31 – Spill Over (Iria Orlando)

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Today, I have that dream again.
A dream that I have seen over and over again.

“_______!”

I leapt towards him after finishing my training in the garden.
He was taller than me, and so I had to look up at his face. But his back was towards the sun, so that it was cast in shadow.

However, his hand patted me on the head gently.

He was like the warm rays of the sun.
Always smiling, always strong, always…. What?
All I knew was that I liked the warmth of that hand.

This dream is always warm.
Warm and sad.
Perhaps it was because I knew the ending.

“…!”

As I was studying in my room, someone shouted something at me.
It was the maid. But her face was blacked out, and I could not see it. Every time, I think it is strange. She worked here even now, and I met her every day.

She was horribly confused, and I became sad just looking at her.

However, the reason that I was calm enough to observe her.
Was because the scene had no sense of reality at all.

As if rushing, we left the mansion and got into the car.
I don’t remember where it was that we went.
My mother was shaking terribly, and my father had also lost his usual calm.

…Ah, it’s no use.

We arrived in a very vast place.
My father was talking to some soldier. My mother was also saying something in a rough voice. The soldier looked troubled but eventually nodded.

Something like a blue sheet was then pulled back.

It was.
It was…

The voice. That crying, screaming voice tore through the air.
And then someone said…

Are you sure about it?
There is no doubt. Someone answered.

I just stood there silently.

—Yes, it has to be.
—There is no ___
—That this person is ___, who can prove it?

“No.”

It had come from my own mouth, but was colder than anything I had heard before, and lingered in my ears.

My eyes caught sight of that hand that did not move.

Hesitantly, I reached out to touch it.

…See. It’s not real.
It’s too cold.

My mother embraced me.
As if to prove how cold the hand was, she held me tightly. It was so warm.

But why then…
Why…can I not stop crying?

“Ah, aa…”

Why is it so…

“Aaaaaaaaa…!!”

—I cannot even remember the person’s face.

The dream changes.
It is now raining.
As if to run away from the cold, my mother and I are leaning against each other.

There are people walking in a line, but like the others, their faces are covered.
As the procession reached our destination, the coffin was slowly lowered.

“…Why did my son have to die!?”

Just then, a woman’s voice echoed in the rain.

It was directed at my father. He did not answer, merely accepted the words that were directed to him.
The only answer she got…was the sounds of more crying.

Why?
Why do people die…?

Because they are weak?
But ___ was strong.
This woman’s son was probably strong too.

And yet people die.
So suddenly.
Leaving everything.

—That was just so sad.

“Your son died because of my orders.”

After receiving all of her words, my father quietly opened his mouth.

“Until the end, he protected his people, and fought bravely with pride. And so for now, we should just pray that his soul rests in peace.”

As the woman crumbled in a puddle of tears, I thought…

Ah, I see.
My father does not apologize…because if he does, it would mean that the death was for nothing.
It would have no meaning then.
___ as well?

But once you died, none of it remained. Pride and the rest.
They become ash, and we will never know what they were thinking.

As the rain covered the coffin, I wondered.
Did he really fight bravely?
Was he proud of what he did right before dying?

There was a part of me that rejected my father’s words, and part of me that wished they were true.

Because with death, everything just fades away.
I…

—According to the survivors…there was a butterfly tattoo.

—I see. So it was them…

I.
I…

“…Lady Iria.”

I suddenly heard the voice, and opened my eyes.
This was no longer the world of dreams.
I saw the canopy over my bed, and let out a deep sigh.

When I tore off the sheets and sat up, I saw the maid sitting there with a concerned look.
Good. Her face was not erased.
I was relieved to be reminded that this was not a dream.
Even though I still felt some guilt.

“Mr. Yukito has visited.”

“Teacher?”

My heart suddenly beat faster, and I jumped out of bed.
But somehow, I felt that there was a lingering scent from the dream, and I turned around.

“My lady?”

“…It’s nothing. I’m sorry. I’ll hurry up, but could you help me dress?”

“Yes.”

As she nodded and went to fetch my clothes, I touched my nose.
I had a feeling that something was going to happen.
Ever since I met him.

Was something going to change?
Or…

And so I brushed away this feeling that I couldn’t express, and continued on my way.

Next Chapter

Ken yo, kaku katariki ~ Ken to mahō no isekai ni tensei shita noni jitsu wa bunmei ga gendai reberu datta ken