Chapter 114 - The Ball - 4

In the middle of the hall, where a slow melody filled the air, Renée stepped forward under Bera’s guidance.

Her left foot extended in the direction of their clasped hands, and her right followed. Together, they turned.

“Well done. Now catch your breath, and take one step at a time, starting with your right foot. Just four steps. Once you have done that, turn counterclockwise.”

Bera’s voice layered itself over the melody.

As his hand guided Renée, the tapping of two footsteps joined the melody as well.

She felt the skirts of her dress spread with a soft rustle as she moved. That sound, too, layered itself over the melody.

For a moment, Renée felt the strange sensation of walking upon the melody itself.

It was a wondrous feeling, as though this space were a musical score and their footsteps its notes, as though she and Bera were filling that empty score together.

Their breaths overlapped. Loosely entwined, they scattered with each circling movement. The moisture that had yet to drift away was sent flying by the tap of their footsteps. Then they moved again, the sequence repeated, and Bera’s voice sounded softly.

“Now, Saintess, you may go in whichever direction you wish. If we seem likely to collide with someone or leave the hall, I will change our course. Move without any worries.”

“... Yes.”

Her voice emerged as though she were dreaming.

No, perhaps this truly was a dream.

Renée was so amazed by her feet moving freely, so overwhelmed by the motion of spinning to the rhythm, that she danced with that dreamy expression throughout.

A thought came to her: Bera really did seem as skilled at physical movement as he claimed.

Wasn’t he? When his guidance could grant even a blind woman who could not take a single step without a cane the freedom to go anywhere, she could not imagine anyone else being as adept at controlling his body as Bera.

Wherever Bera touched her felt hot, as though held to a flame.

Their mingling breaths felt faintly intimate.

The distance between them, narrowing and widening little by little as they danced, filled her with an aching longing.

‘... Ah, this would be a good time to pretend to stumble.’

The thought came to her, only to subside at once.

If she lost her posture, she would break the mood. This moment would end.

She felt that letting this moment last even a little longer would make her happier than clinging to him that way, so she simply kept moving.

In this moment, her inability to see was no obstacle to Renée at all.

Bera was there, his presence perceptible even without sight, and she had two feet that could take her anywhere without a cane. Not being able to see posed no problem whatsoever.

No, it might even be right to say that her blindness had become a source of contentment.

After all, didn’t it allow her to feel Bera’s presence all the more vividly?

Renée thought.

Within herself, she wove into words an emotional resonance that was little more than a wandering thought, devoid of any logic.

Perhaps the gods had taken her light because a price had to be paid for her to meet Bera. Perhaps that light was the price a country farmer’s daughter with nothing to her name had needed to pay to meet him.

A smile formed on her lips.

Her pounding heart had, before she knew it, changed its rhythm, beginning to tremble in what felt like a faint vibration.

‘What a bargain.’

It struck her as a very small price to pay.

By giving up a mere light, she had gained a treasure she would trade for nothing. She had been able to become the light he longed for.

The thought led her to conclude that perhaps she had gained him for next to nothing, and gladness welled up within her.

* * *

After just one song—a brief span of a little over eight minutes—Renée returned to her original seat in the corner.

“... Thank you.”

Words of gratitude slipped out.

She was so grateful to Bera for giving her an experience she had never imagined, and the exhilaration of moving her feet freely still lingered in her body. Bera answered as though it were nothing remarkable.

“It is only natural. My duty is to fulfill anything you desire, Saintess.”

At his words, Renée formed a faint smile that seemed liable to vanish at any moment.

‘Anything.’

Did he realize just how much weight that word carried?

Was he saying it because he did not know what she truly wanted?

An unwarranted sense of resentment stirred in her, and she teased him.

“Then will you pluck a star from the sky for me?”

“I shall try—”

“Never mind. It was a joke.”

Renée giggled and leaned back in her chair. Their fingers were still interlaced.

Residual warmth lingered in her body. It traveled along her pulse to Bera, and his warmth reached her in return.

She idly fidgeted with his hand, her smile deepening.

‘... Bera is the same.’

His pulse beat just like hers.

Whether it was only their pulses that matched, or their feelings as well... she did not know.

So Renée arbitrarily declared to herself, ‘His feelings must be the same, too,’ and lowered her head.

Her cheeks grew hot.

No, not just her cheeks. Her entire body grew hot.

“... It’s warm in here.”

Really, what on earth had they done in here to make it so hot?

As she unfairly blamed the perfectly ordinary ballroom, Bera studied her complexion and replied.

“I believe it is because you have exerted yourself more than usual. Would you like to step onto a terrace for a moment?”

A terrace.

After considering it briefly, Renée nodded, and Bera led her away.

Holding Bera’s hand as she walked slowly, Renée pressed her lips together as her heart began to swell again.

Unless she did that, the words might burst out. The words “I like you so much” had risen to the very back of her throat.

Even as she wondered in bewilderment why her emotions were running so wild today, one line of thought kept tormenting her.

It was a series of questions springing from the words “what if.”

What if today was the day?

What if today was the day to release everything they had built together while constantly at each other’s side?

What if, once today passed, she would be unable to convey these feelings for a long time again?

Those thoughts kept churning through her mind.

It was something one might call intuition.

Like anyone else, Renée, too, was being drawn along by a strange instinct that logic could not explain.

Her expression set, she made her decision.

‘... I have to.’

It had to be today.

If she was to tell him how she felt, she had to do it here, on this day.

Yet, cruelly enough, even while that instinct threw her entire being into turmoil, her shyness showed no sign of diminishing.

Dismay and frustration welled up within Renée, and she bit her lip.

‘... No.’

She could not go on like this.

An idea occurred to her, and she raised her hand slightly.

She had caught the footsteps of a passing attendant, along with the sound of liquid sloshing.

“Saintess?”

Bera called to her. Ignoring him, Renée spoke to the attendant.

“Could I have a cocktail?”

“Y-yes!”

The attendant replied in a flustered voice and offered her a glass, which Renée accepted.

Horror appeared on Bera’s face.

“Saintess, that is—”

“It’s just one glass. I’ll be fine.”

She answered with the thought that, since she could not possibly manage it sober, she would have to enlist at least this much help.

Immediately afterward, Renée downed the cocktail in one gulp, and Bera squeezed his eyes shut.

* * *

A small outdoor terrace with a single bench.

Having led Renée there, Bera seated her on the bench and asked with a troubled expression,

“Are you all right?”

He asked because he remembered the first day she had drunk alcohol all too clearly. How could he forget the way she had lost her senses and run wild after just one glass?

What if she burst into tears again? As that thought made Bera visibly restless—

“I’m fine.”

Renée answered with a small smile.

“I regulated it with divine energy, so don’t worry.”

She was not merely saying that.

She had dispelled all but enough tipsiness to cloud her mind slightly, so there was no danger of repeating her earlier mistake.

‘Did he really think I still couldn’t control that much?’ Finding it amusing that Bera regarded her as so inexperienced, Renée giggled.

Only then, seeing that Renée seemed quite composed, did Bera let out a relieved breath.

“... I had never specifically taught you how.”

“I am the Saintess. I can handle divine energy at least as well as you, Bera. The method comes to mind as soon as I think I want to do something.”

Her answer sounded almost arrogant. Bera gave a small chuckle.

“Most impressive.”

“You’re not being sarcastic, are you?”

“I know nothing of such behavior.”

“You certainly have a smooth answer for everything. Always all talk, aren’t you?”

“With a few exceptions, I believe I have always kept my word.”

“Those few exceptions are the problem.”

Renée cheered inwardly at the words pouring out as smoothly as though her tongue had been oiled.

Had a little alcohol been the answer after all? In this moment, she could not feel the shyness that had plagued her all this time.

“Whenever you decide you ought to charge straight in, you just abandon your promises and everything else and go.”

Bera’s mouth closed.

For a moment, he wondered whether Renée was actually concealing her drunkenness, and looked her over.

Yet the longer he gazed at her clear, flushed skin beneath the light, the more his original intention of checking her sobriety faded. In the end, he was merely staring blankly at her face.

Realizing it belatedly, Bera gave a startled shudder.

“Are you cold?”

Renée, who had felt it through their clasped hands, asked, and Bera hastened to answer.

“My training is not so shallow that heat or cold would affect me.”

“Why are you suddenly bragging?”

“... I wished to say that you need not worry.”

Renée giggled at how quickly Bera had backed down, then abruptly asked,

“Do you find me difficult to deal with, Bera?”

“... What do you mean?”

“You do, don’t you? You’re indifferent or irritable with the other apostles, with Aisha, even with His Highness. But you only ever bend like this for me.”

“That is—”

“Because I’m your light?”

No answer came.

Was it the alcohol? At Bera’s response, Renée felt the knot she had kept tightly hidden all this time begin to surface, and asked again.

“Tell me. What am I when I’m not your light?”

“... I do not understand what you mean.”

“I’m asking what you think of Renée, not the Saintess. If you take away my divine powers, my position, and that light you’re always searching for...”

It was a question she had always kept hidden within herself.

She knew it was a petulant complaint, and it was all too clear that hearing an answer would change nothing.

It was a knot she had buried, thinking it would be better simply to leave it there and pretend not to know.

“... What am I to you, Bera, when I’m nothing at all?”

Now it was spilling out under the influence of alcohol.

A ripple stirred in Bera’s heart. It took shape and shook his entire body.

Renée held his twitching hand tightly and continued.

“To me, you’re Bera. Not my guard, not an apostle, not a wicked man or a good man or anything else. Just Bera.”

She lifted the hand she held so tightly and pressed it to her cheek.

“You’re simply Bera, the person who holds my hand. And so...”

Her shyness began to run riot once more.

Even with the alcohol warming her, the moment she tried to cross that line, it could no longer restrain itself and surged wildly.

Resenting it deeply, Renée furrowed her brow, bit her lip hard, and forced out the words caught in her throat.

“... That’s why I like you, Bera.”

Her voice trembled with her shyness’s final desperate struggle.

Thinking that the words she had spoken were not enough to convey her feelings, Renée added,

“I don’t mean liking as opposed to disliking. I like you in another way.”

She nuzzled her face against Bera’s hand on her cheek.

At that moment, Renée sensed that his sudden rigidity was not merely a response of discomfort.

Hope stirred in her. Anticipation and longing stirred as well.

And so she asked,

“How do you feel, Bera?”

It was a question she could never take back.