It felt as though she had drifted through a very long dream.
In that dream, everyone was together again. Her little sister had recovered her health and was bustling about the familia dining hall like a proper poster girl, pausing every so often to scold any companion who dared to be picky about food. Their smiles were so vivid, so real.
Only, for some reason, one thoroughly detestable red-eyed bastard had somehow wormed his way into the scene as well. Instinctively, Alfia blasted him with a Gospel.
And the dream shattered.
When she opened her eyes, they were hazy with sleep.
Alfia took in the unfamiliar surroundings: a white ceiling, tiled floors, bright sunlight pouring in through a wide glass window. Judging by the style of the room, it seemed to be a patient room in some healing-type familia's infirmary.
As her thoughts slowly untangled themselves from the dream, she still had no idea why she was here—but her body felt lighter than it ever had before.
Just as she started to sit up, she belatedly realized that something was clasped in her left hand.
Turning her head in surprise, she saw Duncan sitting in a chair beside the bed, his upper body slumped against the mattress in sleep. Both of his hands were wrapped around her left hand, and the warmth of his palms came through with startling clarity.
His sleeping face was so close that a faint blush rose to Alfia's cheeks before she could stop it.
Usually, she dragged both Duncan and Bell into her room to read them bedtime stories, but she had never truly studied Duncan's face before.
Because of her unusual heterochromatic eyes, she spent most of her life keeping them shut, avoiding direct eye contact whenever possible. Coupled with her near-superhuman mastery of magical perception, she could live and fight without opening them at all. Over time, it had become a strange habit.
Perhaps it was the year and more of harsh tempering, but the childish softness had faded from Duncan's face. In its place was a trace of sharpness. The lingering baby fat had been carved away, leaving behind a leaner, tougher profile. He was taller now than he had been a year ago, and more importantly, there had been a tremendous change in his bearing. Even asleep, Alfia was certain that the slightest movement of her hand would wake him instantly.
In her eyes, he was still far from enough.
But even so, she had to admit it—this boy was moving forward one step at a time through sheer will, and at such speed that even she could not ignore it. Someday, perhaps, he might surpass both her and Chardo and reach the level of the captain himself.
What a pity—
The thought stopped her cold.
Her expression changed as she stared down at her own body in disbelief.
At some point while she had slept, her nightclothes had been changed into a patient's gown. Her vision was partially obstructed by the rise of her chest, but that was not what had startled her.
The real reason was that the pain—the gnawing pain that had always lurked within her like rot in the bone, held in check only by force of will and power—was gone.
Gone.
In its place was a sensation she had never felt before.
"Ah."
Startled, Alfia moved to rise from the bed, only to tug unconsciously at her left hand.
"Alfia?! You're awake?!"
Just as she had expected, the instant her hand twitched, Duncan's eyes flew open.
He glanced around sharply at first, then the moment he saw that she was awake—awkward, a little embarrassed, still trying to get her bearings—his calm face broke into unconcealed joy.
He threw his arms around her.
The sudden physical contact stunned Alfia.
Since her sister's death, no one had touched her so intimately. Even Bell had never dared—partly out of fear of being smacked around. This boy's straightforward embrace left even the battle-hardened Silent in rare disarray.
And yet she did not blast him away as she would have Zeus.
His happiness was so direct, so warm, that it flowed into her through the contact of cheek and chest. Feeling the heat of him, she finally came back to herself. Her hands rose and lightly patted his back, while the smile tugging at her lips did its best to hide her embarrassment.
"What's with the overreaction? I just took a nap."
After the embrace ended, Alfia smoothed away the flush on her face and deliberately put on a stern expression.
"You've been out for three days. You and Chardo both collapsed right after the treatment, and neither of you woke up until now. The healers said it was because of extreme exhaustion, but even they didn't expect you to sleep for three whole days."
"Three days?! Where's Chardo? And why are we here?"
Alfia froze.
She had guessed, from Duncan's reaction, that she must have been unconscious for a while—but three days was far longer than she had imagined.
"Chardo's in another room. Bell's looking after him. When the treatment started, your aura blew apart most of the cabin. The old man complained like crazy, and since both of you stayed unconscious, it wasn't really possible to let you recover at home. The place couldn't be repaired that quickly, either, so we brought you here."
Duncan answered honestly.
"Oh, and the old man said that if you woke up, you'd probably beat him up, so I was the one who carried you onto the wagon. Then the healers said neither of you was in any danger. No danger at all!"
As though remembering something vital, he hurried to add the last part, joy practically spilling off him.
The grievous disease consuming the two of them was obvious even to adventurers who knew only a little healing magic. Chardo's body in particular had been so close to ruin that it looked like rot itself had taken human shape.
And yet now, professional healers had declared that neither of them was in danger.
The meaning behind that was obvious.
"…That old geezer at least knew enough to stay out of range."
Though she had not thought of it immediately, Alfia felt a subtle sense of relief after hearing Duncan's explanation.
Zeus's list of past offenses was simply too long. No goddess, no woman who knew him, ever had a good opinion of him—especially not after he had tried to fill Bell's and Duncan's heads with his nonsense. That part was particularly unforgivable.
"How do you feel?"
Reading her muttering with perfect instinct, Duncan wisely changed the subject.
"…My body feels better than it ever has before. It's just…"
Alfia clenched and unclenched her fist.
Her expression shifted again and again.
At first she had assumed it was merely the lingering disconnect between a newly awakened mind and body, but the more her consciousness cleared, the stranger the sensation became.
It was as though a vat once filled to the brim had suddenly been drained halfway.
Her strength—her power—had somehow vanished.
"Just what?"
The delight on Duncan's face dimmed at once, replaced by worry.
"I—"
Bang!
"Duncan! Chardo's awake—!"
The door slammed open so abruptly that it cut her off mid-sentence.
Bell burst in, still half-shouting the good news. The instant he saw Alfia sitting up in bed, however, he froze in place, mouth hanging open.
"Chardo's awake too? Then get over here."
Alfia clicked her tongue and crooked a finger at him.
"I'll go check on Chardo."
Duncan, with excellent instincts, immediately rose to his feet. After patting the bewildered Bell on the back, he slipped out the door and gently closed it behind him on his way to Chardo's room.
....
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