Chapter 78

“I’ll come again soon! Next time I’ll visit your boarding school, Uly!” “I’m looking forward to it.” “But girls aren’t allowed there!” Amid the hustle and bustle of travelers on the central wharf at Cyon Port, a striking white passenger liner sat at anchor. The emblem of the Walter Robinson Company was painted on the bow. Lucia stood on the gangplank, reluctantly saying good-bye to Ulysses and Antonio. “I look forward to seeing you again, too, Mr. Antonio,” she giggled. “…You don’t have to call me ‘Mr.,’” he answered, the tip of his nose turning red. He turned away, and Lucia smiled happily. “Then you can call me just Lucia, too,” she announced. “Hey, why are you two so friendly? You can call me Uly, too, Antonio,” Ulysses said, pouting like a regular boy his age for once. “All three of us are the best of friends.” Lucia laughed. “U-Uly…?” Antonio echoed, turning even redder as he tried out the new name. Lucia walked up the gangplank, turning back to wave several times. Then, the ship pulled slowly away from the island, its horn blasting. As the silhouettes of the two boys waving good-bye disappeared into the distance, Lucia began to cry. “Oh, Lucia,” Connie said, hugging her. The girl sobbed even harder. Parting was sad even if they’d promised to meet again. Connie lifted Lucia in her arms and rubbed her small back soothingly. Then she carried her into the entrance hall and set her down on a sofa. Lucia must have tired herself out crying, because as Connie patted her back, her eyes began to close. “Sleeping?” Randolph asked. He had just returned from bringing the luggage to their rooms. Connie looked up and smiled wryly. “Yes. She said she didn’t sleep very well last night.” “She acts so grown up, I tend to forget she’s still a child.” Randolph looked down with worry at Lucia as she softly snored. “I’ll go find a blanket for her,” Connie said, standing up and approaching a crew member. When she returned with a soft blanket in her arms, Lucia was curled up like a cat. For some reason, Randolph was sitting next to her. “Dear thing!” Connie murmured. Lucia’s hand was clasped tightly around the hem of his jacket. “Maybe she thinks you’re Aldous,” Connie suggested. Randolph, unable to remove her little hand, looked utterly befuddled. “…She’s surprisingly strong,” he said. Connie giggled. She tucked the blanket around Lucia and sat down next to Randolph. “Constance?” His cerulean eyes looked down at her questioningly, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned her head against him. “It all went by so quickly,” she murmured. “I know,” he agreed. “I wanted to see the trompe l’oeil at Il Laza Cathedral, and climb Agrit Hill, and try blowing glass at one of the workshops. I wanted to make a red goblet like the one I saw at the opera in the capital. And—” She pressed her face softly against Randolph’s arm. “—I wanted to spend more time together.” “We can come again,” he said placidly. She knew he meant it, but she couldn’t help asking, “But when…?” “When?” “It’s just that when we get back to Adelbide, I’m sure you’ll start right up with work again. Will you have any time off? It would be awful if you had to give up your days off for the year because you took this trip—” Randolph looked away guiltily. “—Randolph?” When she turned her moist eyes on him, he finally gave in to his fate and said, “…I didn’t give up all my days off.” That meant, at the very least, he would be skipping some of his holidays. Connie stared at him and said as pointedly as she could manage, “I can’t believe it! You work too much! If you keep staying up all night, you’re going to get sick…!” “One night’s really nothing.” “What did you just say?” She glared at him fixedly. With a solemn face, Randolph said, “I will deal with the problem,” and nodded. Then he looked down, dismayed. “…So would you perhaps consider forgiving me? Constance?” He peered kindly into her face. Connie felt like she was going to fall into his blue eyes. She almost nodded but cleared her throat instead. “…I’d like you to promise me something first.” “If it’s within my power, I will promise you anything.” Connie’s mood improved slightly. But only slightly. “Will you put on the Il Rosso costume for me?” She’d intended to sound like she was still angry, but her voice came out bouncier than planned. Randolph gave her a bewildered look. Then, thanks to his natural intelligence, he seemed to figure it out. His face stiffened, and he said in a slightly strained voice, “…You don’t mean right now, do you?” “I do!” she answered. There was a brief silence. Then, in a voice as grave as if he had been chased to the edge of a cliff, he said, “……I don’t have the costume.” “I brought it along,” Connie said. “Why?” He looked at her, astonished. She had borrowed it, of course. Daniella had apparently taken pity on Connie and lent it to her when she wailed that she hadn’t yet convinced Randolph to put it on. Connie looked up at Randolph expectantly. He was glancing around with uncharacteristic unease. After a silence of thirty or forty seconds, he said in a low voice, “…I’m sorry.” Connie was momentarily speechless. Her eyes filled with tears. “B-but you said you’d do anything!” “There are certain things I can do and certain things I cannot!” he retorted, raising his voice. “Shut up, you two!” Scarlett thundered. “You’re going to wake Lucia!” Incidentally, around this time an article was circulating in Adelbide about an atrocious “trial troll” who had come and gone like a comet on a small island in the Republic of Soldita, causing a new wave of rumors to sweep through society about a certain notorious viscount’s daughter. Of course, Constance Grail had no idea about any of that as she sailed toward home.