Chapter 80: Aisha’s story ( 2 )

Aisha’s POV:

…

"It's fine. Vast Expanse was just a side project anyway. Since it failed, we’ll just start anew.”

Laurel said as he casually shrugged. It was as if he had never expected to succeed in the first place. Maybe I should have known by then, but I dismissed it. After all, who would start a company with the expectations that it would fail? He probably tried to downplay its importance in order to make me feel less bad.

And I was right; he simply had misunderstood me. So I told him everything, including how I had read all his plans, refined them, and put them into action. I wanted him to praise me for all the hard work I had done… But his expression… For some reason, his expression was getting darker by the minute.

“Brother?”

“Ah, it’s nothing. Just a bit tired.”

I tried to gauge the reason, but Laurel kept silent about the matter. Come to think of it. Laurel had always been like that. Boisterously laughing on the outside, but inwardly he kept silent about things that truly mattered. But did he really need to hide it from me?

Or did he still not trust me?

But that couldn’t be it, right? I mean, after everything I have done…

…

Laurel’s POV:

…

I tried to brush it off, but Aisha still looked worried. Was my expression that obvious? Considering that I wasn’t good at being poker-faced, it was likely. Well, if anything, there’s another matter I needed to address, specifically me.

“Aisha.”

“Yes?”

“About my notebook…”

The notebook I had tossed at her after losing an arm to Aleksander. It was just a random notebook I picked up and scribbled a bit. While I had constructed the outlook, it was a flimsy excuse of a plan and wasn’t exactly ready to be executed.

“Don’t ever do that again.”

Forget a brute like demon king Atofe, if she had mentioned Hitogami in front of Orsted, her head would have flown off her shoulders. Liter—well, not literally, considering the “donut maker” would simply poke a hole through your chest.

In that sense, it was luck that kept her alive. And while one might question why I’m acting like this despite knowing the novel, truth is, not once did I trust the novel whatsoever. After all, how much could words describe what a person is actually like inside?

Ignoring the fact that the novel itself is based on Rudeus’s subjective perspective, there’s no guarantee that people stayed the same. All it takes is a false rumor or two to ruin the life of a person. The word "allies" and "enemies," in the end, is decided by the factor of benefits, not friendship.

We’re not players; we’re pawns. And in this battle between two gargantuan whales, we are but mere shrimp floating on the currents. A single mistake could lead to our demises. The only thing we could do is try and strive for a happy ending.

With that in mind, all my plans were based on the premise that I would be safe from the consequences. Even if I make an enemy with Orsted, considering his weakness, he wouldn’t bother to chase me to the ends of the world, meaning as long as I escape, I’d survive.

And I was especially good at running away pathetically. I was even getting better at it by the day. But that wasn’t the same with Aisha. Aisha was a child. She was a real child, with no extra years underneath her age. And while she was talented with some bizarre experience under her name, she was nowhere near handling people of that caliber.

So even if I have to be harsh, I have to tell her now. That she shouldn’t wholeheartedly trust her buffoon of a brother about everything just because I said it. That I wasn’t that great of a person, nor am I that trustworthy… I could only hope that she could handle this well…

“But why?!”

Aisha questioned, her tone being a little blunt. She was acting like a child being scolded despite doing well. I looked at her and sighed; my expression slightly softened as I started patting her head. Perhaps I was a little too harsh?

“Aisha. Thank you.”

“?”

“Thank you for trusting this foolish brother all this time. I have no words to describe how grateful I am, really.”

I meant it sincerely. Not even my own siblings had put this much faith in me.

“But seriously, don’t do that again.”

“…”

“Of course, I know how good you are, Aisha. You’re smart, intelligent, and meticulous. You’re far much better than I am in many ways.”

In fact, it’s still hard to believe you could manage to pull all that in a single year. I doubt I could move around that much within a single year.

“…”

“That’s precisely why you shouldn't do that again.”

I said, mustering the most serious tone I could manage. I was never a good talker, my past life or even this one. So at the very least, I have to be able to convey my message without fail.

“Because I don’t want you to get hurt.”

At least, I don’t want you to suffer the consequences of my own inadequacy.

…

Aisha’s POV:

…

“But why?!”

Why? Just… why?

I felt an indescribable sting akin to being pricked by a needle. As if all of my efforts had been dismissed as nothing. I lost control of my tone, sounding slightly harsher than usual. I didn’t mean to do that. Would Laurel hate me because of it?

But no. Instead, he softened down as he patted my head with his left hand, and superfluous praises came out of his mouth. Every time I heard them, unpleasant thoughts couldn’t help but show up. Why are you talking yourself down again?

Sitting on his lap, I inevitably glanced at the right arm. Seeing that he had an eyepatch and was walking with a cane… There’s nothing underneath that gauntlet, is there?

I bit my lip in silence, remembering how he had lost it in the first place. While Miss Angel could probably heal those wounds later, the thought that he had lost them in the first place remained distasteful. Perhaps I’d feel better if Mister Alec apologized for that arm later.

In a way, Laurel was similar to my mother, yet also different. Both think highly of me, but the way they treat me was the exact opposite. My mother had always been strict, but my brother had never been one to refrain from praising me, leaving me wanting more and more.

So it was hard to understand why he had reacted like this. No, perhaps I already did. I looked silently at the hand that left my head. It was big and hard, strong and reliable, but at the same time, it was just as rough as it is flawed.

I remembered Mother talking about how you used to mold clay into shapes of animals. But when I saw you, I never saw you doing anything aside from work. When was the last time you were carefree enough to pursue your own dreams?

“Because I don’t want you to get hurt.”

His calm voice continued in my ears. Always that calm, gentle tone, as if trying to calm the listener down. Just hearing it was soothing to the heart. But in that moment, even that voice sounded grating to the ears. I called him as I looked upwards.

“Laurel.”

“Yes?”

Despite the dark circles in the man’s eyes, he had always been working both day and night. Words have never been truly spoken, but I could tell there was anxiety in his heart. It was as if he was running out of time, so he kept running, running and running towards the finish line.

“… Can I get a hug?”

“Huh? Uh, sure, why not?"

Warmth washed over me as an arm and a gauntlet warped tightly around me, making my anxieties fly away as if they were never there. I couldn’t soothe his anxiety; if anything, I had only contributed to it. I hated it, but there was nothing I could say or do at the moment. Not right now, at least. So in the embrace of the person I loved the most, I vowed to myself.

One day, I will hold his sky, just as this hand had held up mine.