I meant to leave as soon as I stepped outside the door, but the moment I heard Sheila-san crying, my legs went numb, as though they no longer belonged to me.
I hurt her.
That thought raced through my head again and again. Sheila-san was strong. Or rather, she made herself look strong, but she was probably fragile. I wanted to go back to her, to wipe away her tears.
And yet I couldn’t move.
Mother flashed through my mind, and with it came the certainty that I didn’t have the right.
In the end, I waited outside her door until her sobs subsided. Only when I sensed she’d calmed did I use teleportation magic.
Ever since Sheila-san’s divorce, the adventurers had been restless.
They wanted her in their party. They wanted her as a partner in everything, private life included. More than one man was openly scheming. The fact that Sheila-san was staying at my family home was known only to me and a handful of guild staff. If she hadn’t told them, even that married couple who were her closest friends wouldn’t know.
I wanted to help her more, truly I did, but she pushed me away.
If I forced my way in, she would come to loathe me. That was a pain I couldn’t bear.
And the thought that she might reject me again made it impossible to take even one step forward.
I couldn’t cross the line, but I wanted to save her. If she hated me, it would be deserved. That troublesome circle of feelings tightened around my chest and began to rule me.
Even so, I still wanted her to smile.
I wanted her to be happy, and I wanted it to be me, not some other man, who made that happen.
What I lacked was a little courage.
Since I didn’t have it yet, I would start by doing what needed doing.
A few days later, biting back a sigh that threatened to spill out, I stood before the house where the Marseize mother and child lived.
Several months had passed since Sheila-san’s divorce became official. During that time, Leon hadn’t returned here even once.
I pressed down the heaviness in my chest and knocked. There was hurried shuffling inside, and the door flew open.
“Leon! Welcome home! …ah…”
The woman’s face had been a radiant smile, but the moment she realized I wasn’t the man she’d been waiting for, her expression stiffened.
“You’re Chiara-san, correct? I’m Asty. I handle investigations regarding children born outside marriage. This is the scribe.”
I kept my voice polite, perfectly even.
“I have something to discuss concerning Lilia-chan. Do you have a moment?”
At the words born outside marriage, her body visibly tensed. She jumped, her gaze darting about.
People with something to hide always have busy eyes.
“Ah… um… right now, I’m… I’m rather busy…”
“We can speak here if you prefer,” I said mildly. “But there are neighbors about. If possible, I’d like to speak inside.”
She hesitated, glancing between me and the scribe. At least she had the sense not to invite strange young men in too easily.
“…p-please, come in.”
Since she’d allowed it, I entered without hesitation, smile still in place. The scribe looked as though he wanted to say something, but I ignored him.
The interior was familiar. I’d seen it enough through surveillance magic that it might as well have been my own. Everything matched my memory.
It was clean. There was no foul smell. The mother and child’s situation could be called stable. They didn’t look as though they were starving. She even had the leisure to prepare tea for guests.
The child wasn’t in sight. Likely resting in another room.
That was for the best.
“I’m sorry to appear so suddenly,” I began. “You do know that this country is harsh toward children born from adultery, yes? For that reason, when a child raised by a single parent turns three, an investigation is conducted to determine their status.”
I let my smile fade, slowly.
“Lilia-chan is three now, correct?”
“…y-yes…”
Her face went pale. The hand she’d set on the table trembled faintly.
Even as a commoner, she couldn’t claim ignorance of the law.
I had no intention of being lenient, regardless of Sheila-san’s case.
“As a result of the investigation,” I said, “it has been determined that Lilia-chan is a child born of adultery. At the time of her conception and birth, her father was legally married to another woman.”
I watched her carefully.
“Did you know he was married?”
This was an important question.
If she hadn’t known, there was the possibility she’d been deceived and abandoned. It was not uncommon for a man to speak irresponsibly of a future together, then flee once pregnancy became real.
“…um…”
I did not allow her to drift away.
“For three years you met with him, didn’t you? Did you know he was married?”
Her face turned bloodless. Her eyes swam. Her fingers shook more visibly now, white against the tabletop.
She knew. She had to.
“You did know,” I said quietly. “You told him to divorce her.”
“……”
At my words, she flinched as though struck.
“For that reason, Lilia-chan’s status is recorded as a child born of adultery. The state will not cover the cost of her education, approximately one thousand gold coins per year. Textbooks and materials are separate, paid out of pocket.”
“A thousand…? Th-that’s… I…” Her voice cracked.
She trembled so violently she looked pitiful.
And yet I felt nothing.
“Indeed. When you worked as a tavern server, your annual earnings were around two hundred gold coins, yes?” I said. “A commoner cannot pay it.”
That figure was inflated, of course. For commoners it was still survivable, compared to nobles, who could be ruined by such penalties.
Children born of adultery were obstacles to political marriage, and in worst cases could even become tools of succession fraud. However strict the punishments, there were always those who surrendered to desire.
“…There is one loophole,” I said.
When I let my smile return, she snapped her head up, eyes shining with desperate hope, as if clinging to a rope thrown over a cliff.
“Marry the man,” I said. “If you remarry him and file for legitimate recognition, the child may be treated as legitimate and receive protection.”
Her eyes widened. Color crept back into her cheeks.
To her, it must have looked like salvation.
She did not yet see how thin and brittle that thread truly was.
“However,” I added.
I closed my eyes and took one measured breath. When I opened them again, she looked as though she might burst from impatience.
“Remarriage comes with conditions.
“First: he must finish paying the compensation demanded by his former wife.
“Second: you must obtain the former wife’s consent.
“Third: there is a deadline. The child must be legitimized before she turns six and enters the academy. If you cannot remarry by then, it is over.
“And even if you succeed…”
With each condition, her expression shifted. Confusion. Fear. Panic. And then, at last, despair.
“In that case,” I continued, “there are further terms.
“First: you may never divorce again, until death separates you.
“Second: if either of you commits adultery, state support will be cut off, and all aid previously received will be reclaimed.”
Only a handful had ever managed such remarriage in this country’s history.
Not one couple had remained truly loving to the end.
“…That’s… impossible,” she whispered.
“And the man will be billed as well,” I said.
Whether she even heard me, I couldn’t tell. She shook her head again and again, murmuring impossible, tears gathering in her eyes.
In this country, infidelity itself was common enough. Among nobles, certainly; even among commoners, if one had money, keeping a lover was not unheard of.
What was absolutely forbidden was to let such indulgence bear fruit.
“If it is impossible,” I asked, “then why did you choose a knight?”
I kept my face blank.
“Eh…”
“You had other options,” I said, voice unyielding. “There was a young man at the tavern where you worked. Plain, perhaps, but earnest, well-liked, steady.
“A knight fights monsters and may be sent to war. Unmarried men often keep familiar courtesans and lovers at every expedition post. Married men may slip among them.
“And yet you still involved yourself with a knight. Why?”
Her lips pressed tight. Her face grew rigid again. Her eyes flickered, searching for escape. Finding none, her shoulders sagged.
Perhaps the reality of what she’d done was finally sinking in.
“I…” she began, voice shaking. “I have no family. I’ve always been alone. When I saw Leon, I wanted him to hold me. I didn’t know he was married.”
She sobbed, sniffing, shoulders trembling.
And yet why did she speak as though she were the victim?
I couldn’t understand it.
“So you mean to say you’re the victim?” I asked coolly.
“But I am,” she insisted through tears. “I just met the man destined for me. The man I fell for happened to be married. When he took me, I didn’t know. But once it began, I couldn’t stop.
“Even if the whole world opposed me, I couldn’t give him up.”
Even as she cried, her words were the same as so many others.
The way people dressed selfishness in pretty language never changed.
Her happiness, bought with another woman’s ruin, and she could still call it fate.
It made me sick.
“I see,” I said. “Then pay the compensation to the knight’s former wife and ask for her consent.
“By the way, at present, there is no compensation claim against you. The former wife said it would be meaningless if it were paid with money you didn’t earn yourself.”
I tilted my head.
“…How unfortunate. In that case, you cannot remarry, can you?”
Her face twisted, as plainly as if she’d been struck.
“And should you wish to marry someone else,” I went on, “your records in the guild will note that Lilia-chan is a child born of adultery.
“…Now then. What will you do?”
The expression she wore was ugly.
This isn’t what I expected, her mouth formed soundlessly.
Too late.
“And one more thing,” I added. “If you cannot pay, you may place Lilia-chan in an orphanage.
“It is a place for children born of adultery, supported by the patronage of certain nobles.
“If you truly love her, consider whether letting her go might be the kinder choice.”
When I finished, I stood and bowed.
Chiara clawed at her hair, making a strangled sound.
I glanced once at the tea on the table, its surface trembling in small ripples.
Then we left the house.
