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If this is the real end – 5

            Let’s say there was a painting and a jewel. Then, the painting would be hung out in the most conspicuous place in the mansion, and the jewel would be hidden in the drawer of a dresser. These two items whose fate could be described as quite contrasted, were given to us sisters by our father. In terms of beauty, the object I received didn’t lose. But, there was a heavenly difference in their values. A painting drawn by an amateur, and a rare jewel that didn’t have another match in this world. While its rarity meant a price couldn’t be put on it, the emotions invested into it were certainly not equal. From a third party’s perspective, I, who received the jewel, might have seemed more fortunate. But that wasn’t the case. That’s why I hided the squarely box which contained that gem in the top drawer of my dresser. It wasn’t an object I had desired myself. I didn’t want it. Such a thing.

*
*

            Staring fixedly at the necklace adorning my chest, Silvia said “Nice for you, big sister.” To her who pouted her lips in a truly envious expression, I returned a wry smile. I simply didn’t know what to say.

“Are you dissatisfied with my painting?” gently said father who was standing beside Silvia, listening to her voice while combing her thin hairs with his fingers. Enjoying the sensation of gliding his fingers in these smooth hairs, he repeated that gesture many times. Not displaying a special reaction to that father, Silvia accepted his gesture as natural. A daughter approaching marriageable age might tend to dislike having excessive skin ship with her father, but for my little sister it wasn’t the case. I guess they had a harmonious relationship as family members. Outsiders would surely perceive it as such. And in reality too, that was the case.

            … … But, only I was not included there. I had never been glued like this to father, as far as I remembered, him stroking my hairs never happened even once. From long ago father and I had been alienated.

“Even thought I took great pains to paint it for your sake ah…” Facing father who said this with a depressed attitude, Silvia became flustered and shook her head. “Ah, no, that’s not it…! I’m sorry father…” Their appearances as only the upper half of her body was lifted of the bed while she clung to father didn’t look like they were lovers, but still gave the strange feeling that you wouldn’t be surprised if told they were a couple. Despite the fact he was supposed to approach the latter half of his forties, the virile looks of my forever youthful father were famous to the point of being at the center of rumors even in the noble society full of good-looking individuals. Seeing the flustered state Silvia was in, father looked over her with affection and shrugged his shoulders with exaggeration. “Hehe, well, it can’t be help that you said that. Because it’s true that the stone I gave to Ilya was expensive.”

His line of sight drifted in my direction when he said my name, but our eyes didn’t meet. Since Silvia had mentioned me, he reluctantly turned his face toward me but it didn’t have any meaning. The profile of father who retracted his gaze back to my little sister eloquently showed how tremendously he loved Silvia. I, who was watching this from a little distance away, was forced to take on the role of a spectator like I was looking at the stage from the sidelines. I wasn’t a character of this story. I wasn’t a supporting character, neither an onlooker. Just a reader. I looked at the two of them cuddling together with this feeling.

“… But, big sister, your necklace is really beautiful. It’s the same color as your eyes.”

            Even if we were only a third rank earl family, the estate still boasted of a certain broadness so my little sister’s room was certainly not narrow at all. Because I was standing quite some distance away from the bed, we couldn’t communicate with each other unless we raised our voices. However, I had already received the education of a lady. It was impossible for me to do such an improper thing. Especially in front of father. But for some reason, the charming and lively voice of my little sister didn’t sound like it was loud. I wonder if the soft wind coming from the slightly opened window in order to refresh the air was carrying her voice. Carrying it from the other side of that canopy which I could never approach.

            I could see the appearance of my spoiled little sister as her upper body was leaning on father who was sitting on the bed. As Silvia kept repeating “How nice,” father kindly admonished her, “It’s something I gave to Ilya as a commemoration for her debut in the high society you know.” We weren’t at a ball right now, and although it was a bit laughable to wear such a magnificent pendant pared with plain casual clothes, but because Silvia had said she wanted to see it, I had to grant her wish. When I opened the box, she said that just looking at it was not good, and I couldn’t ignore the sulking expression of my cute little sister as she protested, “Big sister, if you aren’t wearing it it’s meaningless.”

            The day I made my debut in the upper society, she was bedridden and her wish to see the necklace couldn’t be fulfilled. That was probably why she said that. “The debut in high society? Then it’ll be my turn this year!” Father looked over Silvia whose checks were dyed in happiness with a gaze mixed with both affection and pity. Silvia didn’t seem to have noticed, but whether or not she would make her debut was uncertain. As she spent most of her days sleeping, she didn’t have the time to receive the education of a lady, and above all her study couldn’t catch up. It would be extremely dreadful for a pure and ignorant child to enter a world where everyone competed to surpass others.

            Although she was still a teenager, because she carried the name of our earl house, carelessness will hardly be tolerated when our home will host a party. Besides, that child was already overly excited just thinking about going to a ball. On the actual day, there was a high possibility she would come up with a fever. The memory on how she was allowed to enter the academy but on the appointed day she had to stay in bed was still fresh. Seeing father’s reaction, I felt that my thinking was right on point. However, it would be foolish to expressively tell everything to her and make my little sister sad. Because I understood how much father doted on Silvia and loved her.

            Certainly, the jewel that decorated my neck was gorgeous and shiny, but it was not fitting for the plain me. A lot of parents would buy that kind of things for their beloved daughters as they would make their debut. Above all if you were an aristocrat who valued his pride, it would be natural to prepare the top-quality products to not embarrass your daughter. Of course, it was also the case for this house. But I knew it wasn’t offered out of love. The elaborate golden craftmanship showed it was a high quality good, and the pegreen jewel arranged at the middle of the pendant highlighted how befitting and worthy of a noble this necklace was. If its owner hadn’t been me, this item would have been plenty enough to adorn a noblewoman. I understood why Silvia was envious of it. Rarely allowed to leave her room, my little sister admired the princesses in fairy tales. It was inevitable that she would harbor respect, awe and longing toward noble daughters. That was why she wanted objects a girl from a noble family would wear. However, ultimately, I thought it was only because she didn’t know about the circumstances surrounding those gifts.    

“Let’s order one jewel the same color as these eyes.”

            One day, suddenly, after having be called to father’s study, I was told this before even hearing what it was about. Neither did he explain why he had called me when we hadn’t faced each other for a while. He just said those words to the merchant who had been here before I arrived. The merchant who received the order respectfully agreed and like he was performing a magic trick, he took a paper from his breast pocket and quickly drawn the picture of a necklace. Then, with an expression akin to licking to his lips, he asked, “would this be satisfactory?”

            For a second, father who had surely noticed his reaction made a displeased expression but that was all. It may be the usual exchange for them. The merchant explained how much value the good had with great loquacity, lifting the corner of his lips as he said how this necklace was more than fitting for a young girl. Father never showed any interest and merely nodded once, leaving the room after saying to hand over the bill to the steward. He never looked once in my direction, going away without granting me the permission to withdraw.

            The merchant looked at the left-behind-me with a troubled face. He asked me if I had any requirement or wish for the necklace with a kind of pitying expression. I understood he was feeling sympathy for me. I was a pathetic girl whose father wouldn’t even looked at her, only given her jewels. He was surely a merchant who was dealing with several famous houses. I didn’t know what he thought, but maybe this scene was one he had never seen in the other families. He probably had never come across a father who bought jewels only out of compulsory obligation. It was only done so that I wouldn’t disgrace our third ranked earl house when I make my debut. So that we won’t look like a family who couldn’t afford to buy some precious stones and be looked down by the others.

“But, father’s painting is even lovelier than the necklace!”

            Silvia’s voice flew to my ear as I casted down my eyes and the pendant came into my line of sight whether I wanted or not. More than her words, it’s her innocent laugh that made my mood sank. Put down beside the bed, the portrait of Silvia painted by father was truly well-made. Many colors had been placed on the big canvas. It expressed well the ephemeral beauty of Silvia. At the same time, it made you feel an overflowing affection. It had the charm to attract the heart of anyone seeing it. That painting let you understand it had been drawn very carefully over time. 

            The one who had painted it was none other than father. The same year he gave me the necklace, he also offered that painting. “Hey, big sister. You think so too, right?” When I was abruptly brought back to the discussion and tilted my head in wonder, Silvia made a pouting expression. Please, listen properly to the conversation, she protested as she pretended to sulk. “Also, why did you come here today?” I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed being asked this question after all this time.

            Contact with Silvia who was in bad physical condition should be kept to the minimum. That was the promise I made to mother a long, long time ago. Therefore, taking a distance from Silvia who was still in poor health until a few days ago and had yet to return to a normal state was natural for me. However, Silvia said with a saddened expression, “Even if you don’t stand that far away, you won’t catch my disease you know.” It seemed she didn’t know about mother’s orders.

            Then, wanted to comfort her, father didn’t hide the blame carried in his eyes when he turned them toward me. Even though he should have known everything, he didn’t seem to intent to cover up for me. Just saying, “your mother has order her not to do that” would have been enough, yet he didn’t say it. As Silvia never blamed mother it would be very unlikely for her to protest, but in the one in a million chance she would, I supposed he decided to hide the fact his wife had prohibited me from getting closer. I heard the distant voice of father as he whispered softly, “what a cruel older sister.”

            I thought it was a very harsh remark, but I understood that no matter what I did it would be useless. That was because this house was revolving around Silvia. Because father, the head of the family, did so and his spouse, mother, was the same, the servants have also learnt to act like this. Because Silvia’s health was poor, because Silvia’s physical condition was weak, because Silvia was pitiable, because Silvia was lonely, because Silvia was, Silvia was… … I wonder, until when was it again that I was saddened by this?           

            The sole exception was only me. Only me could give priority to myself. While each and everyone, including the servants, were busy worrying about Silvia, I was sitting at my desk, holding onto a pen. Only I, the future marquise, was allowed to do that. Even my parents never took this future for granted like it was the natural course of events. At dinner, mother would smile and tell me, “Since you’ll be fine even if we leave you by yourself, I can rest assured,” while father ignored me, keeping quiet. When I was young, I thought this was proof that I was being trusted. But it was certainly not. When was it that I understood I was merely being neglected? It wasn’t that I was being praised for managing well even if I was alone, nor was I being told that I would be fine even if I were to only be by myself. Since even if you are left alone, it’s fine, I don’t have to care, was what was asserted as she averted her eyes from me.

            It’s not like I was coerced into it. It’s not like I was told to work hard by myself. However, leaving this unsaid was an unfair manner of speaking. So I returned a lady-like smile. A perfect armor for the sake of not showing any emotion. I thought it was the best reaction to take to face those nobles. Then, I gripped my pen once again and headed for my desk.

            I knew that this alone could support me. Only knowledge, wisdom and education would shape me. That’s why I had to work much more harder. No matter how many times I repeat my life, only this was always the same.


*

            Since it was decided I would be the fiancé of the marquis’ heir and I was introduced to Soleil, most of my time was spent studying for that sake. Originally my qualifications weren’t good enough. After all my memory was average and I wasn’t very sociable. As much as possible I devoted myself to studying. Secluding myself in the archives of the mansion, from morning to evening I hold my pen and wrote.

            Since the marquis house would have to interact with foreign countries, I thought it would be better to remember as many foreign languages as possible, and it was also necessary to know about the world history accordingly. Because I was hoping that such trivial details could become advantageous in diplomacy. Sometimes I studied with a teacher, sometimes by myself. I just single-mindedly poured all my efforts to not become a fiancé that would embarrass Soleil.

            Several books were piled up on the desk. I thought they would become my strength. In that silent room, only the sound of the pen gliding across paper echoed. The black tea prepared for a break has already cooled down, but the maids never came here. From time to time, Al would check on my condition but he didn’t speak and just left. He was probably worried about breaking my concentration.

Because I had sat down on the same chair for who knows how many hours, my lower back hurt. At the time I stretched out and heaved a breath, the silence was cut off by a faint laugher. There was only me in the archive, so naturally, it didn’t come from inside this room. Lured by the high-pitched voice peculiar to a young girl that resounded once again, I turned my eyes toward the window. The sunlight shining on the red carpet of the archives was dazzling. My eyes spontaneously scrutinized the scene behind them. I could see the figures of Silvia and her maids. They were walking on the sunny lawn as if bouncing on it. The maids were hurrying after the silhouette laughing in a happy voice seemingly about to start running at any moment. It was a nonchalant scene of a nonchalant ordinary day. A scene neither special nor unusual. The only thing different was the persons walking behind them, the master of our house, father. And my mother who was walking further behind.  

I tilted my head, wondering if today was a special day, and from above I overlooked the figures of my parents and little sister walking in our wide garden, backed in the sunshine. From the archives located on the second floor, I could really see them well. I genuinely thought it looked fun, and I reflected on myself who was lurking in the shadows to avoid the sunlight. My dark colored dress seemed kind of ominous. The dress of my little sister fluttering in the wind was of a light color, it looked like it was capturing all the sunlight. Although because of her fragility there were a lot of times she wasn’t allowed to leave her room, a bright place suited her well.  

            Eventually, my seemingly-getting-along-well parents and little sister stopped in one place and lunch was unwrapped before them.  The well-organized maids had already brought a table from the mansion. When my fingers followed their silhouettes across the glass of the window, it felt like I could touch this happy and harmonious family, but it was somewhat painful. These archives were the place I belong to, it was my job to drive knowledge into my head here. No one said anything about this, and because mother was making an unusually satisfied expression, I thought it was fine. Even now that feeling remained unshaken. But speaking of interacting with my parents, it only happened during dinner time. I didn’t even have a memory of having one conversation with father.

            I really wanted to hear is opinion on questions related to the territory management but when I asked the servant to tell him I wanted to ask for his instruction, my meeting request was rejected in one word, saying he was busy. With a hint of sarcasm, I was told there was no free time, not even a few minutes to spare for me.

            That person was looking at Silvia with a smile, standing in front of a canvas placed in the garden. From where I stood, I could see father drawing a picture, and I understood my little sister was his model. Was it mother’s role to ascertain that? She was standing at a little distance from this two, watching over them. Sometimes laugher was mixed in their conversation, and its echoes were thoroughly delivered to the place I stood. I was so far apart from them, and yet I heard it, how strange that was.

            A peaceful day. A day lively passed with family. And I who was looking at it from a distant place. Incidentally, my line of sight fell on the books of foreign language piled up on the desk. I have to open them right now and learn the words. Otherwise, I will lose to the other young ladies of my generation. Like this, I don’t think now is the time to look at the figures of my parents and my little sister.

            But, but. My gaze refused to peel off them, in order to break it off, I took a step back. Immediately my strength left me. I couldn’t support the weight of my body. My right hand that I extended promptly brushed off the pile of books. Oh no, just as I thought that, the books collapsed and at the same time the ink bottle fell over. The deep blue liquid spread on the desk, drops of it felling from its corner one after the other, mercilessly staining the books on the floor. Confused by the sudden incident, reflexively, I reached out to catch the drops and stop the flow of the ink. From my fingertips to my wrist everything was dyed dark blue, and while I didn’t know what it represented, I thought that the real me might be dirtied all over like this.

            In my repeating lives, I did everything in order to protect me. Even when I fell as low as becoming a prostitute, I kept my life by submitting my body. In order to accumulate as many “today” as possible. That was my objective, and this and only this became my life. When I thought so, I irremediably wanted to cry, but when the urge to cry arose I strongly shut down my eyes. My clenched teeth made a disagreeable sound. Even so, I didn’t want to loosen my lips. Because it seemed like if I were to relax my strength even the slightest bit, sobbing would leak out. I kept blinking over and over, waiting for my tears to scatter. With both hands dyed black, I held on my heart atop my clothes.

            … … On the day I made my social debut, the one who escorted me to do the courtesy calls was Soleil. He looked at the pendant decorating my neck and said it was a magnificent jewel. After praising the dressed up me, saying I was “beautiful” in a tone devoid of any emotion, he continued with another comment, Your father’s love for you can be seen through it. He had been right. As there was no other stones semblable to the big gem that was the same color as my eyes, the color of dead leaves, it fetched a high price for its rarity. It wasn’t wrong to say it was magnificent. It was also not wrong to say father’s love could be seen through it.

            It clearly showed how especially not loved I was.

            But at that time, it was alright. Because after all, Soleil was here. Because he was holding my hand, supporting my body when I seemed to be about to fell because of my brand-new shoes I wasn’t used to. His cold, freezing gaze even appeared lovely to me. Just the thought that one day, this man would become my husband was enough to fill my heart with satisfaction. Probably no one else would understand. Understand my craving for other’s warmth because mother wouldn’t embrace me. Understand my feeling that an ordinary painting made by an amateur, something that shouldn’t have any value, was more beautiful and precious than any gem. How miserable had have been, living while telling myself that it wasn’t like I wasn’t loved. That was why I unconditionally loved the man who would become my husband.

“…… Have you ever tried to think why you aren’t loved?”

            In one of my lives, there had been a person who told me this in that place. When the sunlight felt on the pitch-black robe, I noticed it had just a little bit of a tinge of blue. Even though it was a disturbing conversation, those black eyes were completely calm.

“Just as there is no reason for loving someone, have you never thought there might be no reason for not being loved?”

            Even if I thought his porcelain face didn’t look human, I also thought it was affixed with a somehow grieving expression. That being said, he didn’t seem to be acting. I simply knew those eyes, those eyes that seemed to be doubting everything and anything in the world. I was sitting down at the desk, holding my pen like usual, but I couldn’t write down a single thing in the notebook. Crow who had dropped his line of sight on that hand laughed once again.   

“Why”

            The question echoed in the archives as the laugher from outside could still be faintly heard.

“Why, has Crow…”

            My voice trembled greatly. The pounding of my heart relentlessly grew inside my ears.

“… If there is no reason to love, then what you are doing may be meaningless.”  

            Beyond my hazy field of vision, I could see a white face awkwardly smiling at me. That Crow would have such a human expression so unlike him made me laughed. Seeing me like this, Crow answered while directing his gaze toward the window, “Even I laugh.” I told him that I knew it was meaningless, but maybe because he didn’t hear my murmuring voice there was no answer… …

“Why, here,”

            My fingertips were cold. The me and the Crow inside my memory had certainly exchanged those words in the archives. But, until know, I hadn’t remembered it. No, rather than that… … I didn’t even have the memory of it.

            In the past, I was a person who never forget anything. For that reason, I thought I could never cast aside my love. But as my lives piled up my memory became cloudy. There were things I could recall and things I couldn’t do so anymore. It was surely like this.

            … … There might be something, something very important, that I have forgotten.

                                      

Nocta’s talkative note:

First, the most important:

“Since you’ll be fine even if we leave you by yourself, I can rest assured,”

Since even if you are left alone, it’s fine, I don’t have to care

I don’t know if I made the nuance clear. In the 2nd sentence, Ilya’s mother is saying “you don’t matter, I don’t care about you, there is no need to worry about you whether you are left alone or not.” That kind of heartless words. The Japanese raw were great about those two sentences. Hardly any words changed but the meaning completely did.

Now, let’s ramble and chatter:

Aah I died. It was too long. Moreover, it was only huge, compact paragraphs of words. Usually I respect the author’s disposition of the text, but this time I cut down the paragraphs to make it more readable. You might also have been wondering why sometimes the dialogues are standing alone on a line and sometimes they are in the middle of a paragraph, or even in italic, but that’s all because I’m keeping it the way the author wrote. Even though I think it’s really messy.

Regarding this chapter’s content, hehe last time we discovered how neglected Ilya had been by her mother, now we see her father is even worst, he doesn’t even bother pretend to like her. And there is the painting! Foreshadowed in a previous chapter as being hanged in a corridor, like a simple decoration, it actually had much more meaning! It’s the proof of how much their father love Silvia more than Ilya! And this painting is only the beginning, mwahahaha.

Next chapter is as loooong as this one. I should make it one time, because next week is golden week and I have a 4 days weekend. I’ve many things to do however. Paperwork to apply for a Master, another translation project I’m working on which is reaching its deadline, homework, and most important: going out to play, watching anime and reading! 

Oh yeah, anyone playing Hogwarts mystery? I’m in Ravenclaw ^^


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