40 - The Attic Room's Secret Treasure
...Well then, shall I get to it?
I already have permission from Leonardo, the master of the residence. There was a time limit put on it, until I get used to the city, but it's a room for me to use. Even if I clean my own room myself, no one's going to get angry at me for that.
...When I said "please lend me some cleaning tools," Tabitha sure made a funny face, huh.
I guess it's really that strange for someone of the master's household to do cleaning. Tabitha and the others said they'd do the cleaning themselves, but I managed to refuse by saying it also serves as a way for me to pass the time. As compensation, or rather, so my hair wouldn't get in the way, my hair that was tied in twin tails this morning was put up into a bun. My bright red one-piece dress was also changed into the dress I wore at Aurelia's house, so it wouldn't matter if it got dirty.
...The clothes I wore at Aurelia's house and the clothes prepared at the mansion are clearly different in quality, aren't they.
The clothes I wore at Aurelia's house were secondhand clothes that a Black Knight bought somewhere in a city, and the clothes prepared at the lord's mansion were also apparently secondhand, but the texture is terrifyingly good. It's about the difference between loungewear and visiting wear in my past life.
...Well, not exactly visiting wear, more like fancy clothes, brand-name clothes, something like that.
At any rate, since I've changed into clothes that can get dirty, I can enjoy cleaning to my heart's content.
...First, which room should I pick, I wonder.
I peek through the six doors and check each room. I wanted good sunlight, so I'd already decided on a south-facing room. That leaves me with three rooms to choose from, one of which I'll take.
...I'll go with this one, I think.
The middle room has less luggage than the other two rooms. Even if I need to move things to other rooms, it'll be convenient.
...First, I should open the window and let the air circulate.
I check the contents of the room, then peek into the other rooms to see if I can move things out. I don't think I can carry the wooden boxes myself, but that's something I can count on Bart for. As I'm counting the wooden boxes, Bart happens to come by to check on me, so I have him carry the boxes out. I can carry small luggage myself, so I don't need help. When I move out the luggage that was in boxes or wrapped in cloth, a shabby bed appears from underneath. It seems the attic really was used for servants' quarters, so this is probably something a former servant used. Bart asks if I want to take the bed out too, but I tell him it's fine as is.
...It's a normal-sized bed. I'd want to wash the futon thoroughly or replace it, but a bed this size looks like it'd be comfortable to sleep in.
I watch Bart carry the futon downstairs, then look over the now-empty room again. The pleasantly compact size and plain wallpaper create a surprisingly calming atmosphere.
...It feels way more relaxing than those too-spacious guest rooms or that too-pretty third-floor room.
Alright, to make this room my own, first I'll thoroughly clean it. As I roll up my sleeves with renewed determination, Tabitha calls up from downstairs.
"Tina-sama, it's time for dinner."
Apparently it had become that time without me noticing. I did take breaks, but I was in the attic all day, so today felt like time passed quickly.
"Bath first today too, right?"
I can't tell myself, but apparently from Tabitha's perspective, I've gotten cotton dust on me somewhere again. Tabitha puts her hands on her hips and gives a sighing, wry smile.
Since I'm at it, I'll do a thorough cleaning. I thought I'd wash the old futon myself, but Tabitha took it to the laundry that very day. I wondered if there was something like a dry cleaner's here, and when I asked, she told me there was something similar. Apparently it doesn't have the same speed as a dry cleaner in my past life where you drop it off in the morning and pick it up in the evening, but they wash it thoroughly. Also, for an additional fee, they can re-fluff or repair the futon too.
With occasional help from Tabitha, I spent three days cleaning the room, and now it's ready to use as soon as the futon comes back. Compared to the third-floor room it's barren, but that's how a room you've just moved into is. I stuff the clothes I wore at Aurelia's house into a small closet, and my part is done.
...Come to think of it, what was that luggage that was in this room anyway?
Once the room was clean, I found myself bored again, and got curious about the luggage I'd moved to other rooms. I'd been so absorbed in clearing things out that I'd never been interested in the contents until now.
I move to the next room and open the window first. Since I've gotten used to the cleaned room, the untouched attic room feels a bit dusty. A single sheet of paper flutters in the breeze circulating through the room. My attention caught by its movement, I casually approach the stack of books and paper on the desk.
...This is the stuff I moved out. Wait, it was under the bed...?
If I thought of it as a book found under a boy's bed, that'd be a bundle of romance, but I don't know the gender of the previous room's occupant, and at the time I was only thinking about emptying the room, so I had no interest in the luggage. But today is different. Now I'm curious about what those things I cleared out without any interest actually were, so I came specifically to check. Whether it's a boy's romantic treasure or a failing test grade, I don't care. I just want to satisfy a little curiosity.
"...What's this?"
I pull out the piece of memo paper fluttering in the wind and lower my gaze. It's probably in this country's script, I think, but I can't read what's written on it at all. The problem was the book the memo was tucked into. I think some kind of notes were written in red ink, but the black ink text is partially readable to me. Mixed in with this country's script, Japanese was written there.
...Let's see? Sedovara Church, entrustment? The compounding methods are...?
"All the compounding recipes I created will be entrusted to the Sedovara Church for management. Methods of compounding medicines should not be kept secret by individuals. They should be spread widely, to save as many lives as possible. However, I also understand that you can't get by on idealism alone. Expenses are needed to make medicine too, and the poor cannot afford the money to buy medicine. As a means of obtaining funds, I presented several proposals to the Sedovara Church. If those proposals are adopted, even the poor will be able to buy medicine."
Picking out only the Japanese I can read, the content was something like this. Inferring from my limited knowledge, it's probably about the achievements of the saint Yuuta Hiraga, or a biography, something like that.
...Why is something like that in the attic room?
It's in the form of a book, but the contents aren't printed. Maybe it's something someone compiled into book form from what they wrote themselves. If this world had loose-leaf paper and binders, it would probably have been kept in a binder instead of a book.
...A book written in Japanese, found under a bed, huh.
I don't know whose belongings it was, but I also don't know whether I should leave it alone or report it to Leonardo.
The opportunity to submit this troubling discovery to Leonardo came at dinner the next day. It's not that I had no opportunity, but rather that Leonardo simply didn't come home.
...I did tell him he didn't have to force himself to come back if work was busy, but still, that's a rather refreshing level of neglect, huh.
I'm the one who said it, but even so, I have to wonder. It seems Leonardo doesn't have much awareness of having become a toddler's guardian.
...Now then, how should I bring it up?
I gaze at Leonardo, whose face I'm seeing for the first time in four days, and think without letting it show on my face. In Leonardo's mind, I'm a toddler who can't read. There's no way I could read Japanese, and there's no way I'd know the difference from this country's language.
...Huh? If I say something weird, won't I end up getting exposed as a reincarnator?
Aurelia told me to get better at hiding it, so maybe I should think a bit more carefully. About a way to hand over that troublesome book to Leonardo without him realizing I'm a reincarnator.
"...Tina?"
"Hwe?"
I want to speak. But I don't know what to say. As I'm caught in that mental tug-of-war, mulling it over, Leonardo suddenly speaks to me. I'm caught completely off guard, so a weird sound escapes me. What is it? As I look at Leonardo again, he's stopped eating and is looking at my face.
"Umm...?"
"You weren't listening?"
"I'm sorry."
Apparently I was so deep in thought that I was tuning Leonardo out. This is bad, I think, taking my hands off the knife and fork and placing them on my knees. I'm in full listening mode now, determined not to zone out this time.
To me, sitting up straight and trying to listen, Leonardo says I can eat while he talks and resumes his meal. I also push my earlier thoughts to the corner of my mind and start eating again, determined not to tune him out this time.
"I was just asking what color Tina likes."
"My favorite color?"
"Since I'm fixing up a room for you anyway, wouldn't it be better to change the wallpaper to a color you like?"
His casually spoken words make my eyes go wide.
"...Change... wallpaper?"
Huh? What is he saying? Is this person sane? That's my honest reaction. This isn't the level of going to a hardware store to buy some paint and changing the wall color a bit. I don't know if Bart would do it or if they'd hire a carpenter, but normally you wouldn't go out of your way to change wallpaper just for one foster child. The current wallpaper is fine enough, but more than that, I don't see the point in going that far.
...No, I think I've heard that medieval nobles enjoyed redecorating their rooms on a scale that included changing wallpaper with each season.
But neither I nor Leonardo are nobles. At the very least, I think the current wallpaper is perfectly fine.
"Leonyaldo-san, you said you were looking for my relatives, right?"
I'm pretty sure Leonardo was asking about my relatives back in Meiyu Village. I thought for sure that Leonardo would look for my relatives while keeping me, and once they were found, I'd be handed over to them. But is that not the case?
"I'll be sent to my relatives. Changing wallpaper is a waste."
When I point this out, Leonardo's smile freezes before my eyes. His reaction is so obvious that I'm certain he'd completely forgotten about the existence of my relatives. If I'm only staying with Leonardo temporarily, there's no need to change the wallpaper. If anything, the attic might as well be officially made into my room.
"Of course I intend to look for Tina's relatives, but they won't be found right away. And the fortress is busy right now..."
"Leonyaldo-san is busy. Even more reason, no need for wallpaper."
"Still, since Saromon-sama entrusted Tina to me, I have to properly prepare a room..."
"The attic room is lovely, you know?"
...Oh? Could this be a chance right now?
The conversation naturally turned to the attic room. If I bring up what I discovered in this flow, it shouldn't be too unnatural. To Leonardo, who still has a frown on his face and hasn't given up on changing the wallpaper, I try speaking in as natural a manner as I can muster.
"Oh yeah, in the attic room, there was a book."
The fact that I stumble a little right away shows that lying doesn't suit me. Natural acting is impossible for me.
"A book?"
Whether it's convenient for him that the topic shifted away from wallpaper, or he's just genuinely engaging with the conversation, I can tell Leonardo's attention has turned to me.
"It's a weird book."
It only occurred to me after I said it that there's no way I, a toddler, should be able to tell a weird book from a normal book.
...It's useless to nitpick a little girl's word choice, you know. Please don't notice.
I sweat inwardly, wondering if Leonardo noticed my slip, but he doesn't seem particularly bothered and prompts me to continue.
"What kind of weird?"
"It has lots of red writing."
Saying "it was a handwritten book, not a printed one" would obviously be bad. Growing up in a village with no proper books to speak of, it's doubtful whether a normal little girl would even have the concept of printing. And of course I can't say that Japanese was written in it. After agonizing over it, all I could manage was that it was a book with notes in red ink.
"Lots of black writing and red writing. Do you want to see it, Leonyaldo-san?"
I look up at Leonardo while smiling as innocently as I can. I play the role of a thoroughly childlike child, the kind who shows off to get praised by adults -- like "I caught a really big bug" or "I got a hundred on my test" -- with an attitude of "I don't particularly want to show off my achievement, but if you absolutely insist on seeing it, I suppose I could show you." This transparent act seems to have gotten through to Leonardo too, as he gives a wry smile and says, "I'd like to see it." Since leaving the table during a meal would probably get me scolded, I promise to show him after dinner and continue eating.
After the meal, I thought I'd bring the book in question to Leonardo's room, but Leonardo follows me as I head to the attic to retrieve it. Maybe he thinks he should at least check on the room once, since he gave me permission to use it. There's nothing I'd be troubled by him seeing, so I put on a show of childish pride.
See? It's gotten clean, hasn't it? I puff out my chest and pull Leonardo into the room.
"...It's small."
That's Leonardo's first words. The ceiling feels high to me, but it seems a bit low to the tall Leonardo.
...Oh no. That's a bad impression. He's not going to say the attic room won't work after all, is he?
To Leonardo, who furrows his brow in dissatisfaction, I list all the wonderful points of this room so he won't take it away from me. I'm starting to figure out the points where Leonardo can't say no. For Leonardo, who seems to feel quite indebted to my father, hinting at nostalgia or family love is the most effective.
"The house I lived in with my dad and mom, it was like this. Small is nice. I like it."
I think it might be overdoing it, but I twirl around the room with a cheerful gesture. When I finish with a grin and look up at him, the crease between Leonardo's brows disappears. It seems I've deflected his negative feelings about the attic room, so I approach the desk to hand over the book I came for. It seems to be a desk with a lock, but unfortunately I didn't find the key. Maybe it's somewhere among the luggage I moved out, but for now I don't need it. I open an unlocked drawer and take out the book I'd put in there. It was a book with a black leather cover and no title, along with several memo sheets.
"This book, Leonyaldo-san, can you read it?"
With an innocent expression, I open the book and hold it out in front of Leonardo. As for Leonardo, who lowers his gaze to the open book, his reaction is interesting enough to be amusing.
...Oh? Can Leonardo-san read Japanese?
I think anyone would notice that there are different characters from the ones normally used. But Leonardo's reaction feels a bit exaggerated for just noticing that there are different characters.
"Tina, was this book here?"
"Where it was? I think under the bed."
"What do you mean, 'I think'?"
"I moved all the stuff out once."
I answer honestly that I moved all the luggage to another room to clean, and then yesterday I got curious and checked the stuff I'd moved out, and found it. I add that before I moved it, I'd found it under the bed.
"Under the bed... was it something belonging to the servants who used to work here? This room would have been used before the annex was built... I should ask Bart and the others about it too, I suppose."
Leonardo, clearly starting to think about something, closes the book in his hand and says to me apologetically,
"Tina, can I have this book?"
"Sure. I can't read books."
That's a lie. I read every readable part during my spare time. I couldn't read the parts that seemed to be in this country's script at all, but I could read most of the Japanese parts. The content was, as I suspected, a biography of the saint Yuuta Hiraga. It mentioned the medicines Yuuta Hiraga created and the compounding tools he invented.
"...And, I just remembered some work, so I'm going back to the fortress. I wanted to spend time with you since it's been a while, but I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
I'm a little surprised that he did actually care about me somewhat. This is Leonardo, who when I told him he didn't have to force himself to come back, honestly stayed away for four whole days without hesitation.
...Actually, shouldn't I be the one saying sorry? If I'm not mistaken, the work he remembered is that book, isn't it.
He was supposed to be able to sleep at home for the first time in a while, but it seems the book I gave him made Leonardo decide to go back to the fortress. I don't think there was anything useful written about infectious diseases in it, but if it's useful, I want him to take it. It gets rid of the thing that's been making me agonize over whether I should keep quiet about something or tell him about it.
I feel bad for Leonardo, but as far as I'm concerned, this is perfect.
Typos and errors will be fixed later... orz
No update on the 18th.