Everything had changed after that night.
Or at least, Mira was doing her best to pretend it hadn’t. She greeted each morning with her usual smile and the same gentle voice: “Good morning, Lord Rein.” It was as if the night she had nearly broken down had never happened. The bright, cheerful Mira had returned.
But the way she touched me was different now.
When she helped me change, the motions that had once been quick and efficient had become strangely slow. As she removed my nightclothes, Mira pressed her body tightly against mine from behind in what felt like an embrace. Softness pushed against my back, and her arms circled around me. There was no practical need to cling that closely just to undress someone. I knew that. Yet Mira wore an expression that suggested it was completely natural, and I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.
Meals were the same.
Previously, I had held the spoon myself, and Mira had only brought food to my mouth when I couldn’t manage it. Now she sat on the bed, pulled me onto her lap, held my body firmly in place with one arm, and leaned over me to feed me. Mira’s body heat seeped into my entire back. Her face hovered right beside my cheek, and her soft “Here, say ‘ahh’” reached my ear with every spoonful. At fifteen, Mira was far more developed than other girls her age, so being held this close made it impossible not to notice. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it left me bewildered.
During post-treatment rest, she would lay my head on her lap, comb my hair, and peer down at my face. The distance was so intimate that I could feel her breath against my cheek. When assisting with my bath, she had once used a cloth to lather the soap, but at some point she had stopped. Now she worked the soap into a lather with her bare hands and washed every inch of my body directly. Her fingertips slowly traced across my skin, carefully following each burn scar as if memorizing them.
I understood that this was no longer mere assistance. It was something else entirely. Still, I couldn’t point it out. If touching me was what kept Mira from falling apart, then I had no choice but to accept it.
I wondered whether Mira herself realized what she was doing. Probably not. Or perhaps she was refusing to acknowledge it. Either way, the way she touched me lacked the restraint expected of a maid, yet felt far too raw and intimate to be called sisterly.
◇◇◇
Lady Therese’s treatment continued the following days without pause.
Each session was the same. The light touched me, my nerves reignited, my body convulsed, and I screamed. I pressed my weight against the leather straps as my consciousness remained painfully sharp, drowning in agony. It lasted dozens of minutes—perhaps longer. My sense of time always dissolved.
When the treatment ended, I turned to Lady Therese and lit a green glow at my fingertips.
『Thank you.』
Each time, an expression of relief crossed her face. Did stopping the treatment midway affect her reputation or record?
On the third day, after reading the glowing letters, Lady Therese paused for a moment before speaking.
“…You really are a strong child.”
Her expression was softer than her usual gentle smile. She gently placed both of her hands over my right hand, the one that had been burned during treatment. They were warm.
“I’ll be counting on you again tomorrow.”
The burn scars across my torso were gradually fading, a few centimeters each day. The change wasn’t obvious enough to notice daily, but after three days it was clearly visible. Those hideous branding-iron marks were being replaced by smooth skin. As compensation for the pain, it was more than enough.
◇◇◇
It happened one day after treatment, while I lay on Mira’s lap.
A voice drifted in from outside the window.
Several muffled voices—and one I recognized.
“You call this keeping your promise? I never agreed to being barred from visiting for months!”
My body reacted instinctively.
I knew that voice. It belonged to a memory from three years ago, yet there was no way I could have forgotten it.
It was Katia.
Mira’s hand froze in my hair.
“…It’s Lady Katia, isn’t it?”
She must have already known. There was no surprise in Mira’s voice.
I later learned that Lord Georg had asked them to refuse Katia’s visits. He had apparently been worried that seeing me in my current state would shock her, and had planned to let us meet only after the treatment was complete.
However, whether Katia would accept that was another matter. It seemed she had forced her way here directly.
A short while later, multiple sets of footsteps echoed down the hallway. The door opened.
The first to enter was Father. His usual gentle expression was marred by a faint crease between his brows. He looked troubled.
“Rein. You have a visitor. I couldn’t dissuade her. I warned her she must steel herself if she wished to see you, but…”
Father stepped slightly aside.
Behind him stood a girl with short chestnut hair.
It was Katia.
After three years, Katia had grown a little taller. She was still bigger than me, yet retained her petite frame. Her chestnut bob was exactly as I remembered, but her facial features had changed. The roundness of her face had slimmed slightly, making her large brown eyes stand out even more. To the cuteness she had possessed at seven, a touch of dignified beauty had been added. She’s become quite beautiful, I thought—an entirely misplaced observation. Those eyes were looking at me.
No. She was looking in my direction, but she didn’t recognize me.
Of course she didn’t. The Rein that Katia knew had chestnut hair, two working eyes, and all four limbs. The child on the bed had white hair, was painfully thin, and was missing limbs. Katia’s gaze wandered around the room.
I had to speak.
I forced my throat to move. A raspy voice emerged. My body resisted, but I pushed through.
“Katia.”
Katia’s eyes finally focused on me.
“…It’s been a while.”
Silence fell over the room.
Katia approached the bed and stared at me. Her expression crumbled in stages. First her eyes widened. Then her lips began to tremble. And then—her whole face twisted, and the words poured out.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”
She kept repeating the same words. At some point they stopped being sounds, yet her mouth continued to move.
She was crying. Loud, ugly sobs with no attempt to hide them. The Katia from my memories at seven years old had not been a crybaby. She had been cheerful and free-spirited, always grabbing my hand and dragging me around as she ran.
That same girl was now collapsed beside the bed, sobbing. Her knees gave out and she sank to the floor, covering her face with both hands as her shoulders shook.
I was at a loss.
I reached out with my right hand. Her head was at exactly the right height beside the bed. I touched her chestnut hair and slowly stroked it. I couldn’t think of anything else I could do.
Her crying didn’t stop. I kept stroking her hair, slowly and repeatedly. It was all I could do.
I don’t know how long we remained like that.
◇◇◇
When Katia finally stopped crying, she lifted her face.
Tear tracks ran down her cheeks in several streaks. Her eyes were red. So was her nose.
But her gaze was steady.
Despite being red and swollen from tears, what dwelled deep in her pupils was not sadness. It was an eerie resolve. It was different from the look in Mira’s eyes that night. Mira’s had been the eyes of someone on the verge of breaking. Katia’s eyes looked as though something inside her had solidified into steel.
“I will take responsibility.”
Her voice was quiet.
The air in the room changed.
“I will marry you.”
For a moment, no one moved.
Mira let out a small “Eh?” while Father closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his forehead.
As for me—I couldn’t keep up.
Take responsibility. Marry. In Katia’s mind, the logic must have connected. She believed the responsibility for this outcome lay with her. Therefore, she would spend her entire life atoning for it. And the form that atonement would take was marriage. It felt like a massive logical leap somewhere. But Katia’s eyes were completely serious. They were not eyes that could be stopped.
“Lady Katia.”
Father spoke. His voice was gentle, yet carried weight.
“I understand your feelings. However, matters like this should be discussed with Lord Georg first.”
Katia’s brows furrowed sharply. She was clearly displeased. But it seemed she could not defy her father’s name. She bit her lip and gave a small nod.
“…Understood. But I absolutely will.”
She looked at my face one last time, her eyes still filled with that unyielding resolve.
“I absolutely will do it.”
With those words, Katia left the room. Father followed after her with a deep sigh.
The room fell silent once more.
Mira returned to my side. As usual, she began fixing my hair. Her fingers slowly combed through my white strands.
“That was quite the ordeal, Lord Rein.”
She was smiling. It was her usual smile.
However, the hand combing my hair was just a little stronger than usual.
I looked up at Mira’s face with my left eye. Behind her smile—deep in her eyes—I caught a fleeting glimpse of the bottomless well I had seen that night.