Don’t smile.
Sophie bit her lip as she watched Lunetta give a smile that looked happy and proud at once.
She’d wanted to see Lunetta smile. That much wasn’t a lie.
But it wasn’t that she needed to smile or that it’d be a problem if she didn’t. No matter what expression she wore, it didn’t change the fact that Lunetta was still the kind, magic-loving witch that she always had been.
But Sophie did think Lunetta would be cute if she smiled. I’d love to see her smile, Sophie thought. I’d love it if I got to see her just beaming beside Vyce. That was how Sophie honestly felt.
But now, watching the smile that was breaking over Lunetta’s face, Sophie’s chest was stricken with pain. Sophie could hardly breathe as the tears spilled down her cheeks. That’s not it at all.
“Lunetta...!”
It was cold and icy and scary here. And there she was clutching a battered old book. The last thing Sophie wanted was to see Lunetta smile in a sad place like this—to smile about how they “had been” the kingdom’s princesses.
After all, they hadn’t resented or cursed a single soul—instead, they’d lived their whole lives thinking only of the day they would die. And they “had been” princesses? How could it ever be acceptable that someone who spent their whole life wishing for the good fortune of others over their own wasn’t fit to be a princess?
What was truly terrifying was the fact that Lunetta didn’t question that at all—the fact that she didn’t think it odd in the slightest that she called this place a “room” and lived here to think only of dying.
She thought that was natural.
Because she was the Landslayer Witch.
Because she was a princess.
Because that was her role to play.
The words caught in Sophie’s throat.
She was just like Sophie.
Even if others had laughed at her and she had nothing to show for it, she hadn’t thought it odd. She’d assumed it was because she was worthless—that it would be impudent of her to desire the same things as any other person. For so, so long, that was exactly what Sophie had thought.
Was it because it had always been that way, ever since she’d been born?
It was. After all, it was only after she’d seen the outside world that she’d realized how nonsensical it was. If you don’t know what’s normal, you’ll never know what’s strange.
So just why had she been able to resign herself to the fact that nothing could be done about it, even after realizing how strange it was? Was it because saying something about it wouldn’t have done her any good? Because she didn’t have any evidence that she could actually trust herself?
No, that’s not it. Sophie squeezed her hand as she gripped Lunetta’s slender white fingers. That was part of it, but that wasn’t it. The base of it all had been different. The answer sleeping far deeper wasn’t any of that...
It was simply because it was easier that way.
Unlike others, she was worthless, so of course she’d be different than them. It was only natural for her to work countless times harder than others. Don’t think they like you. Don’t hope they’ll like you. Creatures like you aren’t worthy of having any preferences of their own—and don’t you dare forget it.
If she went on telling herself that...it was easier that way.
That was her role. Thinking about it that way, it almost seemed like she was allowed to be alive. She could breathe that way. She didn’t have to resent anyone that way.
I get it now, Sophie thought as another tear ran down her face. This must be how Livio felt.
The knight had always worried about Sophie, beaming at her with that gentle smile of his. He’d done everything in his power so that Sophie could be normal in this new life. She was certain that it was because even though Sophie had given up on herself...Livio hadn’t.
Was he doing it out of sympathy for her?
If there was anyone out there who could say “Maybe so?” with a straight face, then Sophie would challenge them to take a good look at that meltingly beautiful smile of Livio’s. With a smile like that looking back at her, Sophie wasn’t petty—or ignorant—enough to say “Oh, he’s just being nice!”
Take a good look! What she was talking about was closer to a violent sort of kindness—a force that she could only describe as love.
So then just what was this feeling that Sophie was carrying for Lunetta?
Well now. Sophie saw herself in Lunetta; what she felt toward Lunetta was simply self-pity, coarse and unsightly. It was far removed from kindness—a tiny little island so far away it would take years of adventuring and journeying on land and on sea to reach. It was a pitiful little island, the sort strapped for any decent source of food or water. It was the sort of island no one would look twice at, lacking any bounty or distinction to boast of.
But, at the very least, Sophie hoped the island might be a place where weary wings might find rest.
“No matter what anyone might say,” Sophie said, “you were all princesses, and you all continued to fight for your kingdom’s sake.”
Perhaps Sophie was just telling herself that.
“No matter what anyone might say, I was the next crown princess and I lived for my kingdom...” or something like that.
Ha ha, just how pathetic can I be? It seemed Sophie had transformed into a conceited fool somewhere along the way without even realizing it. I’ve really gone and done it now, haven’t I? This feels great. That’s right—I feel great.
After all, she’d been able to declare that all of it was “wrong”—for Lunetta’s sake. I’d rather die before just sitting back and saying, “That’s just how things are!”
So if Sophie had to accept herself in order to say such a thing to Lunetta, then she was more than happy to make a laughingstock out of herself for being a conceited fool.
“You don’t have to worry about anyone else,” Sophie said. “You can stand tall and say it! You can be confident and tell them all that you’re this kingdom’s princess—and that’s why you’re going to throw it away!”