Morning light slanted through the window of Father’s office.
A single sheet of parchment lay open on his desk, its wax seal bearing an unfamiliar crest. The sender: the District Office.
Father, Mother, Klaus, and I stood around the desk, with Mira positioned half a step behind me.
"…A notice of an on-site inspection, I see."
Klaus narrowed his already thin eyes even further as he scanned the text once more.
"The date is three days from now?"
An on-site inspection of the House of the Count. Exactly the opposite of what Father had predicted half a month ago, while sealing our report, was now coming to pass.
"It doesn’t sit right with me."
Klaus returned the parchment to the desk.
"I intentionally made that report as unremarkable as possible—writing it so it would seem like a mere degraded version of the Saint's magic."
"Yeah."
Father’s voice was low and heavy.
"If that were the case, they should have simply requested the Saint’s services. There is no rational reason to conduct a forced audit on a trustworthy House of the Count."
"—And yet, they are coming."
"I wonder if someone is pulling strings?" Mother asked.
"I will look into that immediately," Klaus replied. "However, we don't have the option to refuse. Formally, this is a legitimate procedure."
Father let out a long exhale.
"I don't know what their goal is, but if we reject them, we’ll be accused of filing a false report. At worst, it will be treated as a crime."
As they spoke, my mind was racing, trying to imagine how the audit would play out.
During the inspection, they would surely demand to see the treatment in person. My family would likely be required to attend as well.
How could I continue to hide the truth of the transplant—a truth I had kept secret until now?
—I couldn't. There was no way to hide it anymore.
I took a steadying breath.
"Father, Mother."
Four pairs of eyes fixed on me.
"There’s something I need to tell you."
I spoke as calmly as possible, trying to keep my voice from trembling.
"It’s about the Transplant Magic I used to treat Lina."
"Yes?" Mother prompted.
"In the report, I said it was 'regeneration by pushing out skin factors.'"
"Right."
"—Actually, that wasn't enough. In truth, I have to 'paste my own skin' over the wound to let my skin factors permeate."
Mother’s face froze.
"I would thinly slice the skin from my left forearm with a knife, press it onto Lina’s burn scars, and then activate recovery magic over it."
Mira pressed her hand to her mouth. A small, sharp gasp escaped through her fingers.
"…Was that… every single time?"
Father’s voice was laced with dread.
"Yes. Once the skin is cut away, it becomes unusable very quickly, so…"
I added, almost as an afterthought, "I didn't want to worry my family—or Mira."
Silence filled the office.
Mira’s trembling voice was the first to break the quiet.
"—Then, your face after the treatments… that’s why you looked like that…"
"…I might have been a little anemic."
Mira’s face turned deathly pale.
"I…"
"I noticed something was wrong… if only I had stepped in back then…"
Mira’s tears hit the floor, soaking into the wood.
"…I am so sorry…"
The words she squeezed out were barely heavier than a sigh.
"I am so sorry… Lord Rein…"
Father sat with his hand over his face, looking up toward the ceiling. He seemed unable to find any words.
Instead, it was Mother who moved.
She rose from her chair.
Without a word, she pulled me into a hug.
Mother’s arms were much thinner than I had realized, yet she held me with surprising strength.
"—No more."
Mother’s voice shook against my shoulder.
"Don't ever use that magic again."
"Please."
The final plea was almost a whisper.
Mother’s deep purple hair brushed against my cheek.
—My cheek was wet with her tears.
I couldn't move for a long time.
I had thought that if I could just save Lina, it would all be worth it. I believed this was a magic I could complete using only my own body, without burdening anyone else. I even convinced myself that as long as I kept it hidden, no one would have to worry.
But now, I had made Mother and Mira cry.
Hurting myself wasn't just about my own body. It was an act that wounded Mother, wounded Father, and wounded Mira.
—I might have failed again.
A sob broke from my throat.
"—I'm sorry."
I couldn't find anything else to say.
"I'm sorry, Mother."
Mother said nothing. She simply pulled me closer, holding me with all her might.
◇◇◇
I wasn't sure how much time passed before Father finally spoke.
He tapped a finger against the desk, a sharp sound that pulled the room back to reality.
"—However," Father’s voice remained low. "We must undergo the audit."
Mother raised her head, glaring at him.
"—Are you saying you’re going to make this child suffer even more!?"
"It can't be helped…! We don't have the option to refuse!"
Father’s words came out like a pained grunt, and Klaus stepped in to elaborate.
"The Inspector will likely demand a live demonstration of the technique on the spot. The most probable subject for the treatment will be the Inspector himself. —We likely cannot choose to refrain from performing the magic."
Father took a slow, deep breath and then called my name.
"Rein."
"—Yes."
"I'll make sure this is the last time. So—"
"Will you use that magic just one last time?"
I gave a small, silent nod.
But I wondered—could I really make this the last time?
The corner of the parchment, its true intent still unreadable, fluttered in the wind.
— End of Arc 2: Regeneration and Pain —