“Are you out of your mind!”

Through the haze in her head, someone’s bellow bored into her ear.

Realizing the voice belonged to the Duke of Sorpel, Camilla forced her rising eyelids shut.

Nothing good would come of meeting the Duke of Sorpel while he was angry.

‘But what is this?’

Who was he shouting at like that?

“How did you train the child for her to end up like this!”

Training?

‘Wait, wait!’

Then the one getting scolded right now was Ludville?

“F-Father!”

Camilla hurriedly called to the Duke of Sorpel.

“......!”

But the instant she moved even slightly, the sheer pain that swept her whole body cut her words off.

It felt like her body was being torn apart just from breathing. What on earth was this crushing agony?

“Camilla!”

Even as she saw the Duke of Sorpel rush to her side, Camilla couldn’t say a thing.

Only after a long while, when the pain had ebbed a little, could she open her mouth.

“It... it wasn’t Brother’s... fault.”

Just speaking sent cold sweat running down her body.

It was astonishing that a single bout could leave her in such a state. Did this make sense? How in the world had the sword been swung?

“I asked him to.”

“No matter what you asked....”

The Duke of Sorpel clicked his tongue shortly and shot Ludville another reproving look. Camilla’s eyes followed to him as well.

‘Training, huh?’

So he hadn’t mentioned the bout.

It seemed Ludville had kept secret that she’d displayed extraordinary skill using Jevillan swordsmanship.

“Are you ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) all right?”

“Yes.”

She was not all right at all, but Camilla managed a smile at Ludville’s question.

“I’m sorry, Brother. Because of me....”

It was the first time she’d seen the Duke of Sorpel raise his voice at Ludville.

He’d taken on a misunderstanding he didn’t need to bear because of her, yet without offering any excuse he had hidden the truth. She felt grateful and sorry at once.

Seeing Camilla at a loss, the Duke of Sorpel sighed, then seized his son—who stood stiff as an old tree—by the collar.

“Go take a rest.”

Even as the Duke of Sorpel and Ludville left, Camilla didn’t dare move. Even stretching a finger was hard.

‘Be that as it may....’

What were they doing?

Camilla looked toward the group huddled to one side. Two ghosts were glaring, pressing another as if to corner him.

[What on earth were you thinking.]

[So you meant to wring the child dry.]

[You jumped into the body of someone whose stamina isn’t trained and rampaged like that?]

[Just because you’re invited in doesn’t mean you barge in.]

[A ghost ought to have a conscience.]

Zeno, being scolded by the two ghosts—Derrin and Ferrol—couldn’t say a word.

He’d charged ahead in a trance at the fact of holding a sword for the first time in ages.

Ignoring Camilla’s condition entirely was clearly his fault.

[Sorry... no, wait! Hold on!]

Finally driven to apology by the continued reprimand, he suddenly realized something and snapped his head up.

[I know I was wrong, but who are you exactly? Why are you yelling at me? Do I owe you two an apology too?]

[We...!]

[We are...!]

Derrin and Ferrol were at a loss for words.

They couldn’t settle on a name for their bond with Camilla.

Realizing they had no right to be this angry, the two ghosts grew downcast. Camilla stepped in.

“They’re like family to me.”

So stop bullying my old gentlemen.

[F-family!]

[Miss...!]

Derrin and Ferrol looked at Camilla with faces full of emotion.

[Sorry.]

Zeno, who had drifted to her side at some point, bowed his head and offered an apology.

[And.]

When he lifted his face, the corners of his mouth had softened up.

[Thank you.]

I don’t know how long it’s been since I last felt the joy of holding a sword.

[It was a splendid bout.]

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

[That fellow Ludville was remarkable too.]

“Y-yes.”

Camilla agreed. That man was indeed something.

He had become a Master at as young an age as Zeno, and he was an idol to knights of his generation.

[I’ll go easier next time.]

“Y-yes. ...What?”

...What did you just say?

Camilla, who had been letting the words go in one ear and out the other, flinched.

[This time I got too excited and couldn’t control my strength at all. Next time I’ll check your state—]

“Wait, wait!”

What nonsense was this ghost spouting?

“Next time?”

[Huh?]

“Aren’t you leaving?”

[Leaving? Me? Where?]

“Where do you think.”

The other side!

“You said your wish was to swing a sword to your heart’s content. If your wish is fulfilled, you should move on.”

[To my heart’s content? Me? When?]

Good grief, listen to this shameless ghost.

‘What is this brazen nerve?’

[I haven’t swung to my heart’s content yet. I’m even thirstier.]

“.......”

[So I’ll be asking you from time to time.]

“.......”

[I truly will be careful next—]

“Get lost.”

Right now!

****

KNOCK KNOCK.

“Come in.”

At the knock came the same calm voice as always.

Carefully, Camilla opened the door and stepped inside.

‘This is a first too.’

Coming in here.

As she stepped into Ludville’s room, she felt a strange sensation.

She realized anew that, aside from those times when she’d died by his hand, they’d had hardly any contact.

“Are you busy?”

“No.”

He seemed to have been reading; Ludville set down the book in his hand and offered her a seat.

“Please have this.”

Camilla set the snack she’d brought on the table. It was a pudding she had made herself.

The taste was guaranteed—she’d had help from Ferrol, the chef’s ghost.

“How’s your body?”

“I’m all right now.”

All right compared to the beginning—her body still tingled here and there.

He could plainly see that, but Ludville didn’t ask further and simply nodded.

Camilla watched in silence as he tasted the pudding. Fortunately, it suited him—he cleared a dish in no time.

“Brother.”

Camilla called him quietly.

“Don’t you have anything you want to ask me?”

Five days had already passed since the bout, and Ludville had not asked about that day even once.

‘He must be curious.’

Someone with no talent for the sword had suddenly displayed Jevillan swordsmanship with absurd skill—surely he had a lot he wanted to ask.

Yet even when no one else was around, he had never once brought it up.

Like a thief with cold feet, Camilla, tormented by it, had come to him herself—and still he hadn’t asked.

Ludville looked at her quietly.

“If I ask, will you answer?”

“Of course.”

“Without lying?”

“Th—”

That wouldn’t do.

Camilla, about to say she would, couldn’t finish.

She couldn’t very well say a ghost—Zeno—had entered her body and swung the sword in her stead.

She had prepared a rough excuse or two, but the look in Ludville’s eyes—fixed steadily on her—stopped her cold.

‘What do I even call this feeling....’

Somehow, if she lied here in front of him, she felt she’d live with guilt for life....

How could a grown man’s eyes be that bright?

“If you don’t want to say it, you don’t have to.”

As she hesitated, Ludville’s quiet voice continued.

“In the future as well—if it’s hard to say, you don’t need to.”

“It’s just....”

“Only, I’d prefer you didn’t lie. You don’t have to speak at all.”

Under Ludville’s gaze—gently insistent, as if asking for a promise—Camilla finally nodded slowly.

“Thank you, Brother.”

She was grateful for everything: for agreeing to the bout though it was an unreasonable request, for hiding the truth from others, and for not pressing her with difficult questions.

“I’ll make it again for you next time.”

Camilla smiled at the empty pudding dish.

“...All right.”

When all was said and done, Camilla rose to leave.

‘Huh?’

Something caught her eye.

A bunch of flowers on the table by the head of the bed—a dried bouquet of mist-flowers, crisp with age.

‘That....’

It was certainly the mist-flowers she’d handed over to him on their first meeting by accident. Why did he still have them?

“...I like dried flowers.”

“Dried flowers?”

“Mm.”

“I... see.”

Should she dry the flowers and give them to him like that from now on?

It wasn’t her place to meddle further in someone else’s tastes, so Camilla asked nothing more and slipped out softly.

After Camilla left, a very faint smile touched Ludville’s lips as his gaze lingered on the mist-flowers, then faded.

****

“Hey, rich woman.”

“Yes, I’m rich.”

At the brazen answer, Arsian let out a short laugh.

Watching Camilla grin like a fool even as he teased her made him smile in spite of himself.

He had just now heard about Professor J.B.’s case. Since he hardly spoke with others, the news had come late.

Hearing that Camilla had caught the murderer alone and had him thrown in prison left him both flabbergasted and angry.

‘I knew she had no fear.’

But to try to face a murderer alone.

He’d meant to give her an earful when he met her, but when he saw her face he couldn’t say anything.

It was already over, and seeing her smile so brightly—well, what did it matter.

He would simply make sure to guard her side so she didn’t end up exposed to such danger again.

“What are you going to do with all that money?”

Camilla held a single bank slip in her hand.

It was a slip from the only bank in the Empire, ‘Fable Bank,’ managed directly by the Imperial Household.

Looking at the amount stamped on the slip, Camilla kept breaking into smiles.