Chapter 32: It was kindness.

I waved back at Marin—who was forcing a smile through tear-filled eyes—and left the house a full ten minutes earlier than usual.
The precaution was purely to avoid any chance of running into Mary-June, but I had overdone it and arrived far too soon.
The classroom was still empty.
I already came with plenty of margin; adding another ten minutes had clearly been excessive.

For Violet, though, an empty classroom was nothing short of ideal.
A room that already felt lighter than home was now occupied by no one but herself.
Even if only for a few minutes, it was more than enough to be paradise.

“Haa…”

The sigh escaped completely unbidden—proof that my heart was far more exhausted than I realized.

Yesterday had been so enjoyable; Marin had even said I seemed in high spirits.
Yet not even twenty-four hours later I had crashed back to earth.
Someone somewhere once said a woman’s heart changes like the autumn sky, but to plummet from heaven to hell this violently was rare even for me.

The silent classroom was perfect for thinking, but terrible for lifting a sunken mood.
I had thought I’d already hit rock bottom, yet the floor kept dropping lower.

(Is Marin all right…?)

That house is never kind to Violet, but it can’t be comfortable for Marin either.
Back when Mother was bedridden it was one thing, but ever since Father returned, the pain became something we could share all too easily.

The little girl I had thoughtlessly dragged into this years ago is now an adult, yet being left alone in that mansion still carries a heavy weight.

My precious Marin—who smiles rarely, yet always gives me clear love and happiness.
I know nothing of real family, but isn’t this what an older sister should be?
If only someone like her had been my family…

The thought that she might be hurt because of me was terrifying.

“…Violet-sama?”

“Ah—good morning.”

“Good morning. You’re early today.”

“Yes, I left the house a little too quickly.”

I reflexively rearranged my expression for the classmate who had just entered.
Even the slightest hint of melancholy could spread in unpredictable ways; I had been fodder for rumors often enough to know.
Sometimes twisted beyond recognition, sometimes circling back close to the truth—smoke rose even where there was no fire.

I didn’t distrust my classmates, but I certainly didn’t trust them either.
It was wiser to keep any crack from showing to outsiders.

As we exchanged harmless small talk, the classroom slowly filled, one or two people at a time.
My few minutes of paradise ended all too easily.
I had known it would, so I felt no disappointment—but my spirit was too low to simply wait here for classes to begin.

“Sorry, I have business in the library.”

“Oh—my apologies for keeping you.”

“Please don’t worry about it. Excuse me.”

Violet had few friends; the contradiction of being both kept at arm’s length and irresistibly drawn in was the result of her own personality mixed with the gravitational pull of the Varhan name.

At formal gatherings she could put on a perfect social mask as a noble lady, but at the academy or in private she never quite managed it.
Perhaps the gowns acted as armor, helping her switch mindsets.
Even so, she tried her best to remain a wallflower; clearly, social graces were not in her personal nature.

Going against the flow of students heading to classrooms, she sought the least crowded place possible.
There were plenty of options, but straying too far would make returning troublesome.
In the morning, few left their classrooms anyway, so both corridors and courtyard were quieter than usual.

“Beautiful…”

No matter when or in what mood she looked, blooming flowers were always beautiful.
Perhaps they appeared even more so when her heart was barren.

The multicolored petals, the sweet fragrance tickling her nose—she could honestly call them beautiful, a gentle sight for the eyes.
Yet it still wasn’t enough to heal her heart.

Scenery soothes because of the gentle memories attached to it.
Violet possessed no past gentle enough to overcome the present battering.

When someone tramples with muddy boots into the place most precious to you, how do you ever get past it?

“…Enough.”

Thinking would only corner her further.
Forgetting wasn’t easy, but remembering changed nothing; her father would never understand these feelings.

His words had overflowed with kindness—kindness and love composed entirely for Mary-June.
That it was poison to Violet was only natural.

She hated herself for being so shaken despite harboring not a shred of expectation.
Being fine and being able to endure—were they really so different?

The wind blew; her hair swayed.
If only these feelings could be blown away with the dancing petals.

She turned her face to escape the gray strands blocking her view—and only then noticed the figure that had been there all along.

“Ah…”

Deep violet hair falling perfectly straight to the waist.
Cheeks faintly pink against pale skin.
Even the posture bent to admire the flowers radiated elegance—no, she herself was like a beautiful flower.
Pale lilac eyes gently narrowed, the softened aura carrying a divine majesty reminiscent of a goddess.

If Violet was a grand rose in full bloom, this girl was a pure white lily.

Refined, delicate, elegant—the ideal noble lady incarnate.
Violet knew her well.

Princess Rosette Megan.
Royalty from the neighboring kingdom, a classmate despite being in a different class.

Everyone agreed unanimously: she was marvelous.

Flawless, peerless—every word of praise adorned her, yet those very praises wrapped her in layer upon layer of veils, making her presence seem almost ethereal.
Worshipped and exalted until she felt like stained glass in a cathedral.

(Rare…)

Whenever Violet saw her from afar, Rosette was always surrounded by people.
The same at balls; someone always stood beside, behind, or in front of her.

The Rosette that Violet knew always smiled demurely in the center of a crowd.

While Violet stared blankly, time passed and the bell rang—the signal that she needed to return before the next bell or class would begin.

Rosette surely heard it too, yet she showed no sign of rising, still caressing the flowers.

“…………”

Should she call out?
Normally there would be no need to hesitate, but for Violet to initiate conversation carried a certain hurdle.

It wasn’t only her personality or communication skills; most students at the academy carried some tension around Violet—her family name, the aura she exuded, and now the rumors about her household circumstances.
Her own classmates had grown used to her, but with others it was questionable.

She knew of Rosette, yet they had never even exchanged direct glances, let alone words.
She lacked the surplus composure to bother someone she only knew from a distance with something as obvious as the bell.

(…Oh well.)

There was no need for someone who wasn’t even a friend to risk an awkward moment by speaking up.

Above all, right now Violet had no confidence she could keep the smiling mask in place.

She tore her gaze from Rosette crouching before the flowerbed, shoved her unerasable melancholy deep inside, and returned to the classroom.