"It really suits you, Sylphy."
Sylphy looked a little embarrassed as she glanced down at the slit in her dress.
The garter clip of her stockings peeked out from the gap in the fabric.
Her ears twitched slightly, uncertain if this kind of outfit was appropriate, and she nervously asked,
"Should I… take off the stockings…?"
Hilda chuckled.
"Do you want to take them off now?"
Sylphy froze, quickly waving her hands in protest.
"No! That's not what I meant! I just thought… maybe it looks a little… strange…"
Hilda tilted her head slightly and glanced at Sylphy's feet, covering her mouth with a light laugh.
"Not at all. For your current age, it's perfectly suitable. If you were a little older, then yes—removing the stockings might look more graceful."
Sylphy blinked, not quite catching the implied meaning in Hilda's words before she was gently guided by the shoulders to sit down in front of a window-side chair.
Before her stood a vanity mirror.
Below it, Hilda's dressing table.
She blinked again and saw Hilda's face appear from behind her shoulder in the mirror's reflection, pointing at her still-damp and slightly messy white hair hanging down.
"It's a little tangled. Shall I help you comb it?"
As she spoke, Hilda's hand entered her field of view, picking up a comb from the side of the vanity.
Sylphy widened her eyes and tried to stand.
"I can do it mys—mmph!"
But Hilda gently pushed her back down into the seat.
Without missing a beat, she skillfully began combing Sylphy's hair.
The white strands flowed through the teeth of the comb like water, brushing gently against her scalp, tickling slightly.
It reminded Sylphy of Nolda back in Buena Village.
That same tenderness, that same familiar motion.
It was the aura unique to a mother.
She hesitated for a moment, wanting to ask to comb her own hair.
It was too embarrassing to be treated like this.
Just then, Hilda spoke again.
"No need to be nervous or embarrassed. I'm glad you've come to Boreas… there's a warmth about you that feels familiar to me."
Sylphy froze. Her eyes widened as she tried to glimpse Hilda's expression through the mirror.
But the mirror only showed her elegant neckline—the upper part of her face was out of view.
"…It's an honor, my lady."
The combing continued as normal.
"…Don't be so tense. You're all stiff."
"No, I'm not…"
In the ensuing silence, only the soft swishing of the comb through her hair could be heard.
Sylphy gradually relaxed her body. But just then, Hilda's next words made her heart skip a beat.
"…During lunch, as you were leaving, I saw you glance back at me."
It wasn't just Sylphy's heart that trembled.
Even Hilda's voice did.
"Was there something you wanted to say to me?"
"N-no! Not at all!"
Sylphy stared at her reflection in the mirror.
After a pause, she added,
"I just thought you were very kind, my lady… you reminded me of my mother."
Behind her, Hilda fell silent. Sylphy watched the unmoving hand on the comb in the mirror.
Her fingers were delicate, the skin on the back of her hands fair and flushed with color—but because of that, the callouses on her index finger and thumb were particularly noticeable.
In that moment, time seemed to freeze for Sylphy.
She didn't know how long passed.
Then, like a sigh, a voice came from behind.
"…I see."
And time began to flow again.
The comb once more passed gently through her hair.
"Forgive me if I made you feel pressured. My husband and I are used to the way I carry myself… but I imagine others might find me a bit cold."
"No, not at all! You're very kind. At least… I think so."
Hilda seemed surprised, then chuckled.
With that laugh, Sylphy finally felt the tension in her chest release, her heart beating again.
She let out a quiet breath.
Her stiff posture loosened.
Hilda's silhouette shifted in the mirror, as if shaking her head with a smile.
As she smoothed out a few knotted strands, her voice returned to normal.
"How old are you now, Sylphy?"
"Seven."
"Oh? Younger than I expected… Hmm, when I was your age, I was still attending noble school."
"You're very elegant, my lady."
"Because of noble school? No, that came from specialized training after I married into the Boreas family."
"R-really?!"
"Yes, but I first met my husband on his tenth birthday. I was nine at the time. Thinking about it now, you're not that young either."
"…I guess not…"
"Right. We didn't marry until six years later, though. My family wasn't quite on equal standing with the Boreas house, so my father wasn't keen on the match. I heard he was furious when my husband insisted on bringing me here."
"Ah! Is that so?!"
"But in the end, he gave in. My husband was already sixteen, and it would've been hard to keep delaying things. I heard my father gave him a good scolding before finally agreeing, haha."
"So Lord Philip is… that kind of person?"
"Surprised?"
"A bit…"
Hilda smiled gently.
"You're quite the good listener. Not like Eris—whenever I talk about these things, she never listens, always rushing off to find Ghislaine. Sylphy, you seem very mature."
"No… I just copy others."
"Copy?"
"Yes. Allen… and Roxy-sensei."
"I see. But your eyes… they're filled with strength. That's not something you can learn by imitation. I really like your eyes."
Sylphy's ears twitched.
"N-not at all."
"Not at all?" Hilda's voice still carried that soft amusement.
"…Actually, I decided last night to stop copying them. I want to become stronger in my own way."
"Oh? I heard something happened with Thomas? My husband was the one who invited you all to be tutors, yet it seems he's brought you trouble instead."
"It's part of it… but not all."
"…So you don't want to say. That's fine. You've got your own thoughts. Keep at it."
"…Yes."
"Your Water-King-ranked magic tutor—she also taught Rudy, didn't she?"
"Yes."
"She must be outstanding, to raise two such brilliant young magicians."
"She is! She's someone I truly admire!"
"Allen too, I remember my husband mentioning him. He was Rudy's tutor too, wasn't he? The one brought in by Roxy?"
"…No. Allen came on his own after Roxy-sensei recommended him to Sir Paul. Later, Roxy returned to Buena Village, and on Allen's suggestion, took me as her student."
Hilda blinked, setting the comb down.
"I heard Allen's an adventurer. Is Roxy his companion?"
"…Yes."
Hilda reached out and patted Sylphy's head.
Then she leaned down, meeting Sylphy's eyes through the mirror.
For the first time, Sylphy saw Hilda's smiling face again.
Whether it was the sun setting or the lighting growing dim, or simply her imagination from not seeing it for a while—
Sylphy thought her smile seemed a little dimmer.
And then, in that gentle, feminine voice right at her ear, pulling her out of her daze—
She said,
"Do you… dislike your teacher?"
Sylphy's pupils shrank sharply. Without thinking, she blurted,
"Not at all! I love Roxy-sensei!"
"Oh? How much?"
"A lot! I respect her so much!"
Hilda seemed to study Sylphy's face for a while, then smiled.
"That's good."
She casually set the comb down on the table.
Turned around.
Opened the window.
The spring breeze wafted into the room, lifting Sylphy's hair.
She was just about to rise and thank Hilda, when—
Rustle rustle.
Pages flipping.
It sounded like a book.
Sylphy turned toward the sound.
But it wasn't a book.
It was a diary.
Resting in the corner of the vanity.
Its pages fluttered in the spring breeze.
Words flickered across the paper.
Unclear, unreadable.
Then—
Rushed footsteps echoed from outside, followed by the anxious voice of the rabbit-eared maid through the crack in the door.
"M-my lady! Allen-sama and Ghislaine are fighting!"
A gun has been thrown. The day it fires, the climax arrives.
(End of Chapter)
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