Chapter 31: You’re not alone.

Morning came, and Mary-June had returned to her usual brightness.
Catching her on the way to the dining hall and walking side by side down the corridor was already becoming routine.

The awkwardness hadn’t lessened, but reacting earnestly every single time would wear the spirit down too quickly.
The fact that I was gradually getting better at giving noncommittal responses was probably just self-defense.

The food arranged before us still inspired no feeling beyond taste, as it always had since childhood.
Eating alone or at a so-called family table—adding more people only made it more uncomfortable for Violet.

Any shred of envy toward the soft, cozy aura of the three had died long ago.

I caught their conversation in the corner of my vision while quietly savoring my solitary breakfast.
The menu, as always, catered perfectly to Violet’s palate; in this vast mansion it was the only thing that reliably soothed, even if just for a moment, the loneliness of being alone.
They say delicious food enriches the heart—and it truly does.

“That’s right, Onee-sama—would you like to have tea together today?”

“Eh…”

“There are so many things I’d love to learn from you. How about in my room?”

She must have taken the other day’s conversation to heart and thought about it in her own way.
Dreamy she may be, but she is just as honest; Violet knew that well.
Her sense of justice could be lopsided, but her thinking wasn’t rigid.

The change—that she felt something in Violet’s words and now wanted to talk—was wonderful.
Whatever the outcome, being able to consider opinions different from her previous ones would surely be good for Mary-June.

But that was only from Mary-June’s perspective.
From Violet’s, all she wanted to say was go do it somewhere else.

“I’m sorry, I already have plans today…”

It wasn’t a lie.
Today was already booked, and according to Violet’s personal rule of honoring prior commitments, there was nothing to feel guilty about.

Yet the guilt that came from simply wanting to refuse felt like a child faking illness to skip school.
Even if there had been no prior engagement, she probably would have found some excuse anyway.

Fortunately, today’s schedule had been set yesterday.
No matter her feelings, there should have been no grounds for blame… normally.

“Can’t you even rearrange your plans for your little sister?”

The tone carried astonishment—or perhaps contempt.
The deepening crease between his brows was answer enough.

“Is whatever you’re doing more important than family?”

“That’s…”

She faltered not because his words hit the mark, but the opposite—she had to restrain the part of her that wanted to snap back, Which mouth is saying that?

She never imagined she would hear the word family from him.
From the man who had once abandoned his wife and left his daughter to rot.
If this was supposed to be a change of heart, perhaps she could have felt the tiniest bit of warmth.

In truth, it was merely proof that Violet was not included in his definition of family.

In his world, the top priority was surely Mary-June and his wife, Elepha.
The eldest daughter who should have been the first to rejoice at anything was nothing more than a convenient older sister expected to yield everything to Mary-June.

Warmth slowly drained from her fingertips; the sensation of her heart dying bit by bit was hardly new.

When morning came and there was no one to say good morning to.
When she ate alone in the vast dining hall.
When her mother whispered I love you to her.

The core of her heart lost temperature; sometimes it felt as though her blood might stop flowing entirely, heat seeping from fingers, feet, head.

She had experienced it countless times since childhood.
It had lessened since Marin arrived, yet she still felt it nearly every day.

The sense of taste that had been there moments ago vanished instantly; even the lingering aftertaste lost all meaning.

“Really, Father, please don’t say it like that.
If Onee-sama already has plans, it can’t be helped… I’m sorry for inviting you so suddenly, Onee-sama.”

“…I’m sorry, Mary-June.”

“There’s no need for Onee-sama to apologize!
Ah, but—may I invite you again sometime?”

“Yes… I’ll be waiting.”

“Yes!!”

That smile sparkled without a single cloud.
She probably truly worried about nothing—neither Violet nor their father.

To her, Violet prioritizing a previous engagement was perfectly natural.
Their father’s blaming words were simply the result of caring too much and speaking harshly.

Raised in a beautiful flower garden, mistaking the wilderness for grassland, her mind drenched in sugar and syrup.
It might be called charitable, kind, and beautiful within her narrow equality.

To someone raised in the wilderness—Marin—it was nothing but nauseatingly repulsive.

Marin clenched her fists desperately to keep the disgust from showing on her face.
Her palms had already passed pain and gone numb; if she relaxed even slightly now, she felt she might strike out.

She fixed her gaze on the back of her precious lady seated diagonally ahead.
She wanted to embrace that back right now and carry her out of this room.
She didn’t want these people even in the corner of Violet’s vision.

But if she did, these fools would simply remain fools and separate Marin from Violet.
Being removed as personal attendant would be the least of it—if she were thrown out of the mansion entirely, Violet would truly be left alone.
And then these idiots would devour her heart completely.

That alone was unforgivable; Marin desperately converted her feelings into consideration for Violet.

Violet’s posture remained perfectly straight, unchanged from always.
More beautiful than anyone, more wonderful than anyone—the same Violet as ever.

That was exactly why Marin’s heart ached.

It forced her to realize: to Violet, this was nothing.

She was used to it.
No matter what place she occupied among them now, it elicited no more feeling than the fact itself.
Even if they called her a complete stranger, she would only think, Yeah, that figures.

She continued eating in silence, wiped her perfectly clean mouth as ritual, and stood with an appropriate excuse.

“Violet.”

“…Yes.”

“You are no longer alone.
Give up some of your former freedoms and show a little consideration for your sister.”

“…I… will engrave it… upon my heart.”

She lowered her head slowly and left the dining hall, leading Marin behind her.

The urge to gather her skirts and run warred with the desire to stop dead in her tracks; in the end she walked slower than usual until they reached the room.

“Violet-sama…”

A voice on the verge of tears rang in her ears.
Not her own—Marin’s.
The usually calm, even tone trembled and cracked; when Violet turned, the same tearful expression waited there.

“Vio… let… sama…”

“Marin.”

“Vio… sa…”

“Thank you, Marin… I’m all right.”

Every time Marin bit her lip to keep from crying, words failed her.

Sadness, pain, or rage strong enough to make her want to cry—probably all of it circulated through her blood, coursing into her heart.

Seeing this attendant who was always so composed hurt because of her—Violet smiled.
It could hardly be called a smile, and she wasn’t smiling at all, really.

Yet within the pitch-black darkness of her heart, the few remaining flecks of white—her affection for Marin—turned into the strength to form a smile.

It’s all right, she told Marin… and herself, while stroking the hair higher than her own.

You are no longer alone—Father had said.

Inside her head, everything boiled.
In an instant, her heart was dyed black.

Die, she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs.

For a moment she nearly repeated the mistakes of the past; that instant, the only thing that filled Violet’s mind was seething, churning rage.

That was how unforgivable those words were.

You are no longer alone—how long had she wished to hear exactly that?
How many times had those words pulled her heart back from the brink?

Marin had said it, Yulan had said it—again and again, comforting her.

She had always, always been alone.
Utterly, completely alone.

In this vast house she had reached out countless times into empty air.
No one ever took her hand; she had known that without being told.

She had called out to someone, cried because she had no name to call.
At some point she forgot how to cry, gave up even calling.

The ones who said I’ll stay by your side were Marin and Yulan.
The ones who said I’ll be with you, I won’t leave you alone—were those two.

They were precious, precious words that had saved Violet when she had despaired of ever not being alone.

She wanted to hurl a plate at him and scream, You don’t get to use those words whenever it suits you.

She was sincerely glad there had been no convenient object to throw.
Before she could spew ugly curses, she had remembered her old self; a strangely clear corner of her mind felt relieved.

As she comforted Marin, the heat that had risen to her head dispersed.
Warmth returned to her chilled fingertips; in the end it all balanced out to zero, she told herself with a wry inner smile.

She knew anger was pointless.
Pouring emotion into it changed nothing.

She was not allowed to throw it all away, yet she was never accepted either.

What wrapped around her body were restraints to prevent escape, chains that said come no closer.