Chapter 108

As soon as Erabelle unpacked at her quarters, she got to work rebuilding the platform.

“Lieutenant, did you break up with him? You did, didn’t you?”

Majia had heard she was back and kept chasing after her, but Erabelle spent more time outside the base than in it, so they rarely crossed paths.

The platform was in better shape than she had expected. The shock wave had left it half destroyed, but the Dogs had at least stored what remained. She made an initial inspection, then fell into a routine of retrieving neglected relays, inspecting them, and installing them.

The platform was designed to operate through relays and a satellite.

An artificial spirit inside it would receive signals from each location through the relays, use the satellite to fix coordinates in the physical realm, and automatically direct Miro from the spirit realm.

Guided by the artificial spirit, Miro would manifest in the physical realm using the satellite rather than his contractor as his reference point, then move ships from each location wherever they needed to go.

Once it was complete, Erabelle would have nothing left to do except hold the signum authorization.

She would transfer even that authorization, earn enough merit for the work, leave the military safely, and live out her days waiting for a rift that would take her back to Earth.

That had been her primary reason for coming to the conflict zone.

If Plan A failed, Plan B was to work hard for another thirty years or so and hope she’d at least be disposed of humanely.

Now... she didn’t know.

Erabelle tried to ignore the fact that she no longer felt as driven as she had then. Instead, she worked harder. She needed work. Things she could lose herself in.

She wasn’t getting hurt, either, which made it easy to push herself. Casualties had become rare, but she’d worried about what would happen if she was injured when she couldn’t use medication. As it turned out, she never had the chance to get injured at all.

The Dogs hovered around her, watching her every move. Then again, even if she did get hurt, she had the feeling she’d recover quickly....

What kind of ability was that, anyway?

Still, she ought to have a little emergency medicine on hand, so she went to see Camillia.

“Lieutenant, could I have some medicine...?”

Having someone to turn to when she needed help was a real stroke of luck.

“Fuck off.”

Even if that someone was a little uncooperative.

Camillia had been on edge lately. When Erabelle returned to the 2155 planetary system, her attending physician had followed her all the way here. The physician claimed to have come on unrelated business, but....

“Um, Lieutenant.”

“I said I don’t have any medicine.”

“That’s not it. I wanted to ask you something....”

“What?”

Erabelle hesitated before speaking.

“Lately, I keep crying for no reason, and my mood keeps sinking. I’ve been thinking too much, too. Is there any chance it’s a side effect of the medication?”

“What?”

Camillia’s expression turned serious.

“Why? Could it be an aftereffect of the accident? Have you tried counseling? Your test results look fine....”

The response was more concerned than Erabelle had expected, which made her feel a little awkward.

Camillia hurriedly checked her chart.

That was another thing irritating Camillia these days: having to share the chart with Erabelle’s attending physician.

“It’ll pass, won’t it?”

“What do you mean, pass?”

Camillia scolded her and insisted she get counseling right away, but Erabelle refused, saying she was too busy.

“Don’t you have anything? Medicine to quiet down pointless thoughts, that sort of thing.”

“What kind of medicine would do that?”

“Antidepressants, for example.”

“...Didn’t you just say you thought it was a side effect of your medication?”

“Side effects from medication are treated with more medication, aren’t they?”

“Sweetheart, has it been so long since I hit you that you want another?”

At the sight of Camillia’s raised fist, Erabelle whimpered.

“My God. They say people never give up gambling, cheating, or violence....”

“......”

“But I love you anyway, Lieutenant.”

“Come here. Just one punch.”

Apparently, medicine was out of the question. At this rate, she’d only end up with more tests. Erabelle promptly fled the infirmary, then looked at her ringing phone with displeasure.

“......”

It was the Count again.

Seriously, again. Whatever had gotten into him, Count Vermilion called several times a day. It wasn’t as though he had much to say when she answered. Had she eaten? What had she eaten? Had she slept well? She appreciated the concern, but he wanted to talk about every little thing, and Erabelle was nearing her limit.

She was pretending not to notice the call when another came in—one she couldn’t possibly ignore.

House Avganis was calling.

Erabelle contacted the management team first, of course. But even after picking up, the employee took a long time to answer.

—...If this is about the identification tag, I’ll report it to my superiors.

“That isn’t why I’m calling.”

—Oh. I see.

The employee’s voice brightened at once. Erabelle explained the situation, feeling somewhat uneasy.

“House Avganis contacted me.”

She hoped he would take care of it. Instead, the employee arrived with a ceremonial ship. A spectacularly ornate one.

“What if I just don’t go?”

—Wouldn’t it be rather awkward to ignore them?

There’s something going on that I don’t know about.... Erabelle stared at him, but he only laughed and offered no further explanation.

“I think showing up at House Avganis looking like this would be worse.”

—It’ll be fine.

He sounded confident, but the closer they got to the Avganis marquisate, the more seriously Erabelle began to worry about her appearance.

“Can I really go like this?”

Her dress uniform was clean and well cared for, but no one would look at her and see the future Marquis’s fiancée.

—Of course. Who would dare say anything to you, Lieutenant...? I mean, it’ll be fine.

She was tempted to take him at his word and ask whether she could show up in her pajamas.

“......”

After staring at him for a moment, Erabelle swallowed a sigh, turned away, and leaned against the ship’s window.

The ceremonial ship the management employee had brought was needlessly ornate on the outside and needlessly fast. They entered the marquisate before she had time to prepare a proper outfit, much less prepare herself.

Before long, the ship landed on the marquisate’s homeworld. Erabelle straightened her back and stepped down from it.

The Avganis residence was as lavish as ever, and the enormous family portrait still hung in the entrance hall.

A woman stood before it.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

She seemed to have heard Erabelle approach.

Her hair was a deep blond, like molten gold, her skin porcelain white. She was a dazzling beauty in the most conventional sense, and she looked far more like Dezeb than she had in the portrait. More than the Marquis did. Though Dezeb was the prettier of the two.

“My son, I mean.”

Dezeb had said he was naturally beautiful.

“I gave birth to him, and even I can hardly believe such a beautiful child came from me.”

The Marchioness spoke in a dreamy whisper. Affection suffused every word.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Erabelle bowed to Marchioness Avganis, who wore an elegant cobalt-blue dress that fell to her knees and earrings cut from clear gemstones.

“Well, you’ve finally managed to bring even me out. Let’s see....”

“Vermilion.”

“Vermilion, Vermilion.... Forgive me. I must be getting old. I tend to forget things that aren’t important. So what brings you to my home?”

“I was summoned.”

“Summoned?”

The Marchioness looked her up and down.

“And you came dressed like that?”

“I apologize.”

I should have worn a bikini.

That would have gotten me out of this uncomfortable place in an instant. Though I might have been thrown in a cell for insulting her.

“Lady Vermilion, dressing appropriately for the occasion is a matter of courtesy.”

Her uniform might not have been splendid, but it was hardly disrespectful.

“Your parents seem to have neglected your basic education.”

And it certainly wasn’t an outfit that called for dragging her parents into this.

“Oh, that’s right. You were a refugee.”

I thought you said you couldn’t remember who I was.

“How remarkable. It isn’t everyone who can abandon their birth parents and get adopted by a wealthy noble—”

“My lady.”

A low voice cut her off, and the Marchioness closed her mouth.

Erabelle bowed her head to the Marquis. His face, also reminiscent of Dezeb’s, was turned toward his wife with concern.

“My apologies, Lady Vermilion. Please, come to my study.”

The Marchioness’s eyes flashed fiercely at her husband’s apology, but she contained her anger behind a smile.

“You’ll hurt my feelings if you leave like this.”

“My lady.”

“She is a guest in our home, after all. At least let me offer her a meal. What do you think I’m going to do, darling? I really will be hurt if you simply walk away.”

She coaxed him gently, promising she wouldn’t do anything. The Marquis hesitated, then sighed. Erabelle had hoped he would stand firm, but very little in her life ever went the way she hoped.

...Did I sell out my country in a past life?

Seated across from the Marquis and Marchioness at an enormous dining table, Erabelle took a moment to reflect on what she might have done to deserve this.

She honestly didn’t understand.

In the original story, the Marchioness had only ever been mentioned by name. The same was true in this reality.

As a commoner, Erabelle had no place in society, least of all in its central circles. Still, she wasn’t completely cut off from the gossip.