Azriel felt her head spin. She could not think of anything because she had never imagined that this would happen to her before.
“Well, umm, I mean, I…,” she stammered.
“I will wait here next time,” Charles said as he let go of her hand and slipped a small card in her hand.
“This is…,” she looked down at the card blankly. It was an invitation with edges delicately dipped like a lace. Large gold-plated letters caught her attention first.
‘Masquerade’
“I will attend it, wearing a blue wave-patterned mask. You don’t have to come if you don’t feel comfortable, but at least think about it,” Charles spoke.
Azriel sat there for a long while even after Charles left the room first.
*
Azriel did not know what kind of mind she was in on the way back home. She sprinkled salt in the tea that Brownie served instead of sugar.
“Argh! Esthera! What are you doing? Salt! What nonsense! Salt in Brownie’s tea! It’s spoiled! How could you! You ruined Brownie’s tea!”
The spirit flew around, throwing a fit. Startled, she put down the salt shaker she was holding. “I’m sorry, Brownie. I’ll drink it another time.”
“What? What? Are you leaving? I’ll make you another one! Brownie’s tea is ruined, but it’s fine if it’s Esthera! Brownie can use magic and make it tasty again!”
“No, I just don’t want to drink it now,” she got up staggeringly and headed to the corridor. Largo came to her with a bright face. He wagged his tail, asking to play with her. “Sorry, Largo. Later…”
Azriel patted Largo’s head and passed by him. The dog drooped his tail. Noir and Blanchet, who were lying down on the bench in the central garden, looked at each other’s eyes. Blanchet jumped down and followed behind Azriel. Noir, who also followed her after, carefully asked. “Did something… happen?”
“What? No,” Azriel replied.
Noir’s green eyes narrowed tightly. “You surely don’t look like nothing has happened.”
“What about my face?” she asked.
“You have a very complicated look on your face.”
“…I just have something to think about.”
“Really, what is it? Did someone bother you? Do you want me to go teach him a lesson?”
“I said, it’s nothing,” Azriel responded a little irritably before running to her room and shutting the door. Noir looked back at Blanchet with a disturbed look. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Umm, she might be going through puberty…,” Blanchet guessed.
“She’s already 19. She’s already had her coming-of-age celebration, and you think she’s going through puberty now?” Noir suspected.
“Azriel grew up too early… Yeah, you don’t grow up automatically only because you reach the age. I mean, look at you.”
“Did you just make fun of me?” Noir grumbled. Blanchet snorted and turned around.
*
Azriel untied the knot on her robe as she approached her bed. She, who was about to drop the robe she just took off randomly on the floor, hesitated and hung it on the armchair. It was because the robe was Rhema’s gift. Now in a light dress, she directly fell into the bed.
“Keck!”
“Huh?” Azriel said in surprise.
“Cough, cough. Keck, master!”
“Marthi?”
Her familiar spirit was struggling, being squeezed under her. Azriel lifted a lion cub that was fluttering its wings. “Are you alright?”
“Keck, yes. This is not a problem for an excellent familiar spirit like me,” Marthi stretched out his chest as if he had forgotten about all the coughing. Azriel chuckled and let go of him. “What were you doing here?”
“I was taking a nap,” he answered.
“In my bed?”
As her face turned strange, Marthi drooped his ears and studied her face. “I feel comfortable and sleepy when I smell your scent, master… Can’t I do it?”
“No, well, it’s fine,” she replied absentmindedly and buried her face in her pillow. She could hear his wings fluttering above her head. “Are you sleeping? Should I turn off the light?”
“I’m not sleeping,” she replied.
“Then what are you doing? Are you not feeling well?”
“I’m fine, so play outside, Marthi.”
“Master,” her pillow was squashed a little. Marthi sat down right next to her head and looked at her. “You must be very disturbed. I can feel your emotion, master.”
“…”
“If you have any concerns, please consult me. After all, I am your familiar spirit who’s loyal only to you, master,” Marthi said.
Azriel suddenly realized something. Even though Noir, Blanchet, and Largo all genuinely cared for her, they were Rhema’s familiar spirit. On the other hand, Marthicoras was her familiar spirit who listened to her words as a priority, rather than Rhema’s. Azriel turned her head and looked to the side, still lying down. A lion cub, who was sitting down calmly, blinked his eyes that looked like red beads.
“Marthi,” she called.
“Yes, master.”
“Have you ever received a confession of love?”
“Whhaat?” Marthi dropped his jaw. His reaction turned Azriel’s face red. She buried her face back in the pillow.
“Master?”
“No, no, never mind.”
“Well, master.”
“You didn’t hear it. Just forget about it.”
“It’s not that…”
“Marthi, it’s fine. I didn’t say anything about confession, okay? Forget it. It’s a command!”
“A confession? Azriel, did you receive a confession? Really? From who?”
It was Maylie’s excited voice. Startled, Azriel lifted her face. Maylie was in her room without her knowledge.
“…I was calling you to inform you that your friend is here, master,” Marthi said, sighing. Azriel sat up hastily. “Wh, when did you come?”
“Just now. You know, I knocked,” Maylie pulled a chair and sat down. She pulled out something from her chest and held it out proudly. “Ta-da! I wanted to show it to you first before anyone else.”
“Wow. It’s a business card!” Azriel accepted it welcomingly. It was written ‘Modjanklian cub reporter, Maylie Brown’ on the simple business card. The surname ‘Brown’ was made by necessity when Maylie and her siblings enrolled at school. It was named after Brownie Castle. “A cub reporter…! You did it, Maylie! You’re amazing!”
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