Asti opened his mouth as though he meant to say something—then couldn’t, and quietly closed it again.
“I’ll come by again. You can look through the materials as you like.”
He didn’t lift his face. He didn’t meet my eyes. He simply said it, and left in quick strides.
He had teleportation magic—yet he still went out through the door like that. When it shut with a dull, final sound, my knees gave out, and I sank down onto the floor.
A long sigh escaped me, and with it, all the strength I’d been holding up drained away at once.
I might have hurt him.
The moment that thought surfaced, regret seized me so hard it felt like I’d done something irreparable.
But I didn’t have the courage to stand and chase after him. Nor the right.
This was for the best. It had to be.
Asti was the strongest of sages, an adventurer so promising he’d be sought after everywhere. He worked with palace intelligence. He served as an arbiter, too.
A man needed by everyone.
It would be a waste if he kept spending his time fussing over me.
I yanked my sleeve over my eyes before my lashes could grow wet.
And then my belly gave a small, insistent poke-poke, as if answering.
“Sorry… for being such a weak mother…”
I couldn’t tell whether the child was scolding me or encouraging me. But that gentle reminder—that I wasn’t alone—broke whatever remained of my composure, and tears spilled over at last.
“…h… ngh…”
My thoughts were a mess. I couldn’t stop what was overflowing—one feeling after another, tangling until anger, grief, regret, helplessness, and shame blurred into a single storm.
I didn’t regret leaving Leon.
I couldn’t have stayed with him. I couldn’t return to the days before I knew.
And once this child was born, the existence of that other child would haunt me even more.
But I couldn’t take her in.
I wasn’t confident I could truly love someone else’s child—proof of the betrayal of the man I had once loved—without breaking somewhere inside.
What I chose, in the end, was her smile.
The bright, innocent way she called him Papa, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Before anything else, I thought of the happiness of a child who had been born without knowing a thing.
In this country, an illegitimate child born of infidelity was made to carry a cruel fate simply by existing.
And yet—
If a child is born, then surely they have the right to be loved, and to be happy.
People are loved by their parents, loved by those around them, loved by someone—and by being loved, they learn how to cherish another in return.
The mother and child in Marseize seemed to be doing well. With Leon there, it would have been complete.
No matter how miserably I clung, no matter how I wailed, he would not come back to me.
That I could choose to leave—and to sever the distance not only in my heart but in the world itself—was only because there had been people beside me.
The reason I could choose to live alone now was because this child was here.
For this child, I would do anything.
But if I leaned on someone now—if I let myself rest against them even once—then I knew I would begin to depend on them.
The divorce had been possible because of others.
I was still standing because this child existed.
If I continued to bask in Asti’s goodwill, I would eventually become his burden.
I didn’t want that.
I wanted to stand on equal ground with him.
I wanted a relationship that could be called trust.
Comrade. Friend. Benefactor.
I wanted it to last, and I meant to work for it.
Being alone made me want to cling to someone.
But… not yet. Not now.
That night, sleep would not come.
I sat by the window, watching the sky.
At some point the air grew colder, and I began to shiver without a shawl.
Starlight beyond the glass. The faint cry of a night bird in the stillness.
A soft wind stirred the trees of the forest, and the slightly overgrown grass in the yard danced.
This was not my first sleepless night since coming here.
Thoughts of the future. Of giving birth alone. And above all, the loneliness I thought I had grown used to—returning in a different shape, more insidious than before.
In a bitter way, living with someone—even someone who wouldn’t look at me, someone who was gone for long stretches—had still created the illusion that I was not alone.
To pray for someone’s safe return, to greet them when they came back—those things had been, in their own way, a kind of happiness.
“Can’t sleep?”
A low voice came from outside the window, and my heart jolted so sharply it almost hurt.
When I peered out, I saw the faintly glowing outline of a white, four-legged creature.
I opened the window and watched as it approached.
“Lord of the Spirits…”
“That name is stiff. Call me Pochi. Misty called me that.”
“Pochi…?”
The great white spirit—too much like a dog for my mind to treat him as anything else—stood with ears pricked and tail swishing.
I lost strength at the absurdity of it and opened the window wider.
“Good evening, Lord Pochi. Why are you here?”
“I felt like running across the wilds again. I was coming back from a good sprint.”
According to Pochi, all the hills and plains within sight were his territory, and he made rounds from time to time.
“You’ve made a spirit’s path.”
“Aye. Tomorrow morning, the adventurers will swarm.”
When a spirit passed through, the materials left behind could change—becoming richer in mana, altering in nature.
I remembered now: Lady Misty’s notes had mentioned using materials gathered from a spirit’s path.
“And you,” Pochi said, tilting his head. “Why is your field empty?”
“I’m sorry…”
“Misty planted all sorts of things. Honestly… humans.”
As if declaring dig here, he began to scrape the earth in neat, even furrows, then lifted his muzzle and loosed a long howl.
At once, soft lights began to gather around him—little spirits coming at his call.
They bobbed and spun as though dancing, so beautiful I forgot to breathe for a moment.
“So pretty…”
“I’m in a good mood. Consider it a special treat.”
“Th-thank you… but…”
“Child of man,” he said, eyes narrowing as though he could see straight through me. “Accept goodwill plainly.”
My chest tightened.
Because I had refused Asti’s goodwill only hours ago.
Pochi fixed me with a steady gaze.
“What are you afraid of?”
My fingers curled around the window frame.
I wanted to look away. I couldn’t.
“…I’m afraid to entrust my heart to someone.
If they slip into the hollow place inside me, and when I can no longer pull free—if they betray me then…”
The words came out with a clarity that shocked even me.
Yes.
I didn’t want to be betrayed again. I didn’t want to be hurt again.
So even when someone was kind, I found myself searching for a hidden blade. I couldn’t step forward.
If it became love, would I lose them again? That fear stopped my feet.
“I know he isn’t the sort of person who would do that,” I continued softly. “But I don’t know him well enough. And I’m already relying on him so much… I didn’t know if that was right.”
“Hmph.” Pochi’s tail thumped, and he deliberately looked away. “Humans. If you don’t understand something, ask. If you’d rather hurt yourself with doubt than speak plainly, you’re only injuring both of you.”
“…Both of us?”
“You thinking about him is not a curse. It’s a good sign,” he said, almost smugly. “Interest is the first step of affection.”
He wouldn’t tell me more. Ask him yourself, that was what he meant.
Then Pochi lifted his head again.
“The little ones are done dancing.”
“Huh…? Ah…!”
The scattered lights gathered into one great glow, and when it faded, the field was no longer bare.
It was packed—densely, impossibly—with healing herbs and flowers suitable for recovery potions.
“This is a dance ground,” Pochi said, sounding pleased. “More concentrated than a spirit path.
Your belly will grow heavier. Gathering will be harder. I’ll leave a few of my little ones behind—use them as you like.”
“E-even so… I can’t just keep receiving…”
“Too much modesty is also a flaw,” he cut in. “I do this because I want to. And what’s wrong with receiving when the giver is glad?
I won’t grant you a formal blessing, but I like your mana. Consider this the price of my liking. Take it.”
The weight I’d been dragging through the night felt suddenly… smaller.
“Thank you, Pochi.”
“Hmph.”
He still wouldn’t meet my eyes, yet his tail wagged so hard it swayed his whole body.
I couldn’t help smiling.
When the spirits scattered and the yard fell quiet again, I was alone in the dark room—
but the heaviness inside me was gone.
Next time I saw Asti, I would speak.
I would face him properly, and tell him how I felt now—without hiding, without retreating.
With that thought, I closed my eyes.
