Chapter 33: How to Repay You.

Classes ended. One by one, my classmates left the room.
This moment after school, when I was forced to face the fact that I had to go home, had always been something Violet hated.

The simple truth that I had to return to that house weighed more heavily than anything.

That was why, when Yulan invited me that day, I had been so, so happy.
Truly, from the bottom of my heart, I had been looking forward to it.
That feeling should still be there, yet it had been pushed into the deepest, furthest corner of my heart.

Negative emotions filled every inch of me.
I was used to giving up, but I was terrible at stuffing things down and enduring.
That was exactly why, the last time, I had let those emotions explode and hurt people.

Where was I supposed to throw these feelings away?

Would these emotions I could vent on no one eventually shrink and disappear?

Even if they would, right now they still occupied too much of me to let me leap toward the joy I was supposed to feel.
I couldn’t wait for “someday.”
I wanted them gone right now, or at least to forget them conveniently.

My thoughts spun and spun, churning everything inside until nausea coiled in my throat.

I didn’t want Yulan to see me like this.
I didn’t want to show him this weakened version of myself.
I didn’t want to worry him—I wanted to be smiling.

I had been looking forward to this.
I should be able to enjoy it.
I had been so happy.
The last thing I wanted was to give him the wrong idea with a gloomy face.

(Snap out of it.)

The command I gave myself sounded utterly pathetic.
Switch, I told myself again and again, forcibly shoving the swirling black emotions deeper and deeper.

If I couldn’t let them pass through me, I had no choice but to swallow them.

I felt the bright anticipation for today being crushed as I pretended not to notice and slammed the lid shut.

Believing that someday I would digest it.
Believing that someday I would let it go.

“Vio-chan! Sorry to keep you waiting~!”

“Calm down.”

With a clatter perfectly proportionate to his size, Yulan burst into the classroom like an avalanche.
I had heard him running from the sound, but even just sprinting inside had left a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead.
The academy grounds were large—how desperately had he run?

The anticipation I had packed away yesterday began to frolic again, demanding to be let out.

I looked away from the part of me that was starting to ache with the effort of keeping it contained.
If I let it burst out a second time, it would never be suppressed again.
It was too heavy to carry, too strong to discard.

See nothing.
Know nothing.
By sacrificing the small, precious happiness, I could finally force myself to give up.

“But I didn’t want to keep you waiting… I was really looking forward to it.”

“A little waiting is nothing.
If you got hurt, that would be far worse.”

“…Yeah, I’ll be more careful next time!”

Was his smile dazzling only because the sweat caught the light?
When I reached out to the hair he had mussed while running, he looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled happily as I slowly smoothed it.

Looking at that expression, a new seed rolled in from somewhere.
Very like the one I had just cut away—beautiful in color and shape—it slowly began to spread its roots.

My feelings were still scattered everywhere, and calm was only a façade, but even so, I could think: it’ll be all right.

As long as Yulan was here, joy would surely sprout anew.

×　×　×　×

From the academy to the entrance of the town, Yulan’s carriage took us.
On the way home, if we returned to this point, the Varhan family would send someone to fetch me.

The street lined with shops felt a little too grand to call a mere shopping district, but for academy students it was perfectly fitting.
There weren’t many pedestrians, yet the atmosphere was anything but desolate—just rows of refined buildings.

Through the glass windows we could see elegantly dressed customers; at a glance most seemed adults.
I had worried our uniforms would stand out, but the nature of the academy and the town’s air blended so well that we drew no particular attention.

“What should we do~? Vio-chan, where do you want to go?”

“It’s not about me. Today is my apology to you.”

“Yeah, so—where does Vio-chan want to go?”

“Listen properly.”

Walking beside me, Yulan’s voice bounced with no need for me to look up.
He was smiling; his voice told me he was enjoying himself.

Yet we had simply been walking without stopping anywhere.
He insisted on prioritizing where I wanted to go, even though this was supposed to be my apology—and he never once named a place he wanted.

How about that shop? They have cute trinkets over there. I’ve heard the chocolate here is delicious.
Every suggestion that left Yulan’s lips was something I would like, not him.

(Come to think of it… I don’t know anything.)

Yulan always read my heart as a matter of course, yet I knew almost nothing about him.

He had few strong likes or dislikes, but couldn’t eat sweets.
Gentle and kind, yet he tended to watch everything from one step back.
My cute little-brother figure who always wanted to be with me.

That was the extent of what Violet knew.
He stayed close, closer than a stranger—I could sense the subtle shifts in his heart.
He allowed me near, and I allowed him the same.

Yet it still wasn’t enough compared to how much he considered me.

Until now, today, and surely from now on—he would remain kind.
The first person to ever bring kindness into Violet’s world.

I had only ever received, never once returned anything.

“…Vio-chan? What’s wrong?”

My thoughts raced, but my steps had grown heavy and slow.
I only realized I was staring at the ground when Yulan’s worried voice reached the top of my head.

“Are you tired…? Shall we rest somewhere?”

I could tell from his voice alone that he was worried.
If I looked up, I would surely see his brows drawn together in concern.

See—once again, Yulan noticed the tiniest change in me and cared without a second thought.
The hand he placed on my waist supported me and gently urged my faltering steps forward.

Being beside Yulan felt so comfortable.
He always welcomed me softly—yet I had given him nothing in return.

Father’s words—you are no longer alone—began to sprout somewhere else, in a place I had tried to bury.

I was told I was no longer alone.
And it was true—I was not alone.
Because Marin was inside the house and Yulan was outside, I could say, could believe, that I was not alone.

But if Yulan disappeared.

If Yulan left.

“……”

Just imagining it made my body temperature drop.
My fingertips grew cold.

Someone precious—closer than family, someone I had doted on like a little brother.
Right now he clung to me, but with his good nature and friends, he would surely find a wonderful lover before long.

I had wished for that future.
I had wanted to watch Yulan’s happiness from a distance, like a childhood friend who had become a distant older-sister figure.
That was the dream of someone who could never attain peace surpassing mere tranquility.

But what if even that never came true?
What if Yulan drifted so far away that I could no longer see even his shadow?

In that house, someday I would fall apart completely.

“Vio-chan…?”

“…Yulan.”

Defying the hand urging me forward, I stopped.
Before he could ask what was wrong, his name left my lips with more confusion than worry.

I released his hand and stepped in front of him.
Even looking straight ahead I could only see his uniform collar; I lifted my gaze a little higher.
Those beautiful golden eyes were wide and frozen.

“I… want to give something back to you.
I want to repay your kindness.”

“Eh…”

“I have only ever received from you.
I have been saved, over and over.
That’s why—”

Giving endlessly only wears one down; receiving endlessly breeds complacency.
I didn’t want to take his kindness for granted, yet until this very moment I had accepted everything he offered.
I had no persuasive power left.

Every human relationship involves profit and loss.
Even the most beautiful romance novels, even unconditional familial love—without noticing, someone loses, someone gains.
Perhaps the relationships unaffected by that are held together by some form of affection.

And because he was someone that precious, I could not forgive the current state where only I profited.
Yulan surely never once thought he was losing anything, but it was fact that I had given him nothing.

This bond would never be destroyed by mere accounting.
I believed—I wanted to believe—it was not that cold a relationship.

Yet to grow comfortable with a one-sided flow, to feel no discomfort in only receiving—wasn’t that the height of ingratitude?

Because someone precious gave me precious feelings, I wanted to give him back something of equal weight.

“Tell me… What can I do for you, Yulan…?”