Esperanza, who had been throwing the books and research materials Annie had taken out into her inventory one by one, suddenly stuck her head into the inventory's gaping black mouth.
"Ah, Miss!"
She couldn't see anything. Hmm. Esperanza, who pulled her head out, recalled what Cider had said before while leaving the startled Annie behind.
Could the inventory be filled with liquid?
What kind of space is that thing anyway?
If this were a ga, such things wouldn't even be a concern. But in reality, she had simply moved between existing worlds using a spaceti machine. Then what principle does this 'inventory' operate on? What about the 'status window'?
'I should ask Cyrus.'
While asking, it would be good to get a potion as well. Esperanza took out a piece of stationery from the desk Cider had been using and wrote a simple letter to Cyrus. It was the sa type as the stationery that had co to Esperanza.
"There's an incredible amount of stationery. Do soldiers originally have many occasions to write letters?"
"I bought it."
At those words, Esperanza quietly looked down at the glossy stationery. The thick, smooth-surfaced high-quality stationery curved in her hand. After touching the stationery for a mont, Esperanza crumpled up the letter she had written to Cyrus. I'll write it again, whatever.
"Let's go."
??????°??☆????°??????
Alastair Renfrew obeyed Esperanza's commands with absolute obedience like a faithful attendant. That ant Cider couldn't escape from the reception room for even a single minute. The reception room only had books that servants had moved for him—no research equipnt, materials, or magic stones. So he had no choice but to sit quietly and read books.
"Sterling, instead of standing there watching, co and do so work."
"Is there work for
to do?"
Alastair, who was following orders to monitor but was bored of standing still at the door like a servant, asked eagerly. Cider gestured toward the front seat with his chin.
"Since it's just sorting necessary materials, it shouldn't be difficult even for a non-specialist."
Cider wrote down a few keywords and scholars' nas on a mo pad.
"Just sort out books by these scholars or with this content separately."
"Th... searching through all these books?"
"You'll have to figure that out yourself."
Of course, instead of doing such useless work, Cider just roughly checked the index at the back of books. If it didn't appear in the index in any aningful amount, there wouldn't be any useful content anyway. But he could afford to be this mischievous with the upright Alastair Renfrew.
For a long while, only the sound of pages turning could be heard in the reception room. Other noise only interrupted after about 30 minutes had passed.
"What a studious atmosphere. What's everyone doing?"
It was Cordelia, who had quickly recovered upon hearing news that the Duke had left.
"Huh? Where's Esperanza?"
"She went out briefly on my request. Lady Cordelia, don't step on other people's books and go around to enter."
"......Whose books are they?"
"The hoowner's."
At that mont, Cordelia, who had been lifting her foot with a mischievous expression, put her foot down when Alastair drowsily raised his head.
'Alastair Renfrew is innocent.'
Unlike his father, who was belatedly sending inexplicable goodwill from who knows what impulse.
"So, what's this?"
Cider didn't answer, being busy flipping through books again. Eventually, Alastair closed his book and briefly explained the situation. However, Cordelia didn't need detailed explanation either.
"Then what should I do to amuse myself?"
"......Would you like to join us?"
"For whose benefit? No thanks."
Cordelia, who spoke as if she wanted to be heard while glaring at Cider, headed toward the sofa.
"Nothing to do. Hmm......."
Her gaze surveyed the reception room. Chess board, billiard table, books piled high and two uninterested gentlen, the sohow gloomy and unpleasant garden visible through the window. Cordelia's gaze eventually reached a piano that seed unused by anyone.
"Is it tuned?"
"Well. Still, they probably maintained it? I've never used it myself, so I'm not sure."
Since it wasn't a very helpful answer, she had no choice but to check for herself. After pressing the pedals a few tis and playfully producing so discordant sounds, she took her hands off. The sound was usable. Cordelia began playing in earnest.
The first piece was a famous hymn. Alastair slowly closed his book and set it down in the wrong place. It was a song he had heard just yesterday. Though it was only one verse. The piece that the centuries-old pipe organ in the huge cathedral had played last. Though all the vacuum tubes had been destroyed and the cathedral had collapsed, he could never forget that one bar of music that had saved him in that dizzying mont.
"Sterling, if you're not going to work, go downstairs."
Cider, annoyed by Alastair who sat dazedly fiddling with book pages until the hymn ended, gestured for him to leave.
"Ah, no."
"I'm saying you're not being helpful."
Eventually, Alastair reluctantly left his seat. Cider turned the pages while half-listening to Cordelia's graceful performance. Work picked up speed. With only a few books left, it seed he could imdiately test several hypotheses once the laboratory was ready in the afternoon.
He had the blueprints for the spaceti machine he had made in his youth, but he couldn't just stop at reproducing what he had made then. This had to be perfect. At least perfectly safe. Because Esperanza would use it. Even if the path to perfection was a process that scraped out his insides.
The door opened again. This ti even Cider looked up. It was a familiar footstep sound.
"I brought everything. But is it okay to divert what the military provided like this?"
Esperanza, who had taken Alastair's seat, asked bluntly.
"They won't have ti to worry about such trivial things."
Esperanza picked up one of the stacked books and opened the index. Though Cider said nothing, she naturally began sorting books by comparing them with the mo pad placed in front.
"Really? Ah. And they still hadn't emptied the ashtray at that house. Don't you plan to cut back?"
"Well."
Giving up cigarettes wasn't difficult. What couldn't be controlled wasn't Paoran or such, but this situation that made him need even that acrid smoke. This ridiculous situation where he had to send her away with his own hands instead of holding onto her. Cider, who suppressed the mischief that suddenly surged up, closed his book.
"This side is all done."
"Oh,
too.
too. Just a mont."
Esperanza, who finished the last two books, got up from her seat. Just then, Cordelia's brilliant performance ca to an end. Cordelia, who took her hands off the keyboard, spotted Esperanza and opened her eyes wide.
"Huh? When did you co?"
"About 10 minutes ago."
Esperanza led Cider toward the sofa. Cordelia, sitting on the piano bench, handed the sheet music to Alastair.
"Lord Sterling also learned piano when he was young."
"It's nothing compared to Lady Cordelia's skill."
"The wrong notes will be more fun, so don't worry."
Alastair, who beca more anxious at those words, looked back at the remaining two audience mbers in the reception room. Both had the sa expression.
'Why do they unite at tis like this?'
Thanks to that, the pressure was reduced. If he played well, they would appreciate it, and if he played poorly, they would watch. Either way, it would be proper guest treatnt.
The piece Cordelia chose for Alastair was a simple folk song. It was a famous song familiar to Esperanza's ears as well.
"You know it too?"
Cider asked in a lowered voice. Esperanza smiled with narrowed eyes. It was a song she often heard at the Beginning of Winter Festival, so she couldn't help but rember it.
Alastair made two mistakes while playing that short piece. But no one said anything. The wrong notes were more satisfying from the start anyway.
When Esperanza pushed his back, Cider also played a couple of simple pieces. In return, Esperanza gave back a terrible performance.
"I told you I can't play, didn't I?"
Since it was a concert where wrong notes were preferred, she was even shaless about it. Eventually, Cordelia took over the piano again. Cider brought one of the sorted books and opened it, while Esperanza brought another book from the study and leaned against Cider's arm.
It was peace after a long ti. However, it was never complete peace. Tea ti in the desert before a sandstorm. White sunlight entering through the windows covering the walls broadly covered the reception room.
Outside the window, the Duke, who had been watching four ladies and gentlen enjoying a languid afternoon, silently turned away.
??????°??☆????°??????
It was such a peaceful afternoon that yesterday's scene at this ti was unimaginable.
One lady had fallen into a nap, and the two people who had gathered around the piano moved to the chess table. Cider swept Esperanza's hair behind her ear as she lay diagonally on his lap and scanned the end of the page with his eyes.
He turned the page, looked at the new page, then leaned his head against the backrest. Behind him, he could hear conversation in very lowered voices.
"Esperanza must have been tired too. That's understandable."
"Lord Avondale was also injured. He seed quite shocked."
It was the sound of two people whispering behind the sound of chess pieces being placed. Cider stroked around Esperanza's ear with his fingertips and let that sound flow by.
"Oh my. Well, he couldn't have expected it."
"It was a serious injury, but for so reason, when the doctor checked, it was almost all healed."
Cider looked down at his bandaged hand. His stomach, where the potion had been poured, was mostly healed except for slight pain, and his arm seed like the bandages could be removed within a week.
It would be reasonable to have questions, but the two people with their heads together whispering didn't seem to care much. All of this—Esperanza, the dungeon, monsters, and disasters—seed to be bundled together as one exceptional phenonon. It was a desirable thing. He didn't want to explain it anyway, and he didn't want Esperanza to rack her brains explaining it either.
Esperanza's slowly lifting eyelashes tickled his knee.
"Shh."
Esperanza, who turned her head slightly to the side to et his gaze, smiled with narrowed eyes.
"What ti is it?"
"Mm. 3:20."
"I slept for a long ti......."
"As soone said, you must have been tired."
Esperanza glanced at Cider sideways. How could that fatigue be from combat? After completely draining soone's spirit!
"Co to think of it, why hasn't that Commodore Rustin co to apologize?"
"He must be busy. He's probably in the middle of aligning stories right now."
"Which cos first, that or this?"
It was a statent that had quite lost objectivity, but instead of pointing it out, Cider nodded pleasantly. However, his mood imdiately plumted at the next words.
"Ah, right. I need to write a letter to Cyrus too."
Reviews
All reviews (0)