Chapter 73: The First Few Seconds That Later Became Inevitable.

I only noticed the soft crunch of grass when its owner was already standing there.

“Eh…”

I whipped around in surprise.
How could anyone come to a place like this? I thought, conveniently forgetting that I myself was here.
Once I recognized the person, though, my shock shifted from “someone came” to “why is this person here?”

“Lady Rosette.”

“V-Violet…-sama.”

Even today she radiated that lovely, delicate presence.
Long, beautiful violet hair flowed down a perfectly straight back.
Her faintly purple eyes were wide open, round as saucers; the atmosphere was completely different from the usual image of her smiling brightly at the center of a crowd.

She was smiling, yet not smiling.
The smile was plastered on, but she clearly had no idea what to do next.
Panic, confusion; I could almost see straight into Rosette’s head.

“Um…”

She hugged whatever she was holding even tighter to her chest, eyes darting, words failing her.

I didn’t know her well enough to understand exactly what that meant.
But it was obvious she felt some discomfort because of my presence.

“I’m sorry, I’ll leave right away.”

“Ah—”

As I stood to pass her, she grabbed my arm.

“No, that’s not—!”

At the same moment, the books she’d been clutching tumbled to the ground with a loud rustle.

“…”

“I’m sorry! Are you all right…?”

We both reached to pick them up at the same time; our hands collided in midair and froze.
One hand moved unnaturally, the other naturally.
Rosette’s and mine.

Our gazes dropped.
Between us, the open book swayed slightly in the weak breeze.

I had assumed it was a novel; the cover had been hidden by a book jacket.
But the open pages were filled with color.
Not a picture book, though.

“…An illustrated guide?”

“—!”

Rosette’s shoulders jerked visibly at the word I let slip while processing what my eyes saw.
She remained frozen, hand still reaching for the ground, fingertips trembling; not from the awkward posture.

The open pages were covered in photographs and tiny text.
I remembered similar books from when I was little; back when I was still being raised as a boy, before I was Violet.

That was why it was so surprising that Rosette had been carrying one.
Not just any guide, but…

I picked up the fallen book in her place, brushing off the fine sand.
The jacket was dirtied, but the book itself was unharmed.
A quick flip confirmed no pages were torn.

“Here you are.”

“Ah… y-yes…”

She accepted it with stiff movements and hugged it to her chest again, just as when she arrived.
I had thought the tension earlier was from surprise, but apparently she had been trying to hide the book itself.
Though now that I’d seen the contents, the gesture was rather pointless.

“Um, this is…”

She wanted to make an excuse but couldn’t find the words.
Any lie would be meaningless now that I knew the truth, so she could only fall silent.

I understood her feelings all too well; and not just because she was easy to read.

I had been in the exact same situation once.
That was why I could so easily imagine what she was feeling, what she wanted to say, what she feared.

“If you don’t want to explain, that’s fine. I won’t ask, and I won’t tell anyone.”

“Eh…?”

“If you want me to forget, I will. …You didn’t want anyone to know, did you?”

The reason she had looked so uncomfortable when we first faced each other wasn’t because it was me.
She had been startled and panicked simply because someone was here.
She had come to hide, and finding a person already present; of course she would panic.
And since that person was me, of all people, with my poor reputation… perhaps the panic really had been because of me.

“You realized I misunderstood and stopped me, didn’t you?”

She had grabbed my arm because she realized I thought she disliked me.
As a result, her secret had been exposed.
No one was at fault; neither Rosette nor I.
It was simply cruel coincidence.
No one to blame.

That didn’t make her feel any better, of course.

“Thank you. And sorry for making you worry.”

I had no hobby of spreading people’s secrets.
To put it bluntly, I wasn’t even interested.
Between people with no trust, words carried little weight, but since I couldn’t offer visible proof, she would simply have to believe me.

“You’re… not disappointed…?”

“Disappointed in what?”

“Because I…”

“It’s certainly unusual, perhaps.”

The title of the book Rosette had been holding was A Guide to Reptiles.

At this academy, that category was generally disliked.
Many students loved flowers and nature, but the insects and reptiles that came with them were firmly rejected.
Despite the vast grounds full of greenery, sightings of such creatures were rare.
They might wander in from outside, but they almost never bred on campus grounds.

It was simply assumed; regardless of age or gender; that people disliked them.

“What you’re drawn to is your freedom.”

One person’s love is another’s hate, and one person’s hate is another’s love.
There is no rule saying you may only love things universally accepted.
The right to choose belongs to you alone.
Liking or disliking something is how individuality is born.

If you wish to blend in, hiding is an option, but there’s no need to turn love into hate.

“Though you should still be careful about where and with whom you talk about it, since some people really can’t stand them.”

Freedom of taste and consideration for others are separate matters.

Forcing your likes on others or forcing your dislikes on them; once you cross the line, it becomes a nuisance.
That ceases to be freedom and becomes simple violation.

The old Violet hadn’t understood that.
She had forced, demanded, and in the end was branded the harm herself.

It felt like a lifetime ago, yet she still remembered the sensation of the murderous intent she had gripped that day.

“Well then, good day.”

With a light nod, she walked away without looking back.
A chance encounter of passing strangers was quickly relegated to a corner of her mind; it lacked the impact to clear the fog swirling in her head.

Only the color of Rosette’s name grew a little deeper; nothing more than a small, fleeting meeting.