Chapter 33

2. A Flower Bud in the Shade Kisk was the newest of the four Great Nations. Around 250 years earlier, a war involving several countries had broken out in the center of the continent. The three countries this war had created remained at odds with one another for a long time, engaging in conflict after conflict. However, around 100 years before Shizuku’s arrival, they unexpectedly merged into one unified nation. After changing its name to Kisk, this new country invaded Gandona—its neighbor to the north—and took some of its territory. Kisk became feared shortly after its inception due to its belligerent actions, but it was its western neighbor, Farsas, that took the wind out of its sails. Sixty years earlier, an army led by King Dysral of Farsas suddenly set its sights on the neighboring country of Casola. Casola—situated by the sea and sandwiched between Farsas and Kisk—was a small nation that most other countries didn’t know about. Kisk had been pressuring Casola to merge into its own territory, but after a sudden military campaign, Dysral managed to conquer the small nation of Casola in just two weeks. Shortly thereafter, Dysral himself succumbed to madness and was deposed. Rodeus, who subsequently ascended the throne, not only apologized for the deposed king’s actions but also returned Casola’s territory and provided assistance for its restoration. However, Farsas’s involvement with Casola meant that Kisk was unable to meddle in the country. Even prior to this turn of events, Kisk hadn’t had a favorable view of its long-established neighbor, yet following Farsas’s involvement with Casola, Kisk’s animosity toward the country deepened. Gandona, a nation that bordered both Farsas and Kisk, viewed Kisk’s hostility toward Farsas as “childish resentment” that seemed to stem from the fact that Kisk lacked much history of its own. Regardless, Kisk paid no heed to such opinions. In fact, in the present day, it proudly displayed its own arrogance to its neighbors. “We don’t care about other countries,” it asserted. “Our nation is already a great power.” At least, that was the facade it liked to present. “Why do they care so much about Farsas anyway…?” Shizuku remarked candidly after finding out about Kisk’s twisted feelings toward its neighbor. This was a decidedly problematic statement, and if anyone had heard her, she would have been criticized for it. Fortunately, however, there was no one else in the break room where Shizuku was drinking her tea. She opened the history book she’d borrowed from the library and started copying the parts she understood into her notebook. Since arriving in Kisk, she’d begun to feel incredibly grateful that Erik had taught her the basics of grammar, but she still wasn’t proficient enough to gain a full grasp of the texts. It was like trying to read a university-level English paper with the knowledge of a seventh grader. Even so, Shizuku didn’t become discouraged and continued to skim through Kisk’s history books. She checked the clock just to make sure, but break time wasn’t over yet. For the time being, Shizuku had a lot on her plate. Not only did she have to assist the pregnant Seilené, she also had work related to language education and her own studies to focus on. Her break times, during which she could leisurely flip through books and enjoy a cup of tea, were extremely precious to her. As Shizuku absentmindedly picked at her sweets, the door opened and Willett stepped inside. After exchanging greetings, the girl looked at the book Shizuku was reading and pulled a face of disgust. “You’re reading another one of those books?” “What do you mean? I borrowed it from the library.” “That’s exactly my point.” When they’d first met, Willett had been too shy to say much at all to Shizuku, but lately, she’d started talking to her like a close friend. Thanks to Shizuku’s baby face, Willett must have perceived her as being close to her own age, which made her more approachable. Still, Shizuku was effectively a magistrate, making her Willett’s superior, so the other woman used polite language when speaking to her—albeit only at the most basic level. “Never mind that, Willett—teach me how to read this.” “You’re asking again? You’re so smart, so how come you can’t read words?” “I’m not that smart, which is why I can’t read them. If you teach me, I’ll learn.” If Shizuku had asked anyone else about a word, they might have found it suspicious how much knowledge she had in some areas and so little in others. Willett, however, didn’t pay this any heed and willingly helped her out. “That says ‘slope,’” the girl promptly explained. “Thanks,” Shizuku replied, scrawling a note in the corner of her notebook. “More importantly, Flower Rain Day is just around the corner. Who are you going to give your flowers to?” “Huh? Why would I give somebody flowers? Is it to promote world peace?” “Of course not. Don’t you know about Flower Rain Day?” “I’ve never even heard of it.” “A-are you serious?” Shizuku’s apathetic response seemed to ignite a peculiar fighting spirit within Willett. Suddenly brimming with enthusiasm, she explained that Flower Rain Day was an annual event—seemingly unique to Kisk—which involved giving flowers to a member of the opposite sex you were interested in as a token of your affection. Its origins dated back to the founding of Kisk. According to the story, just before the three nations that formed Kisk merged together, the princes of two of the countries showered the queen of the third with flowers to ask for her hand in marriage. “I bet it was hard to pick up all those flowers afterward…,” Shizuku commented. “That’s not what the story’s about!” Willett’s complaint brought her back to her senses. Shizuku’s comment sounded like something Erik would say, which she found troubling. Had she unwittingly begun to mirror his behavior? She didn’t want to become as impassive as he was. “So it’s like Valentine’s Day?” “What’s that?” “Don’t worry. Okay, I get it now.” To Shizuku, Valentine’s Day in her old world was when she would give small gifts or chocolate to all the people who looked out for her in her daily life. Was it right to assume that Flower Rain Day was the same? Faneet was one man who tended to look out for her, but she didn’t think flowers would suit him. Receiving a bouquet would probably bother him. Shizuku shrugged at Willett, who was giving her an expectant look. “I don’t think I’ll give anyone flowers.” “Huh?! But this chance only comes around once a year! Are you sure you’re okay passing it up?” “That doesn’t trouble me in the slightest. I really don’t care.” “Seriously…? But don’t you think Faneet and Niké are super good-looking?!” “You think they’re good-looking…?” Shizuku considered the two men Willett had mentioned to be pretty average in the looks department. In truth, though, she could never really tell whether a man was attractive or not. Perhaps she’d grown too accustomed to seeing Erik and Lars, or maybe Erik’s views—that people’s personalities made it hard to determine how they actually looked—had influenced her own perspective. She found Faneet kind and reliable, whereas Niké truly got on her nerves. That said, she had no idea whether or not they were good-looking. “Those two have a lot of fans inside the castle—but since they’re the princess’s staff, nobody can bring themselves to approach them.” “Oh, right. The princess does scare people, after all.” “But you work directly under the princess, just like them. So…” “…You want me to act as a sacrifice?” Shizuku felt like a dummy being thrown into a minefield. She was completely drained, but it seemed like this romantic event was a serious affair for the young girl. Willett was four years younger than her, and the girl’s eyes sparkled as she looked at Shizuku. “…Neither of them is really my type, though,” Shizuku replied. “Oh? Then what kind of guys do you like?” “It’s hard when you put me on the spot like that, but I guess I like someone I can respect. Someone smart, who cares for others like it’s second nature.” It was a fairly vague preference. Shizuku had tried to express her ideas in words, but they had no substance. She groaned, struggling to visualize a specific kind of person who’d fit her description. Willett, meanwhile, looked puzzled. “Sounds like you’re pretty picky.” “I don’t think so. I’m just not really sure.” “Well, anyway—I’ll provide the flowers on the day. I’ll give it my all.” “Whoa, where did that come from?! How’d you lure me into that trap?” “It’s just in case you decide to give them to someone.” Willett took a piece of paper from her pocket and wrote something on it. It was probably a flower reservation slip or something similar. Shizuku couldn’t be bothered to stop her, so she just watched. They were only flowers—she could give them to someone on the day, or she could just use them as decorations. Shizuku took a sip of her cold tea. “So which of the princes who proposed to the queen did she eventually choose?” “Huh, don’t you know? The queen married them both. They became a throuple.” “…Whoa, that sounds messy.” Shizuku hadn’t been able to help let her true feelings show; after all, she’d grown up with the idea that a wife only had one husband. Willett just gave her another exasperated look. The man prodded the carved white stone game piece with his finger. It moved a little, but didn’t topple over. He lifted it up, then glanced at his opponent sitting opposite him, trying to discern her reaction. “Do you want to go to war, Ortea?” he asked. “I did not say that.” “I’ve also been thinking I want to do something about Farsas.” Ortea’s brother, the king, spoke in a vague manner, eliciting a sardonic smile from his younger sister. While he usually listened to what she had to say, he was understandably cautious when it came to war. This was not so much due to his dislike for war, however, as it was due to Farsas’s formidable military strength. King Beelhurse, the incumbent king of Kisk, was by no means an outstanding or wise individual, yet he wasn’t ignorant enough to be called stupid. He felt threatened by Farsas, the most prominent country on the continent, and while he also felt bitter about past grievances, he didn’t like the idea of declaring war outright. In fact, upon hearing about the ace that Ortea had up her sleeve, he even suggested resorting to assassination. As Ortea was pondering how to manipulate her brother, the king brought up an entirely different matter altogether. “Come to think of it, that girl you’re in charge of… What was her name again? The one who made us shut down the experiments.” “Are you referring to Shizuku?” “Yeah, her. What’s she like? I’d like the chance to see her.” “I will not give her to you. She’s mine,” Ortea warned her brother. She hated the idea of relinquishing her unusual pawn to the king. The ability to flawlessly manipulate people was not a skill he possessed. As the pair conversed, Ortea continued to move her pieces across the board. Beelhurse smiled at his sister. “I didn’t say I wanted her. I’m just curious. Isn’t she the one who picked a fight with you?” “We simply made a deal. I would never fight with a subject.” Shizuku had confronted Ortea head-on. The princess had never come across someone like Shizuku before. Well, that wasn’t strictly true—some people had remonstrated with her several years ago, but they’d all been banished from the court or executed. The fact that Shizuku, who claimed to be from another world, had remained in the castle made her an exception. Although Ortea was suspicious of the story, she couldn’t refute the girl’s assertions altogether, which had worked in Shizuku’s favor. A bitter expression had appeared on Ortea’s face, and her brother knocked over one of her pieces with his own. “Still, if I’m kind to her, then she’ll be treated less harshly. It seems like the girl in question is being shunned by the mages since she shut down their experiments.” “She will not lose heart over something so insignificant. After all, she’s one of my vassals.” Shizuku wouldn’t let people as irrelevant as the royal court mages get to her; this was a girl who’d stood her ground against Ortea herself, after all. The princess’s prideful response made the king laugh. With that, the pair redirected their attention back to the game board—and all discussion of Shizuku faded away. Seilené didn’t have a husband. Since she was pregnant, Shizuku had assumed there was a man in her life. Yet there didn’t seem to be any probable fathers around, so Shizuku refrained from broaching the subject with her. Moreover, Seilené’s presence was kept secret, known to only a select few within the castle, and as such, Shizuku kept their acquaintance to herself. Ortea was sheltering the woman in secret. All Shizuku knew was that the child she would soon give birth to had a significant role to play. “Could you pass me that lipstick over there?” Seilené said with a sigh, and Shizuku handed it to her. In this world, lipsticks were often kept in small glass saucers. Every single one of the makeup products spread out on the table was of superior quality and something the other young court ladies would have looked at with envy. Shizuku, meanwhile, didn’t feel any particular emotion as she went about her duties. With her long hair tied up in a tight ponytail, she had a stern appearance more akin to that of a teacher than a court lady. Seilené sighed as she looked at her belly in the mirror. “My body feels so heavy and cumbersome… I can’t wait to be free of this.” “You only have one month to go, so just endure it until then.” “After the birth, I wonder if my body will go back to the way it was before.” “My cousin once said that if you wear shapewear and do some light exercise once you recover, everything goes back to normal,” Shizuku replied. It was a very practical suggestion. Seilené looked at Shizuku’s reflection in the mirror, annoyance in her eyes. “You’re so young. I’m jealous…” Seilené only appeared to be in her early twenties herself. Just how old did she think Shizuku was? Shizuku pondered this as she tied up Seilené’s thick blond hair. Once she was done, she started to brew some fragrant tea. As the steam tickled her face, Shizuku heard a lethargic voice call out to her. “I must say, I’m feeling rather low. Could you read me a book, perhaps?” “Uhh…” Shizuku didn’t know what to say. She could manage children’s picture books, but any regular book would be a challenge; she’d have to make stuff up while she read. As she was wondering what to do, Seilené gestured toward the bookshelf in the corner of the room. “Pick something from there. Anything will do.” “Does it have to be from that bookshelf…? They must all be difficult to read.” While she was letting the tea steep, Shizuku went to look at the bookshelf. She’d hoped there would be some with pictures, but unsurprisingly, they were all thick books. She touched the spines, reading out the words she could understand. “The History of Rozsark… Is that something you’re interested in?” Although Shizuku had never visited the country, she’d heard its name mentioned countless times. Shortly after arriving in this world, Rozsark had invaded its neighbor, Anneli. It was also the country that Farsas had asked to temporarily govern Candela Castle after it was annihilated in the forbidden curse incident. Shizuku got the impression that it was a fairly chaotic place, but that was about it. What had it been like in the past? Just as Shizuku was reaching for the book, Seilené’s voice cut through the air. “That doesn’t interest me in the slightest. I just happened to bring it with me.” “Oh, right,” Shizuku replied casually. Judging by the sudden severity in Seilené’s tone of voice, however, she might have touched on a sensitive topic. Shizuku shifted her gaze to the next book. “Huh?” The old, navy-blue book had nothing written on its spine. Shizuku pulled it out—but as she lay her fingers on it, a slight tingling sensation akin to a static shock shot through them. Startled, Shizuku glanced at her hand, but she noticed nothing untoward. She regained her composure, then removed the book from the shelf. The thick, leather-bound book was adorned in silver. There was no title on the cover, either, but it did have a strange inscription on the back. The book’s cover felt oddly familiar to her touch, as if she were holding the hand of a loved one. Shizuku stared at the untitled tome. She’d seen something like it before. The sense of déjà vu she was experiencing was impossible to shake, and Shizuku felt something stir in the depths of her memory. She placed her fingers on the cover to open it—but just as she did, a piece of paper from the middle of the book drifted to the floor. “Oh!” Shizuku hastily picked it up. It was a small, old portrait. The edges were worn, and it seemed almost faded. The picture was of a man and a woman. Shizuku felt her eyes drawn to the woman, who was sitting on a chair. “Lyshien?” Lyshien was the princess of Anneli who’d been imprisoned. Shizuku had encountered the girl on her travels, and this woman in the portrait bore a striking resemblance to her. Yet upon closer inspection, they weren’t the same age; the woman in the picture looked nearly ten years older than Lyshien. Shizuku was about to take a closer look at the man beside her when Seilené spoke up, her voice tense. “Do you know that girl?” “Huh?” Flustered, Shizuku quickly placed the portrait back between the pages and closed the book. Lyshien’s story was a complicated one. Despite being the princess of Anneli, her overwhelming magical power had resulted in her being locked away and her existence concealed. It was only after Rozsark invaded that she had been released and taken away as a hostage by Rozsark’s King Oltovine. Having now been freed from Rozsark as well, she was likely residing somewhere with her husband. Erik and Shizuku were the only ones who knew that, though, and Shizuku hastily explained things away. “No, my imagination’s playing tricks on me. She just happens to resemble someone I know.” Initially, Niké’s master had tasked him with looking for Lyshien. Thinking back, that master was probably Ortea. Shizuku couldn’t let a slip of the tongue put Lyshien in danger. Seilené stared intently at Shizuku, who was tense with nerves. When she realized what book Shizuku was holding, she frowned. “Stop looking at that,” she said, seeming somewhat flustered herself. “Pick another one.” It didn’t sound like she was going to question Shizuku about Lyshien. As Shizuku placed the navy-blue volume back on the shelf, Seilené asked her bluntly, “How much longer is that tea going to take?” “Oh, I forgot. I’m sorry. I don’t think I left it too long, though.” Shizuku hurried back to the teapot and poured the nicely steeped fragrant tea into a cup. As she served the pink drink, she raised a certain topic to test out the noblewoman’s response. “Have you heard of Flower Rain Day?” Shizuku asked. Seilené cocked her head slightly. “What’s that?” After leaving Seilené’s room, Shizuku visited Ortea to give her a regular update. The princess was stretched out on her chaise longue, playing with a stack of stone spheres on her side table. Ortea was stacking the marble-sized spheres into a pyramid shape. This task seemed to require a fair amount of patience and precision, but the princess had almost finished. Somewhat surprised by this, Shizuku issued her report. “Seilené is fine. She’s just frustrated because her body won’t do what she wants it to. Please arrange for a physician to give her a thorough checkup. I don’t know much about pregnancy myself.” “Isn’t she ready to give birth at this point?” Ortea asked. “I don’t know. Why don’t you leave that to the professionals?” Shizuku’s prickly retort made the princess chuckle slightly. Although her attitude often skirted the line of disrespect, the princess didn’t reprimand her for it. She probably felt it was too late for that. Ortea held a black sphere in her hand. She grasped it in a graceful manner, but it made Shizuku feel like something was missing, and she found herself furrowing her brow. “Anyway,” Shizuku continued, “arrange for people to be present at the birth and get her a wet nurse. I don’t have the relevant knowledge, and it doesn’t sound like Seilené wants to raise the baby herself.” “Very well. I’ll do that,” Ortea replied. The princess stretched out her slender fingers and attempted to place the sphere on top of the stack. Since she was lying down, however, she couldn’t quite reach, and the ball wouldn’t settle into position. Shizuku watched for a short while, wondering why she didn’t just sit up. Then Ortea hit another one of the spheres with her finger, almost making the stack collapse. “Excuse me,” Shizuku said, taking a step forward. She steadied the stack of balls, which had almost toppled over, then took the black sphere out of Ortea’s hand. Without hesitation, she confidently placed the final piece on top of the pyramid. The princess’s eyes widened, and Shizuku flashed her a vindictive smile resembling that of a condescending teacher. “If you just sit back and relax, other people will snatch the best bit away from you,” Shizuku told her. “…You work for me. Your achievements are basically mine anyway.” “You’re a little disappointed, aren’t you? Feel free to tell me I’m wrong.” Shizuku’s false yet unwavering smile made Ortea grimace for a moment—but she soon reverted to her usual snooty expression and averted her gaze. “You may leave now,” the princess said. “As you wish,” replied Shizuku, giving Ortea a polite bow before exiting the room. It was only after the door had closed silently behind her that she remembered something. “Oh, I forgot to ask who the princess was planning to give flowers to.” It was hard to imagine Ortea giving flowers to anyone, but as a member of the royal family, she was sure to be familiar with her country’s customs. Shizuku didn’t think Willett had lied to her, but being a young teenager, she likely had a skewed perspective of things. That being the case, Shizuku had wanted to ask a few other people about the event. It was so far down her list of priorities, though, that the topic had completely slipped her mind. “Oh well. I guess I’ll ask Yura instead.” Shizuku yawned as she strolled back down the hallway. She felt like she heard a passing court lady murmur, “I could really go for some chocolate,” but she had no idea why. Shizuku had meant to ask Yura, but the day of the event had come around before she got the chance. Clearly, it wasn’t a major priority for her—so when Willett handed her a bouquet of white flowers, she was understandably dumbfounded. “Huh? Isn’t this a little big?” “I told you I’d put my all into it. I was so excited.” “…” Shizuku accepted the bouquet, which was big enough to cradle in her arms, and glanced down at it. It seemed too large to be a mere courtesy gift, but perhaps she was the only one who felt that way. Even if it were a token of genuine affection, its size would scare the recipient away. Shizuku wanted to sigh and complain to Willett about how she really felt, but she managed to repress all those bitter urges. “…Thank you,” she said instead. “You’re welcome! Good luck!” Willett chirped. She ran off like a puppy carrying a small bouquet of her own. Shizuku, now alone in the break room, somberly scrutinized her bouquet. Considering its size, her private room was the only place for it. Fortunately, she had the afternoon off that day; she could hide away in her room for the remainder of it. With that decision made, she left the break room and started making her way there. “If only Erik were here.” Erik seemed indifferent to any kind of event and showed no interest in matters of the heart. Shizuku could have given him the bouquet and said it was a thank-you for everything he’d done for her, and he would have accepted it without question. In that scenario, she would have made the effort to prepare some food and snacks for him. As she envisioned this, her eyes drifted toward the window, where she spotted something bizarre. “What’s that?” Something resembling the hem of a garment was sticking out from behind a shrubbery. For a moment, Shizuku wondered if it was another corpse, but it was still daytime. If a body were on the loose, it would have caused more of a commotion. Yet despite that, Shizuku still had some lingering doubts, so she headed outside. “Oh! It’s you?” A voice completely lacking in concern echoed from above him, and Niké frowned. He’d been reading a spell book among the shrubbery. “What do you want, baby-face?” he replied curtly. “I thought you might be a corpse, so I came to check.” “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m still alive.” As he waved his hand dismissively, it collided with something else. At last, Niké looked up, to discover that the object in question was the large bouquet Shizuku was carrying. “What’s that?” Niké couldn’t help but ask, intrigued by the mysterious item. “It’s my punishment stick. I use it to punish people I don’t like,” Shizuku quipped. “…What goes on inside that head of yours? Do you have any common sense?” Niké asked. “What are you doing in a place like this?” It annoyed Niké that Shizuku had changed the topic, but it’d only attract attention if he started arguing with her here. “I’m reading a book,” he replied honestly. “I can see that,” Shizuku said with an exasperated look. Then she crouched down beside him with the bouquet in her hands. “What is it?” she asked. “Are you fleeing from debt collectors or something? You’re hiding, right?” “Debt collectors? Don’t be ridiculous! I was about to go into town, but then I realized today’s a bad day for that!” “Oh. Because it’s Flower Rain Day?” Niké was surprised to hear those words come out of Shizuku’s mouth, but he figured that her fellow court ladies must have made a fuss about it. It was obvious that Shizuku’s bouquet was for the event, whether she claimed it was a “punishment stick” or not. He wasn’t sure whether she was the recipient of the flowers or if she planned to give them to someone else, but the substantial size hinted at their deep emotional significance. “It’s busy in town today. I thought about getting my hair cut, but decided against it.” “Oh yeah? That’s tough, considering how little time off you get.” Shizuku didn’t have much time off, either, but she remained remarkably nonchalant about it. Since arriving in Kisk, she had shown hardly any vulnerability—particularly after being separated from the child she’d been living with. They’d been like family, so close that Shizuku had even let the girl call her by a nickname. When Niké had seen Shizuku in Farsas with her mage companion, her smile had been more carefree. Now she seemed like an entirely different person. Niké tutted, frustrated by this thought. For some unknown reason, Shizuku had plopped herself down beside Niké and started scrutinizing him. Her gaze made him feel uneasy in a way he couldn’t quite pinpoint, and he closed his book. Just as he was about to move to a different spot, the girl came up with a bizarrely cheerful suggestion. “Do you want me to cut it for you, then?” “…Huh?” Niké, who’d half-risen to his feet, looked at Shizuku. Her large, black eyes were brimming with childlike excitement that captured his attention—so much so that it was a little unsettling. Leaving the bouquet behind, Shizuku rushed back to the castle and borrowed Yura’s haircutting scissors. “Are you going to cut your own hair?” Yura asked with a confused look. “Do you want me to do it for you?” “No, they’re not for me. I’ve always wanted to try cutting someone’s hair. You know, like a pet groomer.” “What’s a pet groomer?” Shizuku left a somewhat skeptical Yura behind and returned to the garden. She thought Niké might have run away, but he was sitting in the same spot as before. He looked visibly displeased when he saw the scissors in her hand. “Are you serious about this?” he asked. “Of course. Now turn around.” “You’ve done this before, right?” “Sure have. I’m actually pretty good,” Shizuku replied, telling a bare-faced lie. She ran a comb lightly through the man’s gray hair. Even if she messed it up, he was a guy, so it shouldn’t make him that upset. And if it went well, it might even relieve some of his stress. Shizuku picked up the sharp-looking scissors. “So what can I do for you today? An undercut?” “I’d kill you. I just want it a little shorter.” “Okay, just a bit shorter all over. Got it.” That sounded like an easy task, even for a first-timer. Niké’s hair was about shoulder length, so she could simply start there and tidy it up. Shizuku began trimming his hair, in such good spirits that it almost seemed like she’d start humming. The sudden snipping sound stunned Niké, but he trusted her confidence and stayed quiet—or at least, at first he did. “…” He could hear the intermittent sound of the scissors. Snipping sounds were followed by the rustle of the hair falling to the ground. The silence that followed prompted him to look down and survey his surroundings. Was he imagining it, or was there an oddly large amount of hair scattered around him? He hoped that it was his imagination. Still, his neck did feel strangely cold. With no mirror in sight, Niké finally spoke up. “Hey.” “What?” Shizuku replied. “What have you done to it?” “Huh? To what?” Niké felt like Shizuku was playing dumb, but then he felt the scissors slide through his hair once more. He froze. From above, he heard Shizuku let out a thoughtful groan. “Hmm.” It wasn’t long before she changed the subject, though. “Hey, have you ever seen Leuticia?” she asked. “The princess of Farsas? Of course I have,” responded Niké. “She’s so pretty, don’t you think?” “Yeah—about as far away from you as one can get.” “Erik…the person who used to look after me, said that Leuticia’s face was symmetrical. Apparently, that’s quite rare,” said Shizuku, deftly brushing off Niké’s snide remark about her own appearance. He couldn’t quite grasp what she was getting at, though. “What’s your point?” he asked. “Just that symmetry is a tough thing to achieve.” “…I’ll kill you.” “Wait a sec. I’ll see if I can make both sides the same length.” “What?!” Niké had a horrible feeling about what Shizuku was trying to do, but the seriousness of her voice and the sound of the scissors snipping away behind him made it impossible for him to move. A stream of ominous comments left Shizuku’s lips, such as, “Oops, I cut too much there” and “I’ll do the right side next.” Niké wanted to cover his ears. He vehemently regretted letting Shizuku cut his hair—but it was too late for that now. By the time he was freed…the damage had already been done. “Aha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” Shizuku put down her scissors and went to see Niké from the front—and the moment she did, she doubled over with laughter. Niké clenched his trembling fists. Some hint of self-restraint stopped him from lashing out at Shizuku, and instead he gave the young woman a deathly stare. She’d laughed so hard her eyes had welled up with tears. “Didn’t you tell me you were good at this?!” “Sorry, that was a lie. It was my first time.” “Hurry up and die already.” “Hold on… It’s not that weird. You just look younger.”