[V13C9] That's A Secret

By the time Cyril finished his last delivery, it was approaching noon.

There were even more people in the streets, so Cyril decided to return to the Mage Association using the narrower alleyways.

After walking under the sun for so long, Cyril was getting a bit sweaty. He took a deep breath and loosened his collar once he reached a less crowded area.

(I finished sooner than expected.)

Cyril was thinking about the next task he would help with, when the reality struck him.

——This was escapism.

When things got tough and Cyril felt down, he often used work or study as a means to escape. He could easily maintain the facade of “Cyril Ashley” as long as there was a task at hand.

Cyril frowned at the late realization.

(…Right. I’m trying to run away again.)

Cyril found himself sitting down on the small bench that he happened across.

He was not particularly tired, but this seemed like a good moment to stop and think——to spend some time facing himself.

Thule and Pikeh peered out from the bag on his lap, simply looking up at him in silence.

“Don’t worry,” Cyril said with a wry smile. “I feel perfectly fine.”

Cyril looked absentmindedly at the clear blue sky. The weather was perfect, with a few cotton candy-like clouds floating in the distance.

The bench was placed in the shade of a tree, so the early summer sea breeze felt pleasant.

(How am I supposed to act in front of the people precious to me?)

Cyril felt relieved when a relationship could be given a name. Superior and subordinate. Friends. Senior and junior. All he had to do was follow the appropriate dynamics of that relationship.

However, he had no clue how to behave with the people who didn’t fit into a category.

Cyril could think of two examples: a man he had great respect for, and a junior he wanted to be special to… But right as the image of a girl appeared in his head, he saw the very same girl running clumsily in front of him.

“Monica!?”

Cyril could not help but call out her name.

Monica paused and turned towards him. She was panting heavily, clearly out of breath.

“Hah, hah! Cyril-sama…!”

Monica was wearing a personal robe over her usual blouse and skirt, so she was probably in the middle of performing some errand for the Mage Association.

Cyril wanted to apologize for interrupting her work, as well as shouting at her the other day. But for some reason, his tongue was frozen stiff.

Meanwhile, Monica kept glancing nervously behind herself.

Was she being chased by someone? Just as the thought crossed Cyril’s mind, he noticed a man approaching them, weaving his way through the crowd.

“Miss Monica, please wait!”

It was Robert Winkel. He wore only a sleeping gown with a jacket over it.

Robert had taken over as Vice President of the student council when Cyril graduated from Serendia Academy. Naturally, Cyril was well-acquainted with him, having personally handed off the position.

Monica squealed and circled behind the bench where Cyril was sitting.

This was enough for Cyril to get an idea of the situation.

Whenever Monica was running from Robert, it was because of his forceful invitations to chess.

Robert paused in front of the bench, examining Cyril and not particularly well-hidden Monica behind him. Then, for some reason, he decided to address Cyril rather than Monica.

“I see. So it must be you, Cyril Ashley-senpai.”

“…Huh?”

＊　＊　＊

Monica crouched behind the bench and held her head down.

Rejecting Robert’s marriage proposal on the grounds that she liked someone else seemed like the perfect response. However, this somehow led to Robert declaring his intention for a duel. It made no sense.

Monica did her best to run, but this only made matters worse. She ended up bumping into the very man she was thinking of… Cyril Ashley.

“So it must be you, Cyril Ashley-senpai.”

(No wayyyyy!!)

Monica trembled in panic.

Hiding behind Cyril had given Robert the impression that Cyril was the man Monica loved. Well, he was completely right, but this was something Monica had been keeping secret.

Cyril knew nothing about her feelings, as Monica had always kept them to herself.

(I can’t trouble Cyril-sama!)

Monica mustered her courage and stepped forward, looking Robert in the eyes.

“Robert Winkel-san.”

How many times had she actually called him by name like this?

Monica could remember the several times she fled from Robert, but the only time she faced him directly was when they sat in front of a chessboard.

“I-I understand your feelings…” Monica continued, clenching her fists.

Monica kept telling herself to maintain proper posture and keep her eyes on her conversation partner.

After a few heavy breaths, Monica put on the strongest-looking face she could muster and declared…

“I will accept your duel! …In chess!”

Meanwhile, Cyril watched everything from the bench, completely dumbfounded.

Thule and Pikeh were still poking their heads out of the bag on his lap. Their stares seemed to be saying, “What’s going on?”

In response to Monica’s declaration, Robert remained silent for a few seconds before opening his mouth.

“Does that mean you’ll continue playing chess with me?”

“Um, yes. I accept!”

Robert Winkel was a man whose expression hardly changed, even when winning or losing a game of chess. But now, his stone face had the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

“I-I won’t lose!”

Or rather, this was a match she absolutely could not lose. Monica steeled her resolve.

“It seems I was not the one who elicited that reaction from you,” Robert muttered, glancing at Cyril.

“…?”

“I find that a bit regretful.”

With that, Robert performed a bow and turned on his heel. He appeared to be satisfied with Monica’s promise of a future chess match.

Monica wiped the sweat off her forehead with a sigh of relief. However, she froze after realizing that Cyril and the weasels were still staring at her.

How was she going to get out of this?

＊　＊　＊

Cyril did not know what happened between Monica and Robert.

However, he saw Monica challenge Robert to a duel, where previously, she had done nothing but flee.

Cyril was forced to reevaluate his opinion of Monica. She was no longer a child cowering in fear, but an adult who could stand tall and communicate her feelings.

She would no longer run from a confrontation.

(…So why do I allow myself to run?)

Cyril smacked both of his cheeks.

This made Monica let out a small yelp, as the weasels muttered, “That was loud” and “Looks painful.”

Cyril slid the Key of Knowledge off his right middle finger.

This was because he knew he would slam his hand against the wall if the old man dared to interrupt him.

“Thule, Pikeh, watch over him for me.”

“Okay.”

“Got it.”

“No, let go of me, you weasels! Someone! Save me! I don’t want to become their plaything! Noooo…!”

His wails faded away as the weasels dragged him into the depths of Cyril’s bag.

Cyril cleared his throat and looked at Monica.

“…I want to talk a bit.”

“S-Sure.”

Monica awkwardly nodded and sat beside Cyril on the bench. There was a rather large gap between them, enough for a third person to sit.

Cyril placed his bag on the side and interlocked his fingers above his lap. After a short pause to muster his resolve, he began speaking.

“Regarding your cat, or rather… Nero-dono…”

“Dono!?”

For some reason, Monica shouted in surprise.

“…? Is there something wrong?” Cyril asked with a frown.

“N-No, it’s nothing. P-Please go on…”

“I wanted to apologize for shouting at you back then.”

Cyril lowered his head, leaving Monica wide-eyed. The apology came out more smoothly than anticipated.

He was referring to the events of a few days ago… the battle above Sazandol Harbor.

Cyril was furious when he learned the true identity of Monica’s cat, and he ended up unleashing this frustration on Monica.

“But now that I am calm, it’s very obvious why you could not share Nero-dono’s identity so casually…”

In that case, what had made Cyril so angry? Only now, after some reflection, did he understand the reason.

(I am embarrassing myself in front of my junior right now. How shameful I must look.)

Even so, running was not an option. He must face the truth. Cyril internally reminded himself of this as he continued in a stiff tone.

What was he thinking back then? The answer was simple.

“…Monica, I was frustrated that you didn’t rely on me.”

Monica silently blinked a few times. Cyril found himself staring at the movements of her eyelashes.

Her eyes reflected the dappled sunlight, sparkling in a greenish hue. The same color as the fresh leaves decorating the trees in early summer.

“I-I…”

Monica stuttered a bit, before closing her eyes. After a brief pause to reflect on her feelings, she continued in a steady voice.

“I was saved by your charm, Cyril-sama.”

His charm, the white rose.

Cyril reminisced about his emotions when he first handed a rose to Monica.

In all honesty, Cyril felt the same as he did right now. His emotions were all tangled up inside, and he had no clue how to untangle them.

However, there was one thing he could say for sure: he wanted to do something for Monica.

Cyril knew that he failed to convey this feeling properly, but Monica accepted his gift regardless. She cherished everything that Cyril gave her.

“You gave me a lot of courage,” Monica continued.

(No, it’s the other way around. You’re the one who has always given me courage.)

Only now did Monica finally lift her eyelids, looking straight at Cyril with her leaf-green eyes.

Her smiling face still looked childish, but also a bit less unreliable than before.

“And that’s why… I want to become someone you can rely on, Cyril-sama.”

Cyril clenched his fists above his knees. For some reason, his hands felt sweaty, even though they had been sitting in the shade.

(I cannot deceive myself any longer.)

There was a warmth spreading through Cyril’s chest, and he understood the name of this feeling.

He found Monica endearing… not as a junior to take care of, but as a woman.

(I want to cherish the girl I love. Isn’t that only natural?)

＊　＊　＊

——Monica, I was frustrated that you didn’t rely on me.

Hearing that from Cyril was incredibly surprising to Monica. She was so baffled that it was more difficult than usual to come up with a reply.

After all, she had never imagined that Cyril would think that.

Monica took her time to organize her honest feelings.

Perhaps she could respond with, “I’ll always be relying on you, Cyril-sama.” But on second thought, that wasn’t quite right.

She had already received the charm from Cyril, along with the courage that came with it.

“And that’s why… I want to become someone you can rely on, Cyril-sama.”

Only after saying it out loud did Monica realize she sounded a bit presumptuous.

Regardless, Cyril replied with a gentle smile.

“Is that so?”

“Yes!”

“…Then I’ll be counting on you.”

Monica’s heart was racing. It made her so happy to hear that from Cyril.

——Counting on you.

But while those words echoed in Monica’s head, Cyril had moved onto the next subject.

“By the way, on the way back from Jausuka…”

Jausuka was a town on the border of the Vilraya Autonomous District. Monica and Cyril had gone there after the kidnapping incident with Ashelpikeh.

“I found a glass bead in the pocket of my coat,” Cyril continued.

“Eh!?”

“It seemed to be a decorative bead from your coat, Monica. Remember? The white coat you were wearing in Jausuka.”

(Waaaaaaaaaaah!)

Monica felt as though her head might explode.

Indeed, she had secretly placed a glasswork in the pocket of a loved one——a tradition from the neighboring Kingdom of Randall. This was Monica’s discrete declaration of love (as well as a sneaky move).

However, she never expected Cyril to notice that the glass bead belonged to her.

(W-W-What do I do? What do I do? What do I do…?)

Fortunately, Cyril seemed to be unaware of Randall’s traditions. He probably thought the glass bead had slipped into his pocket by accident.

In which case, Monica could simply agree that it was an accident. This way, Cyril would never realize the truth. She could easily deceive him.

(But…)

Monica did not want to pretend that her secret declaration never happened.

With her fists tightly clenched above her knees, she did her best to squeeze out her voice.

“Um, C-Cyril-sama… C-Can I entrust that bead to you…?”

“…? You want me to keep it?”

“Yes. Please keep it safe.”

Monica did not yet have the courage to admit her love out loud.

But she also wasn’t going to pretend that these feelings didn’t exist.

In which case, she wanted Cyril to hold onto the bead a little longer, as it was the symbol of this newfound emotion.

Cyril seemed a bit puzzled, but he eventually agreed with a stern nod.

“I see. I believe the bead should still be on my desk…”

To think her modest declaration of love was on the desk of the man she liked!

Monica quickly covered her reddened cheeks to hide the joy and embarrassment from Cyril.

“But it seems to be very important,” Cyril continued. “I’ll transfer it into a locked safe. Let me know when you need it back.”

The ever-serious Cyril was about to store her declaration of love in a locked safe.

“T-The desk!” Monica shouted in desperation. “Please leave it on the desk!”

“Isn’t it an important item? Then I should store with the proper security…”

“T-The desk is best!”

Though a bit overwhelmed by Monica’s insistence, Cyril reluctantly nodded in agreement.

Then, he noticed something that seemed strange, and asked Monica regarding his doubts.

“It looked like an ordinary glass bead to me, without any magical properties… Could it be some sort of a charm?”

Certainly, it could be called a charm, in a manner of speaking.

After a short moment of hesitation, Monica lifted her index finger and brought it to her lips.

“…That’s a secret,” she whispered with a smile.

Monica made an internal vow to herself. She must be someone who can walk beside the man she loves. Someone that he can rely on.

Though the image was still a bit unclear, she did her best to envision her ideal self——a first-rate lady who would not look out of place standing next to him.

As a side note, Monica was thinking about Bridget and Lana when she imagined a ‘first-rate lady’.

(I need to start eating properly, and avoid sleeping on the floor or drowning in the bath… Hmm, I won’t get anywhere if I keep relying on Ike.)

After all, when she went to buy the new lock just recently, Melissa had told her, “You’re a lost cause as a person, let alone as a woman. Reflect on your sins.”

However, right as Monica resolved herself to stop sleeping on her floor, her stomach started rumbling.

“Um, I ate breakfast, really!” Monica said, blushing and holding her stomach. “Oh wait, but I haven’t had lunch yet…!”

“In that case, let’s go eat. I haven’t had lunch either.”

Cyril stood up with his bag, and Monica energetically lifted herself from the bench.

(I can eat lunch with Cyril-sama!)

Just the thought of that filled Monica’s chest with joy.

The nearest restaurant she knew of was the seafood restaurant where Melissa had taken her before.

“I know a restaurant that Melissa-oneesan really liked. It has, um, this seafood stew with big shrimp on top…!”

The two walked down the street side by side.

Monica was in the middle of her passionate explanation of the dishes she ate with Melissa, but she fell silent after turning a corner.

They found themselves in front of a busy street, bustling with people. The fact that it was currently the lunch rush hour certainly did not help.

If they wanted to reach the restaurant, crossing this street was the only option.

Monica hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was better to search for a detour, or recommend a different restaurant.

“Come on, let’s go,” Cyril said, grabbing Monica’s right hand.

Monica’s brain ceased function for exactly five seconds, before suddenly resuming with a flood of thoughts.

Cyril’s hand was currently wrapped around her hand. In common parlance, this could be considered as “holding hands”, an incredibly significant act.

The moment Monica recognized this, her heart started pounding intensely. She could feel her whole body growing hot.

(W-W-W-What do I do? I’m probably making a weird face. And my heart rate is going crazy. Cyril-sama is definitely going to notice… Oh, but he’s not touching my wrist, so he can’t measure my pulse, right…!)

Indeed, there was no way for Cyril to realize her internal turmoil——or so Monica initially thought.

Cyril had slender fingers for a man, but his hand was still much larger than Monica’s. In other words, his fingers might brush against Monica’s wrist… possibly.

Monica turned pale at the realization.

——At this rate, Cyril would notice her pounding heart!

＊　＊　＊

When Cyril saw Monica stop before a crowded street, Cyril internally asked himself a question: What are you trying to be?

——You don’t need anyone’s acknowledgement, because now, you understand your own worth. Right?

——But I say you are a kind man, Cyril Ashley.

These words from Raul and Isaac gave Cyril the courage to face his own heart.

(I want to be someone who is kind to the people precious to me.)

That said, “being kind” turned out to be surprisingly difficult when consciously thinking about it.

(That’s right, I need to escort her…!)

How could he have forgotten his classes at Serendia Academy? Cyril may have scored full marks in etiquette, but it seems he failed to apply those lessons in practice.

After this realization, Cyril took Monica’s hand and began walking. However, something felt wrong.

(Wait, am I even acting like a proper escort? This feels more like walking hand in hand. Also, was my decision to escort her truly based on kindness, or was it the ulterior motive of wanting her to reciprocate my feelings…?)

You are only human. It is natural to want your feelings reciprocated, so there’s nothing wrong with a bit of ulterior motives… is probably what a knowledgeable ring would say if it wasn’t currently a plaything for the weasels in Cyril’s bag.

Cyril kept going in circles about the complex relationship between kindness and ulterior motives, but he was brought to reality by Monica calling his name.

“C-Cyril-sama…”

“What is it…?”

Cyril nearly panicked. Perhaps he was gripping her hand too tightly, or maybe she found the act of holding hands unpleasant.

“…P-Please don’t touch my wrist…”

Monica was pleading in a frail voice with reddened cheeks and teary eyes.

At that moment, Cyril felt an inexplicable feeling shooting through his spine. The nape of his neck tingled, and it felt like there were tiny bubbles popping in the back of his head.

“S-Sorry.”

Cyril did not understand why her wrist was off-limits, but at least she didn’t seem averse to holding hands.

In that case, how could he hold hands without touching Monica’s wrist?

(…I got it!)

Cyril placed his palm against Monica’s and entwined their fingers together.

This way, it was easy to avoid her wrist. Quite the clever idea.

＊　＊　＊

(I must resist my earthly desires…!)

(Ugh, my hands feel sweaty… Oh, I know! If I apply the magic for inducing a comatose state, I should be able to control both my sweat and my pulse…!)

(How is one supposed to show kindness? I… I just don’t know. Why am I such a failure!? Forgive me, Your High-… I mean, Ike…!)

(Cyril-sama’s hands are so big… Waaah, what’s the magical formula again? Why can’t I remember!?)

Only after arriving at the restaurant did they realize that this manner of holding hands was even more embarrassing.

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