523 - Aristalf's Perspective Mother's Aftermath and the White Dog
Aristalf's Perspective. Probably the timeline before the epilogue. Around the time shortly after Teo found Tina, I think.
"Hello, Aristalf-sama. How are you feeling?"
With a smooth, elegant movement, Christina gives a lady's bow and dips her head slightly. The way her long black hair flows over her shoulders is graceful, and if one did not know Christina's true nature, they would likely fall in love just by seeing this gesture. At a glance, Christina has grown into a beautiful girl that anyone would fall for. However, that is truly only her appearance. The moment she opens her mouth, her disappointing side immediately reveals itself, and a century's worth of love would vanish in an instant.
"So? Where is my uncle? Or should I call him cousin?"
Just as words that hardly seem fitting for a lady, like "Grandfather really had a nerve," were about to escape, a hand reached out from behind and covered Christina's mouth. In the past, her tutor had physically covered her mouth to prevent such slips of the tongue, but now it was her husband, Teodor, who did the same.
"Tina, your wording!"
"Oh, my apologies."
Admonished by Teodor, Christina blinks her blue eyes in surprise. Then, she gives a gentle smile and apologizes for her slip, though she likely isn't reflecting on it much. In the first place, she might not even think it is something she needs to reflect on. As far as I know, Christina is that kind of free spirit. One might even call her arrogant.
"I am sorry. Country life has been so comfortable that I have almost forgotten my lady-like speech..."
"...Could you say the same thing in front of Ms. Hartmann?"
"My apologies. It seems my tongue has grown a bit loose due to the peaceful life."
Just as Christina put her lady-like facade back on and pleaded for forgiveness, Teodor nodded with satisfaction. Even for the royalty of Ivizia, who are each a bundle of individuality, holding the reins of this disappointing beautiful girl seems to be a difficult task. Or rather, the blood of the grandmother, who descends from the Ivizia royalty, flows in both Christina and me. Christina's habit of running wild is likely due to Grandmother's blood. The royalty of our country are more than just a little free-spirited.
"So, in the end, should I call him uncle, or should I call him cousin... which one is it?"
"If I had to say... which one would it be, I wonder?"
I answer Christina's question, admitting that I am also troubled by it. Truly, my inner feelings on this matter are more than just complicated.
After my father passed away from an epidemic, my grandfather worried about the future of my still-young mother. In itself, I think that was a wonderful thing. I do, but contrary to that wonderful intention, my grandfather was an incredibly clumsy person. He was so clumsy that he ended up driving my mother back to her parents' home. He told her that since she was still young, she should look for a new partner.
There were various things regarding this matter, but it is all in the past now.
In the end, my grandfather and mother reconciled.
I thought that I would be able to see my mother freely again... but then my mother's father, who is also my grandfather, became angry with Grandfather Bertrand. Well, he would be. I think it is only natural. To think that his daughter had been sent back to her parents' home after her husband died and her child was taken away, and then, just because that child missed her, Bertrand started contacting the daughter again. Anyone would think, "Don't mess with me." Whether he wanted her to be free for the sake of her future, or wanted to bind her for the sake of the child she had with her late husband.
For the sake of the daughter's remarriage, her future, it would be better not to contact either the father-in-law (Bertrand) or the son (me). That was why my maternal grandfather opposed my mother and us getting closer.
Then, surprisingly, it was my mother who suggested a solution. She said that if she remarried Bertrand, she could not only see her son openly but could even live with him again. She added that it would also solve her own remarriage problem.
At this, the two grandfathers, who had clashed every time they met, voiced their opposition in unison. They said she must never marry such an old man.
The issue of my mother's remarriage, which seemed destined to be a disaster, was dismissed by my grandmother. She said that since the first marriage was for political reasons, the second one should be left to my mother's liking.
And the result of letting her do as she pleased was the birth of the being whose title Christina and I are now troubled by.
I had heard from Grandfather Bertrand that it was a marriage in name only, just to satisfy my mother's birth family, but a marriage in name only does not produce results. I vividly remember the look on his face when my mother told him about the pregnancy of my younger brother, or uncle? With a radiant smile, as if all the happiness in the world existed in this moment, my mother said this.
"I can make this happen."
Seeing my mother's smiling face as she said she thought so, I realized. Ah, this is Christina's (bad) influence. It seems my mother had been influenced by Christina, who often takes a rebellious attitude toward Grandfather Bertrand. As far as I know, my mother, who used to always look down, tremble in fear of something, and do nothing but apologize, had learned how to be defiant. Incidentally, upon learning of his daughter's pregnancy, my grandfather challenged his son-in-law (Bertrand) to a duel, while my grandmother smiled gently, saying, "He was my daughter's first love, after all."
...Even so.
I never imagined a younger brother would be born who is separated from me by as many years as a parent and child. Since he is my grandfather's son, he might be my uncle.
"S-so cute...!"
Peering into the cradle at the infant, Christina's expression softens. While she might have complicated inner feelings about the birth of another grandchild, or a new uncle, Christina seems to have decided to simply be happy. She reaches out her finger, wanting to poke the baby's cheek, but then clenches her finger again, realizing she cannot wake a sleeping child. The way her hands fidgeted was far too mismatched and disappointing for a face that could undoubtedly be called a beautiful girl, though she is still a bit too young to be called a beautiful woman.
...Huh?
Occasionally, Christina's gaze drifts toward a strange place. She makes a gesture as if brushing something away from the edge of the cradle, or as if scooping something up from inside it. As I watch, wondering what it is, Christina notices my gaze and looks up. With a slightly troubled expression, she lowers her gaze from me, and then, with a look of realization, she calls out the name of my dog.
"Carlos."
Even as she calls, there is no dog to answer. The white dog (Carlos), who came to our house around the same time as the black dog (Oscar), departed for the land of the dead two years ago due to old age. Since he had served as a sort of service dog for me, who has always been physically weak, he probably felt relieved when the number of times I fell ill decreased slightly. He must have met Christina several times, but come to think of it, I might not have told her that he had died. Christina probably found it strange that the white dog, who was always by my side, was not there.
That is what I thought.
...?
Having called the white dog's name, Christina has a look of natural expectation. It was not that she accidentally called me by the wrong name, but that she had been conscious of it from the start and clearly called the white dog.
As I stand there bewildered, thinking something is strange, Christina's hand moves. She spreads her arms as if welcoming the white dog who had approached after being called, and even makes a gesture as if stroking its chin.
Just as I am blinking, wondering what on earth is happening, I hear Christina's small, whispering voice.
"The new little uncle seems to be a bit prone to being liked by spirits, so please protect him, Carlos."
Hearing Christina say such a mysterious thing, I suddenly remember a few rumors. Christina herself does not talk much about herself, but there are many rumors about her.
Some say she is the "Spirit's Favorite," loved by spirits. Some say she is a Saint deeply favored by the Divine King. Some say she is a Spirit Princess who can see the forms of spirits and hear their voices.
There are others who say she is the reincarnation of Saint Yuta Hiraga, or that she can move between the royal capital and the city of Grenore in an instant using mysterious powers. There are many incomprehensible rumors surrounding Christina. If it is the Christina who is never without such rumors, she might be able to see the form of a dog that is not present here.
...That is a bit.
I find myself thinking it is unfair.
I have never envied Christina for being born with a healthy body. I have never envied Christina for living freely without my grandfather's interference.
But the fact that only Christina can still see the white dog, whom I had to part with in tears due to death, makes me feel, somehow, very.
Envious.
Knowing Tina's surprisingly tumultuous life from her perspective, I can't really say I'm envious, though.
It's been so long since I've written that I've forgotten how to end a chapter (honestly). Anyway, that was Aristalf's perspective. This is the aftermath of Sofiya's remarriage problem, which was glossed over in the royal capital toward the end.
I made a thick yet thin book. If you are interested, please take a look at the activity report or the production blog.
