noveldrama
Chapter 12
Chapter 12
A bored voice interrupted my explanation.
This guy probably wasn’t a good student.
I almost recalled Cruello’s excellent report card but quickly scattered the memory.
It’s just an illusion!
“Anyway, I know that. But why does it matter?”
“Have you been there?”
“……”
“Have you been there?”
“……Tch.”
Like he had.
As far as I knew, Cruello had never gone either. But there was a four-year gap between Viga and me, so I couldn’t be certain.
He’d gone through eight fiancées in that time—what wasn’t possible at this point?
As if he had read my mind, Cruello’s eyes curved in amusement.
“Do you want to go together?”
“……Why?”
“I told you.”
To set the mood.
***
The Harvest Festival.
I had forgotten about it for a while, but there was a time when I had wanted to go.
Back when I was Amy.
“I’m sorry, Amy. You can go alone if you want.”
“It’s fine. What’s the point if you’re not there?”
If I had to describe Cruello’s childhood in one sentence, it would be this:
‘A bean sprouted into a monstrous pumpkin.’
Young Roy was a bean.
Mild-mannered, without strong opinions, obedient.
He followed the adults’ rule of never leaving the estate without question, which, of course, meant he never got to see the festival.
I found that a bit unfortunate.
Not that I was terribly attached to the idea.
“We can see that much from here too.”
We had climbed a large tree in the duke’s mansion garden to watch the festival from afar.
Brilliant fireworks bursting in the sky.
A dazzling display conjured by a wizard, purely for beauty’s sake.
“Roy, what do you think?”
“I think… it’s really pretty.”
“Roy?”
“Oh. I mean, not ‘I think’—it is pretty. It would be nice to see it up close.”
“We can go someday.”
“Yeah. When we grow up, let’s go to the Harvest Festival together, Amy.”
Roy’s cheeks flushed as he smiled.
I smiled along with the child but couldn’t bring myself to agree.
Even if nothing went wrong, Amy would never grow up.
There was never going to be a day when she would go to the Harvest Festival.
But time passed, and as an adult, I was here.
The cute, adorable Roy was gone, replaced by the grown-up Cruello.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m devastated.”
Who had done this to the once sweet child?
The White Desert Elders.
If I ever met them, I wouldn’t let them off the hook.
Cruello shrugged, clueless about my inner turmoil.
We wore simple hooded robes, without guards or escorts.
Even the perception-blocking artifact had been deactivated.
Cruello had offered no explanation for this, yet I accepted without hesitation.
And the reason?
“To set the mood.”
I knew exactly what he meant.
To stir up rumors so the engagement couldn’t be annulled.
More bluntly, the goal was to screw over the Elders.
At least, that’s why I had come.
If this was how things were playing out, then was Cruello truly at odds with the Elders?
I hoped so.
Suddenly, Cruello stopped walking, and I bumped into his rigid back.
“Say something—”
“There’s a mask that suits your tastes perfectly over there.”
Reflexively, I turned my head.
A mask, similar to the ones used in the puppet theater but appearing to be about three times cheaper, greeted me.
“No, it’s not.”
“Then what do you like?”
Did I really have to wear a mask?
We came here to make a scene anyway.
Blinking blankly, I said nothing as Cruello pointed at one of the displayed masks.
“A lion?”
“Oh!”
“Or a sheep?”
“Oh….”
“A Deer? A Rabbit?”
“Uh……”
“The lion you first saw?”
“Oh!”
“It’s easy to understand, but use actual words.”
Cruello picked up one of the displayed masks and handed it to me.
There was no vendor at the stall, but a sign indicated that trying them on was allowed.
I put on the mask and looked into the mirror.
Siora’s blonde hair blended perfectly with the golden mane.
“Alright. Then I will call Your Hi—”
Wait a minute. I shouldn’t call him Your Highness, right?
I grabbed Cruello’s arm, pulling him down slightly, and lowered my voice.
“What should I call you?”
“Darling, honey, my love, oasis?”
“Stop joking.”
“You think I’m joking? That’s disappointing. Then why don’t you come up with a suitable nickname?”
“Then… how about Roy—”
Damn.
I let the familiar name slip before I realized my mistake.
Cruello’s face stiffened.
I couldn’t see his full expression under the hood, but his tightly pressed lips were visible.
Maybe I’d been too relaxed lately.
I cautiously studied his reaction before continuing.
“I shouldn’t call you that, right?”
“……No.”
Cruello’s lips curved into a smile.
The previous dark expression vanished, replaced by a clean, unreadable grin.
“Call me whatever you want.”
Like I could.
Even as I nodded, I vowed never to make that mistake again.
“Now that we’ve settled the nickname, can you pick out a mask for me?”
“Oh, are you a couple? You both look so good together!”
The vendor had returned to her stall.
She looked at the mask I was wearing before scanning the display.
“You picked a lion, so… how about a tiger? Or maybe a boar?”
“What does a lion have to do with a boar?”
“If it’s a lion, then obviously a boar! Have you never heard of that famous fable?”
“Ma’am, do you have something a little… gentler? A boar is too fierce.”
“Huh? Is this young man really that delicate?”
I mean, I wish he were.
Who knows? Maybe wearing a herbivore’s mask would make him weaker.
“Then how about this one?”
And so, a lion and a gazelle set off to explore the festival.
Since the lion was only well-versed in theory, the gazelle led the way.
The first stop was a small booth.
A sign out front read: Coming Soon – Puppet Show: The Sacrifice of Mormoro.
“……I have bad memories of puppet shows.”
“I’m here to cleanse those memories for you.”
“With blood?”
“Haha, just a joke.”
How dare he dismiss my sincerity?
Cruello sat down with a lazy smile, and I reluctantly took a seat beside him.
He wasn’t wrong, though.
When the curtain opened, the puppets that appeared were simple wooden figures with yarn glued on for hair—clearly a performance for children.
Wouldn’t it be an insult to the kids for someone as jaded as us to be here?
Regardless of my discomfort, the tiny puppets waddled onto the stage.
The narration began.
[Long, long ago, in a time far removed from today, the world was filled with gods.]
[Some were benevolent, but others were evil. These were called dark gods.]
[This is the tale of one such terrifying ancient god.]
Beep beep! Historical inaccuracy detected!
There’s no such thing as an evil god.
As a follower of an ancient deity, I could say that with certainty.
My enthusiasm waned immediately, and I slumped in my seat.
[The dark god bewitched people into worshipping him, only to sacrifice his followers in return.]
[Hundreds fell victim to his cruelty.]
[Then, from somewhere, a hero emerged to stop him.]
[That hero was none other than Mormoro, the Saint of Recanon!]
Recanon. I knew that name.
The true name of the god of order.
His church and mine never got along.
Technically, it was more of a conflict between religious institutions, but that was centuries ago. I never paid much attention to it.
[A holy war began.]
[After a long and grueling battle, Mormoro finally drove out the dark god’s priest and vanquished him.]
[But Mormoro did not escape unscathed.]
The puppet of Mormoro collapsed, and the children watching from the front row screamed.
Some even started crying.
Their focused expressions on the tiny puppets were both amusing and oddly endearing.
[Thanks to Mormoro’s sacrifice, no more lives were taken as offerings.]
[Many came to mourn his death at his tomb. And then—]
“Huh?”
The puppets suddenly collapsed, and a person emerged from behind the box.
“Mormoro’s will continues to this day.”
What? Just like that?
The puppeteer smiled kindly. Then, at that very moment, a burst of white light flared behind him.
It was different from mine, but unmistakably holy power.
“Why is there holy power…?”
“Shh.”
Cruello pressed a finger to his lips.
Meanwhile, three more figures in white robes stepped out from behind the puppet stage.
Suspicious as hell.
The woman at the front began to speak.
“The descendant of Saint Mormoro still lives among us, caring for the unfortunate, just as their ancestor once did.”
“Oh, I know!”
“I know too! It’s the Saintess Mamic, right?”
“Correct. This is holy water, prepared under the Saintess’ guidance for the Harvest Festival.”
“Wow!”
“It contains only a small amount of divine energy, but may the blessing of the gods be with you all.”
One of the lower-ranked priests handed me a bottle of holy water.
Caught off guard, I accepted it.
A tiny vial, no larger than my pinky, filled with a milky-white liquid.
If I concentrated with all my might, I could barely sense the faintest trace of divine energy.
At this point, it was practically useless.
Beside me, Cruello also took a bottle, smiling politely.
“Thank you.”
“Huh?”
Then, as casually as breathing, he brushed his mana onto the priest’s robe.
A tracking spell?
So this was the real reason he came here?
I was baffled, but I couldn’t react.
Siora’s original body wasn’t supposed to be capable of handling mana.
“Did you really come all this way just to watch this performance?”
“Of course. I have a great interest in ancient gods.”
He never stops lying, does he?
“Just in case you’re wondering, darling, don’t use that holy water.”
“……Why not?”
“It’s expired. Last time I used it, it was a disaster.”
“That’s a terrible joke.”
“If you want to test it on yourself, I won’t stop you.”
There was no way he’d use it after hearing that.
Not that I had any intention of using it in the first place.
Still, the whole thing left a bad taste in my mouth as I glanced down at the vial.
By the time I looked up again, the priests had disappeared like the wind, having finished distributing the holy water.
“They look like they just ran away. Not that they would, of course.”
“They did.”
“What?”
“It’s an illegal performance. Patrols are coming.”
No sooner had Cruello spoken than a whistle shrieked in the distance.
Guards rushed in, rummaging through the area.
Wait, seriously? Why?
“Priests conducting an illegal performance?”
“Worshippers of ancient gods are considered heretics. No one gets approval for this kind of event—except for ‘Mamic.’”