The long list of grievances in the legal complaint boiled down to something quite simple. “Return the gondola you unjustly stole.” That was pretty much it. Of course, the complaint also mentioned the emotional abuse Carlo had suffered, the defamation of the Vecchio name, and other crimes Connie had no recollection of committing. But since Gregorio wasn’t requesting an apology, she felt she could ignore those. “The man’s got some nerve!” Scarlett growled. Electricity was crackling from her fingertips. “Scarlett, please calm down,” Connie pleaded. “I am always calm. Constance, find me some kerosene and matches immediately. Something that burns well.” “I mean it, calm down!” It seemed Scarlett genuinely intended to burn the gondola. “Restraint is hardly called for in a situation like this! Cinders is all they deserve!” She turned toward the hall, where the gondola was hanging. But just as Connie was desperately trying to pacify her, there came a knock at the door, and Randolph and Basilio walked into the drawing room. “Constance, may I have a word?” Scarlett, who was already in a foul mood, snorted in disgust at the sight of her natural enemy. “Here comes Mr. Useless.” “Oh, don’t take it out on him,” Connie chided. Randolph glanced at the envelope by her side and frowned. “I heard that Gregorio Vecchio is suing you.” “So it seems…,” replied Connie. “May I read the letter?” Basilio asked, looking troubled. She handed it to him. After scanning it, he said in surprise, “…It’s a legal complaint.” “That’s what we’ve been telling you…!” Scarlett howled. Ignoring Connie’s soothing noises, Randolph asked Basilio, “Does anything in particular worry you?” “…No, I just find this hard to believe.” “Why?” “Well…Lady Vecchio was always a rather uninhibited woman, and she did not reform her habits after marrying. Between us, they say it’s impossible to know who Carlo’s father is because there are so many candidates. Perhaps for that reason, Gregorio is entirely uninterested in his son. Carlo’s behavior is so bad, there are rumors he’ll be disinherited and Gregorio will choose a new heir from among the subsidiary families. It stretches credulity to think he’s suing for the sake of his son.” “You think he’s after something else?” “…Gregorio made the arrangements for the merchant ship carrying the freight we’ve been searching for. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was asked for compensation before long. Perhaps he’s trying to dodge that affair by filing this other suit.” In other words, he might have intended this as a distraction. “That reminds me,” Connie said. “Carlo warned me to watch out for Gregorio.” “He did?” asked Basilio. “I wonder why.” “Who knows… But I heard from Lady Daniella that the three of you used to be friends. Do you think maybe he was worried for the two of you?” “Friends…,” Basilio echoed flatly, as if the word were incomprehensible to him. “Daniella said that?” “Yes.” Connie nodded. His eyes darted around awkwardly. “…No, we weren’t friends. We were simply competing for Daniella and trying to hold each other back in the pursuit.” “…Excuse me?” “Ah, well, there were many twists and turns in the story, but ultimately it was I who won her affection… Come to think of it, that was when he began his childish harassment… I suppose he’s just jealous…” “You mean it was a love triangle?” Connie had assumed there must be a reason Carlo treated the House of Fargo as his enemies, but she hadn’t expected it to be a love affair. As Connie absorbed this news, Scarlett declared solemnly, “It’s the woman’s fault.” That wasn’t true, of course. “Rest assured we will send a representative in your place. Judging by this letter, the case shouldn’t be too serious.” Connie wanted very much to accept his offer, but she knew it was partly her fault that things had grown so complicated. And besides— “A representative, he says? What a joke! I will make the man grovel at my feet…!” The queen was in a mood. Connie was afraid of what might happen later if she offended the other girl now, so she politely refused Basilio’s offer. “Ah, I see,” he answered. “That’s a pity. I’d hoped you would be able to attend Carnival.” “What do you mean?” As she stared at him, confused, Randolph looked up from the letter and said, “That’s true. The trial is scheduled for the day of Carnival. But it’s in the evening, so you’ll be able to go to the festival in the afternoon.” Connie was about to withdraw her request to represent herself when Scarlett gave her a pointed look and she swallowed her words. “By the way, Constance,” Randolph said. “…What?” she answered, her shoulders slumped. “Do you plan to continue your quarrels tomorrow?” Quarrels? He must mean the trials by combat. “No. If I keep it up, they might promote me to Queen Demoness.” “Queen what?” he asked suspiciously, but she didn’t have the energy to explain. It was so unfair that she had to spend the day of the festival arguing with a man she didn’t even know. Randolph must have misinterpreted her mood, because he said in a slight panic, “I’m so sorry about today. We were supposed to go try all the local specialties, weren’t we? I didn’t forget, but you were sleeping so peacefully, and as soon as you woke up, you went off to the courthouse. If you’re free, shall we go tomorrow?” “…Don’t you prefer searching for freight with Lord Basilio to walking around with me?” She didn’t intend it, but the words came out spiteful. And it was too late to act nice, so she pretended to glare at the carpet. “Skewered giant clams.” Her shoulder twitched. “Fried whitefish. Bread with fruit and cream.” She knew looking up was as good as admitting defeat, but her will to resist faded in the face of those appealing words. “You wanted to try the gelato at the White Rose, didn’t you? The weather’s supposed to be good again tomorrow. Just right for gelato.” At last, she looked up sulkily at Randolph. “…Would you mind if I had a double scoop?” Randolph blinked, and the corners of his lips curled up a little in a rare smile. “Have a triple if you’d like.” Connie held back the urge to smile back at him, and she forced her brows into a frown. She couldn’t let him think she was so easily moved. But— “Wipe that stupid look off your face!” Scarlett scolded her. It seemed her efforts were in vain. After her bath, as Connie was struggling in her room with something called rose oil, which had been left out for her, there was a knock on the door. She braced herself, wondering who it could be at this hour, when a sweet voice called her name. “…Miss Connie, are you still awake?” Connie tossed aside the jar of rose oil and opened the door. “Lucia, what’s the matter? Can’t you sleep?” The girl’s clear, lake-blue eyes peered up at Connie. Her hair was still a little wet from her bath, and her cheeks were flushed. Her soft pink nightgown looked pretty against her snow-white skin. Lucia was a precocious child who usually liked to talk, but tonight she looked troubled, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t bring herself to speak. Connie wondered if she was homesick. Though she was mature for her age, she was still a child, after all. “Shall we have a talk?” she asked, taking Lucia’s hand. The girl breathed a sigh of relief. Connie sat her down on the sofa, rang the bell for a maid, and asked for two hot milks. Presently the maid wheeled up a trolley, to which she had thoughtfully added a jar of honey. Connie drizzled a generous spoonful of the golden honey into their steaming cups, then held one out to Lucia. “Here you go. Don’t burn your tongue.” Lucia reached timidly for the cup. It was slightly large for her little hands. She wrapped them both around it and blew on the hot milk. “…It’s so delicious!” “I heard the honey is from lavender flowers,” said Connie. “I think I can smell a little of their fragrance.” A whiff of the unusual scent reached Connie’s nose. Wanting more, she lifted the cup but was a bit too enthusiastic and accidentally splashed the milk on her nose. “Ow, hot…!” “Stop playing around,” Scarlett scolded her, exasperated as usual. Lucia opened her mouth, then closed it again, before covering up a giggle with both hands. “You’re like the spring sun, Miss Connie.” “I am?” As she wiped her nose with a handkerchief, Connie wondered if she should take that as a compliment. Lucia set her cup on the table and hugged the older girl tight. “Lucia?” She had her arms around Connie’s waist and her face buried in her stomach. All Connie could see was the adorable whorl of hair on the top of her head. She couldn’t even tell if she was happy or sad. “…That man Carlo had a wound on his arm, too,” Lucia whispered. She seemed to be worried about their run-in at the courthouse. Carlo had said he fell, but what if his father had attacked him? Basilio had said the Vecchios’ father-son relationship was chilly. Maybe it was much worse than chilly. “I think he might have more. I’m sure Carlo’s father is the sort of person to do such things without a second thought. When I think about that, it makes me worried for you, Miss Connie.” She said she couldn’t bear to stay in her room any longer and had come running here. Abigail had previously told Connie about Lucia’s background. The girl had been subject to senseless violence ever since she could remember. Connie sighed softly and stroked Lucia’s head. “Everything will be fine, Lucia.” Lucia flinched, then looked slowly up at her. “We won’t let anyone beat us,” Connie said, grinning. Lucia’s moist eyes met hers. “Right, Scarlett?” She glanced at her partner in crime. “Obviously not,” the other girl answered. “Then shall we get to sleep?” Connie asked, taking Lucia’s hand and leading her to the bed. Lucia looked up at her, confused. “…May I stay here with you?” she asked. “Of course!” Connie lay down on the smooth sheets and patted the pillow. Lucia climbed up timidly. When they had turned to face each other, Lucia let out a cry. “Oh, Miss Scarlett!” “What?” Scarlett answered. “Aren’t you going to sleep with us, Miss Scarlett…?” “Why would I—” she began, but seeing Lucia’s innocent, expectant gaze, she softly clicked her tongue. “Fine, but just for tonight,” she said grumpily, before reclining on the edge of the bed. Still looking sullen, she propped her elbow on a pillow and wearily rested her chin in her hand. Sandwiched between Connie and Scarlett, Lucia giggled happily. “I feel perfectly at home here with the both of you! Abby and Rudy sleep with me like this a lot.” “They do…?” Connie glanced around awkwardly. She got the feeling Lucia’s casual statement was actually quite explosive. “B-by the way, didn’t you go sightseeing with Uly and Antonio yesterday? Was it fun?” “Very! I ate gelato for the first time! It was sweet and tart and cold, and it melted in my mouth! Uly wanted to try the candy and fried bread from the stalls, but the bodyguard wouldn’t let him. Antonio said he would ask his father so next time Uly could try it…” Her excited words gradually slowed, and Connie, gazing at Lucia’s face, placed a hand softly on her back. “And then we all got on a big boat…and the water was sparkling, and…” As Connie patted her back gently, Lucia’s eyelids slowly closed. “…Oh, that reminds me…when I was in town…I found the starry crown…” “What?!” Connie’s eyes popped open, and she sat up in bed. “Wh-where?!” “Near…the rose…” With that, Lucia’s eyes fell shut, and she began to snore softly. “…She fell asleep.” Connie sighed. “She must have been tired. She’s still a little girl, you know,” Scarlett said, floating up from the bed as if her work here was done. “…Scarlett? Lucia just mentioned the starry crown…” “I heard her. She said it was near the rose. Do you think she means the White Rose?” “But where is that—Oh, the map!” Connie leapt from the bed. “Be quiet!” Scarlett scolded. “You’ll wake Lucia!” Connie froze, then very gently pulled the travelogue from her bag and eagerly opened it to the two-page map. “I’ve been meaning to ask you this,” Scarlett said, her eyes narrowed. “But have you noticed that map is several hundred years old and covered in mold? It’s not exactly an ideal guidebook… Oh! But I see the fountain plaza was already there. The White Rose is nearby.” “It is?” “Yes. Yesterday I saw a tourist map near the wharf. I’m fairly sure the shop was inside an arcade in the plaza… Oh, so this area used to be a warehouse district. And how unusual, there was even a coffeehouse.” The drink that people called “coffee,” made by filtering boiling water through roasted beans, was not yet well known in Adelbide. But that didn’t seem to be the case in Soldita. Connie remembered Daniella saying she and her friends often liked to gossip over coffee. In Adelbide, only a few shops on Anastasia Street specialized in it. Connie had tried it a few times but found it too bitter to drink plain. The map even included the name of the old coffee shop. “…A Midnight Lantern?” “Wait a second. I recognize that name.” Scarlett rested her finger on her lips pensively. Then, seeming to remember, she turned to Connie. “Constance, show me the table of contents.” “Okay…” Connie flipped back to the front. The book was a record of seven days that Sena Rilifarco spent in the Republic of Soldita—the equivalent of today’s El Sol. Aside from the introduction and conclusion, each chapter was named by combining a place he visited and the day he went there. For example, the first chapter was called “First Day: Agrit Hill.” “I knew it! The name of this café is in the title of the chapter for day two.” Connie looked down at the table of contents. The line in question read, “Second Day: A Midnight Lantern.” She had a faint memory of reading about it. If she was correct, the shop wasn’t a tourist attraction. Instead, the author had stopped in by chance and chatted with the locals. “So it was a coffeehouse!” she said. “I assumed it was a restaurant.” “…Didn’t you say this was one of your favorite books?” “Only when I was little…” Connie glanced away from Scarlett’s pointed stare. She remembered her tutor telling her funny stories from the book, but now that she thought about it, she got the feeling she’d never actually read the whole thing. The pages of the book started to flip on their own, like the wind was blowing them. Probably Scarlett. “Interesting. It sounds like coffeehouses were places where commoners gathered to talk. Given how many pages Rilifarco devoted to it, he must have been crazy about the place.” “Um, did you really read it that fast?!” Scarlett narrowed her eyes sullenly. “Just who in the world do you think I am? Shall I recite the table of contents from memory?” “Uh…” “The first day was Agrit Hill, the second day A Midnight Lantern, the third day—” “Okay, okay, I get it!” “I’ve memorized every word of text, too. The first day begins with—” Suddenly, she stopped speaking. “Scarlett?” “…I just noticed something strange.” She stared at the book, but it seemed no answer came to her. “I must’ve imagined it,” she muttered. She then collected herself and snorted. “Anyhow, please don’t speak of my mental prowess and your own shabby excuse for a brain in the same sentence.” “Oh, I would never,” Connie said, nodding solemnly. She didn’t dare provoke Scarlett any further. “But the people of Soldita really seem to love coffee, don’t they? Daniella drinks it all the time, and it’s been around for so many years.” “Among the commoners, I understand it’s even more popular than tea.” “Oh, wow…,” said Connie, skeptical that anyone could like something so bitter. Scarlett lowered her voice. “Although my mother didn’t seem to like it.” Connie looked at her in surprise. Then, after a moment of hesitation, she decided to speak. “Scarlett, I wanted to ask you about Lady Berta…” “I don’t want to talk about that.” “…Scarlett.” “Don’t get me wrong. I couldn’t care less about what that old woman thinks of my mother. I always assumed they were close, so I was a bit surprised. But only a bit…” Connie blinked. “You do care?!” “I just told you I didn’t! Are those ears of yours mere accessories?!” Connie heard the crack of a queen-size lightning bolt. Lucia moaned in her sleep, and Connie frantically shushed Scarlett. Fortunately, the little girl only rolled over without waking up. Scarlett scowled. “I think maybe we should speak with Lady Berta again,” Connie said. She’d been thinking that since they left the shrine. “After all, judging from the way she was talking, I think she knows what Cornelia Faris’s starry crown is. Although I’m a little worried about the curse…” Scarlett narrowed her eyes crossly. “Listen here, Connie. I’d never lose to the likes of Cornelia.” She planted one hand on her hip and towered forbiddingly over Connie. “That woman always bragged that if anyone had a complaint, they should tell it to her. But she spent her life hiding out in a safe haven. A person like that, curse me? That’ll be the day!” She jerked her chin away disdainfully before continuing almost in a whisper. “…But, Connie, didn’t you think that shrine was like a prison?” Monte was isolated from the main island of El Sol, with harsh winds constantly blowing down its sheer cliffs. The rock faces were roughly eroded, and the sole entrance was monitored by guards. Anyone living there would be unable to come and go freely, making it indeed somewhat like a prison. “Maybe my mother wanted to escape that cage,” Scarlett said, a distant look in her eyes. “The starry crown?” It was the next morning, and Lucia was sitting with her legs politely tucked beneath her on the bed, looking quizzically at Connie. “Now that you mention it, I do feel like I saw something like that somewhere…” She seemed to have been talking in her sleep the night before. But seeing Connie’s disappointed expression, she quickly added, “I’ll try as hard as I can to remember!” Connie didn’t think she should get her hopes up. “I think we’ll have to pay another visit to the shrine…,” she said. But it would take days to apply and be approved again. They might not even be on the island anymore by the time they heard back. “I wonder what I should do,” Connie muttered as she walked down the empty hallway. “What?” said a voice. “You want to go to the shrine again? You’ve had enough of tourism?” She turned around to find Randolph standing behind her. He was wearing a white shirt and black trousers, with black suspenders over his shoulders. He looked as fresh as a young man just out of his teens. “I was looking forward to our outing today, but if you’ve got other plans, I suppose there’s nothing I can do.” “Uh…” The two things had nothing to do with one another. Connie’s bewildered expression must have been amusing, because Randolph clapped his hand over his mouth and turned away. His shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter. “Sorry, just joking. I thought you’d want to go back to the shrine, so I asked Lord Basilio to help.” “…You did?” “With the permission. Normally it takes weeks to get approval, right? I convinced him to expedite our case. Of course, I had to promise I’d help search for the missing freight in exchange, but you should be able to visit Fanoom Shrine again before we leave El Sol.” “Oh, Randolph…!” she said, breaking into a smile. Randolph nodded with his usual blank expression. “Shall we go?” he asked. “Yes, please! I’ll go get my bag!” she answered, running back to her room. With Carnival coming up the very next day, the town was bustling with activity. Connie smacked her lips over the grilled clams and fried whitefish and was ready to top it off with a piece of fried bread sprinkled with powdered sugar when Scarlett restrained her. “Little piggy!” she said, sounding exasperated. When Connie nevertheless stared longingly at the stalls, Randolph reminded her, “You won’t have room for gelato.” As they walked down Mille Street on their way to the fountain plaza, she noticed a cluster of children by the side of the road. They were watching a puppet show. Inside the boxlike stage, a young man puppet in a red cape was having a showdown with a group of bandit puppets. Apparently, it was a story about Il Rosso. The caped puppet was just closing in on the villains as the two of them walked by. The puppeteer skillfully manipulated the puppet, shouting, “I know what you’ve done!” It must have been a standard line because the children cheered gleefully. Thanks to Il Rosso, the villains were arrested. As Connie watched the heartwarming scene, she heard someone calling to them from the pier. “Pedal boats for hire! Take a ride with your sweetheart! Three coppers for half an hour.” The man addressing them was stout and seemed good-natured. “Pedal boats?” repeated Connie. The boat tied to the mooring post was quite a bit smaller than a gondola, but it had a helm in front of the seats, like a ship. “How about a pleasure ride? It’s built for two, so there’s no boatman. It’s not difficult; all you need do is push the pedals with your feet. They say dates on the canals are all the rage on the mainland. What could be better for a pair of lovebirds?” A pair of lovebirds? Connie perked up. So we do look like lovebirds! she thought. A smile bloomed on her face. When Randolph asked if she wanted to take a ride, she nodded instantly. How could she not, in her excited state? “Do you see the area enclosed by yellow floats? Please stay inside it,” the boatman instructed as they handed him the coins. He then showed them how to operate the boat. Connie didn’t catch everything, but Randolph seemed satisfied, and steered like a pro right from the start. “It goes faster than I thought!” Connie exclaimed. “So it does.” The city looked different from the canal. The water sparkled in the sun. “Would you like to steer?” Randolph asked after a few minutes. She hesitated. “I know what I’m doing with an oar, but with foot pedals…” Steering a gondola would probably be hard, but she’d rowed a small boat before, at least. “You’ve rowed? Where did you do that?” Randolph asked. “There’s a big lake in the north of the Grail domain.” It was a beautiful place where migrating swans stopped in winter. At the start of the year, the extended family would gather there and hold races around the lake. Connie was such an accomplished rower, her family had nicknamed her “the swan.” “Well, you won’t know if you can do it till you try,” Randolph said, handing over the task. “Ahh, this is exhausting!” she wailed after a few minutes. The more she pedaled, the harder it got, until her knees felt about to give out. “You’re losing your balance when you turn right. Make sure to keep your weight on your pivot foot,” Randolph instructed calmly, not changing his expression. “Um, Randolph…” “Strengthening your core might not be a bad idea. Once you have the basic movements down, focus on speed. You’ll be fine. You’re a natural.” “Um, I was wondering if we can trade again soon…?” At this rate, instead of a pair of lovebirds, she felt like a new recruit training under the coach from hell. “But you’ve just started. What if an enemy started chasing you right now?” “An enemy…,” she mumbled, peering slowly around. Gondolas glided elegantly through the water, and a group of tourists passed by on a vaporette. Couples teased each other happily in pedal boats. She didn’t see any enemies. “What is it?” Randolph asked. “I just wanted to enjoy the scenery for a while…” “Constance.” Sadly, his expression was serious. “Looking at scenery while driving causes accidents.” She spent the rest of the half hour undergoing relentless training, and by the time she got back to the landing, she could hardly catch her breath. The boatman gave her a puzzled look. “Are you aiming to become a professional boat racer, young lady?” he asked. “Certainly not!” The glazed look in her eyes must have surprised him. He recoiled slightly and said, “No, of course not. We’re open again tomorrow, so I hope you’ll come for another ride.” “That last turn was amazing!” Randolph exclaimed, evidently intending this as a compliment. Seeing the satisfied look on his face, she vowed never to go for a boat ride with her fiancé again. As they approached the fountain plaza, they turned onto a broad, paved road lined at even intervals with shops under red awnings. Maybe because it was a popular tourist area, there were lots of restaurants and souvenir shops. The storefront near the plaza with the unusually long line must have been the White Rose. As Connie eyed the line with trepidation, she heard a jingle. Two women were leaving a shop nearby. A roasty aroma tickled her nose, so she stopped and looked around. She spotted a wooden door with divided windowpanes set in an old brick wall. Next to it hung a lantern. Judging from the menu on the cork signboard outside the shop, it was a coffeehouse. It seemed Scarlett had been right the night before when she said the locals preferred coffee over tea. “This shop has the same name as the one we saw on the old map,” Scarlett said. “So it’s still in business.” “What is it called?” Connie looked up at the red awning. “A Midnight Lantern” was written in old-fashioned lettering. “…That sounds extremely familiar.” “Are you telling me you forgot overnight? Frankly, that’s a little frightening,” Scarlett said coldly. Connie looked away. “But what do you think that picture is?” “Picture?” Connie echoed, following the other girl’s gaze to a faded poster in the trapezoid-shaped bay window. It had no words, only some yellow spots on a dark blue background. It was very avant-garde. “It’s kind of creepy,” she said, spooked by how little sense it made to her. As she stared at it, she heard someone yell, “The trial troll!” “Trial…troll…?” Was he talking about Connie? Suppressing panic, she turned slowly around. A group of small children were looking up at her with glittering eyes. “Ooh, it’s the trial troll in real life!” “The demoness, the demoness!” “The demon queen!” They were shouting excitedly and pointing at her. “Okay, children. Let’s have a little chat about that,” she said. First of all, demon queen? As she smiled menacingly at them, one of the children looked at the coffeehouse and shook his head. “Oh no, not the hat shop! Mama told me not to go near here,” he said. “The hat shop?” Connie looked back at the café. “The sign says, ‘A Midnight Lantern’…,” she said. “I know, but that’s hard to say. And it’s a weird name.” “I agree that it’s weird, but why do you call it the hat shop…?” She could see why a child might hesitate to go in, but it was a coffee shop, not a hat store. The boy pointed to the sign. “That constellation is called the king’s hat. That’s why we call it the hat shop. You’re a demon queen, and you don’t know that?” “So this is a constellation…!” Apparently, the dark blue was the night sky, and the yellow spots were stars. Come to think of it, it did look kind of like a constellation. As for the demon queen comment, she deliberately ignored it. Then she realized something. “Wait, did you say the king’s hat?” In other words… “A crown,” Scarlett said, staring at the coffeehouse with her arms crossed. “…Do you think this is what Lucia was talking about?” “It’s possible,” Scarlett answered. The group of children must have grown bored because they had begun to drift away. One waved enthusiastically. “Good luck at the trial tomorrow, Miss Trial Troll!” “Hey, wait!” Connie cried, flagging down the child. “What?” “Wh-what trial do you mean?” “You’re going to give Gregorio Vecchio a thrashing tomorrow, aren’t you?” “Yes, but how did you know?” The complaint had only arrived yesterday! “How? I think everyone on the island knows!” “Small towns are terrifying,” remarked Connie. Feeling exhausted, she watched the group of kids leave, then looked up at the coffeehouse. Could it be a coincidence that there was a picture of a crown constellation in the window? “Randolph, would you mind if I stepped into this coffeehouse?” “But I thought you didn’t like coffee…” “I like it with lots of cream.” On a previous date, he had introduced her to coffee with lots of cream and sugar. A chime jangled as she pushed open the door. Inside, the dim café was filled with the scent of freshly ground coffee. As she glanced around, Connie caught sight of a familiar face. “…Lady Daniella?” The Duchess of Fargo was sitting at a table in the back chatting pleasantly with several people who must have been her friends. When she noticed Connie, her narrow eyes grew round. “Is that you, Constance? And the Earl of Ulster, too?” She stood up in surprise and gestured them toward two empty chairs. “Please, join us! Did you come all the way here to see us?” “Um…” “No? Since you were interested in our club, I just assumed that was why you came.” “…Your club?” “Yes, the one I told you about yesterday, Lady’s Holiday.” As Connie racked her brain, Scarlett said, “She means the gossip club.” “Oh yes!” Connie said, clapping her hands. She was certain Daniella had said they met at the best coffeehouse on the island. “I’m sorry, but it’s a complete coincidence,” she admitted. Daniella looked disappointed, but she called the waiter and asked for two menus, adding, “Everything here is delicious.” “Oh, I can’t wait!” Connie said. The café was packed. Surprisingly, the customers seemed to span all walks of life, from men and women dressed like servants to those who were clearly upper-class, like Daniella. “This is the perfect place for a good chat. No one listens in, so you can complain to your heart’s content about your mother-in-law or your husband.” With a finger to her lips, the older woman added, “Don’t tell Basilio!” Connie glanced at Randolph. His Excellency the Oblivious seemed not to care, but didn’t his presence violate the high-minded ideals of a ladies’ club? “I wouldn’t want for us to hold you back…,” said Connie. “Not at all! Anyway, we’re not here to gossip today. We have other business.” “Other business?” “Yes. There’s a tradition of eating meringue cookies the day after the masked ball, and we’re trading recipes… Which reminds me, Natalia, have you been able to find out your grandmother’s secret recipe?” The woman with chestnut hair called Natalia laughed wryly and shook her head. “Not yet. As you know, my granny is very tight-lipped. I’m trying to convince her with our best grappa, but it may take a bit longer.” “Ha-ha, I’ll be waiting eagerly. But do hurry. I’ll need time to get everything ready.” “I already told you I would. Your gluttonous side is showing, Daniella.” “I can’t help it—your family makes absolutely divine cookies.” As they were talking, a waiter came to take their orders. Randolph ordered the day’s coffee without too much thought, but Connie took her time scrutinizing the menu. The notes about countries of origin and roast levels meant nothing to her, but at the very bottom she discovered something interesting. “…Lemonade?” she mumbled. Daniella must have heard, because she whispered, “It’s a secret specialty of this café!” Connie decided to order it. Presently, their drinks arrived. A pale yellow glass was set before her. Inside were thinly sliced lemons, and a cute mint leaf floated on top. She sighed in awe at the authenticity. “Oh, it looks scrumptious!” said Connie. “They use a closely guarded recipe from the shrine,” Daniella explained. “The shrine?” “That’s right. Lady Berta gave the owner the recipe. Didn’t she, Anette?” A stout lady at their table looked over at Connie. Her tan skin and utilitarian clothing suggested she was not a noble. She looked to be in her fifties or sixties. “That’s right,” she answered, nodding. “I believe it was shortly after Lady Berta became independent from the House of Neuen. That must have been more than thirty years ago. She had just taken in a little orphan girl. Normally the girl would have been placed in an orphanage, but rumor has it there was something worrisome about her bloodline.” Connie’s heart skipped a beat. “Are you talking about Lady Aliénore?” she interrupted. “How did you know that?” Anette asked suspiciously. “These are our guests from Adelbide,” Daniella explained. “Oh yes, the girl did marry into a noble family in Adelbide, didn’t she. I mostly remember her as a young child. We called her Alli. As long as she stayed quiet, you’d think she was a well-behaved young lady. But what a tomboy she was! The first time she came here—not long after she was adopted—she snuck a sip of Lady Berta’s coffee and started wailing!” “Lady Berta takes her coffee black, after all,” remarked Daniella. Anette burst out laughing. “It must have been quite bitter. And then there was the stress of living in a new environment. We couldn’t get her to stop crying, and Lady Berta was at her wit’s end. She went into the kitchen and made a cup of lemonade for her, with lots of honey.” “Acacia honey, I’m certain,” Scarlett whispered. “Little Alli was so happy, you’d never have known she was crying. After that, every time she came here, she begged for the lemonade, so the owner got the recipe from Berta and put it on the menu. That’s what you ordered. Ah, those were the days!” After a pause, Connie asked, “What was Lady Aliénore like?” “Alli? She was very beautiful. Her eyes were like jewels. She was slender but surprisingly strong. She’d made the local brats her followers before I knew it. She was the type to punch first and ask questions later, and she was always arguing with Lady Berta.” “…They didn’t get along, then?” “Well, they say fighting can be proof two people are close. But I don’t really know. Lady Berta keeps her feelings to herself. I have no idea what she thought deep down, but I know Alli adored Lady Berta. She was always following her around.” Scarlett was listening quietly. It must have been rare for her to hear someone else talk about her mother. Connie picked up the glass, beaded with condensation, and took a sip. First, she tasted the tartness of the lemon, and then a spicy sweetness that filled her nostrils. The fresh mint left a clean, refreshing aftertaste. “…It’s delicious.” It wasn’t exactly the flavor Connie was expecting from lemonade, but it was good. She could easily make a habit of this. “You don’t mind the herbs?” Daniella asked. “I’m not usually very fond of them, but for some reason this goes down easy.” “I know exactly what you mean! It is odd, isn’t it?” She smiled. “But Lady Berta doesn’t much care for it.” “Really?” That was a surprise, considering she gave the café’s owner the recipe. Anette laughed, evidently remembering something. “Lady Berta detests sage. If she so much as sees those silver-green leaves by the side of the road, she makes a detour to avoid them.” Connie took another sip from her glass. The distinct fragrance seemed to come from a mixture of herbs—she couldn’t tell which was sage. But the flavor was mellow, providing just the right accent. Randolph sipped his coffee, nodding with satisfaction. This really is a nice place, Connie thought. Round orange lamps hung from the ceiling, lending the charming café a fairy-tale atmosphere. Even the candlesticks on the tables were elegant. They were brass, with a saucer attached at the bottom and an adorable handle on the side. They weren’t needed now, with sunlight filtering in through the windows, but at night, the waiters must have lit the candles. Matchboxes were nestled in the saucers. They looked made-to-order, with the shop name and the crown constellation printed on the boxes. As Connie stared at the candleholders, Daniella asked, “Does something about those interest you?” “This constellation isn’t connected to the name of the café, is it?” Daniella glanced down at the box. “Oh, the king’s hat? It’s just a bit of wordplay.” “What do you mean?” “That constellation, or rather one of the stars in it, stays in almost the same place throughout the year. In the olden days, people used it to find their way on ocean voyages and the like. The king’s hat is only one of its names—it’s also called the traveler’s signpost and the lost man’s compass. Children around here are taught that if they get lost, they should find that star. The shop was named A Midnight Lantern in the hope that, like a light in the night sky, it might be someone’s salvation.” Daniella pointed out the window. “From here, you can see it in the direction of the shrine.” “—The shrine?” The pounding of Connie’s heart was unpleasantly loud. “Connie,” Scarlett said, as if she’d realized something. “What’s the name of that travelogue?” At first the question caught Connie off guard. But when she remembered the name of the book she’d relied on over and over during their trip, she gasped. “…A Lost Man’s Compass.” The king’s hat is only one of its names—it’s also called the traveler’s signpost and the lost man’s compass. By strange coincidence, the book’s title was the very phrase Daniella had just uttered. “So you noticed!” Daniella said. “Noticed what?” “Wordplay was his hobby.” “…His?” “…You didn’t know? The man who founded this coffeehouse, of course.” How could she know that? As Connie puzzled over this, Scarlett muttered, “Sena Rilifarco.” “Sena Rilifarco?” Connie said, surprised to hear his name. “Correct!” Daniella said with a grin. But it was Connie who was surprised. “This was Sena Rilifarco’s coffeehouse? But wasn’t he a merchant?” “That was one of his professions, yes. He opened this shop so that gentlemen and ladies alike would have a private place to relax. That was how he lured in the class of people who might become his patrons and increased his clientele. Lady’s Holiday started out as a club to enjoy the coffee here, in fact.” Sena Rilifarco. Wealthy merchant, Il Rosso member who swore loyalty to the Republic, and coffeehouse owner. Who in the world was this man? A shiver ran down Connie’s spine. The man had suddenly taken on a mysterious, unknowable quality in her imagination. The ice in her lemonade was long melted. Randolph must have finished his coffee, because he was now bashfully answering Natalia and the other women’s rapid-fire questions. Connie gulped down the last of her watery lemonade and stood up with a clatter. “Constance?” “Oh…!” She hadn’t even realized she was standing. Randolph’s apprehensive voice brought her back to her senses. As she was about to sit back down, Daniella brought her hands together apologetically. “I’m afraid we’re butting in on your date. I’m sorry for not thinking of that sooner!” “Date? Oh, no, not at all,” Connie answered, having missed her opportunity to sit back down. “You do tend to lose sight of your surroundings, Daniella,” Anette remarked. “You’re a fine one to talk,” Daniella answered, and the conversation was off again. Connie glanced at Randolph. He was looking at her with his head tilted as if to ask, Shall we go? “I suppose we should be going soon…,” she said awkwardly, but Daniella didn’t seem ruffled by their departure and saw them off from the table. As they were about to leave the café after paying their bill, Daniella called out, “Here, Constance, take this.” She was holding one of the matchboxes. The crown constellation was printed on the outside. “If you show it to the waiter when you order, they’ll give you a free refill on your coffee,” she said. Connie reached for it. “Th-thank you…?” she said, confused. Daniella giggled. “I hope you’ll come again,” she whispered in Connie’s ear. Connie blinked. “Have a lovely holiday,” she said, returning to her table. When Connie and Randolph stepped outside, the previously bright sky was covered with a blanket of gray. “…It looks like we’re in for a shower,” Randolph muttered. The thick clouds were growing steadily darker, threatening an imminent downpour. “We forgot our umbrellas, didn’t we?” Connie answered. “I thought it was going to be sunny.” They exchanged glances and said in unison, “Shall we head home?” In the end, they curtailed their plans and headed back to the Fargo residence. On their way, raindrops began to speckle the road, so they ran the final stretch. Back at the mansion, Connie went up to her room to change. “…That shrine,” she mumbled to herself as she dried her damp hair with a hand towel. “It seems to somehow be connected to that constellation.” The king’s hat. The traveler’s signpost. The lost man’s compass. All of them referred to Fanoom Shrine. It would be ridiculous for there not to be a connection. “Who knows?” Scarlett said. “I’m also curious about this Sena Rilifarco character.” It was true that his name seemed to come up whatever the topic of conversation. Connie sighed and pulled the old book from her bag, thinking she would check the description of the shrine just in case. “There was definitely something in here about that shrine…” The table of contents listed the places Rilifarco had been on each of the seven days, but unfortunately the shrine wasn’t among them. However, one nice thing about the book was its simple index. Connie found Fanoom Shrine there and opened to the page listed. It was in the chapter for the seventh day, about the Una Pioggia Ruins. Skimming the section, she found it was a conversation between Rilifarco and the guide at the ruins. He hadn’t actually visited the shrine, but he’d heard about it from the guide. According to the book, that was the first time Rilifarco learned there was a shrine on an island called Monte. “…Huh?” Connie looked up. “Wasn’t Sena Rilifarco the one who built the shrine?” Even his grave was there, so that much seemed certain. But the book said he’d only learned of the shrine when the guide at the ruins told him about it. Wasn’t that a contradiction? Connie looked up questioningly, and Scarlett’s amethyst eyes went wide. “You’re right… I thought I read the whole book, but I must have overlooked that.” For once, she bit her lip in chagrin. But at the time, she’d been distracted by Lucia’s mention of the starry crown, and she’d never suspected Sena Rilifarco and the shrine would be so crucial to the story, so it made sense she hadn’t noticed the discrepancy. It was amazing enough that she had memorized the entire book. Connie had read it countless times since she was little, and she still had only a vague grasp of the contents. Connie looked down, brought her finger to her lip, and muttered, “…I wonder why Sena Rilifarco pretended in this book that he didn’t know anything about the shrine. Anyone who did even a little digging would realize it was a lie.” She didn’t understand what could have motivated him. Was it just whimsy, or— Suddenly, Connie remembered something and looked up. “The other day when you said you noticed something strange—could this have been it?” The first time Scarlett read the book, something about it had bothered her. Maybe it was this discrepancy. “…I’m not sure,” Scarlett answered hesitantly, drawing her brows together in thought. Connie wondered what she was up to, but eventually turned back to the book and kept reading. The guide’s explanation to Rilifarco went essentially like this: Fanoom Shrine was a center of Soldita’s ancient faith, where the native gods who dwelled in each area were worshipped all together. It was a polytheistic faith with a great number of gods. If their territory was invaded, the gods would mercilessly punish the invader. But otherwise they were generous, flexible deities, and the religion was tolerant toward outside influences. What’s more, the shrine had just released a statement about the recent dissolution of the Faris Empire. Namely— The shrine welcomed all pilgrims, no matter their circumstances. Connie blinked at the appearance of this unfamiliar term. “…Pilgrims?” “Oh, that means people who visit holy sites. You’re right that it’s not much used in Adelbide.” “You mean like going to a church to pray?” “I don’t think you’d call a person going to their local church a pilgrim. It refers to people who have traveled a long way to visit special places with a high religious value, like, say, the forest where myth dictates the Moirai’s spring was located, or a church where a saint is supposed to have worked miracles.” “Oh, okay.” “But isn’t this strange? Rilifarco visited the ruins on the seventh day of his trip. I thought he already wrote about the shrine in the chapter about the coffeehouse on the second day.” “Uh, maybe…?” Had he? Not to be repetitive, but Connie felt like Scarlett was leaving her in the dust with a book that she’d known for much longer. She felt worse than useless and hung her head morosely. “Constance?” “…I feel like my head is going to burst.” “I see. Then why don’t you go to sleep? The trial is tomorrow, you know.” Connie looked up at Scarlett, her eyes wide. “I forgot…!” she cried sorrowfully. She had completely forgotten that she was being sued by Gregorio Vecchio. The oral arguments were to start tomorrow. She was practically shaking. “W-what time was the trial again? Do I need to bring anything or do anything to get ready…?!” She’d done nothing to prepare, obviously. Worse, she didn’t even know what she was supposed to do. She was in a total panic. “There’s no need to prepare,” Scarlett answered flippantly. “Remember what Basilio Fargo said? The trial tomorrow is just a sham to distract everyone so he can avoid being questioned about the shipwreck.” “I know, but…!” Connie seemed about to cry. Scarlett sighed in exasperation. “It doesn’t start until evening. I think it’s a bit before sundown, so we won’t be able to see the Muro di Luche.” “Noooo!” Connie didn’t want to go to the trial. She really, truly did not want to go. “If we’re lucky, we might see the flashes of light from the courthouse.” “I’m never lucky…” Connie sulked. Scarlett laughed. “Even with me on your side?” Scarlett’s eyes as she gazed down at Connie were as full of confidence as ever. Those eyes were Connie’s weakness. She frowned. “Scarlett…” “Everything will be fine. I’ll beat that third-rate scoundrel so hard, he’ll never be able to set foot on this island again.” “That’s no comfort,” Connie mumbled despite herself. Scarlett shrugged like she found this amusing. “Just enjoy the festival tomorrow. Gregorio Vecchio is simply looking for a fight. It will be over before you know it.” I hope so, Connie thought. “What should we do about the shrine?” she asked. “Randolph said he was taking care of the paperwork, didn’t he? Then we just need to find a clue by the time it’s approved.” Connie turned down her mouth. “A clue…” “I think our best lead is that book.” “I guess. But it’s just an ordinary travelogue.” It was a little fishy, but the content was a simple description of the author’s experiences. Some exaggerations aside, it was a practical book touching on local customs and history. “Ordinary, you say?” “Fine, his itinerary is a little strange.” Scarlett’s eyes flashed curiously. “In what way?” she asked. “Well, to start with, it’s not at all efficient. He keeps crisscrossing the island from one end to the other…” Connie might not have noticed if she hadn’t visited El Sol herself, but now it struck her as bizarre. First, he went to Agrit Hill on the island’s northern tip, then the very next day he went to the coffeehouse on the high street, and a few days later he was back up north. “He must have had a lot of time on his hands, or else he was going places at random… What’s wrong, Scarlett?” She looked shocked, which for her was unusual. “…I’ve got it,” she declared. Connie stared at her. “Got what?” “The days are wrong.” “The days?” Scarlett nodded. “The table of contents isn’t in chronological order.” “Huh? But it says first day, second day, third day…” Each chapter had its own day, up to the seventh. “That’s wrong… No, not wrong, exactly. He did it like that on purpose. Open it to the chapter for the second day.” Connie opened the book to “Second Day: A Midnight Lantern.” “Look, right here. It says, ‘As I drank the fragrant coffee, I thought about the shrine and the pilgrims.’ Strange, right? Because he says he learned about the shrine for the first time at the Una Pioggia Ruins. Also, in the chapter about Cyon Port on the fifth day, he writes, ‘Even the laborers who travel abroad for work have come home on boats to be here for Carnival tomorrow.’ But the next day when he’s at Santa Bea Temple, he doesn’t mention Carnival at all. The city is the same as always… This is what struck me as strange.” Connie’s green eyes popped open. “Scarlett, you’re amazing!” Scarlett threw her a disdainful glance. “No, your whole family is just dense. How many generations read this book without noticing? Makes me wonder how your brain is put together.” Connie froze, a smile still pasted to her face. Everyone in the Grail clan was sincere and never questioned anything. It sounded good, but the truth was they were simpletons. Scarlett snorted and narrowed her eyes. “He went to the coffeehouse after the ruins, and to Santa Bea Temple way before Cyon Port. If we piece together all the contradictions, we should be able to figure out the real order.” “Um, I guess…?” Connie said, pretending to understand. Instantly, Scarlett issued an order. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get me a pen and paper!” “Yes, ma’am!” There was a pot of ink and a feather pen on the desk in Connie’s room. She grabbed the pen in a flurry and took a writing pad from the drawer. After rolling up her sleeves, she copied down the table of contents as written. First Day: Agrit Hill Second Day: A Midnight Lantern Third Day: Il Laza Cathedral Fourth Day: Tharu Charitable Hospital Fifth Day: Cyon Port Sixth Day: Santa Bea Temple Seventh Day: Una Pioggia Ruins She was writing in a hurry so there were smears here and there, but she figured it was legible. Following Scarlett’s instructions, she cut the list into strips. All the while Scarlett was muttering what sounded like a curse. “The chapter about Il Laza Cathedral mentioned islanders wearing costumes, so that must have been the day after Cyon Port. He visited the charitable hospital after the Una Pioggia Ruins. It’s a little vague, but it sounds like he fell at the ruins and was treated at the hospital. Which means he must have gone to the coffeehouse on the last day—” Il Laza Cathedral after Cyon Port. Tharu Charitable Hospital after the Una Pioggia Ruins. Connie scrambled to rearrange the strips of paper as quickly as Scarlett spoke. “I’m done…!” she finally exclaimed. “This is Sena Rilifarco’s real itinerary,” Scarlett announced. Sixth Day: Santa Bea Temple First Day: Agrit Hill Fifth Day: Cyon Port Third Day: Il Laza Cathedral Seventh Day: Una Pioggia Ruins Fourth Day: Tharu Charitable Hospital Second Day: A Midnight Lantern “…Um, so.” Connie surveyed the strips of paper on the desk and gulped. “What does it mean?” She’d rearranged the pieces as Scarlett instructed, but now what? Scarlett paused before turning away sullenly and declaring, “It must mean something.” Even if the order of Rilifarco’s visits was shuffled around, the destinations were the same. What was the point of it? As Connie stared at the desk trying to figure this out, she noticed something. “Huh?” she murmured. “What?” “Oh, it’s nothing important.” Scarlett glared at her. The blood drained from Connie’s face. “Um, well, I was just wondering why he took two whole days to go to the temple and Agrit Hill. Look here on the map—they’re right next to each other. Also, we went past the temple on the vaporette, and the streets looked like a real tangle. It couldn’t have been easy to walk around. I wonder why he didn’t go to both places in one day. Also…” “Yes?” “The places he visited are famous historical buildings today, but back then, wouldn’t they have been ordinary?” Culturally valuable ruins and scenic hills aside, the temple, shrine, and charitable hospital were all newly built in his day. “I wonder why he was visiting those places if they weren’t tourist sites.” Scarlett’s amethyst eyes wavered in quiet surprise. “There is no meaning,” she finally whispered. “What?” “Think about it. Rilifarco is claiming in this book that he knows nothing about Fanoom Shrine. But in truth, he built it himself. It’s ridiculous to claim he doesn’t know about it. In other words, he’s indirectly telling his readers that everything in the book is nonsense. It means nothing. The important thing isn’t the content, it’s the order and the places. He could have written anything so long as he met a certain set of conditions.” “…Conditions?” “Sena Rilifarco loved wordplay, right?” True enough, the name of the coffeehouse and the book were both coded references. But their meaning was trivial, and he’d gone to the trouble of scattering the related clues around the whole island. This suggested that, rather than hiding some important secret, he was playing a game. “This is just another example of that man’s blasted wordplay,” Scarlett said, scowling in frustration. “…But something is still missing. The fact that we can’t figure it out means we must be overlooking something.” “I wonder what…,” Connie mused, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to think of it. Her mind was useless, and her eyes were like holes in her head. All she could do was restate what they knew so far. “…Um, okay then, I’ll organize our notes. The first day was Agrit Hill, but really that was second—” “Not second, the second day.” Scratch that. She couldn’t even restate what they knew. “Aren’t second and the second day the same thing?” “I suppose so, but—” Scarlett said, then suddenly froze. “You’re saying ‘second’ and ‘second day’ are the same, huh?” Scarlett’s flat, cold voice sent a shiver through Connie. “Oh, no, of course not! They’re completely different…!” she said, bracing herself for an angry roar, but the bolt of lightning she was expecting didn’t come. “…S-Scarlett?” When she looked timidly up at her, Connie found Scarlett’s brows furrowed like she was trying to figure something out. Eventually the other girl nodded and looked up, her amethyst eyes taking in Connie’s confused expression. “I think I figured it out,” she said. “You did?” “The words ‘first day’ in the table of contents means we’re supposed to use the first letter of the place he visited.” Connie blinked. She didn’t understand. The first day was the first letter? Looking down at the strips of paper, she counted on her fingers and finally said, “…Um, so, since Santa Bea Shrine is the sixth day, we take the sixth letter, which is ‘b.’” “Right.” “…Agrit Hill is the first day, so that’s an ‘a,’ and the fifth day is Cyon Port, a ‘p’…” B, a, p. That didn’t seem to spell anything recognizable. Though she was secretly puzzled, Connie kept going. “Il Laza Cathedral is an ‘l,’ Una Pioggia Ruins is ‘g’…” The next two chapters were “Fourth Day: Tharu Charitable Hospital” and “Second Day: A Midnight Lantern.” Lining them all up made— “B-a-p-l-g-r-m,” she spelled out, still bewildered. “B A PLGRM. Be a pilgrim,” Scarlett said, dropping the words like rain on a still pool. They both fell silent. After a few moments, Connie raised her hand and said, “I need a time-out.” Then she staggered over to her bed. “…Like I said, my head’s about to burst, so I’m taking a nap.” She buried her face in a pillow. Scarlett sighed in exasperation. “Tomorrow is that festival you were looking forward to. I hope your head doesn’t hurt from thinking too hard.” “Hey, be quiet, you’ll curse me…!” Connie whined, sitting up. Scarlett snorted, then vanished. Rain beat against the windows. Connie closed her eyes, wondering if it would stop by morning. It rained through the night. She fell asleep to the sound of the howling wind and rain and woke to the distant rumble of a military salute. She stretched, then opened a window. Fresh air flowed in. The sky was clear blue. Pushing the mystery of the travelogue to the back of her mind, she took a deep breath. This was the day she had been waiting for so eagerly: Carnival. As she was dressing, someone knocked softly on the door. It was the head maid, an elderly woman who had been with the family since Basilio’s father was young. It seemed that Daniella had instructed her to lend Connie a costume for the festival. “The mistress said you may choose whichever one you fancy,” she said, showing Connie to the dressing room at the end of the hallway. Daniella herself had gone out in the morning, it seemed, saying she was finally getting Natalia’s prized family recipe. Costumes and masks were packed into a wardrobe that took up one entire wall of the dressing room. Connie didn’t know what to look at first. As she was staring in amazement, Lucia, who had gotten there before her, ran up crying, “Miss Connie! Good morning!” “Since the two of you won’t be in the parade, I recommend light costumes so you can enjoy yourself more freely,” the maid advised. “As for the mask, I suggest you avoid the ones that cover your mouth.” Connie’s gaze darted from one mask to another. After much hesitation, she chose a simple design that covered only the top half of her face. “Oh, a kitty!” Lucia exclaimed, picking up a white cat mask edged in gold embroidery. There were as many costumes as masks, from orthodox ballgowns to witch and nun outfits. Lucia chose a dress of thin white lace with frothy frilled sleeves and a wide, knee-length skirt. Large butterfly wings made of the same material were attached to the back. She looked just like an angel who had descended to earth. Connie, on the other hand, could not make up her mind. Whatever cute little Lucia put on looked like it had been made to order for her, but Connie couldn’t get away with that. Eye-catching colors like crimson and purple didn’t suit her at all, while anything with a low neckline or a design meant to show off curves nearly brought her to tears. As she stood with arms crossed, surveying her options, her eyes alighted on a bright-red cape. It must have been meant for a man, because it lacked any hint of decoration. As she gazed at the out-of-place garment, the maid walked over to her. “That’s an Il Rosso costume,” she explained. “When children misbehave, people put on one of these to frighten them. You’ll find them for sale at the night market, but this one was custom-made generations ago for the master of the house. It’s quite fine.” She added that since there were no records of what real Il Rosso uniforms looked like, the tailor had based the design on a military uniform of the day. Sure enough, the coat’s severe design and stand-up collar would have looked right at home on a soldier. In the end, Connie chose a dress modeled on the island’s traditional folk costumes, which Lucia had insisted would look “absolutely beautiful” on her. It featured a flowy white gown with a delicate ribbon tied at the neck and a sleeveless lace-up overdress with intricate embroidery. “Mr. Randolph will be swooning!” Lucia cried. “Y-you think so…?! She knew Lucia was flattering her, but she couldn’t help feeling excited as she finished changing. The maid was waiting to hand her a little glass jar filled with amber-colored liquid. “It’s for sniffing,” she said. “You may feel faint from the crowds, so please do take it with you.” Connie opened the lid and brought it to her face. A powerful scent stung her nose, and she scrunched up her features. “You idiot, Connie, it’s brandy!” Scarlett said, shrugging. Military salutes rumbled again and again across the blue sky. A large stage had been set up in the park where the opening ceremony was to take place, and the band was playing a lively tune. Unsurprisingly for such a famous festival, the whole town was bustling with crowds. The plaza in particular was so packed, Connie had to be careful not to bump into anyone. But everyone seemed in high spirits. “The Muro di Luche, canceled…?” Antonio exclaimed in astonishment as they walked through the lively plaza. A white mask with a golden laurel wreath covered half his face. Marco, who was walking next to him in his ordinary clothes, explained in the same casual tone as always. “I heard the storm yesterday raised the canal and flooded the warehouses. All the firecrackers they bought were ruined.” “I can’t believe it…” Antonio must have been genuinely disappointed, because Connie could see his face fall even through his mask. She glanced at Randolph questioningly. “Had you heard?” “Yes. Basilio told me before we left the mansion.” The decision had been made that morning, he said, and many people were not yet aware, so traffic was still being restricted around Mezzaluna Pier, where the fireworks show had been slated to take place. “Instead, we’ll be able to dance all night at the fountain plaza,” Marco said. “But we do that every year…!” cried Antonio. “Alas, you’ve seen right through me. Well, things like this happen.” Antonio, obviously disappointed, slumped his shoulders. “…But I promised I would show His Highness Ulysses and Miss Lucia!” He sounded a little teary. Even Marco looked surprised. “Y-young master—” “Well, now we have something to look forward to next year!” Ulysses broke in with a bright smile. He was wearing a mask with white wings across the eyes. “N-next year…?” Antonio repeated. “Yes, next year. We can come again, can’t we?” He lowered his eyebrows, slightly worried. Antonio nodded, his eyes round. “There are all sorts of events at the festival, aren’t there? We’ll never be able to see them all today!” Lucia said with a giggle, looking at Antonio before tilting her head sulkily. “Or will you not be our guide again next year?” Antonio shook his head energetically. “Leave it to me!” he said and thumped his chest. His mood seemed to have abruptly improved. “I’ll show you two around, too. Follow me,” he said proudly to Connie and Randolph. Lucia tugged his arm. “But, Mr. Antonio, I wanted it to be just the three of us!” “You what?” “The other day we had so much fun together, didn’t we, Uly?” Ulysses blinked, caught off guard. He looked at Lucia, then Connie, then seemed to understand. “Yes, we did,” he said with a smile. “B-but if we go off on our own, what about the guards…?” “It’s fine. Miss Connie has Mr. Randolph to look out for her.” “I’m not sure I should leave a pair of travelers—” “Mr. Antonio,” Lucia interrupted, looking up at him with innocent eyes. He staggered at the sight of those two clear pools of blue. “I want to spend the day with my dear friends—you and Uly.” “Uh…” His face was growing redder by the second. Ulysses joined in, peering into his eyes. “Please? I’ve never gotten to play with friends outside before… Can’t we?” Under assault from the prince’s violet eyes and appealingly tilted head, Antonio seemed to panic. Squirming awkwardly, he whispered, “I suppose.” “Young master, what a pushover you are!” Marco declared with a breezy smile. As Connie was thinking about how much fun they seemed to be having, Lucia ran over to her. “Miss Connie!” she said, lifting her face to Connie’s ear and lowering her voice. “Have fun on your date with Mr. Randolph!” “Date?” The girl ran back to Ulysses’s side, and Randolph watched her admiringly. “Those three certainly seem to have become fast friends,” he said. “I’d heard Antonio was something of a difficult child, and His Highness can be shy, so I was worried. But leave it to an O’Brian. They know how to win people over.”
Chapter 67
56 min read