My Happy Marriage (LN) - Volume 1 - Chapter 1

  CHAPTER 1  

Of Our Meeting and My Tears

Just as any other noble family, the Saimori household began their day with a leisurely breakfast in the living room of their sprawling traditional Japanese residence in the capital. Or at least it would have been leisurely, were it not for a shrill voice that pierced the fresh morning air.

“What’s this supposed to be?!”

Scalding-hot liquid splashed on Miyo’s face and chest. She didn’t even whimper as she groveled on the floor. The beautiful younger woman holding a teacup raised her eyebrows in outraged disbelief as her older sister, dressed in a threadbare serving girl’s outfit, bowed in abject apology. As usual, the house staff present in the room averted their gazes.

“The tea is so bitter, it’s undrinkable!”

“I’m terribly sorry…”

“Make me a fresh cup at once!”

Despite having brewed the tea exactly the same as always, Miyo demurely acknowledged her half sister’s request as if she was her servant and hurried to the kitchen, head hung low.

“Goodness me, she can’t even make tea properly. Has she no shame?”

“Indeed. She’s such an embarrassment.”

Miyo pretended she couldn’t hear her half sister and stepmother snickering at her derisively as she left the room. One might think her father would intervene and stop them from mocking his daughter, but he simply continued his meal as if nothing had happened. He hadn’t defended her once in the past several years, and by now, Miyo harbored no hope that he ever would.

Unearthly creatures had plagued this country since time immemorial. Some of these beings resembled humans or animals; a few were so twisted they defied description; and still others fluidly changed shape, refusing to settle on a fixed form. These otherworldly entities, also referred to as fiends or spirits, were malicious to humans.

The task of hunting them fell to the Gifted, descendants of bloodlines that possessed supernatural powers. Only this select few could see the Grotesqueries using Spirit-Sight and dispatch them with supernatural attacks, their sole weakness. Indispensable to the empire, the Gifted enjoyed high social status.

The Saimoris were a long-established noble line, one of the families who’d risen to prominence through ridding the land of Grotesqueries. Miyo was the eldest of her generation. Her parents’ marriage had been purely strategic. Both her father and mother possessed the Gift, and their respective families had arranged the marriage to improve the bloodline. Although her father had been opposed to this, his protests went unheeded. Eventually, he broke off his relations with his lover and reluctantly consented to marry the woman who was to become Miyo’s mother.

Their loveless union resulted in Miyo’s birth. Apparently, they had cherished their daughter in her first few years of life. Her memories of that time were hazy at best, but she’d heard that her father used to dote on her and that she was the apple of her mother’s eye. Everything changed, however, when her mother passed away from illness when Miyo was two years old and her father married his former lover.

Miyo’s stepmother hated her for being the child of the woman who’d separated her from Miyo’s father. Her father, meanwhile, was so overcome with guilt toward his second wife that he deferred to her in everything. To make matters worse, he lost all interest in Miyo when her half sister was born, since he preferred the daughter of his beloved.

Kaya, Miyo’s younger sister, was not only the more beautiful of the two, but also skilled at twisting people around her little finger. To top it all off, she possessed Spirit-Sight, which Miyo lacked. It hadn’t taken long for the younger girl to begin treating her sister with scorn, just as her mother had done.

Then Miyo turned nineteen, an age when girls from good households would usually marry. But since even the servants outranked her in the house, she received not a single proposal. Furthermore, she was penniless because her family had never given her a stipend, which kept her from moving out.

“Here’s your tea.” Miyo placed a freshly brewed pot of tea on Kaya’s tray. Her stepmother huffed but didn’t comment.

Miyo was convinced she’d spend the rest of her life as their slave.

She’d already given up hope.

Her parents and sister finished their breakfast. Miyo cleared the table with the servants and then went outside to sweep the front steps. She rarely cleaned inside the house to keep out of the way of her stepmother and sister, who were always looking to complain about something and saddle her with additional tasks. The servants were well aware of this, and she suspected they sympathized with her, because her share of the chores was always laundry and outdoor tasks. This allowed Miyo some welcome respite on the days when her stepmother and sister didn’t leave the house.

“Hello.”

Miyo had been cleaning in silence until close to noon when a guest arrived.

“Ah. Hello, Kouji.” She bowed at the newcomer, who smiled at her gently.

This well-disposed man with a pleasant, handsome face and dressed in a well-tailored three-piece suit was Kouji Tatsuishi, the second son of another distinguished family with the Gift. His estate was nearby, so he’d known both Miyo and Kaya since childhood. Most importantly, he saw Miyo as a rightful daughter of the Saimori family and was a true friend to her.

“It’s a nice day, isn’t it? Very warm.”

“Indeed. That will make the laundry dry quickly.” She didn’t have anyone else with whom she could indulge in such small talk.

Kouji had tried many times to do something to improve Miyo’s situation when her family had started to treat her like a servant. Ultimately, his father, the head of his family, gave him a severe talking-to and forbade him from interfering with another family’s private matters. Although Kouji hadn’t been able to openly take her side since then, she still considered him an ally.

“By the way, here’s a little something for you,” Kouji told her.

“…You brought me sweets?”

He had handed her a box wrapped in beautiful Japanese paper.

“Sure did. I hope you don’t mind it’s not one of those trendy Western cakes. I heard they tend to get smashed in transit.”

“Thank you. I’ll share them with the servants.”

“Please do.”

Only then did something occur to Miyo.

“And what brings you here today?”

While he would dress smartly when visiting, his attire that day was more formal than usual, and it was very rare for him to wear Western clothes. Kouji’s expression clouded over at Miyo’s question before he looked away, as if embarrassed.

“Well. You see, I…have an important matter to discuss. With your father.”

He was stumbling over his words. Even though Kouji was the quiet type, he wasn’t normally so evasive. Perplexed, Miyo tilted her head to the side and wondered what was wrong with him. But he simply responded with a “See you later” and quickly disappeared into the house. Miyo was curious about his business with her father, but she silenced her thoughts by telling herself it was none of her concern and reached for the broom again.

She was the oldest daughter of the Saimori family and had been duly entered into the family registry. In practice, however, she was no different from a poor girl of common stock—talentless, uneducated, and plain-looking. It dawned on her that she and Kouji now lived worlds apart. Suddenly, her heart felt heavy. To distract herself, she focused on sweeping until one of the servants came out of the house to call her.

“Your father wishes to see you, miss.”

“Huh?”

“He’s asking for you to come at once.”

“Oh, I-I’ll be right there…”

Miyo had a bad feeling about this. She was little more than a servant to her family, so it made no sense for her father to summon her specifically while he was receiving a guest. Something out of the ordinary was happening, and it filled her with fear. Though she struggled to stop her legs from shaking, she made it to the reception room.

“Excuse me. It’s me, Miyo,” she called out from behind the sliding door.

“Enter,” came her father’s curt response. The hard tone of this command amplified her anxiety, and her fingertips pressing against the sliding door felt icy cold.

Inside sat not only her father and Kouji but also her stepmother and Kaya. Despite sensing that they had bad news for her, she concealed her fear behind an expressionless face. She sat down near the entrance, distancing herself from her grimacing stepmother and half sister. Her father began to explain the matter at hand in a detached voice without even glancing her way.

“I would like to discuss the prospect of marriage as it relates to the future of this family. Miyo, I thought it best for you to be present for this as well.”

Marriage? Hearing that word made her heart skip a beat. Thinking about how marriage could change her life brought her both fear and anxiety, yet it also rekindled the faintest of hopes within her. Perhaps it could be a change for the better. A moment later, however, she chided herself for entertaining such fantasies. Miracles simply didn’t happen—not to her, at least. Her father’s strong voice broke the silence once again.

“Kouji will be adopted into our family so that he may continue our family name. As such, he will need a wife to support him. Kaya, you will be his bride.”

Of course it would be her. Though Miyo should have expected as much, she nevertheless felt as if a chasm had opened beneath her. Everything went black for a moment as fear, or maybe despair, overwhelmed her. Kaya’s smug look didn’t even register. Miyo had been aware of her father’s plans to adopt Kouji, the Tatsuishi family’s second-oldest son, so at some point, a faint beacon of hope must have unknowingly wormed its way into her heart.

Hope that she might have married the one and only man she trusted. That she would have become proprietress of the Saimori household. That Kaya would have been married off and sent away so Miyo would no longer have to live in her shadow. That one day she would have been able to freely converse with her father again, as they had in the past.

It was all so foolish. She should have known that fate simply wasn’t in her cards.

“Miyo, you will be betrothed to the Kudou family’s heir, Kiyoka Kudou.”

She couldn’t even bring herself to look up. Instead, she gave her reply in a shaking voice, head hanging limply.

“As you wish, Father.”

“What, aren’t you glad to marry into the Kudou family?” Kaya added with insincere enthusiasm.

The Kudou family also possessed the Gift. Many of their lineage were blessed with exceptional supernatural powers, and the clan distinguished itself through countless feats of valor, some of legendary proportions. Their social standing, fame, and wealth were leagues ahead of their peers’.

On the other hand, Kiyoka had a reputation for being heartless. Of all the girls from well-heeled families who’d been offered to him as brides, none had managed to bear him for more than three days before running back home. Miyo had heard as much from the servants’ gossip. If those tales were true, the man must be horrible indeed.

And now her father was telling her to marry him, likely intending to never allow her to step foot into this house again. Miyo had no education. Her father was certainly aware that there was no chance of this arrangement going well.

“It’s really such a waste to give you this wonderful opportunity, since you have no redeeming qualities. You’re really in no place to do anything so rude as to refuse, of course.”

Her stepmother was in high spirits at the prospect of finally ridding herself of the stepdaughter she abhorred.

“Yes, you have no choice but to accept. Pack your things, and as soon as you’re done, we’ll have you sent to Mr. Kudou’s house.”

Miyo turned pale, unable to speak. Although she used to look forward to leaving the Saimori house, with the Kudou residence as her destination, she would be going out of the frying pan and into the fire. From there, she could envision only two possible outcomes. Either this merciless man would throw her out of his estate on the spot, or she’d irritate him and he’d cut her down where she stood. Her only hope was that he’d treat her like a lowly servant, just as her family did.

Very rarely did a potential bride stay with the man her family wanted her to marry in order to learn the rules of his household and find out whether they were compatible before making their betrothal official. The precautionary measures made sense in light of Kiyoka’s reputation as a difficult groom, but Miyo saw them differently—as evidence that her family wanted to get rid of her as soon as possible. Her world turned black.

After she left the reception room, enveloped in dark thoughts, she heard Kouji calling her name.

“Yes, Kouji?”

She turned toward him. Anguish and embarrassment colored his face, something she’d never seen before.

“Miyo, I’m sorry. I’m so useless. I couldn’t do anything for you, and I don’t even know what to say now.”

“You need not apologize, Kouji. Such is fate. It simply wasn’t in my favor.”

Miyo tried to grin to lift the mood but found it hard to change her expression, as if her face had frozen solid. Come to think of it, when was the last time she’d smiled?

“No, you can’t just put it down to fate!”

“On the contrary. It’s fine, Kouji. I don’t mind Father’s decision. Who knows—I may even find happiness in my new life.”

She didn’t actually believe that, but she said it with conviction anyway, as if to reassure herself.

“…Do you hate me now?”

Kouji seemed on the verge of tears. Clearly, he wanted her to take it out on him for not having advocated for her. She could glimpse that in his eyes. But Miyo was too drained to cater to his emotional needs right now, so she decided to cut things short.

“No, I don’t. I distanced myself from such emotions long ago.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry. I wanted to save you so that we could laugh together again, like we used to. I wanted to—”

“Kouji!”

Kaya had yelled his name upon exiting the room after them. There was something terrifyingly twisted lurking beneath her dazzlingly beautiful smile.

“What were you two talking about?”

“…”

Her husband-to-be bit his lip, swallowing what he hadn’t gotten to say.

“N-nothing important.”

Kouji came from a respected family and had been blessed with the Gift and handsome looks, but he had one flaw. He was a coward who was too worried about upsetting others. Taking a side would hurt either Miyo or Kaya, so he’d clammed up. Miyo didn’t know what he’d been gearing up to say before her sister had interrupted, but at this point, she didn’t care. And yet, even though it hadn’t amounted to anything in the end, it was true that the kindhearted Kouji had come to her aid many times in the past.

“Kouji.”

“Yes…?”

“Thank you for everything.”

That was all she could say. She was utterly exhausted.

Kaya smiled charmingly as she watched her sister bow deeply and walk away without looking back.

Sleep eluded her that night. Miyo’s room, a servant’s bedroom barely five square meters in total, was austere to begin with. Now that she’d packed away her few personal possessions, there was really nothing left. Her stepmother and half sister had thrown away or stolen the kimonos she’d inherited from her mother. The same had happened to any other valuable items she’d once possessed. Now the only things she could call her own besides her body were a servant’s outfit, a set of plainclothes hand-me-downs from one of the workers, and some personal care items.

Later that same day, however, her father had given her a set of fine clothes so that she wouldn’t bring shame to the Kudous by arriving at their residence dressed in rags. His gift finally opened her eyes to the fact that her father had been aware she’d owned no presentable clothes but had simply been unbothered by her plight until now.

As she struggled to fall asleep, wrapped in the flimsy quilt she’d had no choice but to grow used to, memories of the past flashed before her eyes like images in a kaleidoscope. The happy ones were distant, while the more recent ones were filled with pain and misery. Nothing was going to change for the better the next day. She was going to sleep hoping only that her life would soon end. A simple wish. It felt as though she were teetering on the brink between the worlds of the living and the dead. Emotionally spent, she couldn’t even smile bitterly as those thoughts raced through her mind.

The Kudou family was especially distinguished, even among other noble clans with the Gift. Pretty much all Gifted families had made a name for themselves many generations ago, becoming firmly established in the nobility, but the Kudous outranked the majority of them. In addition to a court rank, they’d also been granted vast tracts of land. Miyo had heard that with so much land in so many different parts of the country, they could make as much money as they liked simply by leasing it out.

The current head of the family was Kiyoka Kudou, twenty-seven years old. He’d passed the elite military induction exam after graduating from university, and he now served as major with a unit of his own. Based on his youth, influence, and extraordinary wealth, Miyo reckoned he enjoyed a lavish lifestyle.

Early in the day after her father’s pronouncement, Miyo left home dressed in elegant clothes that hung awkwardly on her thin frame. Clutching a modest bundle containing her belongings, she set off for the Kudou residence. A few tram rides—a novelty for her—later, she thought she’d arrived near the address she’d been given but found herself on the outskirts of the city, with nothing resembling a luxurious estate in sight.

Does the head of the Kudou family really live around here? she wondered.

While it was only a stone’s throw from the city, the landscape was mostly forests, plantations, and fields, dotted with just a few houses. It occurred to her that it must get pitch-black here at night, unlike in the city. No one had been sent out to meet her, and there hadn’t been a matchmaker or go-between involved in the marriage talks. The Saimori servant who accompanied her to the city’s outskirts had turned back and left her to walk the country path alone.

After a while, she arrived at a house in the woods, which could’ve been mistaken for a hermitage if it were but a little smaller. Though she could scarcely believe this unassuming domicile was the right place, the automobile parked outside was a clear indication of the owner’s wealth. Cars imported from overseas were far beyond the financial means of ordinary people. This had to be where Kiyoka Kudou lived.

“Hello…”

Her hesitant knock was answered immediately.

“Just a moment… May I have your name?”

A kind-looking petite old lady stuck her head out the door. Judging from her attire, she must have been a servant.

“My name is Miyo Saimori. I’ve been asked to come here to see Mr. Kiyoka Kudou regarding a marriage proposal…”

“Ah yes, Miss Saimori. We’ve been expecting you.”

Based on Kiyoka’s reputation, Miyo had imagined his servants to be cold and emotionless, closer to dolls than people. This smiling old lady’s friendly demeanor and tone momentarily threw her.

“Please come on inside. I’ll show you to the study where the young master is.”

Upon receiving this invitation, Miyo crossed the threshold of the house. Compared with her family home, this place was rather cramped. She guessed it had been built recently, seeing how pristine its wooden exterior was. The inside also seemed more comfortable than she’d initially assumed.

As they walked down a short wood-floored corridor, the woman introduced herself as Yurie. She was indeed a servant and had been employed at this house ever since she’d served as Kiyoka’s nursemaid.

“I know there are many nasty rumors about the young master circling around, but he’s actually a good-natured person. You needn’t be so afraid, really.”

Yurie spoke to her in a reassuring tone, mistaking Miyo’s silence for fear. But Miyo wasn’t feeling chatty for other reasons—she’d learned not to speak unless absolutely necessary, so silence had become a habit. Whenever she’d dared to speak at her own home, they would punish her for being brazen, for talking back.

“Thank you, that’s heartening to hear.”

She didn’t really think so, since it made no difference to her whether he proved to be nice or not. What did matter, however, was that the moment she was rejected, she would be left to die on the streets. Maybe she should have made peace with that thought. Death might be painful, but there’d be no more suffering afterward. She’d be free.

Yurie opened the door to Kiyoka’s study for her. Miyo entered, knelt on the floor, and bowed deeply.

“It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Miyo Saimori.”

“…”

Engrossed in something at his desk, Kiyoka Kudou did not turn to look at her. Miyo had been trained to remain silent and motionless without explicit permission or order to do otherwise, so she held the bow, awaiting his response.

“How much longer do you intend to prostrate yourself?” he finally asked in a low voice.

Thank goodness, she thought with some relief. He did hear me. Simply acknowledging her existence was an act of kindness in her eyes. She lifted her head for a moment before bowing down again.

“Please forgive me…”

“I wasn’t asking for an apology,” he said with a sigh.

She finally sat up straight. Illuminated by the gentle spring sunshine coming through the window, Kiyoka looked so stunning that she had to avert her gaze.

He’s beautiful.

Miyo had thought she knew what that word meant. Both her stepmother and half sister were very attractive, and the Tatsuishi family, Kouji included, had also been blessed with above-average looks. But Kiyoka was in a league of his own. He had masculine dignity and feminine grace; his exquisite features were fine and delicate. Anyone, be they young or old, male or female, would agree that he was not only handsome but radiant.

“Are you the latest bridal candidate?”

She nodded in affirmation. He grimaced.

“Then I have this to say to you. You must obey my every order. If I tell you to get out, get out. If I tell you to die, die. I don’t want to hear any complaints or objections,” he barked before turning his back on her again.

Miyo stared in disbelief. She came here prepared for humiliation and verbal abuse. Was this really all he wanted?

“Understood.”

“Hmm?”

“Is there anything else…?”

“…”

“In that case, if you’ll please excuse me…”

He turned toward her with an odd expression on his face. It didn’t seem as if he had anything further to say, so she left the room.

“They’re gone! All gone! What happened?”

Upon hearing her tearful voice leave the lips of the panicked little version of herself, Miyo realized she was dreaming. It was a dream about the worst day of her life, which had been painfully etched into her memory for all eternity. She’d still attended school back then. One day, she’d returned home after classes to find her room empty.

“Where is everything?!”

All her things were gone, including the precious mementos of her mother: kimonos, sashes, and accessories. Even the makeup mirror and her mother’s lipstick had vanished. Miyo quickly determined it must have been her stepmother’s doing.

“Lady Miyo, whatever is the matter?!”

Hana the maid came running when she heard Miyo’s wailing. She had been looking after the girl since she was born, so she was like a mother to her.

“It’s all gone! Even Mother’s things!”

“Goodness!” Hana cried. “How could this have happened?”

Hana had been out shopping and hadn’t noticed anything. She began apologizing profusely, swallowing back tears. Miyo bit her lip.

“My stepmother did it—I just know it.”

Miyo was just two years old when she lost her mother. Her father had wasted no time in remarrying, and Kanoko, Miyo’s stepmother, had despised the girl since day one. Kanoko’s daughter, Kaya, was three years younger than Miyo but already showed great potential. She’d inherited her mother’s extraordinary beauty and was a quick learner. Not only that, she’d already displayed the signature ability of the Gifted—Spirit-Sight, which allowed her to see the Grotesqueries. None of this could be said of Miyo.

Miyo’s parents had married solely to pass their supernatural powers on to their heirs, and yet it had been Kaya, not Miyo, who’d been born with the Gift. And Kaya’s mother came from a regular family with no special powers. In hindsight, Miyo’s father had had nothing to gain from breaking up with Kanoko, his sweetheart, to marry Miyo’s mother. This discovery only further stoked Kanoko’s hatred of her stepdaughter.

Miyo had only been a little girl then, but she’d understood that very well. Her stepmother had ensured she would, constantly remarking to her that “if only you hadn’t been born, then everything would be better” or that “your mother was a thieving wench.” But understanding someone didn’t mean agreeing with them.

“I’m going to have a word with Stepmother.”

Losing all her precious possessions wasn’t something she could ignore. She needed the mementos of her mother back to keep sane in a hostile home.

“You’re going on your own? Lady Miyo, I beg you to reconsider.”

“Don’t worry, Hana. If she doesn’t listen to me, I’ll tell on her to Father.”

Back then, she’d still believed her father would take her side. He’d become increasingly distant toward her, but she was certain that if she pleaded with him and reminded him of how poorly they had treated her, then he would at least rebuke his second wife. Miyo couldn’t have been more wrong.

“N-no! Let me out! Please let me out!”

When she’d headed over to her stepmother’s chambers to ask if she knew anything about the strange disappearance of her belongings, Kanoko had flown into a rage, punishing the girl for calling her a thief by shutting her in a storehouse at the back of the mansion.

“You’re not going anywhere until you think long and hard about your scandalous behavior. I should have expected as much from that homewrecker’s daughter. To think you’d call me a thief! You’re rotten to the core. Thank goodness my own daughter is nothing like you.”

“Stepmother, please! Please let me out!”

Barred from the outside, the door refused to budge no matter how hard she pushed or slammed her fists. Miyo pressed herself against it and shouted as loudly as she could, scared out of her wits. Her stepmother merely laughed at her for being pathetic and left. Even years after this episode, Miyo would still shake thinking about it.

There was only one small window high up on the opposite wall, letting in so little light that it was semidark inside the storehouse despite the sun being at its zenith. The cold dampness and stark emptiness of this long-disused space made it even more unnerving. Imprisoned there for an unknown length of time, little Miyo had been absolutely terrified.

“P-please… Let me out… Somebody help me…”

She bawled out apologies and pleas for help or forgiveness, but no one came. By the time she was released, it was the middle of the night; she’d been locked up since just past noon. Her father, whom she’d trusted to come to her aid if she was in need, hadn’t shown up. But the tragic events of that day hadn’t ended there. While she’d been trapped in the storehouse, the family had dismissed Hana and had immediately expelled her from the mansion for some made-up reason. And finally, they’d divested Miyo of her status within the household and would henceforth treat her worse than a servant.

Miyo woke up early as usual. Wiping tears from her face, she got out of bed. The previous day, Kiyoka had told her, “You must obey my every order. If I tell you to get out, get out. If I tell you to die, die.” Since she’d been subjected to those same rules growing up, it hadn’t seemed like an unusual request, so she’d readily agreed.

When she’d left the study looking unperturbed, Yurie had been visibly relieved. She’d then showed Miyo to her new room. It was furnished only with the bare necessities: a futon, a desk, a chest of drawers, and a clock. For all its austerity, it was more spacious than the servant’s bedroom Miyo had used before. Even the cozy bedding was of much better quality.

Miyo had hardly any luggage to unpack. She’d put her clothing away in the drawers, excused herself from dinner, and gone straight to sleep. That had been all for that day.

After waking up feeling fresh and well rested, perhaps thanks to the comfortable futon, she stood in her room with her head tilted to the side in uncertainty.

What should I do now…? She’d gotten up before sunrise like always, but that wouldn’t be necessary once she married Kiyoka, the head of the Kudou family. Miyo’s stepmother never got up this early. Miyo wasn’t to live as a commoner but as the wife of an eminent noble, and wives of eminent nobles didn’t do the cooking or cleaning.

But…I don’t have any other skills.

She used to take classes in flower arrangement, tea ceremony, traditional dance, and koto until her stepmother had put an end to them, but that had been so long ago. What little she could remember now would undoubtedly be of nominal use. The chances of a practically uneducated girl becoming the wife of Kiyoka Kudou seemed slim to none.

Still, she couldn’t just stay in her room doing nothing. She eventually settled on helping fix breakfast. While it would be out of place for Kiyoka’s bride to do the cooking, she reminded herself that her presence here was incongruous in the first place. However hard she might have tried, Miyo couldn’t have emulated your typical wealthy married woman, just sitting there looking pretty in nice clothes, gracing people with delightful smiles. If she was going to be rejected regardless, she might as well make herself useful in her own way until then.

Besides, she wanted to help Yurie, who wasn’t a live-in servant. Even in her old age, she commuted to the house every day in time to prepare breakfast before her master awoke. That must have been hard on her. If Miyo could relieve her of that burden, it would make Yurie’s life a little easier. She hoped that would be an acceptable excuse if her unseemly actions provoked an outrage.

The pantry is well stocked with everything I could need. I’ll cook rice, make miso soup… There’s also dried fish; I can grill that. Then I just need to think of what vegetables to use for side dishes…

She made a list in her head as she checked the cupboards to see where the utensils were kept. Incredibly, this cottage in the woods had its own water supply. Miyo got the fire going in the oven and began cooking.

Even though her family employed a chef, Miyo was quite capable in the kitchen. If she hadn’t learned to make her own meals, she wouldn’t have eaten. Strictly speaking, she was neither a servant nor a rightful member of the family, meaning she hadn’t been entitled to the lavish meals her father, stepmother, and half sister enjoyed or even the rations provided to the help. She’d only been able to use leftovers from the kitchen to scrape something together for herself. If there had been nothing left after the cook had finished preparing food for everyone else that day, she would go without eating.

Miyo’s breakfast preparations were well underway when the kitchen door slowly slid open and Yurie peered in.

“…Miss?”

“Good morning, Yurie. Oh…I’m sorry for using the kitchen without asking you first.”

“Good morning, Miss Saimori. You mustn’t apologize. You’re the young master’s fiancée, so you can do as you please.”

Yurie smiled cheerfully, dismissing Miyo’s concerns with a wave of her hand. Rather than be cross with her, she was apologetic for having forced Miyo to trouble herself with the kitchen work.

Maybe I shouldn’t have done this…

It seemed Miyo had only made the older woman embarrassed in her eagerness to help. Feeling glum, Miyo hung her head, but she looked up again with surprise when Yurie gently placed a warm hand on her back.

“As you can see, miss, I’m a wrinkled old lady. I’m truly grateful for your help.”

“I-it’s nothing…”

The small old woman’s earnest smile moved her so much, her response got stuck in her throat.

“Well, the young master won’t be getting up for a while. I shall tend to my other duties, if you don’t mind finishing up here on your own?”

“Not at all, if that’s fine with you.”

Yurie nodded, satisfied with Miyo’s answer. She quickly donned her apron and hustled out of the kitchen. Miyo was still a little crestfallen, but she focused on the cooking she’d been entrusted with. Yurie kept checking in on her as she worked and let her know when Kiyoka was about to get up. Miyo transferred the dishes she’d made to bowls and plates. There was steaming white rice, miso soup with wakame seaweed and deep-fried tofu, boiled vegetables—which she’d prepared well in advance so that they had thoroughly absorbed the flavors of the seasoning—and freshly grilled dried mackerel scad, which smelled delicious. Last was blanched spinach with dashi broth, as well as pickles. It wasn’t as good as the work of a professional chef, but she was nonetheless quite proud of how it turned out.

Accompanied by Yurie, she picked up the breakfast tray and headed to the living room. There they found Kiyoka, sitting cross-legged as he pored over a newspaper. It was the first time she’d seen Kiyoka in his military uniform. He cut a dashing figure with the top of his shirt leisurely unbuttoned.

Yurie had told her it was customary in this house to serve food on trays with legs, so the dining table had been put away. Miyo noticed wooden chairs left in a corner of the room.

“Good morning, Young Master. Breakfast is ready.”

“Morning. Yurie, don’t call me that in front of people.”

Kiyoka was stunning even while pouting. So much so that Miyo became overwhelmed and had to avert her gaze.

“Young Master, it was Miss Saimori who prepared your breakfast this morning.”

At that, he seemed to finally realize Miyo was also in the room. He folded his newspaper and looked at her with narrowed eyes. She was so used to being ignored that she’d have been happy to have gone unnoticed. If anything, the sudden scrutiny made her uncomfortable.

“…Did she, now?”

“She did. And she was so adept that I just left her to it.”

Miyo braced herself for his fury. For him to shout that his future wife shouldn’t be dirtying her hands with such work. But as she was about to find out, Kiyoka had very different concerns than she could have imagined.

“Sit over there,” he commanded, his gaze as steely as his tone of voice.

She sat down in front of the breakfast tray she’d just placed before him. Kiyoka wasn’t reaching for his chopsticks.

“You try it first.”

“S-sorry…?”

She couldn’t possibly begin her meal before the head of the household. Her family had drilled it into her that her betters ate first, so now she was hesitant to comply with his request. At Yurie’s insistence, she’d brought her own tray, too, but it hadn’t crossed her mind that he would ask to have breakfast together. She hadn’t thought she was allowed to.

When Kiyoka saw that Miyo made no move to eat, his expression turned even more grim.

“You won’t eat it?”

The deep growl of his voice made her shudder, which he promptly misinterpreted.

“I, um…”

“Hmph. You poisoned it, didn’t you? It was only too obvious.”

“What…?”

“Poison?!”

Kiyoka ignored Yurie’s shout. He stood up from the floor.

“I won’t eat food that might have been tampered with. Take it away. You’ll have to try harder next time.”

With that, he left the room. Flustered, Yurie followed after him, leaving Miyo on her own. She turned deathly pale as it finally sank in that Kiyoka suspected her of making an attempt on his life. He wouldn’t eat food someone he didn’t trust had prepared… Just then, she remembered that her father, too, was always on his guard. Being in power meant living with the constant threat of assassination. Kiyoka must have also been targeted numerous times; men of high status feared poison above all other methods of murder.

How could I have been so blind?

She’d only just arrived and had already asked Yurie to let her do the cooking. Anyone would find it suspicious that a young lady from a noble family volunteered herself for the task and did it well. Maybe that hadn’t occurred to Miyo because she was desperately trying to make herself useful to avoid being put out on the streets. She’d failed and made a grave error right from the start. If only she’d stayed put. She was thankful that he hadn’t cut her down on the spot.

She picked up the chopsticks with her trembling hand and took one bite of the rice, which had dried out a bit by then. Even though it was nothing new for her to eat a cold meal alone, somehow the food felt as heavy as if she were eating stones.

The Special Anti-Grotesquerie Unit was an elite squad within the Imperial Army. It had been formed to deal with supernatural incidents. All members of the unit possessed Spirit-Sight and often other paranormal powers as well. Any type of supernatural ability was exceedingly rare, however, and those with the Gift were almost exclusively of noble birth. Since few aristocrats were willing to risk their life in military service, those who joined the Special Anti-Grotesquerie Unit tended to be eccentric. And thanks to its narrow area of focus, it was both chronically shorthanded and relatively unknown.

The commander of this unit, Kiyoka Kudou, was now absolutely swamped with paperwork. While one had to demonstrate unparalleled skill to rise to a position of leadership within the unit, the work itself was mostly office-based, so he rarely got to participate in missions. Though he would personally tend to particularly difficult assignments or situations that warranted his direct involvement and would sometimes receive orders from above requesting his presence, his current priority was getting through the piled-up paperwork.

Today, however, he found himself uncharacteristically unfocused. He knew the reason—he kept thinking back to what had transpired that morning. Yet, he couldn’t do anything to get it off his mind.

“I won’t eat food that might have been tampered with.”

He had left the new girl to mull over his words and returned to his room to get ready for the day. Yurie had followed him, full of reproach.

“That was no way to speak to a lady. Miss Saimori tried her very best to make that breakfast for you. If I am any judge of character, she isn’t the poisoning type!”

Kiyoka still found it hard to argue with Yurie, who’d raised him in place of his mother, but this time he was determined to stand his ground. He would not eat a meal made by someone he’d only just met and who hadn’t earned his trust yet. It had been a necessary precaution. Especially in light of her being a Saimori. Given how close in rank they were to his family, they could easily be plotting to assassinate him to seize his social position. It made sense for him to be cautious. But if his actions had been logical, then why did he feel uncomfortable about what he’d done even before Yurie told him off?

“Young Master, may I tell you something?”

“Go on.”

Yurie insisted that Miyo Saimori was somehow different from all the previous bridal candidates. Kiyoka had received many marriage proposals, more than a couple dozen. But none of the women had proved to be suitable for him. Some had indignantly turned away at first sight of his modest house. Some had angrily voiced their discontent, asserting it was ridiculous for a man of his stature to be living in a pitiful cottage. Still others had been sweet with Kiyoka but had pushed Yurie around behind his back, and yet more who’d been full of complaints, who’d disliked the food, who’d demanded a different personal room, and so on.

Kiyoka was sufficiently self-aware to know that his choice of domicile was unusual to say the least, but he was fed up with women who didn’t even bother trying to understand the man they might end up marrying, instead criticizing him outright. He was a proud man and conscious of his importance—that he wouldn’t deny. But he was neither conceited nor bossy, he thought, so he wouldn’t stand those traits in other people, either. That had always been the deal breaker.

“I like her,” said Yurie. “She’s considerate and helpful, unlike any of the girls before.”

“…Hmph.”

He’d stolen a look at Miyo when he’d left the living room. Her expression had been impassive but had also somehow given him the impression that she’d been about to cry. Now that Yurie mentioned it, Miyo did seem different from his other suitors.

As he headed out for work, he found Miyo waiting for him by the front door, expressionless as earlier.

“Have a good day.”

She bowed her head mechanically, nothing tearful in her manner this time.

“I’ll see you later.”

With her head so low to the ground, she reminded him of a servant. What had this girl’s upbringing been like? Someone of her status wouldn’t normally have behaved so humbly.

It’s too early to make a decision about her, he concluded while looking through his paperwork. He wasn’t planning on keeping her around too long, but although she was a strange one, so far he didn’t dislike her. There was also the fact that this marriage offer seemed almost too good to pass up on.

What’s this now—I can’t get a girl out of my mind while I’m working? I’m losing my touch. He heaved a sigh and forced himself to concentrate on the documents in front of him.

Kiyoka returned home long after the sun had set. Miyo came out to greet him, once again kowtowing at the door.

“Welcome home.”

“…Thank you.”

“Um, if I may,” she began timidly when he was taking off his boots, her face unreadable as usual, gaze directed at the floor.

“What is it?”

“…I apologize for my brazen and thoughtless actions this morning. It’s only natural for a man of your standing to refuse food from someone he can’t trust. I should have realized that.”

“…”

“Yurie has prepared the entirety of our dinner tonight, and I will be merely serving it. I swear on my honor that I haven’t poisoned anything. Please, sir…”

She was pleading for his forgiveness, groveling on the floor. He would have understood if she was angry with him, but her apology made him deeply uncomfortable. Especially with how pitiful she was being. Her conduct made him feel guilty, as though he’d forced this apology on her. As if he was bullying this fragile girl who bowed before him, trembling slightly.

“I didn’t really think you’d poisoned my food.” He was just being careful, warning her of his concerns. “I didn’t choose my words well, so I sounded too harsh.”

“N-not at all! It was my mistake.”

She shrank back in fear, looking even more pitiful. Kiyoka wasn’t trying to intimidate her, yet she was clearly terrified.

He scrutinized her, further strengthening his earlier impression of how she didn’t fit the image of a highborn girl. Her kimono was not just well-worn; it was flat-out shabby. The thinness of her neck and wrists could be explained only by malnutrition, and the long black hair she wore plainly tied back looked damaged and lifeless. On top of that, the skin on her hands was rough and cracked, as if she’d been cleaning or laundering daily. These days, even commoner girls from the city were more put together than her.

“Have you eaten yet?”

He couldn’t even see her head, which she’d barely raised to answer. “Ah… I, well…”

Kiyoka didn’t understand why she’d gone silent. He went into the living room and saw that only one tray of food had been set. If she’d already eaten, she could have just said so. It seemed lying wasn’t her strong suit.

“So you haven’t eaten? Why is there no food tray for you?”

Seeing her eyes nervously darting this way and that unnerved him. He assumed it was a universal custom for families and couples to eat their meals together, but maybe he was wrong. Or else this girl simply didn’t understand her position. He sighed.

Anxiety was eating Miyo alive that day. She’d foolishly cooked for a man who was wary of poisoning. It had resulted not only in the meal going to waste but also in Kiyoka going without breakfast. Were he truly as merciless as the rumors said, he’d have gotten rid of her at once. Regardless, it was only a matter of time before he kicked her out, like all his previous fiancées and prospective brides. Yurie had told her to pay it no mind, as if that were even possible. Miyo had no home to go back to. Maybe she should start looking for some place where she could work as a live-in maid. She wondered if she was cursed, doomed to upset people wherever she went.

When she made Kiyoka sigh in exasperation only a few minutes after returning from work, fear stabbed her chest like a knife. She bit her lip.

“Did Yurie not make food for you?” he asked.

No, no, he thought. I shouldn’t doubt Yurie. Miyo failed to notice the lack of hostility in his eyes or his nonthreatening tone. She panicked.

“I-it’s not her fault…”

Miyo had told Yurie not to make dinner for her because she’d finish off what was left from breakfast. She’d eaten a little bit for lunch but had handed over the rest to the food-waste collector from a nearby village. It hadn’t been because she hadn’t wanted to eat it—she really had—but after years of eating only one meal per day, her stomach had shrunk, and her earlier faux pas had ruined her appetite. This wasn’t something she wanted to confess to Kiyoka, though, since she feared how he might take it. Also, if she told him the truth, he would ask her why she wasn’t eating properly at her home and would find out about how her family had treated her there—something she preferred to keep under wraps.

“I… I had no appetite. I told Yurie not to cook for me.”

“Is that so? Are you feeling unwell?”

“No, I… I simply don’t feel like eating at times.”

Sensing that Kiyoka was losing patience, she gave an evasive answer. In truth, her appetite wasn’t a problem—back home, she just didn’t always get to eat.

“If you say so.”

He sounded tired. Miyo felt some relief, taking his concern about her health as a sign that he wasn’t thinking about telling her to pack her bags and leave just yet. He sighed again, told her he was going to get changed, and went to his study, which served as his bedroom.

He’s not an unkind man.

She thought back to what Yurie had told her when she’d arrived. “I know there are many nasty rumors about the young master circling around, but he’s actually a good-natured person. You needn’t be so afraid, really.”

Nevertheless, she was still afraid of him. He seldom smiled, and his eyes and voice that morning had been so cold that just remembering them was almost enough to make her shake like a leaf. Somehow his extraordinary beauty only made him more frightening.

And yet, his apology had caught her by surprise. He’d even asked if she was unwell. Slowly but surely, Miyo was discovering that Kiyoka wasn’t as heartless as she’d initially taken him to be.

“It’s gone cold,” Kiyoka grumbled after taking a bite of his dinner.

Yurie had prepared the meal and elegantly plated it for him earlier without reheating it, so his food was now lukewarm. Her work finished, she had already left the house. Kiyoka allowed her to leave early, since she commuted.

“I’m very sorry…”

“This isn’t your fault. Why do you apologize with every breath?”

Miyo was sitting diffidently against the wall, ready to respond in case he needed anything. He glanced at her sharply, and she lowered her head. Her constant apologizing was another habit she’d brought from home. Whenever she somehow managed to annoy her stepmother or half sister, they showered her in abuse, and her only recourse would be an abject apology. Their torment escalated if she didn’t apologize at once, so it had become a reflex. But she couldn’t reveal this to Kiyoka, so she sat in silence, staring at the floor.

“You won’t say?”

“I’m so—”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, cutting her short.

While his voice was quiet, it held authority that commanded immediate obedience.

“Don’t apologize. Do it too often, and it loses its meaning.”

He was probably right, but she wasn’t sure if she could suppress that ingrained response.

“Thank you for the meal.”

Kiyoka set his chopsticks down, having finished his food before she knew it. His gorgeous appearance contrasted with his cold, intimidating demeanor. Miyo still found the stories of him being merciless and able to kill in cold blood believable, yet his mannerisms were utterly refined, without a trace of brusqueness. His gracefulness would befit a sheltered maiden from a noble house. Could this military man actually have a gentle spirit, like Yurie had said?

“I, um… I’ll go and heat up bathwater for you—”

He shook his head before she could finish with “right away.”

“I can take care of it.”

“But…”

“I’ve always done this myself. The bath here isn’t like in most homes. It’s difficult for anyone other than me to operate it.”

“How so?”

“It harnesses supernatural powers to heat the water. Yurie can’t use it, either.”

Miyo had heard that pyromancy was one of the powers his Gift bestowed, but it hadn’t occurred to her that it could be applied to heating up bathwater. I really am clueless about such things. Despite both her parents having the Gift in their bloodlines, she’d been born without so much as Spirit-Sight. One more reason why she wasn’t fit to wed Kiyoka, an aristocrat with extraordinary supernatural abilities.

“Is something the matter?”

“N-no, nothing at all.”

She surmised he didn’t know of her lack of special powers. While he didn’t seem particularly interested in what the potential brides knocking at his door would bring to the table, he must have expected her to at least have Spirit-Sight on account of her lineage.

I shouldn’t be the one to marry him.

She wasn’t right for him. Kiyoka Kudou could do better than take her for a wife. A woman like Kaya, perfect in every way, would suit him so much more.

Later on, while Miyo was diligently cleaning up after dinner in the kitchen, Kiyoka checked in on her. He was dressed in light pajamas and fresh from his bath. Miyo tilted her head questioningly, and he explained he wanted her to make breakfast for him again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t eat what you made for me this morning. You can make breakfast again tomorrow.”

Kiyoka seemed relaxed after his bath, his threatening aura less intense. Although his brow was slightly furrowed, as if what he was saying to Miyo didn’t come easily, his overall appearance was more youthful somehow, different from before.

Miyo was generally quick to agree to anything required of her, but the reason she’d upset him that morning was still fresh in her mind.

“Are you… Are you certain you want me to do that?”

“Yes. But if you do poison it, I will show no mercy.”

“I would never dare do such a thing!”

She shook her head in horror. Of course, she didn’t even have the knowledge to poison anyone, nor would anyone choose her to attempt killing Kiyoka. If her father had wanted him dead, he’d have sent a trained assassin. All her father, stepmother, and half sister expected of her was rejection and ostracization.

“Then we won’t have a problem.”

He turned to walk away with a neutral—or perhaps satisfied—look on his face.

“Y-yes, sir…,” she mumbled, confused.

Bathed in sunshine, Kiyoka’s dwelling had a warm atmosphere. Birds were singing outside. But for Miyo, this beautiful home was no sanctuary.

“Splendid. Kaya, you possess Spirit-Sight. Kanoko, you have done well for giving me a Gifted daughter,” said Miyo’s father.

She remembered that day very well. It had happened before the events she’d dreamed of last night. She realized she was dreaming once again, this time about the day when Kaya had been found to possess the Gift.

“You should have expected no less of my daughter.”

Miyo’s stepmother was glowing with pride. Her father nodded with satisfaction. Kaya laughed joyously. They made the perfect picture of a happy family, but there was no place for Miyo among them. She wasn’t considered family. Her exclusion began well before they started treating her like a servant. No matter how hard she tried to please them, she wasn’t allowed into their circle of warmth.

“Did you hear, they found that Kaya has Spirit-Sight?”

“And she’s only three! That’s amazing.”

“Still nothing for Miyo, though.”

“There’s apparently not much of a chance of her turning out to be Gifted.”

“You’d think she would be, considering both her parents were.”

“Poor thing just doesn’t have it.”

The gossip echoed in her head. She was gradually diminishing in value, losing a place where she could belong. She could feel the change in the air as everyone in the house started worshipping Kaya and devoted less and less attention to Miyo. In hindsight, that had also been when Kaya’s attitude toward her half sister had shifted toward contempt.

Miyo loathed this memory. When they’d started using her as a servant, it had been hard on her physically, but before that, she’d already been suffering mental anguish. She’d been only a little girl, but already her fragile psyche was being torn to pieces.

“They don’t want me.”

She vividly remembered the day when she’d whispered that to herself. She hadn’t even been ten years old when she’d understood that the Saimori family hadn’t wanted her, a girl with no supernatural abilities to speak of, not even Spirit-Sight, and no other noteworthy qualities. Her maid, Hana, had burst into tears, had said how awful it was for a girl of her age to be denied parental love.

How was Hana getting on now? She hadn’t seen the maid once since her sudden dismissal while Miyo had been locked up in the storehouse. Hana had still been young then. Miyo hoped she’d married a good man and was living happily somewhere.

Yet again, Miyo awoke with tears streaming down her face. This made two nightmares in a row—luck really wasn’t on her side. Perhaps they were a warning, a reminder that she never forget just how worthless she was.

I do remember.

She was painfully aware that she was so ordinary in every respect that no one had a use for her.

She used to wish she’d been born into some other family. She wouldn’t have minded if they were commoners or if they might have been struggling a bit, as long as they’d loved her. Hana should never see me like this. Her former maid would be so sad to see what had become of her precious charge.

Quietly rising from bed, Miyo folded her futon before changing out of the yukata she’d slept in and into her day clothes. That was when she noticed that one of her kimonos was torn. The plain indigo cotton kimono had seen more than its fair share of wear. It’s no good anymore, she thought. It was the seam at the back that had come apart; the stitching must have become damaged over time and eventually broken the thread. Since the edges of the seam had turned threadbare after innumerable past repairs, she probably wouldn’t be able to fix it again. As she examined it, she could also see that some of the other seams were about to give, too. One of the servants had given Miyo the kimono after she’d grown out of it. It had already been quite old when Miyo had received it, so this had been a long time coming.

Still, it was quite a problem, since she had so few items of clothing to begin with. She might soon find herself without anything to wear at all. The new kimono her father had given her when he’d sent her away was for special occasions, so she had to be careful not to get it dirty. Besides, it was a bit too showy to use as everyday wear.

Miyo decided she would try to mend the torn garment after all, provided that Yurie lent her a sewing kit. She finished getting dressed and went looking for the old lady, trying the kitchen first. It was around when she’d started cooking by herself the day before, but this time Yurie was already there.

“Oh, good morning, Miss Saimori.”

“Good morning, Yurie.”

Why did she come so early today? The question must have showed in Miyo’s eyes, because Yurie smiled and hurried with an explanation.

“I was a little worried after yesterday, so I thought I’d best come in early. What should we do about breakfast?”

“Ah, yes… About that…”

Yurie had arrived early in case Miyo wanted to prepare breakfast again so that she could oversee her cooking and vouch for the safety of the food to assuage Kiyoka’s concerns. But there was no longer any need for that. Miyo relayed to her what Kiyoka had told her last night.

“How typical of the young master, too proud to be honest and say he really wants to try your cooking.”

“I don’t think that’s the case…”

“Heh-heh. Miss, would you permit me to lend you a hand?”

“Y-yes, of course.”

The menu for that morning was thick-sliced fried tofu, rolled omelet, stir-fried burdock root with carrot, and blanched leafy vegetables in sesame sauce, complemented by the usual white rice and miso soup. While these dishes frequently appeared on the table at the Saimori house, Yurie’s way of cooking them was slightly different from how the Saimori chefs had prepared them. She didn’t obsess over julienning the vegetables into exactly uniform shapes or frying the tofu and omelet until they were perfectly golden. She judged the right amount of salt and spices by eye rather than measure everything precisely, and she didn’t fuss over the choice or placement of crockery or the artistic presentation of the food. This was probably how home cooking was supposed to be. For better or for worse, professional chefs prepared food to an entirely different standard, one which amateurs could scarcely hope to imitate.

Since no one had ever taught Miyo how to cook, she was learning a lot from watching Yurie. The older woman first chopped the carrots and burdock root into thin strips, then set them aside and blanched the leafy greens in boiling water. She seasoned eggs for the omelet with soup stock, soy sauce, and sugar. The firm tofu she fried until browned on the sides was homemade.

“You’re an early riser, aren’t you, miss?”

“Yes, I’ve always been that way.”

The old woman nodded, impressed.

“Yurie, there’s something I wanted to ask you…”

“Yes?”

“Is there a sewing kit here that I could use?”

“There is. I can bring it to your room later.”

“Thank you.”

Miyo heaved a sigh of relief. Even daughters of aristocrats would often do some sewing, so her request hadn’t raised any suspicions. Most blue-blooded girls wouldn’t need to borrow sewing supplies from a servant, though.

They chatted while putting the meal together. By the time the kitchen had filled with the aroma of freshly fried tofu entwined with the mouthwatering sweet-and-spicy smell of stir-fried burdock and carrot, they were done.

Like the day before, they loaded the breakfast trays with food and carried them to the living room just as Kiyoka appeared.

“Morning.”

“Good morning.”

Seeing him dressed in his uniform made Miyo tense up again. His handsomeness made her feel even more insecure. She of all people was to become the wife of this dashing man? It was so absurd.

The living room wasn’t very spacious, so she and Kiyoka sat facing each other. Miyo wanted to move her tray farther away from him, but he stopped her with a stern look.

“Shall we eat?”

“Y-yes.”

Yet, she made no move to pick up her chopsticks, earning another suspicious glance from him.

“You have to eat, too.”

“I’m sor… I mean, yes.”

Ill at ease, she reached for the chopsticks and began her meal almost simultaneously with Kiyoka. The food tasted okay, but she feared he wouldn’t like it, no doubt being accustomed to fine cuisine. She nervously awaited his verdict as he daintily tried a little of a side dish and took a sip of the miso soup.

“…It’s good.”

“!”

“You season it a bit differently than Yurie, but it’s not bad.”

He said it so naturally that she could tell he was being honest. And yet, she scarcely believed her ears. He actually liked the food she made for him. The time she’d spent learning to cook by trial and error had paid off at last. It had been so many years since someone had praised her or recognized her efforts. A strange feeling welled up in her chest.

“That’s… That’s very kind of you to say,” she squeaked, managing to get the words out despite the tightness in her throat.

“……Why are you crying?”

Big tears rolled down her face one after the other before she’d even realized.

After Miyo’s tears stopped flowing, the rest of breakfast passed in peace, though they still didn’t make conversation. Kiyoka returned to his room, thinking of her. The image of her obsidian eyes turning glassy and then glistening with tears was seared into his memory.

At first, he’d been confused, thinking his remark had upset her, even though he’d intended it as praise. Maybe comparing her cooking with Yurie’s had offended her. He’d felt a little pang of self-reproach over his thoughtless remark. Nonetheless, he’d indeed thought the food had been good. Even though it had been different from Yurie’s usual fare, he’d been genuinely impressed by how much he’d found it to his liking. He’d spoken his mind unthinkingly, not imagining his statement would have been something to weep over.

Having never consoled a woman before, he was at a loss, not to mention internally panicking.

“P-please…for…forgive me…”

She haltingly offered further apologies.

“…I told you to stop apologizing.”

Here she was crying and asking for forgiveness, which left him even more confused. The high-and-mighty women who’d preceded her would sometimes turn hysterical when they couldn’t get their way, so he’d felt no remorse showing them the door. But now he was sheepish.

“I’m… I’m so sorry for my outburst. I was… I was so happy, and the tears wouldn’t stop coming,” Miyo replied with embarrassment as she gradually calmed down.

Knitting his brows, Kiyoka listened in earnest. Although she timidly told him this was the first time someone had ever praised her cooking, he sensed that this wasn’t the sole reason she’d been so overwhelmed with emotion. She was an enigma. What had her life been like before coming to his house? What environment had she grown up in; what sort of people had been around her; how had she been raised? You could usually guess a person’s background after speaking with them for a while, but this girl was different. Perhaps he couldn’t figure her out because she had nothing in common with any of the former bridal candidates he’d met.

Adjusting the collar of his shirt, he shut his eyes to banish the image of her weeping.

“Yurie, correct me if I’m wrong…” He spoke to Yurie, who’d joined him in his room to help him get ready to go out. “Would you say this girl was raised…differently than most noblewomen?”

Ever since the day before, he’d had this feeling that something was off. He’d considered that her humility might have simply been an act meant to convince him she’d make a good wife, but her tears that morning had been genuine; he was certain of it. Simple praise had made her sob with joy.

“I should think so, yes,” Yurie replied with a solemn look on her face. She must have had some suspicions of her own.

“Do you think she would talk if I brought it up with her?”

“I doubt it…”

He could ask Miyo directly about her life at the Saimori house, but he also got the impression she was reluctant to talk about herself.

“Yurie.”

“Yes, Young Master?”

“I want you to keep a close eye on her, but be discreet about it. I’m going to see what I can learn about her family from the outside.”

He couldn’t marry someone he knew nothing about. Regardless of whether he would keep her, there was no harm in investigating her background at the earliest opportunity. Yurie nodded in acknowledgment, but then she looked up at him with a mischievous smile.

“I shall do as you ask. But, my, it is most unusual for you to be so intrigued by a fiancée, Young Master.”

“……I don’t need you pointing that out.”

He had to admit that no previous marriage candidate had caught his attention as much as Miyo had. No other noblewoman would patiently wait for his permission to look up at him after he’d ignored her bowing in greeting. These days, not even servants were so self-abasing, unless their employers were truly draconian.

“No need to be so shy about it.”

“I’m not being shy, and my interest in her is not of the kind you’re insinuating.”

“Well, I’m merely saying that with this attitude, you’ll be a bachelor forever.”

“…”

Just as he was about to tell her off for that impertinent comment, memories of the women who’d fled from him within a few days of their arrival, crying or screaming in anger, rushed back to him. He didn’t regret driving them away, although those moments made him question whether he was husband material. He didn’t know if he was being difficult, but he certainly didn’t want to marry a woman like his own mother, a stereotypical rich girl.

“Personally, I think Miyo would be a lovely wife to you.”

“So you’ve decided she’s the one?”

“Yes.”

“With that much confidence, one would think you’re in charge here.”

It was only Miyo’s third day at Kiyoka’s house, but Yurie had already taken to her.

“Well, you know what to do,” he added.

“Yes, you can leave it to me, Young Master. I will make sure to extol all your virtues to her.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

While he was still slightly uneasy about this whole matter, this was the best way of handling things. He could trust Yurie to be tactful.

Decades had passed since the capital had moved from west to east. The city was home to a mind-boggling number of eminent houses, be they military families, aristocrats by birth, or people who’d been awarded peerage in recognition of their services. Then there were those without court rank who, either owing to their wealth or artistic merits, were nevertheless considered members of the upper echelons of society.

Kiyoka’s education had been strict and thorough, yet even he couldn’t list all these distinguished individuals. Since the Saimoris were also a Gifted family, he knew their status and the name of the head of their household, but nothing else beyond that. He would have to do a little investigating.

I hope I won’t discover any skeletons in their closet.

There were so few families with the Gift. He sighed, wondering if his prying might expose something that would discredit them.

Over at the Saimori home, two middle-aged men sat opposite each other, engaged in conversation. Despite their casual attire, the tension between them was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

One of the men was Minoru Tatsuishi, the head of the Tatsuishi household and Kouji’s father. He made no effort to cloak his agitation and displeasure as he accused the other man, Shinichi Saimori, of having reneged on their promise.

“Whatever do you mean?”

Shinichi was playing dumb, though one could surmise from his demeanor that he suspected what Minoru was getting at. The neutral expression on Shinichi’s unremarkable face only further incensed Minoru.

“Don’t take me for some fool. Why did you offer Miyo to Kudou? I told you I wanted her for my son.”

“Ah, is this what you’re so wound up about?”

Shinichi leaned back as if relieved that the matter was so trivial. While Gifted families were rare, there were still quite a few in the old capital, so there was no lack of suitable brides for Minoru’s second son. Truth be told, he didn’t understand why Kouji would insist on a girl who didn’t even possess Spirit-Sight, but to each his own.

“Between your son and Kudou, he was unarguably the better choice.”

The Kudou family outranked the Tatsuishis. It was unlikely that they would accept Miyo, but if by some fluke they did, the Saimoris would establish valuable ties with a powerful house. Minoru was aware that Shinichi had no expectations for his firstborn daughter and didn’t care much what happened to her, but if there was an advantage to be potentially gained from offering her to Kudou, Shinichi would gladly take that bet.

The relations between the Tatsuishi and Saimori families went back a long way, so Minoru understood Shinichi’s motivations. Yet, he wouldn’t be placated so easily when the other man had clearly played him for a fool.

“Miyo’s mother comes from the Usuba bloodline. I wanted that Gift for my heirs.”

“But Miyo didn’t inherit the Usubas’ Gift.”

Minoru was seething with rage, yet Shinichi remained unperturbed, not looking guilty in the slightest.

It was clear by the age of five whether a person possessed the Gift. If they developed Spirit-Sight by then, they might also have other dormant powers. Miyo still didn’t have Spirit-Sight at nineteen, so she was a write-off. She would bring no merit to the family, at least not directly.

“She might bear children with the skill.”

“Are you so desperate for the Usubas’ Gift?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in the power to manipulate people’s minds! The Kudou family is formidable as is, and yet you seem intent on making them even stronger. What will become of the likes of us?”

“If Kudou returns her, hopeless as she is, you’re welcome to have her. She’ll probably weep with gratitude.”

Minoru couldn’t stop himself from quietly clicking his tongue with disgust. The Kudou family was so powerful that the Usubas’ Gift wouldn’t be especially desirable for them, and this Kiyoka Kudou was unusually picky about his wife-to-be, so he wouldn’t be interested in an ordinary girl like Miyo. As Shinichi had said, it was almost certain he would send her back. And yet, Minoru despised Shinichi for this line of thinking. The head of the Saimori family so worshipped his younger daughter that he was blind to the value of his eldest. And not only was this madman discarding a goose laying golden eggs, but he was also thwarting Minoru’s plans.

“Are you saying you no longer consider Miyo to be in your charge?”

“Correct, I’m disowning her. Whether she lives or dies, I honestly don’t care what happens to her.”

“I understand.”

Minoru wasn’t going to let Kudou snatch away his prize. He swore deep down that he would ensure his son would be the one to marry Miyo.