"You went too far."
Cider said, taking out a handkerchief and covering Esperanza's hand.
"Ah, this is fine."
While Cider wiped between her fingers, Esperanza set down her cup with her other hand and took a deep breath. Her head was still dazed. She couldn't have misheard, could she? But Cider's calm face was telling her that what she heard was true.
"Why a will... you're not really sick somewhere, are you?"
An incredulous laugh returned to her serious question.
"Esperanza, you were the one who said I was going to die."
It was a story that went back to the day they first met. It had only been a little over half a year, but somehow it felt like the distant past.
Back then, it was Esperanza who had declared Cider Claiborne's death to him. That's right. That's how it was...
"I did that. I said you were going to die."
"That's right."
She had completely forgotten. Cider Claiborne didn't seem at all like someone who had learned of his destined death, and seemed like he wouldn't die even if killed. And most of all.
"But back then, that was... I just thought, I could protect you, so..."
Cider smiled.
"I appreciate those words, but my lady. Neither you nor I know exactly when or how I'll die. And you can't always be by my side to protect me."
She wanted to ask why not, but Esperanza knew well too. How easy had it been for the dungeon to separate the two of them? She couldn't guarantee there wouldn't be such threats again in the future. And she couldn't think that Cider would always be safe from such dangers.
Nevertheless, Esperanza said this. With the utmost conviction.
"...It's good to prepare. But you won't die."
Cider's gaze touched Esperanza's cheek. The distance was a little closer than before. Like when he had picked a flower and placed it by her ear, like when he had almost unconsciously kissed her in a dream-like moment. Or like the moment they lay in the golden field looking at each other.
He asked with sunken eyes.
"Are you certain?"
"I'm certain."
"Good. Then I'll trust you and have to change the contents of my will."
His straight finger lightly tapped the armrest of the chair. Cider whispered as if letting it slip.
"Really... this has become troublesome."
What does that mean? But the moment their eyes met, Esperanza could tell he wouldn't give her an answer.
Cider put the book he had been reading on the tray and brought a thick, dusty book from a corner of the bookshelf he rarely visited. 'Magic Stone Refining Research.' It was a field he usually paid no attention to. That felt like a sign not to ask any more questions.
Esperanza also quietly got up from her seat, took the fishing game board she had been absorbed in, and went to sit at a table a little further away. Then she wound the spring frantically, set the fishing board to maximum speed, and blankly lowered her fishing rod.
They had clearly been having a conversation, she thought they had reached some agreement, but it turned out they had been speaking from completely different premises. Then what had they talked about that night? Her head was complicated.
Moreover, there was the problem of Cider's death, which she hadn't factored into her calculations until then. Of course, Esperanza would protect him, but there were limits to that too. If Cider lost his life caught up in a Monster Crisis as expected, Esperanza could help. But she couldn't prevent him from waking up in the morning, stepping on a banana peel, falling, and cracking the back of his head.
People could really die at unexpected moments, in unexpected ways.
She shook her head firmly with her lips pressed tight. As if showing herself.
Cider Claiborne wouldn't die like that. So Esperanza would be able to prevent death that came at unexpected times.
At most a year, in reality probably a couple of months. Since there weren't many months left until 1838. She would save him, and it wouldn't be too late to return after that. Probably.
But even though she had declared she would save him.
'What's troublesome?'
Why had Cider said that? As if living was more problematic than dying. It was hard to understand why such a young, promising person with honor and glory predetermined would think of death so easily. But thinking about the Cider that Esperanza had observed, she vaguely thought it made sense.
It wasn't that Cider wanted to die. He enjoyed life quite well. But he wouldn't try to run away when facing the moment of death. He felt interest, pleasure, and passion, but didn't think of them as driving forces that he must live for tomorrow. His inner self was calm because he wasn't swept away.
Was it because he had too much, or because he had nowhere to attach his affections?
'Then am I at least a place to attach affections?'
Would he think he didn't want to die if Esperanza was there? She hoped so. Esperanza hoped, with a little shyness, to have that meaning to Cider.
But if that were true, what would happen after Esperanza left?
One corner of her chest grew cold. Had he said it didn't matter if Esperanza left because he thought he would die anyway?
Then what about now?
❀⋆｡°✿☆❀✿°｡⋆❀
Esperanza's face as she cast her toy fishing rod looked quite troubled. Cider put down the book he had been absorbed in and looked at her slightly haggard-looking cheeks. It wasn't that he hadn't thought about what to do in case he 'didn't die.' But...
'It's not time to say it yet.'
Magnetic fish came up in a string on the mechanically cast fishing rod. This happened even though the board was spinning very fast because she had wound the spring frantically. The board was empty in just a couple of tries. Then her white fingers would mechanically put the fish back in like an automaton and repeat winding the spring.
Cider forced himself to turn his eyes to his book. Though Esperanza's reaction of seeming to have completely forgotten the fact that he was about to die was concerning, time was pressing.
The research he was about to start was, unusually for him, something he couldn't guarantee success in. Though it wasn't something he should say as a researcher, much of it had to be left to luck. Would Esperanza be happy to hear this story? He couldn't guarantee that either.
"Esperanza."
Esperanza, who had just caught five magnetic fish with her fishing rod, opened her eyes wide.
"Won't you come over here?"
Esperanza hesitated for a moment, then moved with her fishing board.
"You're not reading your book anymore?"
"I'd rather watch what you're doing."
"Well, do as you like."
Two games quickly passed in an instant. Fish caught in strings every time she cast her rod—even Cider, who had no interest in such games, couldn't help but admire.
"You're really good at this."
"I'm good at anything that involves using my body."
"...Ah, is that so?"
Their eyes met. Cider smiled slightly. The large hand that had been holding her fingertips moved up the back of her hand, put his thumb inside her sleeve, and gently stroked down. While their gazes were intertwined.
What broke the sensitively taut silence was the sound of sudden knocking. Knock, knock. The tense atmosphere slackened helplessly at the two sounds. When Esperanza burst into a giggle, Cider also clicked his tongue.
"It's probably Millen. Or that maid who acts like your lover."
"What do you mean Annie's my lover? Who's outside?"
"Count, Miss. It's Coleman."
What's the butler doing here?
"Then it must be some trivial invitation."
Cider grumbled in a whisper, then raised his voice.
"Come in."
As expected, Coleman came carrying invitations stacked on a silver tray. This was exactly the same as Butler Howard at the Nine Holder mansion. Coleman, who had set down the tray, spoke before Cider could even ask.
"I'm keeping the business cards of those who have visited the mansion so far, and since everyone in the country knows about the Count's conduct, it wouldn't be a problem if I wrote rejection replies on your behalf. Though it would be discourteous."
The good thing about being a nationally famous eccentric was that no one expected anything.
"However, you should check this invitation personally."
Coleman handed the invitation to Cider. Cider tilted the invitation toward Esperanza.
"It's a ball invitation from the Boyle family. Hasn't this come several times already?"
"You are quite right, Miss."
The butler looked at Esperanza once as if looking at an honor student, then turned his gaze to Cider as if looking at a terrible underachiever.
"What you should see is the business card attached to the back."
"...Who attaches a business card to the back of an invitation?"
And so crudely at that.
"I was suspicious too, so I questioned the servant who brought the invitation, and he said a guest staying at that house asked him to deliver it together. He said he attached it himself so it wouldn't get lost."
"If it were my servant, I would have dismissed him."
"Yes. He deserves to be fired."
Only Esperanza tilted her head wondering 'Is that really such a big mistake?' She knew that upper-class etiquette was complicated to the point of being fussy, but she neither knew nor cared about the details.
"In any case, Miss Esperanza's name was written on that business card."
"My name?"
Esperanza leaned close toward Cider, who was holding the invitation. Coleman turned his gaze with a greatly shocked expression, but no one paid attention.
"Look."
Cider removed the business card and handed it over. She stared at the back where it was written . It wasn't 'Esperanza Hunter.' It was written as 'Hunter Esperanza,' and there was no comma commonly used when inverting surname and given name. As if referring to Esperanza who was a Hunter, not Miss Esperanza Hunter.
She slowly turned the business card over. Her fingertips trembled. Cider gestured for Coleman to leave and approached Esperanza's side. When large hands wrapped around her knees, Esperanza, who only then realized the fact, bit her trembling lips with her front teeth.
"Calm down."
"It's not a business card."
Both of their words burst out almost simultaneously.
"It's not a business card?"
On the stiff paper bordered with gold was written a name. 'Cyrus.' Only the name without a surname. Up to that point, though somewhat nouveau riche, it roughly met the standards of a business card. But the unfamiliar expression 'Hunter License' written below did not.
Cider silently looked at Esperanza. Esperanza's cheeks had also hardened stiffly. Esperanza's headache was worse than Cider's.
Was the Hunter License design already completed at this point? Had everything been prepared faster than expected? But what caught her eye the next moment was the issue date.
"1843..."