Chapter 90: Blue Star.

The feelings rise, sink, then rise again.
Her rational mind wishes she could just suffocate and be done with it, yet instinct thrashes, refusing to die.
In the end, she cannot kill this emotion herself.

The seed must have always been there, buried in the deepest corner of her heart, locked away so tightly that neither anyone else’s eyes nor even her own hand could reach it.
That’s why she never noticed.
Before she knew it, it had smashed through every wall and spread its roots throughout her body.
Her heart can no longer hide this love.

So someone, anyone—
rip it out by force, tear it up root and stem.
Burn the soil so thoroughly that nothing can ever grow again.

Tell her this happiness is only a passing delusion.

“Marin, I—”

“Violet-sama.”

Help me. Save me from these terrifying feelings.
Just as she tried to cling again, Marin caught her hands and held them firmly.
The warmth in those strong palms, the sound of her name—
the lost child finally found Marin’s sunset-colored eyes.

“It’s all right.”

Slowly, as if making her understand, as if letting the words seep in.
Each syllable carried vivid color as it flowed into Violet’s ears, spreading on vibrations to every corner of her body.

“It’s all right. There is nothing to fear. Nothing to worry about.”

Marin’s tone was calm, almost exactly the same as always.
Nothing special, spoken as if it were the most natural thing in the world—
no matter how impossible it felt for Violet to accept, no matter how terrifying it was to be affirmed without proof.
Marin simply softened her lips into a faint smile.
With that voice, she affirmed Violet.

“B-but… I…”

Her trembling lips could not weave the scattered words properly.
To Violet, still drowning in terror, even nodding felt like a sin—
and indeed, it was a sin.

She had been wrong once.
About love, romance, happiness, and the price that must be paid for them all.
From beginning to end, with almost refreshing thoroughness, Violet’s “first love” had been nothing but mistakes.
How many people had been made unhappy because of it?
How many had cried?

“If… if I end up hurting him… what do I do…?”

That was the only thing she was truly, unbearably afraid of.

×　×　×　×

Marin remembered clearly the day Violet had spoken of love.

She had been happy—so happy, voice higher than usual, smile exaggerated, saying she had someone she liked.
Even if the heart Violet had finally regained—after Bellrose stripped away everything inside and left only a silhouette—was born from mere thirst,
who could blame a girl for dreaming of happiness?
Neither Marin nor even Yulan had been able to say a word.

As Violet spoke of Claudia, she had twisted while remaining stable.
That emotion had never been sane to begin with, so it was only natural.
Claudia, completely unmoved by Violet’s desperate wish to be loved, had only fueled her panic.
Honestly, it should have exploded at any moment…
Yet the gunpowder grew damp, the clock stopped, and the bomb turned to junk far too suddenly.

“…It’s all right.”

Again and again, she repeated those words to the girl who kept saying she was scared, terrified.

“Violet-sama, do you love Marin?”

“…? Of course. I love you so much.”

“Marin loves you too, Violet-sama.”

Violet tilted her head in innocent confusion; Marin simply smiled—
a faint smile most people would never notice.

“I have never once been hurt.
You love me properly, Violet-sama.”

Love between master and servant is utterly different from romantic love.
The relationship, the type of feeling, even the meaning of the word “love” all change.
Even Marin, who knew nothing of romance, could imagine that much.
Yet she had always known—far longer than anyone—
that Violet cherished her, that it was love.
Most of the happiness Marin had ever tasted in life had come from that love.

She understood the fear all too painfully.
What they had seen, heard, and grown up with was far too filthy.
There had never been room to believe in beautiful love stories; reality had crushed them.
That was why Violet had dreamed, envied, struggled—
and the “first love” she had finally grasped had become nothing but painful memories.

That was exactly why—
do not let go of the feelings you hold now.

“Please don’t be afraid.
Don’t try to throw that love away.”

Violet’s legs gave out; she sank unsteadily to the floor.
Normally Marin would have guided her to the sofa at once, but this time she sat down with her, their faces close.
To Violet—who looked up with lowered brows like a frightened child—Marin once more poured the meaning of it’s all right.

“Please don’t deny the happiness you felt.”

A forced, pasted-on smile talking about a first love was nothing compared to feelings confessed on the verge of tears.
She wanted Violet to smile, but anything was better than that stiff, ugly grimace that could barely be called a smile.

She might hurt him, he might hate her, she might be a burden—
for the sake of such worthless possibilities, Violet’s happiness must never be blocked.
Marin would never allow it.
And above all, Yulan would never forgive it.

“Because being loved by you makes me this happy.”

From the day her life was saved until today, Violet had given her countless joys.
A life completely different from the church filled only with disappointment, annoyance, and faint pity.
No matter how much pain, anger, or indescribable negativity she carried, that feeling never changed.

Being loved by Violet made Marin happy.
Loving Violet made her happy too.

“…I was… happy…”

The feelings that had refused to die spilled out.
That tiny voice probably reached only Marin, whose nose was nearly touching hers.
But that was fine.
She wanted no one else to hear.
It was that precious, that sacred, that fragile a truth.

“When I realized… I was so happy.”

“Yes.”

“Because… because Yulan is so, so wonderful.”

“Yes.”

“He’s kind… he always smiles at me…”

“Yes.”

“He’s… always with me… listens to me…”

“Yes.”

“He even calls my name. Vio-chan. His voice is so soft and warm…”

“Yes.”

The moment the words left her lips, the feelings gained flesh, blood flowed, and gradually took shape.
The shadowy silhouette gained color, the haze cleared, and before she knew it she could see his back.

A broad back, soft hair swaying gently—
and her love turned around.

“He tells me… I’m not alone…”

Behind Violet’s slowly closing eyelids,
she seemed to see Yulan from that day, smiling and saying thank you.