Silent Witch

Monica felt like someone had rubbed her head. And the memory of her dad rubbed her head when a little surfaced. But the current hand who rubbed her head was more tender than her dad.

From afar, she could hear faint music sounds. It's waltz music played by the orchestra.

"………"

Slowly opening her eyes, her hazy vision was greeted by the sight of a pair of platinum blonde eyes whose beauty could rival some jewels.

"Are you okay?"

"…Lord… Cyril…"

After hearing a faint response from Monica, Cyril whose focuses were on her let out a sigh of relief. But then Monira realized, she was lying down on the couch, and she was using Cyril's leg who's sitting there, as a pillow.

In a panic, Monica tried to get up from that position. But her attempt had caused the thin blanket which draped over her body to drop to the floor.

Looking at her surrounding, the place she was at is not the ballroom. But a preparation and resting room used for the student council. Considering how she still heard some waltz from inside, the room must not be far from the ballroom.

"U-Um… I…"

"I heard from the cook, you were collapsed in front of the kitchen. He was in a panic when he told me that."

"!"

Opening and closing her mouth, Monica covered her drained face with both hands.

Monica thought she could still move, she would be fine, but it seems that her body was much weaker than she thought. In the first place, the drug that the assassin had given her had not yet worn off. And yet, she had overestimated herself, thinking that she was still fine, but only caused trouble in the end.

"I-I'm sorry… to have to trouble you…"

She had intended to manage it on her own, but the end result was this mess. The reason for her failure was obvious. She was overconfident in her physical strength. And… her reluctance to ask someone to carry it for her. For the shy Monica, asking someone's help her is very uncomfortable. So, she avoided it and tried to manage on her own… and failed.

My help only causes trouble to people.

A drop of water dripped down and wet the petals of the flower ornament on her chest. Hanging down her head, Monica was holding her tears, then she heard Cyril letting out a sigh. Ah, he must be fed up with her.

"…are you not feeling well?"

"………"

Unable to affirm nor to retort, Monica kept sniffling. Cyril took a handkerchief out of his pocket and put it over Monica's eyes.

"About the ices… the kitchen staffs were grateful for the help."

Monica lifted up her face, looked toward Cyril. His face looked more troubled rather than angry.

"I knew that you were not suited to be a negotiator or a liaison. But I appreciated the fact that you offered yourself to help."

"…eh?"

"This time, it happened due to your insufficient physical condition, but at least you did the job that needed to be done. You can be proud of that."

When Monica blinked her tear-stained eyelashes up and down, Cyril looked away and coughed.

"Of course, you can't keep being like that forever, so you'll have to learn to negotiate at some point! Next time you're not feeling well, report it as soon as possible! When you need help, ask around!"

"Y-Yes!"

"His Highness has nominated General Affairs Manager Maywood to be the student council president for next year. If General Affairs Manager Maywood becomes president, I'm sure you will be nominated as a member again, since you have some experience before."

Neil and Monica are the only second-year students on the current student council. The rest are all third-year students. If Felix and the others were to graduate and Neil was to become president, it would be fitting to elect Monica, who had experience in student council, on the board.

"When General Affairs Manager Maywood becomes the president, you will be his right-hand man. Therefore, you need to overcome your weakness in interpersonal relations. Keep that in mind and continue to devote yourself…"

The way Cyril spoke to Monica was like he was certain that Monica will be there in the next year.

—But, there's no next year for Monica.

Her reason came to this academy was to guard Felix. So, she had no reason to remain here when Felix graduated. After that, she would leave the academy—and return back living as one of the Seven Sages, Monica Everett of Silent Witch.

That's why I want to be helpful in this year's ball.

Cyril became awkward after looking at Monica's face became dejected.

"For now… let's put aside our duties as student council."

"…?"

Looking up at Cyril curiously, she saw he was mumbling while looking at the flower ornament on her chest.

"You were looking forward to dancing, no? I'm sorry for making you help with my work."

"Eh?"

Monica was flabbergasted by the unexpected words. Had she ever said that she was looking forward to the dance?

U-Um… yesterday… at student council room…

Now that he mentioned it, she felt she might have said that.

Yesterday, while Monica was wandering around looking for her magical tool brooch, she said she was looking forward to dancing to deceive him and did a dance practice afterward.

D-Don't tell me, he was worried about that…!?

Monica felt a cold sweat break out in apology. She didn't plan to participate in dancing in the first place. Instead, she wanted to help others as the student council treasurer, Monica Norton… though it ended up in a failure.

"Um, I think, I'm fine with dancing… I mean, I'm not very good at dancing, so it'll only embarrass my partner."

Somehow, when she gave a wry smile, Cyril seemed to be sullen. Why is he so sullen? As Monica was wondering, Cyril, got up from the couch and kneeled in front of Monica.

"No one would see us in here, so we wouldn't be embarrassed."

"…ah."

Cyril took Monica's hand and lifted his long eyelashes to look up at her. Monica could see her petrified face in his vibrant blue eyes.

"Would you like to have a dance with me, my lady?"

Caught in his strong gaze, Monica nodded her head faster than she could think.

Cyril led Monica along as the orchestra played in the distance. She hadn't danced with Cyril like this since she had practiced ballroom dancing with him.

Cyril, who was also a good lead, naturally led Monica, who was not very good. As she spun around, her young grass-colored skirt spread softly. After the turn, Monica's body wobbled, but Cyril supported her and she started to step again. Despite being bad at physical exercise, she honestly thought it was fun.

Eventually, sooner than the song ended, Cyril stopped and finished the dance. Monica thought he was doing it out of consideration for her health, but Cyril raised his thin eyebrows and stared at her.

"…how can your dance be worse than before?"

He had a grim face of the usual Cyril Ashley, a far cry from his noble demeanor during the dance.

Ah, it's the usual Lord Cyril… with a strange sense of relief, Monica kneaded her fingers and made an excuse.

"I-I'm sorry, I can dance a little better if I think about the equations and empty my head…"

In fact, she even passed her ballroom dancing exam that way. In Monica's case, it was much easier to dance by just thinking about the formula and letting the lead do the work, rather than thinking about all the other things in her head. And yet, Monica did not do so.

"If I fill my head with numbers… I think It would be a shame."

For Monica, the world of numbers is the most beautiful thing. Monica doesn't know what could be more engrossing than mathematical and magical formulas.

Even then, just for now—more than mathematical, more than magic formula—she wanted to remember the time she spent as Monica Norton. For some reason, when Cyril heard Monica say those words calmly, he held his breath before darting his gaze around.

"…You should train harder, so you will be able to dance better by the next year's ball"

Hearing Cyril's blunt words, Monica smiled vaguely. The feelings that come up were just like chocolate, it was sweet yet bitter at the same time… with a slight longing within it.

I'm sorry, Lord Cyril… After all, I'll not be in the academy anymore by the next year.

That's why, Monica desires memories—a kind that sparkles and shines like a drawer full of treasures—more than mathematical, more than magic formulas.