[V12C19] Feelings Enclosed in Paper

Their combined efforts had revealed a potential weakpoint of Gluttonous Zoe. This knowledge was sure to help Isaac.

(…I’ll do everything I can to help you.)

Cyril placed his elbows on top of the table, clasping his hands in front of his forehead.

However, his silent prayer was interrupted by a rumbling sound from the adjacent seat. He turned to see Glenn yawning and rubbing his stomach.

“Uh, Vice President… Is it okay if I eat something and take a nap? I didn’t sleep at all last night…”

This reminded Cyril of his own hunger and fatigue. Similarly to Glenn, he had been traveling almost the entire night, leaving no time for sleep.

His suggestion of a short nap seemed like a good idea.

Cyril began searching his bag for rations, until Karina interrupted.

“Oh, I know. We can heat up the soup since Walker-san made a bunch in advance. I’ll bring a few slices of bread too.”

Karina quickly prepared a light meal, and was even considerate enough to arrange blankets and cushions while Cyril and Glenn ate.

“Yawn… Thanks for the meal…”

Glenn ended up eating a lot less than usual. Apparently, his drowsiness had won out over his appetite.

He laid down on the sofa and wrapped himself in a blanket before noticing that Cyril was still awake.

“You should take a nap too… Don’t push yourself so hard…” Glenn said, barely keeping his eyes open.

“Yeah, I know. But there’s something I need to do before that.”

Cyril retrieved a fresh sheet of paper from his bag, then glanced at the ring on his right middle finger.

“Sophocles, there’s something I want to make.”

By this point, Glenn was already snoring on the sofa. Meanwhile, Thule and Pikeh had their favorite sofa stolen from them, so they jumped off the armrest and over to Cyril.

Karina was busy cleaning the dishes, and Lana had returned to her room for some unfinished business. This left Cyril as the only person in the room, so the two weasels could speak out loud.

“Cyril, Cyril, what are you making?” Thule asked.

“Should we help?” Pikeh followed.

Apparently, they had awakened to the joy of helping others. However, Cyril chuckled softly and shook his head.

“…No, this is something I want to make on my own.”

＊　＊　＊

Following her panic attack on the first floor, Monica was led back to her room by Karina. There, she sat on her bed and hugged her knees.

(There’s more strangers now.)

Monica had seen the two unfamiliar men in the living room.

The silver-haired man was scary because he looked angry, and the big man was scary because he was big.

While still hugging her knees, Monica glanced at her pillow. Next to it was her father’s book and a pendant.

What happened to the man who gave her these? Where did he go?

——I want you to remember me. Remember your delinquent friend Ike who hung out with you for a single night…

“…Ike.”

She tried voicing his name out loud, but it still sounded completely unfamiliar.

Either way, Monica did not have any friends to hang out with in the first place.

(He said would ‘get everything back’… But what does that mean?)

Next, Monica gazed absentmindedly at the pendant. The small gem decorating it was glittering in the sunlight streaming through the window.

Peridots were gems that reflected even the faintest amount of light, so it would probably look pretty even in the darkness of night.

Monica was about to reach out and touch the pendant, until she noticed footsteps from the other side of the door. They sounded soft, so it was probably Lana or Karina.

The footsteps stopped in front of the door to her room, but there was no knock on the door. Instead, something was inserted through the gap under the door.

(…An envelope?)

Monica stared at the envelope, hoping that it did not contain insults towards her father. The front side only had the words “From Lana Colette”.

Monica slowly descended from the bed and picked up the envelope.

The envelope had a simple design, likely made by folding a sheet of paper. However, the corners were decorated with hand-drawn birds and flowers.

Monica returned to her bed and carefully opened the envelope. The stationary had a similar design to the envelope, but Monica could sense the sender’s intent to make it look as cute as possible.

She began reading the letter.

＊　＊　＊

Dear Monica,

My name is Lana Colette, and I am your friend. We even attended the same school and took classes together.

When you were struggling in dance class, we stayed after classes to help you practice. Then, when you passed the dance exam, we celebrated with a secret barbecue behind the school building. Walker-san was there too (but keep it a secret from Ashley-sama).

You brewed coffee for me in the tea party class, and it was the most delicious coffee I’ve ever had. I hope to get another taste of it some day.

During the school festival, we went around the stands and watched the play together. Glenn was even selected as the leading actor. The scene where he lifted the heroine into the sky with flight magic was simply breathtaking. Good thing I petitioned to increase the length of his cloak.

＊　＊　＊

The letter seemed to be describing someone’s school life.

Of course, it could not possibly be Monica’s since she did not remember any of the events mentioned. It did sound fun though.

Monica turned to the next page.

＊　＊　＊

You might not remember any of this right now, but it really did happen. Your struggle with dancing, you getting oil on your hands from the meat skewers, you brewing delicious coffee… I saw all of it with my own two eyes.

This might sound hard to believe, but an ancient artifact called Gluttonous Zoe is attacking our town and threatening our livelihoods. It also used its power to steal your memories, so Walker-san set out to help you get them back.

But don’t worry, everyone in this house is on your side. We would never hurt you. The silver-haired man is your reliable senior, Cyril Ashley-sama. The blonde man is your kind friend, Glenn Dudley.

All of us are worried about you and your lost memories. Once you get your memories back and everything returns to normal…

Let’s dress up together and eat fried pies again.

Sincerely, your friend Lana Colette

＊　＊　＊

It took a while for Monica to comprehend the contents of the letter.

The description of a fun school life, a town under attack, and even her own condition all seemed distant, as if it was completely unrelated to her.

…And yet, Monica could recall Lana’s tears from their first meeting, as well as the big scary man exiting through the door. These scenes had been burned into Monica’s memory for some reason, refusing to fade away.

A strange emotion welled up in her chest. This was probably impatience.

(Is it really okay to stay like this?)

Was it okay to not pay back the kindness of those treating her well?

Was it okay for her to reject them simply because she could not remember?

Monica suddenly realized something. She had yet to even say a simple thank you to the people taking care of her.

“…Th…Thank…”

Monica moved her quivering lips to practice, but her voice sounded worse than she expected, leaving her depressed.

She had always been like this. Monica could never do the things other people took for granted.

This was why her uncle always scolded her. She was an incapable and creepy girl. An embarrassment upon their entire family.

As Monica began tearing up at the thought of her uncle’s harsh words, she heard a knock on the door. Perhaps it was Lana?

“Excuse me.”

The male voice from the hallway caused Monica to tense up.

The door was opened by the angry-looking man. According to Lana’s letter, his name was Cyril Ashley.

On reflex, Monica lowered her head out of fear of his anger.

Cyril walked over to Monica, who was still sitting on her bed. Since Monica’s face was pointed downwards, all she could see were Cyril’s leather shoes.

“I am Cyril Ashley… your senior.”

Perhaps she should say something in response?

——I’m sorry for not remembering you. Please forgive me, I really don’t remember. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Many words came to mind, but Monica could not voice any of them. Only a pathetic whimper came out of her throat.

As Monica absentmindedly twiddled her fingers, Cyril handed her something.

“…Here.”

It was a rose made out of white paper. A thin roll of paper formed the stem. and there was a blue ribbon tied around it.

Monica froze, making no attempt to take the rose. However, Cyril inserted it in between her fidgeting fingers.

“Eh…?”

Confused, Monica stared up at Cyril with her mouth half-opened.

Meanwhile, Cyril explained while staring right back at Monica with his beautiful blue eyes.

“This is… a charm to give you courage.”

A charm for courage? Why was he giving her something like this?

All Monica could do was lower her head, close her mouth, and escape into the world of numbers. She was a complete failure of a person. What good would that charm do for her?

“I know you are good at putting in effort. You are someone who can challenge your weaknesses and overcome them. Even if you trip or stumble a few times, you’ll end up walking on your own two feet.”

The person in front of Monica seemed serious, earnest, and… desperate.

“No matter how awkward or embarrassing your stride may be, I will never come to hate you. So please…”

Cyril twisted his face into an awkward smile before continuing.

“I’ll be waiting up ahead for you to start walking.”

With that, Cyril darted out of the room.

＊　＊　＊

Once Cyril stepped into the hallway, he let out a deep breath.

While making the paper rose with Sophocles, Cyril had brainstormed what to say to Monica countless times.

If Cyril had been the ‘esteemed noble’ he respected so much, then surely he would have comforted Monica with gentle words. He would have found a more clever approach.

But in that case, those wouldn’t be Cyril’s words.

(…I knew it. I’m not kind at all.)

This was Cyril’s wish. He wanted Monica to stand up and come out of the room on her own, no matter how embarrassing or pathetic she may seem.

——P-Please… don’t hate me.

Cyril recalled Monica’s words from several months ago, contorting his face into a teary smile. He covered his face with one hand.

(…How could I ever hate you.)

Cyril had seen Monica face off against challenges with unwavering determination, despite trembling and crying all the while. Those sights had grabbed onto his chest and refused to let go.

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