'She must be furious - but she's holding up remarkably well.'
Echi scratched her still-disheveled hair and picked up the appointment letter. Reading it again brought a complicated tangle of feelings to the surface - intensified by last night's encounter with Yurien and the dream that had followed. She folded it carelessly and pushed it into a drawer.
She had no clear memory of how she'd made it back to the dormitory and fallen asleep. She hadn't been herself.
If Yurien remembered anything, there was no possible world in which he didn't hate her. She had broken his trust. She had destroyed his home. She had killed him.
Could she have blamed the cursed sword? That was her perspective - and her perspective alone.
Would anyone forgive a person who said I'm sorry, it was the sword's fault while still drenched in the blood of someone you loved? Could any family, any beloved, look at the killer of someone dear to them and say it couldn't be helped, you're blameless? Could any person, meeting the one who had murdered someone they cared for, manage a smile?
A saint might. Not a human being.
So why was Yurien behaving in a way that made no sense? It was more reasonable to believe there was some other explanation than to accept that he was a saint capable of smiling at his own murderer.
Either he truly had no memories - or he had his suspicions, but lacked certainty.
'The birthday banquet…'
If he had no memories, then she had done something at the Emperor's birthday banquet last year that caught his attention - he had said himself that he saw her there. But that evening was over fifteen years past from Echi's perspective. She had no recollection of anything unusual, no encounter with him, no moment where their eyes had even met.
'I don't know. Damn.'
She stood and opened the wardrobe. As she pulled out the day's dress, another possibility took shape: Yurien might have memories but not know she was the demon of the cursed sword.
'He could be suspicious. A cadet who didn't exist in the erased past has appeared. But he couldn't be certain - my identity is legitimate, and there's no evidence.'
Her gaze dropped to the silk glove on her right hand. Beneath it: irrefutable evidence. She clenched her fist.
'If he suspects but lacks proof — so he's watching. Keeping me close. Monitoring until he has something definitive.'
She gave a short, dark laugh as she set out her jewelry box.
"Stay as close as possible. Observe her. Wait for proof."
[What was that?]
"I think I know why Yurien made me his squire."
[Wait — he named you his squire just to keep an eye on you?]
"It's only a hypothesis."
And if he was right to be suspicious - if he ever became certain she was the demonic sword's master - what would he do? He would not be smiling the way he had yesterday.
The dull ache in her chest sharpened.
She spotted the folded cloak on the drawer. Yurien's cloak. She shoved it deep inside without looking at it again.
Whatever the truth was, there was only one thing she could do: be Echinacea Roaz, completely and thoroughly, and give no one any reason to connect her to a cursed sword's demon.
She dressed with fierce determination.
Getting ready without Nora was difficult, especially the corset - not designed for solo management. She used mana to pull the laces and fasten them at the back. The precision required would have startled any watching Master.
Corset on. Stockings and garter belt. Petticoat, then a light yellow dress covered in abundant ruffles layered over it. She brushed her hair and arranged it in a half-updo held with lace-and-jewel accessories. Makeup. Earrings, a necklace, high heels.
She swapped the overnight gloves for a pair intricately embroidered to match the dress. The golden threadwork covered the glyph entirely.
Despite moving quickly by noblewoman standards, it still took a considerable amount of time. The clock was approaching nine.
She grabbed the longsword - untouched since yesterday's duel - and left the room.
She had no instinct to care for weapons. If a blade dulled, she bought a new one.
The fourth training ground east of the main building was about the size of a small vacant lot. High walls, a gazebo-like structure at one end - designed for both training and quiet discussion.
Ian Pelletro was seated in the gazebo, waiting. He wasn't alone.
A man with reddish-brown hair sat across from him.
Ian waved when she entered.
"Welcome, Cadet Echinacea."
Knowing what she knew about him now, his pleasant smile felt like something she was looking at through glass. It reminded her that she needed to be careful around him.
She clicked her tongue internally and greeted him anyway.
"Hello, Senior."
"Sleep well? Oh! This is Brad von Fohm, third-year. Say hello."
"Echinacea Roaz. Pleased to meet you, Senior Brad."
Ian made the introduction. The man looked her up and down and smirked.
"Pretty enough. Don't worry. I'll teach you well."
The smile was unsettling, and so were the words. Echi's brow furrowed, and Ian gave her an apologetic look.
"I'd normally handle the preliminary training myself, but I couldn't free up the time today, so I called Brad in. He's had plenty of experience as a temporary squire, he'll guide you well."
"…Understood."
A cold, sinking feeling. Ian patted her on the shoulder with his usual good-natured ease.
"I'll see you later, then. I should be going."
Once he left, only she and Brad remained. Brad sat with his arms crossed, watching her, then spoke.
"So you'll be a full squire in a month. Tight schedule."
"I look forward to your guidance."
"For today, you're my squire. Attend to me."
"…Yes, Senior."
"Call me Lord. That's the basic form."
Squires referred to the knight they served as Lord - but calling a cadet that seemed excessive by any measure.
His gaze moved over her in a way that made her want to look elsewhere. She kept her expression neutral and bowed her head.
"Yes, Lord."
"Good. Start by massaging my legs."
Brad leaned back on the bench and extended both legs out toward her. Echi stared. A squire's duties covered a wide range of service - but leg massage?
"You want me to massage your legs?"
"You questioning my orders? Just do as you're told."
"Wasn't today meant to be preliminary squire training?"
"It is preliminary squire training. How dare you talk back."
Brad's face had gone sour. The sinking feeling from earlier was becoming concrete reality. Ian had deliberately assigned her to someone like this rather than doing it himself. She clenched her teeth.
"Does a squire's training actually include this?"
"Do as you're told and stop talking! Or do you not want to be a squire?"
Brad shouted. Echi looked down at him in cold silence, then asked:
"What kind of massage?"
"Do I have to explain everything? Kneel on the floor, pull my boots off, and use your bare hands. Take those gloves off."
He tilted his chin toward the floor below the bench, and smiled.
"I'll give you specialized personal instruction. Gentle, now."
"…Personal instruction?"
"Appropriate to the kind of service you'll be providing. Isn't that why you became a cadet?"
"I'm not sure what service you're referring to."
"Playing innocent while you walk around in that skirt? People aren't fooled. Everyone knows you came here to marry a knight. You wouldn't dress like that if you weren't trying to catch men's eyes."
The logic was so broken she didn't know where to begin. Marry a knight? Dress to attract men? She hadn't considered either as a possibility, let alone as the reason people would believe she'd come here.
Echi watched him in silence, waiting to see how far he would take it. His gaze dropped to her chest.
"With a body like yours and that face, smart move. And those exam scores? Everyone noticed after watching yesterday's duel. They started wondering how someone barely competent at swords topped the class, then realized it must have been your score in the second test, the one against the junior knight. Wasn't hard to figure out what you did to score so well."
"..."
"Even the Commander fell for it, which means a junior knight was easy. How quickly did you manage it? You must have been serving him before you even enrolled - now as squire, you can do it officially. Must be quite lively at night."
Echi laughed.
Not a polite laugh. A genuine, disbelieving laugh.
She had heard things that would strip paint off walls during her years as the demon with the cursed sword - among mercenaries, among the criminal fringe she had moved through while gathering Giosa. She had heard obscenities that her younger self would not have believed existed.
But this? This particular brand of stupidity? And dragging Yurien into it on top of everything?
[Master, you're angry, aren't you? Kill him. Easy enough, right? Use me, please?]
ValderGiosa, feeling her anger, perked up eagerly. Ironically, that helped her settle.
She had known from the start that a quiet life under the radar wasn't possible. She had chosen to play the eccentric genius knight who insisted on dressing extravagantly.
If people added to that profile that she was also foul-tempered and impudent, that was perfectly fine. Far better than the rumor that she had secured her position in the Commander's bed.
Staying calm didn't mean letting it pass. She spoke in a soft voice.
"Your words were rather harsh, Senior."