6
“Roswaal—”
“Oh myyy, oh my, had enough of your little tryst with Subaru?” Roswaal swirled his wine glass and asked Beatrice with a smile as she returned from the balcony.
Beatrice scrunched her face in disdain at the clown-faced man’s choice of words. “Could you limit your joking to your appearance, I wonder? Do you really think I could sincerely enjoy myself in that buffoon’s presence? Not even worth a laugh.”
“Oh, now, somebody sure needs to put her pride on the shelf. You’re always like this, aren’t you.”
“Of course. Nobody else in this group comes even close to my brother in experience, I suppose. But never mind that—”
Beatrice’s gaze shifted to Ram, who was sitting opposite Roswaal. Catching the meaning behind her gaze, Roswaal nodded discreetly at Ram, who quietly rose and left her seat. She gulped down the rest of her drink as she stood, then with a bow, she retired to the balcony.
Out on the balcony, Subaru, Emilia, and Rem were already fast asleep in a cuddle puddle. Ram draped a blanket over each of them one by one: Emilia’s with care, Rem’s with love, and Subaru’s with smothering intent.
“Kids who can’t hold their liquor sure are cute, aren’t theyyyy? Subaru may have put on a brave face, but I do believe he passed his tolerance.”
“It’s like a thread snapping, I suppose. His footing and manner of speech were jumbled from the start…but he’s always a clown. It’s no wonder I didn’t notice something was different.”
“For all your scorn, you certainly did offer him some support—as if you knew he would collapse. So I can only assume you did notice the difference…am I wrong?”
“ ”
“Now, now, don’t give me the evil eye. It was merely an innocent joooke.”
Beatrice heaved a long, tired sigh at the unsubtle teasing in Roswaal’s tone. It was a heavy, weak sigh that reflected their long years of association.
And at this action that did not reflect her youthful appearance, Roswaal shrugged his shoulders and said, “So am I to understand that this evening was not to your liking?”
“Did you think it would be to my liking, I wonder? This drunken debauchery… Betty detests disturbances of the peace. As such, this party was the most loathsome thing I had the displeasure of experiencing.”
“Was it, though? Based on your recent behavior, I have a hard time swallowing that. Haven’t you merely resigned yourself to the solitary silence that you call peace, while in actuality, you—”
“Roswaal.” Beatrice nipped Roswaal’s serious voice and gaze in the bud. An uncomfortable silence flowed between the two. But it was then that—
“Betty.”
“Puckie…”
The third presence left in the area, Puck, craned his neck from its position on the edge of his wine cup bathtub.
“Betty…did you not enjoy the party tonight?” he asked.
“No…that’s not what I was saying. I was more than content, just watching you enjoy yourself. But you reek of alcohol right now, so I’m not going to hug you, I suppose.”
“Meooow.”
Sloshing droplets of alcohol from his glass, Puck sank into the drink. He then gulped the rest of the cup’s contents in one breath then flew out, shaking the mist of alcohol from his entire body.
“How’s that?”
“Still stinky.”
“Then how about this?”
Puck’s fur quivered as he rolled himself into a glowing ball of light. Then, in the blink of an eye, the cat’s body reformed back to its pre-drinking luster.
“Must be handy, having a constitution that prevents hangovers…” Roswaal remarked.
With a wink at Roswaal’s concise thought, Puck climbed onto Beatrice’s shoulder and said, “Yeah, but in exchange, I don’t get the satisfaction of a full belly of yummy food or drink. In a way, having a spirit’s body is inconducive to having fun.”
Beatrice softly nuzzled her cheek against Puck’s, which no longer reeked of alcohol. Then she glared at Roswaal.
“Ooh, the evil eye. What has come over you, my dear?”
“I just want to hear your true feelings, I suppose. What was the point in tonight’s debauchery?”
“It’s exactly what I said before I made my opening toast. The people of this house need to come together to meet the challenges that we’ll face in the future. Each and every guest tonight was here by my most earnest wishes.”
“ ”
“You must prepare yourself mentally, my dear. The time of fulfillment for the long, looong covenant is nigh. At the very least, that is the mindset I have right now.”
His words colored with solemnity, Roswaal tipped his wine glass toward the balcony. And through the swirling amber liquid, Roswaal’s heterochromatic eyes beheld the sleeping boy and girls.
Upon hearing Roswaal’s earnest wish, Beatrice neither affirmed nor denied his resolution. She abdicated making a choice right then, but that was because it was a choice that Beatrice had been pondering for a very long time.
“No matter what else happens…I do hope for the fruition of your existence, Beatrice. I know I’m a hodgepodge of lies, but this is one of my few honest sentiments.”
“A trivial sentiment, I suppose. Do you expect me to take that as sympathy?”
“No—as empathy. You and I are the only ones in this entire world who are party to our little conspiracy.”
And with that, Roswaal set a new glass onto the table. Pouring amber liquid into it, the clown set the glass in front of the little girl.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Your share. It’s downright cruel, coming to a party and not letting a single drop of liquor pass your lips. Those who would disparage your drinking are deep in dreamland, you see.”
With a smile and a wink, Roswaal scooted the drink closer to Beatrice. She reached for the glass—but just before she could touch it, a gust of wind blew. The breeze, thick with the night air from the balcony, tickled an earlier conversation in the back of Beatrice’s mind.
After a moment’s pause, she pushed the glass away, rejecting the drink. “I’ll decline, I suppose.”
“Being faithful to Subaru, are we? You are just full of surprises tonight…”
“Do not mistake me. I’m not abstaining from drinking because of anything that snot-nosed brat said… It’s because of something my mother told me long ago.”
Beatrice’s answer forced Roswaal to silence. Smiling coolly over the instant effect of her words, Beatrice patted Puck’s back.
She experienced a night like this one in the past—under the night sky, Beatrice’s mother frowned at the sight of her daughter drinking alcohol. And she got the sense there was another voice urging her to stop, too.
That was why the shut-in of the Archive of Forbidden Books could not break the command her mother gave her that night.
“That’s all, nothing more—whatever he has to say does not concern me, I suppose.”
And with that excuse hanging in the air, Beatrice did not once touch the wine glass to her lips.
Night fell on the party.
Its host learned both the joy and strife in alcohol’s flavor, and the girls had thoroughly explored the limits of their own alcohol tolerance.
And night slowly fell on them.
Only the stars quietly watched over this little moment of peace.
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