RS 12

Chapter 12

The boy’s proud, cold expression made it seem as though he was accustomed to pushing people away.

Fortunately, however, he said nothing.

Instead, his gaze slowly slid over Dolores, examining her carefully from head to toe.

Dolores hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should speak first.

Shouldn’t a gentleman be the one to start the conversation first?

The thought crossed her mind, but disappeared just as quickly. The boy was a bourgeois, and considering the level of education and manners possessed by Belov’s upper classes that she had learned about from her father, it was probably better not to expect too much.

So, just as she gathered herself and was about to speak to him—

“Why are you sitting here?”

The boy spoke first.

Dolores blinked once, then tilted her head with an unconcerned expression.

“It’s rude to ask a lady something like that.”

She was imitating the way Anais spoke. But after saying it, she realized that it sounded more like awkward arrogance.

Unable to avoid the boy’s gaze, Dolores endured it for a moment before changing her mind and deciding to be honest.

“Because I wanted to see you again.”

“Why?”

“I liked your playing.”

A brief silence.

“…That’s nothing special.”

His answer was quiet.

There was no sign that he was pleased by the compliment.

If someone had said something like that to her, she would have been so happy she wouldn’t have known what to do. Dolores wondered whether Xavier had perhaps failed to understand what she meant, so she gently pointed it out.

“I’m complimenting your playing. Don’t you understand?”

Something subtly changed in the boy’s gaze.

He didn’t answer.

Without realizing it, Dolores closed her lips.

For some reason, she felt as though she had done something wrong. She lowered her head and dropped her gaze to the ground, her eyes darting around restlessly.

She opened her mouth again.

There seemed to be no other choice except to change the subject.

“Did you come here to have fun?”

The boy didn’t answer for a moment before giving the slightest shrug.

“…Something like that.”

“Something like that?”

“My brother wanted to have fun.”

He turned his gaze toward the opposite side.

The reason Xavier had taken a seat in front of the stage today was because his older brother, Luca Bransen, had stubbornly insisted that he wanted to play the flute.

“Apparently, Aquine is so boring that he feels like he’s going to die from having nothing to do.”

His final words were spoken in the voice of someone who genuinely looked as though he was about to die of boredom.

Despite Xavier’s indifferent attitude, Dolores wasn’t offended.

If anything, she wanted to know more about him.

Dolores gathered a little more courage.

“Your brother… He’s the older boy who was with you that time, right? Luca?”

“The way you say that makes you sound like our younger sister.”

“You and I are the same age, aren’t we? And you don’t have a younger sister. Did you ever have one?”

Dolores asked excitedly.

A faint expression crossed Xavier’s lips.

It was difficult to call it a smile. Rather, it was a somewhat sly, mysterious expression.

“Do you know any of the other people in this family? Perhaps cousins or something like that?”

“I didn’t hear that much.”

“Where did you hear about us?”

His tone remained calm, but his gaze became slightly more focused.

“My ballet teacher. She used to be a famous ballerina. She said she had even performed on stages in Lange, and she had patrons too. She knows a lot of good things about your family.”

As she spoke, Dolores’s shoulders unconsciously straightened.

She felt strangely proud, as though Miss Marguerite’s accomplishments were her own.

“She performed in Lange? What’s her name?”

“Marguerite Salle. Until recently, she was a member of the Aquine Public Troupe.”

“The ballerina Aunt Anne invited.”

Dolores froze.

He had just casually referred to Lady Anne Rou as Aunt.

“How do you know Lady Anne Rou?”

“She’s in the same social circles as our parents. They’ve known each other for quite a long time. The Rou family and ours.”

The boy added casually,

“Aunt has always been fond of us. Especially me.”

It didn’t sound like he was bragging.

He was simply stating a fact.

That somehow made it feel even stranger.

Dolores was speechless for a moment before suddenly coming back to her senses and parting her lips.

“That’s probably because you play the violin…”

“No. It’s because Aunt doesn’t have a son. Luca won’t do because he’s the eldest son of our family, and Damien has a bad personality and an even worse brain. So she wants me. You know who Damien is, right?”

For no reason at all, Dolores suddenly felt embarrassed.

Her cheeks grew warm and flushed.

“Your… younger brother?”

“That’s right.”

Xavier gave a short laugh.

It was only for an instant, but the smile seemed almost gentle.

Seizing that brief opening, Dolores spoke.

“I have a younger sister too.”

Xavier stared blankly at her.

His expression seemed to say, So what?

At that moment, Xavier’s older brother, Luca, stepped onto the stage.

Unlike Xavier, Luca greeted the audience with a bright smile.

After exchanging a few jokes with the crowd, he began playing the flute.

And…

If she had to describe it in one or two words, it was a dull and terrible flute performance.

But Dolores was actually happy.

Luca truly was a dull and terrible musician, but even while performing so terribly, he looked happy.

“You said you came here to have fun, right? Your brother doesn’t even know what he’s doing. He likes attention. Even obvious, predictable attention.”

“…Wow.”

“Wow…? Are you serious? It’s a complete mess.”

Xavier narrowed his eyes slightly and spoke firmly.

“You can’t even call that a performance. I don’t understand it myself, but—it’s my brother’s hobby. Voluntarily making a fool of himself in front of people.”

“…You must really like your brother if you speak so badly of clowns.”

Xavier silently stared at her as though he were observing something he hadn’t expected.

For several seconds.

Then he asked,

“You’re looking at him with such moved eyes, yet you say something like that so easily.”

Dolores answered honestly.

“Luca is bad at playing.”

“Wow. You’re the first kid I’ve met who doesn’t say ‘he’s not very good’ but simply says ‘he’s bad.’”

“I have ears, you know. And I think they’re pretty good ears. Luca has no talent.”

“I completely agree.”

“But he doesn’t seem like someone who wants to be good at it.”

Xavier raised an eyebrow, looking intrigued.

“And what does that mean?”

“He seems like someone who does it not because he’s good at it, but because he likes it.”

Dolores thought for a moment before carefully choosing her words.

“You can tell that he really, really loves it. So rather than being someone who thinks he has to become good because he loves it, he seems like someone who does it simply because it makes him happy.”

Xavier stared at her for a while.

Then the corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.

It was a rare, genuine smile, without any pretense.

“Then why did you like my playing?”

“You didn’t like your own playing?”

“…That’s not what I meant.”

Xavier trailed off for no particular reason.

“Well, you made two mistakes too, didn’t you?”

“What?”

“In the middle.”

“I didn’t make any mistakes.”

“You did. I know the piece fairly well too. Camille Ravel’s ‘Moonlight.’”

Xavier stared at her as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

It had been such a tiny mistake that hardly anyone would have noticed.

No, it wasn’t even really a mistake.

Sometimes Xavier played so carelessly that it became what people might call a ‘Xavier-style performance’—and in those cases, she was referring to missed beats or incorrect techniques.

“I told you. I have pretty good ears too.”

Dolores smiled mischievously when she saw the annoyed expression on his face.

“Thank you, Xavier.”

“What for now?”

“For comforting me that day.”

Xavier instinctively tried to look away, but stopped himself.

“I was sad because of my mother, but thanks to you, I felt better.”

“Why did your mother make you sad that day?”

“…It snowed so much. So she couldn’t come to pick me up.”

“That’s something to be sad about?”

“It might sound stupid, but I was just scared…”

Dolores’s voice gradually grew quieter.

Only after saying it did she begin to regret it.

It was a little embarrassing to admit that at thirteen years old, she had cried because her mother—who had two younger children and a husband to take care of—hadn’t been able to come pick her up through the snow.

But then Xavier said,

“That can happen.”

Dolores raised her head.

There was no trace of mischief or ridicule on Xavier’s face.

He looked as though there was no reason in the world why he couldn’t understand her feelings.

Slowly drawing her knees toward herself and resting her chin on them, Dolores murmured quietly,

“I thought… you would be a good person too.”