Chapter 107

He set Ether down out of his arms in a smooth motion and held out a hand to Iberin.

Iberin shot him a half-hearted glare that didn't really land, then took the hand.

She left the children with Rotte for a bit and slipped out with him.

---

Once things had settled down a little, Cherity came calling. Iberin had been turning his invitations down up to that point. Rozelia's safety was still a concern, and she wanted to be careful about everything for a while.

Eyes had been on Cherity and Lecashe both. If the two of them started openly visiting each other's estates, the rumors would catch fire again — that was the read.

After being turned away one too many times, Cherity strode in through the window without a hint of shame. Iberin was startled for a beat, but she'd been waiting for him, so she went straight to the point.

"How did you get Rozelia out?"

"…You won't even show me to the parlor?"

"And who exactly is the man who came in through the window?"

"That'd be me."

After all that, he had the nerve to ask for tea, which was almost impressive.

"Answer the question."

"The temple trusted me. We've worked together a long time. Idiots that they were, they actually asked me for help once the Saintess ran. That made spiriting her out easier."

Cherity had then found Rozelia hiding in the basement and gotten her out.

"I meant to bring the Saintess directly to you, my lady, but when she asked about what was coming up, she turned that down."

"Huh?"

"She asked me to let her show herself at the welcoming ceremony."

{"All of that was Rozelia's idea?"}(#ix2nrx5yir4u)

"Yes. I did nothing. I just did what she wanted."

Cherity protested his innocence.

It was a little surprising — Iberin had been assuming Cherity was the one who'd cooked up the scheme.

Either way, the deed was done, and thanks to it the temple had taken a serious hit.

If anything had gone sideways, she'd have had no intention of blaming Rozelia.

"But — that's what you sent letter after letter to come and tell me?"

"Of course I wanted to see you, my lady. Now you've hurt my feelings."

The corners of his mouth drooped exaggeratedly as he said it. Lyssel frowned.

"What?"

There was already plenty about Cherity that didn't sit right with him, but he'd been holding back because Iberin had explained the situation. That line, though, sounded like it was edging into trouble.

Lyssel glared at Cherity like he was looking at a thug.

Cherity, for his part, just smiled, sunny as ever.

"Why are you looking at me like that? It wasn't the Grand Duke I wanted to see — it was Her Highness. Although I like you too, of course, Your Highness. As one who's dedicated my body and soul to the god, I'd rather you not look at me with that kind of intense —"

"What are you talking about."

Lyssel cut in, cold.

"You'd better not have any impure feelings toward Iber—"

Before he could finish, Cherity blurted out:

"Of course not! Lady Iberin has been chosen by the god!!"

"Chosen by the god?"

"Naturally. As a servant of the god, I'm only serving her. There's nothing dirty about it."

Even if he had been looking at her that way, Iberin had already married him.

And they'd confirmed how they felt about each other.

Lyssel decided to stay composed.

Because he trusted Iberin.

The trust that no matter what underhanded game Cherity tried, she wouldn't fall for it.

"So is that everything you came for?"

"Not really."

"What else, then?"

"…Actually, that's everything."

"Then please show yourself out."

That didn't mean the jealousy wasn't there.

"Hngh. You two are saddening me as a matched set."

Lyssel didn't even pretend to listen and signaled the knights.

Cherity made a sulky face, but apparently didn't want to be dragged out, because he stepped back without protest.

"Oh — by the way, the emperor's apparently holding a welcoming party. Lecashe is on the guest list. Ah, and Viscount Sherburn is on there too."

With that, Cherity vanished as suddenly as he'd appeared.

After he was gone, Iberin had to sit with the words Viscount Sherburn for a while.

"Huh? Sherburn?"

Iberin Sherburn Lecashe.

The middle name was her premarital surname — her parents' name.

"They were viscounts…"

She muttered it absently, thrown by the appearance of a presence she hadn't even considered.

Lyssel was just as startled.

Iberin's parents.

They'd come to visit once before Iberin had gotten pregnant, but he'd never actually met them.

Lyssel's face fell — surely they thought the worst of him.

"…Did you get a letter from your parents?"

"No?"

"Want to write and ask where they are?"

"…Um, Lyssel. The truth is, I just found out that I had parents, like, this second…"

A heavy silence fell over the room.

---

It seemed like, when Iberin had lost her memory, she'd lost her parents along with it.

Nobody had thought about that, and the realization left them all rattled.

Lyssel blamed his own carelessness.

Iberin had been sick for a long time, and she'd lost her memory on top of it. He should have looked after them in her place. The fact that he hadn't even thought of it sat on him like a sin.

"I'm sorry — I didn't even think about it. I know there's no excuse…"

"It's all right. I didn't think of it either. But what are my parents like?"

"I've never met them…"

His head dropped further.

Iberin hadn't been expecting much, so she just laughed it off and looked at Rotte.

"W-well, that is to say… the Viscount and Viscountess…"

"Yeah. Just say it however you want to. You said I used to be horrible? Were they the same way?"

Iberin felt zero sting from any of it.

Iberin's parents weren't her actual parents, after all.

And the fact that they'd married off their daughter to a house steeped in curse-rumors said something about their judgment to begin with.

"You really want me to be honest?"

"Yes. Don't sugarcoat a single thing. I need the full picture to figure out how to deal with them."

Rotte set her jaw, as if making up her mind.

When the viscount and viscountess had come up to the territory once, what had they been like?

They'd been the spitting image of Iberin.

It only made sense — they were her parents, so the behavior matched perfectly.

That meant they'd been just like the pre-memory-loss Iberin, which wasn't good news.

"They were exactly like you were before you lost your memory, my lady."

"Mm. Figured. Is House Sherburn famous, by the way? I really don't remember any of it."

"Not particularly famous. If they were, they wouldn't have sent you to be Madam Lecashe."

"Ah. Right. And now?"

"Still not particularly active."

She'd assumed that the kind of people who'd offer up their own daughter to be sent to Lecashe would be after power, but apparently not.

"So they wouldn't normally show up at parties either."

"That's right. It is a bit sudden."

The emperor's got something in mind…

Iberin's eyes narrowed.

But since she didn't remember her parents, she had no idea how she'd treated them.

Whether the relationship was good or bad.

"They came when I was pregnant, right?"

"Yes."

So maybe a normal parent-daughter dynamic.

But the viscount and viscountess hadn't sent a single letter the whole time, which made it hard to tell.

"But — to be more precise, they came before you were pregnant. You conceived our young master after they left."

"Huh? Really?"

Something started to smell off.

---

Iberin couldn't shake the unease.

There was definitely something there.

"You want to go to the party?"

Lyssel asked, like he'd read her mind.

"Are you sure?"

"…I have a small concern of my own."

"So there really is something strange?"

"No, that's not it. It just sits badly with me that I never properly paid my respects to your parents."

"What if they're awful people?"

"They might be good people."

"…I don't think they are."

"Mm. Well, what I mean is, don't worry about it too much. Nothing's actually happened yet."

"Do I look worried?"

"You aren't?"

"…I am, actually."

Right now, the people who knew the 'Iberin' she was inhabiting were them.

She'd never met them herself, but they'd know little-Iberin's habits, mannerisms — all of it.

"It'll be all right."

"How do you even know what I'm worried about, to say it'll be all right?"

"…Losing your memory makes you anxious, doesn't it."

So that's what he'd been thinking.

"Doesn't it?"

"Yeah."

There wasn't really any room to deny it, so she admitted it under her breath.

"From what Rotte said, they don't sound like good people. I'm worried it'll splash onto you somehow… I wondered if they might be the emperor's people…"

"It'll be all right."

"What's so all right about it?"

"None of the rest matters to me — what matters is that you're comfortable. So just take it easy."

"Tch…"

When he was going this far, she decided to put the unease at the back of her mind for now.

"But — if my guess turns out to be right, don't worry about me, just…"

In her heart of hearts she wanted to say kill them, but they might have been precious people to the original Iberin, so she hesitated.

She couldn't get the rest of it out, and just leaned against Lyssel's shoulder and breathed.

Lyssel patted her shoulder.

---

With the high priest gone, the temple was collapsing at speed.

The god had never really been for the commoners to begin with.

And now corruption on top of that — unless someone was an unusually devout believer, almost everyone was busy cursing the temple.

The priests, who'd never been on the receiving end of disrespect in their lives, were trembling — but there wasn't much they could do.

This was the kind of thing that should have been the Pope's to handle, not the high priest's.

But the Pope was all polish and no substance.

There was nothing he could pull off by himself.

Even now, all he could do was hunt for the missing high priest and shake.

"The high priest."

"We don't know…"

"Find him already — somebody has to explain what's going on!"

"Your Holiness…"

The priest closed his eyes, looking miserable.

"The people — still the same?"

"Yes."

"Why now, of all times. Why in my generation!"