bird had crashed into the window, fallen in a crumpled heap, then flown back up again and perched on the windowsill, pecking at the glass.

It looked as if it wanted her attention.

“Wait, isn’t that a carrier pigeon?”

Carrier pigeons were not allowed to enter the main palace. They were strictly trained to fly only to the western tower.

But what was this bird? There wasn’t even a message tied to its leg.

“So it’s just a stupid bird after all.”

The maid shooed it away, hissing and waving her arms.

But the pigeon didn’t budge no matter how much she flailed.

It even scratched at the glass with its beak, making an irritating screech, then flapped loudly against the window.

“You crazy bird…!”

“What is all this commotion?”

At that moment, a coughing voice broke out repeatedly.

It was Sabina, the mistress of Valentine Castle.

“I-I’m sorry!”

“That is enough. What is it about a bird?”

Her breath was so faint it seemed it could stop at any moment, and her voice was hoarse and frayed.

Through the slightly parted curtains, her figure could be seen faintly. Her gaunt fingers, painfully thin, looked like withered branches.

“It… it’s a carrier pigeon. It’s crashing into the window and causing a disturbance.”

It was an absurd report—that a pigeon was “causing trouble.” Even Sabina, who rarely laughed, let out a faint, incredulous chuckle.

“I would like to see this brave little bird. Help me up.”

“Absolutely not! The physician said you must rest—”

“When a person dies, they get to rest forever.”

“Please don’t say such things again.”

The maid looked as if she might cry, but she gritted her teeth and endured it.

She could not break down in front of her lady.

“Yesterday I was lucky to make it through, but today might be my last. So let me do as I please.”

Sabina knew better than anyone that time was running out.

She had already accepted it, resigned herself, and was waiting for her end.

“Lady…”

If the head maid were here, she would have firmly stopped her.

Unfortunately, she had stepped out at the worst possible time.

The maid sighed and helped Sabina to a chair by the window.

But the bird had already disappeared.

“I will find it and turn it into roast pigeon in secret,” the maid thought bitterly.

At that moment, Sabina reached toward the window and asked,

“…Is that cherry blossom?”

To her shock, freshly bloomed cherry blossoms had been neatly placed on the outer windowsill.

“That’s impossible. All the cherry blossoms fell long ago…”

The maid murmured, then looked outside—and opened the window as if enchanted.

Sabina’s eyes widened to their limit.

Along the path beside the detached palace, massive cherry trees were swaying in the spring wind, drenched in pink.

Something impossible had happened. People called such things miracles.

healingsong_010_10

Lloyd headed toward the place where he had first seen Aria.

Several jaguars now prowled behind him.

“Search.”

The jaguars responded with low growls.

Lloyd gave the order, then frowned slightly. Something fell onto his head.

He reached up and found it was a flower petal.

“What in the world…”

He looked up.

A shower of blossoms was falling.

Among the barren trees, only the cherry blossoms were showing signs of life.

“Kalyn’s prank?”

But the castle’s court mage was the type who would burn away falling petals simply for being annoying, not make them bloom.

Since when had he become sentimental enough for this?

No—there was no way that man could cast a spell to make flowers bloom.

“Then someone else did this.”

Lloyd thought of the small child who had stood alone in the garden holding a lace umbrella.

Her hair, fluttering among the drifting blossoms, had resembled them.

“Annoying.”

He tapped his sword in and out of its sheath repeatedly.

Click. Click. The sound echoed through the garden.

Then one of the jaguars returned with something in its mouth.

A small, worn leather bag soaked with rain.

“That belongs to her.”

She had clutched it like a lifeline even when a blade had been held to her throat, causing her to drop it.

“What was she hiding?”

Poison? Weapons?

Lloyd opened the bag without hesitation.

Inside were cards, an ink bottle, and a broken quill that could no longer be used.

So she usually communicates by writing on paper?

“How foolish.”

Leaving records like this made it too easy for information to leak.

He decided he would burn anything suspicious on the spot.

He began reading the cards, intending to track her down and interrogate—or kill—her if necessary.

[Because the flowers are pretty.]

An absurd statement.

Does she like flowers?

[The flowers here are nice. I like them.]

She likes looking at them too.

So she stood alone in the detached palace garden in the rain just to look at flowers?

[I want cocoa with something that tastes like melon on top.]

Something that tastes like melon?

He turned the page.

[It’s white and floating and soft.]

…Marshmallow, probably.

[It’s tasty, melon.]

So she liked it.

Even though it wasn’t melon.

[My name is not “idiot.”]

The cards showed signs of time as he read further. Yellowed, edges worn smooth.

[I’m sorry I was wrong.]

[It’s all my fault.]

[Please don’t hit me.]

[I’ll try to speak.]

[Sorry I’m a mute idiot.]

They were worn from constant handling, as if she had read them over and over again even after writing them.

Ink had blurred with tears.

[Please love me.]

It was the last card.

Lloyd stood frozen in place.

A jaguar nudged his leg, pointing toward the detached palace.

She was there.

“….”

After a long silence, his gaze fell to the broken quill.

Aria drifted in and out of consciousness as fever consumed her.

She heard murmuring voices and felt unfamiliar hands.

Were they nobles who came to see the siren?

“Sing for me, my angel.”

“Is that it? Are you joking?”

“I spent my entire fortune to meet you. Stop pretending to be sick and wake up.”

“If you want to live, sing. Now!”

Unclear voices—whether real or imagined.

Aria frowned in pain and slowly opened her eyes.

“Ah, young lady! You’re awake?”

She blinked in confusion.

On her left was Dana, the head maid, and on her right was Betty, the head housekeeper, both looking at her with worry.

Dana gently brushed away the hair stuck to her forehead and sighed deeply.

“I’m so glad you’re safe.”

This was the ducal territory.

Aria finally realized it.

“Have you been taking care of me this whole time?”

When she was too feverish to open her eyes, someone had been wiping her body with a damp cloth.

It felt like she wouldn’t have to suffer alone anymore.

Even her eyes felt warm.

As if she might cry.

Dana patted her head again.

This time, Aria wasn’t startled.

It was too warm a touch for that.

As if telling her not to be in pain.

To recover quickly.

It felt like she was melting away—her body, and something else inside her.

Without a trace.

“Oh my, oh my.”

As Aria tilted her head into the touch, Dana murmured in admiration.

“How can you be this adorable?”

Dana kept stroking her hair until she suddenly remembered the girl was a patient and stepped back in alarm.

“You should take fever medicine, so I’ll bring you some thin soup.”

Dana helped Aria sit up against the headboard and spoon-fed her the soup after blowing on it.

Aria, her cheeks flushed red from fever, obediently accepted it.

“Ah.”

As she chewed, her senses slowly returned.

She looked around urgently for her bag.

Not finding it, she grabbed Dana’s hand and wrote on it.

[What about the duchess?]

“She made it through the worst of it.”

Relief.

Aria exhaled.

It seemed it wasn’t yet time for her to die.

“By the way, while you were asleep, the young lord came by.”

Lloyd?

Aria lifted her head abruptly, her bunny ears twitching.

Dana chuckled and continued,

“And he said he picked this up on the way.”

It was Aria’s bag.

“Since when did I drop it…”

Perhaps she had been too feverish.

She opened it quickly, searching inside.

But instead of her usual quill, a luxurious fountain pen fell out.

“…Huh?”

She blinked, wondering if she was hallucinating from fever.

The nib was gold, decorated with diamonds, and bore the signature of the world-famous artisan Kataruna.

It was an artifact worthy of being displayed in a museum immediately.

Aria looked at Dana.

Dana shrugged.

“Must’ve been picked up in the office.”

Of course.

With the Valentine family’s wealth, even something like this could be called “something you found lying around.”

The imperial consort herself used to brag for days if she got her hands on Kataruna’s work.

Aria rummaged through the bag and found a note.

[When you recover, get lost.]

Was this a farewell gift meaning “leave after you’re better”?

It sounded like if she didn’t disappear after recovering, she might be killed.

Aria asked Dana for advice.

[Does Lloyd hate me a lot?]

He did try to kill her without hesitation.

She lightly touched the bandages around her neck.

“I planned to hide my siren abilities and live quietly…”

But being killed or driven out by her future husband was not ideal.

“Well, I can’t really judge his feelings,” Dana said carefully.

Then she added,

“But before he left, he ordered that you be given every type of dessert available.”

Dana muttered, “As if that were even possible,” with a troubled expression.