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Translator: uly
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: A Good Dream
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"Ah, Daddy. Hic...."
"Rubette!"
Gripping my blurring vision, I instinctively threw my arms around Daddy's neck.
Daddy's body stiffened in surprise.
'Does he hate me? Does he think a defective non-contractor like me is a disgrace to the family? He's just putting up with me because I'm his real daughter... right?'
Thoughts I would never have had with my sky-high self-esteem echoed in my mind like screams.
Fragments of emotions that Rubette's body remembered—pain she'd suffered in silence her whole life.
"D-Daddy...."
"...."
Having absorbed every bit of Rubette's life as the price, I couldn't escape her emotions.
It was instinct, her body reacting before her mind.
"I-I know you h-hate me, hic...."
"What?"
You won't love me, right? All those times I trembled in fear preemptively,
"B-But, Daddy, I'm s-so hurting right now, p-please don't p-push me away...?"
"...."
And yet, the days I swallowed tears alone, yearning for love.
Emotions piled up layer by layer, etched reflexively into her body as instinct.
"J-Just a little. Until it g-gets better, j-just stay like this a bit...."
Feeling Daddy's scent, my racing heart began to slow bit by bit.
This was bittersweet too. The only ones who could stabilize Rubette even this much were her blood family.
"...."
Afraid that if Daddy pushed me away, the shock would make it hard to breathe again, I clung desperately to his neck.
Thankfully, Daddy kept his arms around me until I calmed, for a very long time.
* * *
Bang!
How much time had passed? The door to Duke Diorus's bedroom—which almost never opened from the inside first—swung open.
Leonard strode down the hall, Rubette cradled in his arms with her back to him.
"W-What? Did His Grace just come out of his room?"
"And why is the Duchess...."
The maids they passed whispered to each other, doubting their eyes.
Leonard, walking without pause, halted abruptly upon running into someone.
"Leonard?"
A beauty with dazzling golden blonde hair and blue eyes that drew the gaze.
She looked like she'd just returned home—she was the lady of the house, the Duchess Dowager, and Leonard's stepmother who was only a year older than him: Molga.
She startled upon encountering him, as if she'd been heading to his room.
"W-What's going on? Why is Rubette like this?"
"She seems ill. I'm taking her to see the doctor."
"Oh my goodness.... Where? Why so suddenly?"
Molga paled and fussed, trying to peer at Rubette's face. But Leonard narrowed his eyes in annoyance and brushed past her easily.
"Greetings later."
His voice was as cold as ever, but Molga sensed uncharacteristic fluster and worry in the gap.
"Don't do that, Leonard. Go back to your room. She can barely even come outside."
Molga grabbed Leonard hastily and called to the nearby maids.
"What are you all standing around for? Hurry and take Rubette...."
"No need."
Leonard scowled and shook off Molga's arm.
"I'll handle it, so Madam, rest from your travels and don't worry."
"W-Wait!"
Before she could grab him again, Leonard strode off down the hall and vanished.
Molga, biting her lip anxiously and stamping her feet, wiped all expression from her face once his figure was gone.
Her doll-like beautiful face tilted slightly.
"Damn it. What the hell kind of mess is this?"
* * *
Rubette lay soaked in cold sweat, half-conscious, murmuring faint groans that were barely audible.
Her broken words were hard to make out, but they rang clear in Leonard's ears.
"You hate me...."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't throw me away."
"It looks like post-traumatic stress disorder."
"...What? Disorder?"
The doctor examining Rubette's condition gave his diagnosis.
The young doctor's name was Aaron Mueller.
He was someone Rubette had newly brought from the capital to check Leonard's health, and he was quite skilled.
Leonard wasn't thrilled with the word "disorder," but it wasn't nonsense.
He asked sharply.
"What do you mean?"
"I've treated a few patients with these symptoms. Mostly people gripped by memories of shocking or frightening experiences."
"...."
"The condition manifests in various ways. Like the Duchess now—often reliving memories or dreaming about the trauma and suffering."
"Shocking or frightening situation? What could make a girl who stayed quietly at home go through that?"
"I can't speculate without knowing the Duchess's full circumstances. But among my patients, there were soldiers who'd witnessed the horrors of the battlefield firsthand...."
"...."
"...And many who had memories of physical or mental abuse from childhood."
Leonard paused at Aaron's words.
"Has the Duchess seemed oversensitive? Expressed anger? Or had negative thoughts... like feeling rejected or abandoned?"
Leonard bowed his stiff neck and stared blankly at Rubette's face.
"I jumped in on purpose to die."
Her words about falling into the pond deliberately.
He'd dismissed it as a joke, but couldn't ignore it because of her expression.
The image of his daughter looking burdened resurfaced. And those eyes resenting her indifferent father.
"...Yeah. Seems there were."
Seeing Leonard's reaction—like something clicked—Aaron nodded without pressing further.
"No way to treat it?"
"Nothing specific for now, unfortunately. It's not something drugs can fix. As a mental issue, it relies most on the Duchess's own will and support from those around her."
"How?"
"If possible, perhaps Your Grace could assist in her treatment?"
"Me?"
"Yes. From what I've heard, Your Grace is a spirit user with illusion-based abilities."
He meant Illusion, Leonard's familial spirit of illusions.
"Reliving memories like this brings immense mental pain, so implanting illusions to overlay those memories could provide temporary relief."
"What kind of illusions?"
Leonard's question made Aaron ponder briefly before answering.
"Her desired daily life? The sort of things a noble young lady her age might wish for?"
"...."
Rubette's desired daily life.
"Like other girls, I want to eat meals with Daddy, go out and play, throw tantrums...."
Leonard closed his eyes thoughtfully and nodded faintly.
"Understood. Good work. I'll call if her condition changes."
"Yes, Your Grace. And one more thing out of concern: illusions are only temporary. Please create a truly comfortable environment where she can be happy."
Aaron donned his hat, grabbed his bag, and left the room after his final advice.
Alone with her now, Leonard stared at Rubette's face for a long while.
'Illusions....'
Would that help this child?
For 11 years since his wife's death, Leonard had spent most of his 24 hours lost in her illusions.
Living and breathing itself was agony, but in dreams, it wasn't torment.
Yet waking from illusions brought excruciating loss. To fill the void, he drowned in drink and slept again...
A cycle of wretched days.
'Won't temporary illusions bring even greater pain? Showing vain dreams....'
Leonard paused mid-thought.
His own longing for a wife no longer in this world was different from his daughter's situation.
What Rubette wanted.
"Eat meals with Daddy, go out and play, throw tantrums...."
Even if she woke from the illusion, it was the kind of thing he could make real.
"...Illusion."
As Leonard's low voice echoed in the quiet room, Illusion was summoned.
The spirit with a pure white feminine form glided softly through the air and replied.
"You called, Contractor?"
Leonard commanded immediately.
"My daughter's having nightmares. Give her a good dream."
Illusion paused at the unusual order, then noticed Rubette lying there.
"A good dream—what kind?"
Leonard pondered, eyes shut tight.
"With Daddy...."
"Eat meals, go out and play, throw tantrums...."
It wasn't difficult.
"With me...."
Twisting his lips, Leonard stood and said as he approached.
"Eating meals together, going out to play, letting her throw all the tantrums she wants at me—like that."