"I'm so sorry—I never thought I'd be having guests over, so the house isn't exactly tidy."
"Meh, don't worry about it! It's fine! It's clean! It's clean! Mimi's room is way more of a mess than this!"
"Oh dear, that won't do. You should really clean it up properly."
A woman stroked Mimi's head with casual ease as the girl kicked her legs about on the sofa. Mimi purred contentedly, completely at ease with the woman.
Watching from the sideline, Garfiel kept his mouth shut as he observed the woman.
Long, abundant golden hair that reached down to her waist. Fair skin, and while slender, her figure still carried a distinctly womanly softness. Gentle features, and calm, clear emerald eyes.
Her youthful appearance could pass for someone in their mid-twenties, but as Garfiel knew, she should be well into her mid-thirties by now.
That incongruence alone was enough to set his heart on edge.
"Oh, and what about you, Gorgeous Tiger—would you like some tea? I'm terribly sorry. I just went ahead and poured without even asking your preference..."
When Garfiel continued to remain silent, the woman—who had introduced herself as Riara Thompson—furrowed her brow in a troubled expression.
At her words, Garfiel suddenly remembered the untouched cup of tea that had been placed before him and hastily picked it up.
"No, it ain't that. I was just a little—well, surprised by how big the house is."
"Oh, is that so? It really is awfully large... It makes cleaning every day such a chore. I'm terribly clumsy, you see."
Garfiel's improvised excuse was accepted without the slightest suspicion. Riara brought a hand to her mouth and laughed delicately, her shoulders shaking with mirth. She wore an elegant dress befitting a woman who lived in such a grand mansion.
That smile, that gentle voice, those gestures—every last detail tugged at something deep in Garfiel's chest.
And yet, Riara said nothing about Garfiel's stare. That very fact was squeezing his heart in ways that felt almost cruelly unnatural.
The woman who called herself Riara Thompson was, in Garfiel's eyes, the spitting image of his birth mother—Leesia Tinsel.
Of course, Garfiel had been separated from his mother almost the moment he was born. He'd been far too young to retain any memories of her, so his recollections of his mother were essentially nonexistent.
And yet, the reason he could recall his mother's face so vividly was because of the "Trial" in the
Her face, her voice, her love—he had remembered everything through that Trial.
And at the same time, the Trial had also informed him that his mother had met a tragic death shortly after their parting.
Which meant that, for Garfiel, reuniting with his mother had always been nothing more than an impossible dream.
So who, then, was this woman standing right before him now?
"Mimi, dear—those fur tufts on your ears look so fluffy. May I touch them?"
"Sure thing!"
As Mimi thrust her head forward, Riara reached out with delight and indulged in the sensation.
Her childlike smile, her complete lack of wariness toward strangers—it was obvious from the way she'd readily invited a sketchy-looking punk of a man and a beastkin girl into her home without a second thought.
Every bit of that behavior was what made Garfiel sense his mother in her.
Leesia had been an unfortunate woman. Her family had been destroyed by debt, and as a young girl she'd been sold to a slaver. That slaver, in turn, was attacked by demi-human bandits on the road, and Leesia was taken as a plaything for the beastkin half-breeds among them.
Her elder sister Frederica was conceived there. And when Leesia's belly began to swell, the bandits simply cast her aside. After that, Leesia was captured by yet another bandit group and spent a long stretch of time among them.
Frederica, too, had surely been with those bandits by the time she was old enough to understand the world. The elder sister never liked to speak of that period, but if Leesia had become pregnant with Garfiel and then left the bandits, conditions couldn't have been anything good.
After an existence distilled from one misfortune into the next, Leesia eventually set out wandering with her children in tow—while still pregnant, no less. What little fortune she had was that she was quickly taken in by the eccentric noble Roswaal.
Roswaal provided Leesia with food, clothing, and shelter on the condition that her children be raised in the Sanctuary. And so it was that Garfiel was born in the Sanctuary, delivered into the care of Ryuzu.
To hear it told in words alone, it was a life defined by nothing but wretchedness.
However, the true assessment of her—of the real Leesia, as known by those who actually knew her as a person, not as a line of pitiful bullet points—was something else entirely.
"Leesia, now—she was, somehow, an abnormally positive girl. Those should have been days hard enough to kill her. Yet that girl always said, 'Tomorrow might bring something good.' 'Today might be tough, but tomorrow might bring something good. Just like I was blessed with two children, something wonderful might be waiting.'"
"Mother was... someone who might be dismissed as a fool by others, I suppose. Honestly, there are times I wonder whether I couldn't have lived more shrewdly myself. ...But Mother was a wonderful person. That much is absolutely, unmistakably true. I loved her with all my heart, and I truly believe I was fortunate to be her daughter."
"Your mother—Leesia, was it? Hmm. I don't think I ever actually exchanged all that many words with her directly, but... she was a strange person. No, 'strange' isn't quite right—'inconceivable' might be more accurate. Her capacity for finding happiness was more sensitive than anyone else's. The tiniest, most insignificant thing could make her happy. She could find happiness even in something terrible. Let me see... I didn't dislike her, I suppose."
Neither Ryuzu nor Frederica nor even Roswaal had a bad word to say about her.
And that was the same thing everyone who knew her in the Sanctuary would say.
She must have been blessed with an impossibly carefree, happy-go-lucky disposition.
Otherwise, how else could one explain her leaving her children behind to go searching for Garfiel's deadbeat of a father—such an absurd thing to do?
And then dying right after that, no less. Where was the happiness in any of that?
—Even now, he had yet to find the answer to where his mother's happiness had truly been.
"I said I hadn't found it... and I thought I'd made peace with that, didn't I..."
His nails dug into his palms, his fists clenched so tight they were on the verge of drawing blood.
He'd thought he'd made peace with it. That it was something unknowable. That it was a problem Garfiel would have to digest within himself over a long stretch of time.
And yet—why, of all times, had she appeared before him now?
With that expression and those mannerisms that seemed to suggest she didn't know him at all?
"— — —"
Without letting it show, he studied her face and her gestures.
There was nothing artificial about any of it. Completely natural, utterly at ease—and Riara treated Garfiel's presence with a brightness that was almost mesmerizing in how thoroughly she seemed to regard him as a stranger.
Was that her answer, perhaps?
That she had a new life now. That she knew nothing of Garfiel. That whatever promise they might have once exchanged had been cast far away, and here she was, living happily without a care.
That she knew nothing of you, and that is mother's answer— "Mom?"
"I'm hungry, Mom."
In the living room where Garfiel sat in silence, Riara and Mimi played together, and the newly changed siblings arrived.
The elder sister shot Garfiel a fierce glare, then hurried over to her mother and whispered: "Hey, Mom—why don't we ask the guests to leave already so we can eat?"
"Oh, how could you say such a thing? You need to tell them how Frederica helped you, don't you? How you played on the boat and nearly drowned?"
"Hmph, yeah right. That boat—didn't it wobble because of that Gorgeous person? Trying to get into our good graces so he can get a bunch of money out of us."
"Now, now—don't be so mean. But I suppose you have a point. He did save Frederica, after all, so we ought to show our gratitude... Would money be better, do you think?"
"Mom!"
The sister panicked, sensing that her mother's words might unleash a devastating blow to the family budget. Meanwhile, Riara wore a puzzled expression, apparently unable to understand what all the fuss was about.
That warm parent-child exchange felt to Garfiel like walking barefoot over thorns. He drained his tea in one gulp, set the cup down with a clatter, and stood.
"Seeing as I ain't exactly welcome, I'll be on my way."
"Whaaaat? Why not?"
"No reason at all."
Mimi protested as Garfiel moved to leave, but he ignored her entirely and started for the door with her in tow. Riara watched with a pained expression, while her daughter sent them off with a tongue-out raspberry.
I should respect their wishes—just as the thought crossed his mind— "Don't go, Gorgeous Tiger."
Garfiel's sleeve was tugged. The younger brother stood blocking his path.
For an instant, Garfiel hesitated to shake off those tiny fingers. He didn't understand why he hesitated. But— "Oh, Frederica—really!"
The sister planted her hands on her hips and scowled at the brother who was holding up a stranger. But before she could lunge at him, Riara clapped her hands to draw everyone's attention.
"Now, now—everyone has to get along, doesn't that sound right? It would be terrible to let our guests leave like this. And it looks like Frederica wants them to stay too, so don't be so stubborn, dear."
"But, Mom..."
"'But' nothing. Gorgeous and Mimi—you'll stay a little longer, won't you? I'd love it if you could join us for dinner. It's my signature dish today."
"Mom always calls it her signature dish..."
"Well, of course! A mother always gives it her all for her children."
Riara struck a small, charming pose, and everyone in the room relaxed—everyone except Garfiel, whose expression remained the hardest of them all.
The atmosphere growing warmer was what cut the deepest into Garfiel's heart at that moment.
Riara's words, the children's differing expressions—one delighted, one resigned.
The fear that he might be accepted into all of this.
"I appreciate the invitation, but I got people waiting for me. Stay too long and they'll start worrying. So I'll be heading out."
"— — —"
Biting back the pain in his chest, Garfiel prayed that his voice wouldn't tremble.
The siblings' faces stiffened. Riara's brow furrowed as she looked down. But— "I understand. It would be meaningless to force you to stay and make you uncomfortable. 'Treat your guests with hospitality and a smile'—that's the rule, isn't it?"
"—!"
Perhaps that exchange alone had been the sharpest blow Garfiel had felt all day.
The humiliation of his defeat against Reinhard, the shock of first seeing Riara—both paled in comparison to this moment.
He was forced to press a hand to his chest to make sure his body hadn't been torn in two. Seeing his condition, it was Mimi—the same Mimi who had just been arguing against leaving—who now tugged at his hand.
"Garf, let's go."
The girl's concern as she tried to lead him outside left Garfiel no choice but to comply in silence.
He reached for the living room door, ready to step out—and then— "Welcome home. Oh? We have guests?"
The door swung open from the other side, revealing a distinguished gentleman with a magnificent mustache.
Well-tailored clothes, an energetic bearing. His voice and features conveyed that this was a man of some standing.
Behind him, the children perked up with joy.
This had to be— "Um, I don't recognize you. And who might you be?"
"Dad! It's Gorgeous Tiger!"
"He's a suspicious person!"
"Oh my?"
At his son and daughter's diametrically opposed introductions, their father tilted his head with a bemused expression. His gaze drifted past them to Riara, standing quietly in the living room.
At the warmth in his eyes, Riara's cheeks softened into a gentle smile.
That was the last straw.
"It ain't nothin' big. Don't worry about it. I'm headin' out."
With those parting words, Garfiel grabbed Mimi's hand and left the room. He shouldered past the man who was hurrying to make way and bolted toward the front door.
"Gorgeous Tiger!"
Behind him, a boy's sorrowful voice called out his name.
But Garfiel had no strength left to answer.
Gorgeous what. Tiger what. What part of him was a golden tiger right now.
A tiger was strong, powerful, unshaken by anything.
What part of him was a tiger now.
A real tiger wouldn't shed tears over something like this—!
"Garf! You're hurting my hand!"
"—!"
So lost in thought was Garfiel that he hadn't even noticed Mimi's cries of pain.
Only when his arm was yanked hard and her tiny claws dug in did he finally realize what he'd done. Mimi's small hand, clutched in his iron grip, had turned completely blue.
"S-Sorry... I..."
"Garf, you were acting weird inside. And your hand hurt, like, a lot."
Mimi's voice was uncharacteristically subdued. Garfiel pressed a hand to his forehead.
The awkward silence between them was broken only by the damp breeze of the Watergate City. Night had fully fallen, and the city was bathed in the glow of scattered magic lamps.
The waterways reflected the lamplight where the sun had been before—a quiet, ethereal beauty that Garfiel was in no mood to appreciate.
"Oh! You two!"
A slightly breathless voice reached the pair as they stood there frozen.
When they looked up, emerging from the lamplight was the man from before. Having shed his jacket, he finally reached them and bent over with his hands on his knees, breathing hard.
"Hah... hah... caught up. I really shouldn't—I used to have so much more stamina, but ever since I took to desk work, I've been dreadfully out of shape..."
"...What do you want with us, exactly?"
Garfiel had no interest in the man's self-reflection. While not as intensely as with Riara and her children, this man's presence was also a poison to Garfiel right now. His voice carried a faint edge of hostility that the man could hardly have missed. The man scratched his head with a troubled expression.
"No, my wife told me—you're the ones who saved my son, aren't you? To let you leave without even offering proper thanks would be unconscionable."
"...It really wasn't a big deal. Don't make it all dramatic on me."
"My child is precious to me no matter what. That you saved him from danger—well, that makes it all the more important. I wish there were some way to repay you. Oh—forgive me. My name is Garlick. Garlick Thompson. Despite appearances, I work at the Pristella city hall, so if there's ever anything—"
"There really is nothing—"
Garfiel tried to pull away from the well-mannered man—Garlick—but faltered. If this man was Riara's husband, and knew the real her— "One thing... You mind if I ask?"
"Of course. Anything at all, so long as it's something I can answer."
Garlick smiled kindly and gave his reply.
Like Riara, like her son Frederica—Garlick, too. This whole family was far too decent. The only one with any proper sense of caution was the daughter, it seemed.
As these thoughts crossed his mind, Garfiel chose his words carefully.
"Your wife... Riara—is that really her real name?"
"— — —"
The air changed.
The question erased the smile Garlick had been wearing.
He rolled Garfiel's words over on his tongue, then spoke in a quiet voice: "What exactly do you mean by that?"
"Exactly what I said. 'Straightforward is always best,' that's my way of beating around the bush ain't my style. So out with it—your wife's real name isn't Riara, is it? Isn't it Leesia?"
"—!"
At Garfiel's direct strike, Garlick's composure visibly crumbled.
The man's mouth opened and closed wordlessly. He swallowed audibly, then: "You... what do you know about my wife?"
"That's what I want to find out, too."
"— — —"
To the trembling in Garlick's voice, Garfiel responded with his own unvarnished honesty.
Hearing those words, Garlick fell silent for a time, as if weighing something heavily. Garfiel waited for his response. And this time, it was Mimi who took his hand—the opposite hand from before.
He looked down at her. She smiled her usual carefree grin.
"...It seems you should be told the truth."
With a sigh, Garlick spoke to Garfiel, who was still watching Mimi's smile from the corner of his eye.
There was exhaustion in those words—and a faint hint of relief, as if something had finally been set down. Garfiel furrowed his brow suspiciously and waited for what came next.
Then— "My wife Riara... has had no memories whatsoever from before she met me fifteen years ago."
*** Garlick had met Riara before he became one of Pristella's prominent figures—back when he was just another merchant rooted in the city.
That day, returning from a business trip in a distant region, Garlick's dragon carriage had come upon a road blocked by a landslide.
The business deal had already fallen through, and he was suffering under the burden of debt. On top of it all, this misfortune on the road had pushed his irritation to the breaking point.
—Amid the wreckage of that landslide, he found a woman buried alive.
A miracle. There was no other word for it.
Garlick had stubbornly refused the detour, insisting there must be some way through.
The rain that had been pouring down happened to stop at that exact moment, giving him visibility.
Because he'd arrived so soon after the landslide, the woman hadn't been buried for long.
Every possible miracle had aligned by chance, and the woman was still breathing when Garlick pulled her free.
She was caked in mud, carrying nothing. He loaded the unconscious woman onto his carriage and rushed her to the nearest town, where he had her admitted to a healing clinic and waited for her recovery.
"She was in extremely critical condition. She had a high fever, injuries all over from the landslide, and multiple fractures. During treatment, her heart even stopped once."
As the dire situation continued, both the clinic staff and Garlick desperately prayed for her recovery. Looking back now, Garlick couldn't entirely explain why everyone had tried so hard to save her. No—Garlick had his reasons, but why the others had fought so genuinely for this woman's survival, he still couldn't say.
What he could say, with absolute certainty, was that he was grateful from the bottom of his heart for their efforts.
"After much struggle, she pulled through. She was still severely injured, but when she crossed that critical threshold, I remember the overwhelming relief. She regained consciousness a week later... and I stayed in that town the whole time, waiting for her to wake."
His business deal had collapsed. The future of Garlick's trading company looked utterly bleak.
So why had he squandered what little time and money he had left on this? He had no clear answer. Something groundless and inexplicable had simply rooted his feet to that place.
And then, one week later, the woman opened her eyes.
While others celebrated her awakening, she trembled and spoke in a weak voice: "Do I... know who I am? I feel like someone said that to me."
The woman couldn't remember her own name. No—it wasn't just her name. Everything.
Where she was from, who she was, what she had been doing, how she had ended up in that landslide—none of it. She couldn't even remember her own family.
No one knew what to do with someone like that.
All they could determine was from the clothes she'd been wearing at the time of the accident. From the characters embroidered on them, her initial or family name likely began with "Ri."
They named her "Riara"—after a flower in full bloom. And once her wounds had begun to heal, Garlick was the one who took her in.
As her injuries gradually mended and her discharge from the clinic drew near— Riara had nowhere to go, but even so, she remained a bright, cheerful woman. As if the horror of her accident had been a dream, she was spirited and vibrant, and her presence drew smiles from everyone who met her.
It wasn't as though she hadn't felt afraid.
Losing one's memories was tantamount to losing oneself entirely.
The reason she'd maintained her smile through it all was because she had no choice but to do so.
Perhaps there was also a kindness toward those around her.
But the greatest reason was so that she wouldn't have to confront the truth that she was unfortunate.
"I still remember the nervousness when I asked her to come with me. The time between asking and hearing her answer was, without question, the most suffocating moment of my life. Even more so than when I formally proposed to her afterward."
And so, accepting Garlick's offer, Riara accompanied him to Pristella.
The reason he couldn't abandon her, the reason he'd waited for her to wake—all of it was simple.
The truth was, from the very moment Garlick had pulled her from the landslide and wiped the mud from her face, he had fallen in love.
"Since Riara came into my life, my previously ailing business recovered rapidly. Everyone says it was my own acumen, but nothing could be further from the truth. It was all because of Riara. She brought me fortune. That's why, today, I can function as a merchant, as someone involved in the city's governance, and as a father."
"— — —"
"I love my wife. I adore the children we've born. There was a time when I worried about her past. But I don't think that way anymore. No matter what happened in her past, she is my wife, and the most precious woman in my world."
Having recounted everything from their meeting to the present, Garlick concluded with an embarrassed little smile.
Garfiel, who had listened in silence until the very end, tilted his face skyward.
In the darkness, stars were scattered about.
The round moon and the glittering stars—what did they see when they looked down on him now?
"I know this is a rude thing to ask, but I must."
"...?"
"What exactly is your relationship with my wife, Riara?"
That—how cruel a question that was.
Garfiel lowered his gaze from the sky to the man standing before him.
Garlick's eyes were gentle, but within them burned a quiet resolve as he regarded Garfiel. Garfiel was not so dull-witted that he couldn't feel the emotion behind those words, nor so obtuse that he didn't understand their meaning.
And he knew, too, what the right answer was.
"— — —"
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
Inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled.
His heart hammered. His vision swam. His head throbbed violently, and nausea surged upward.
A maelstrom of emotions churned in his chest, and it felt as though he might shatter at any moment.
—And Mimi's hand gently squeezed his own.
"I... have..."
"— — —"
"No connection... with your wife... whatsoever."
He said it.
He said it, and he sealed it shut.
Those words swept away the whirlpool of emotion that had been roiling inside him. What remained was a sense of loss and a suffocating emptiness. Before him, Garlick's eyes went downcast, his lips trembling: "I'm... so sorry..."
He bowed his head, his face twisted in pain.
But Garfiel couldn't bear to watch Garlick's reaction any longer.
Enough. Stop. Please don't hurt him anymore.
What had he done wrong? Who was to blame? Was it him? Was it Garlick? Who should he condemn? Who should he tear apart, rip to shreds, and send flying?
How could he make this pain in his chest vanish and disappear?
"You...! Oh, thank goodness—you're both still here!"
"—!?"
He almost screamed.
He nearly let out a wail of pure anguish.
For in this moment, that figure was more terrifying to Garfiel than any blade.
"Riara, why did you—"
"You ran off in such a hurry—I figured you must be trying to catch him. And I couldn't possibly let you send them home without a thing."
Riara gave the startled Garlick a wink and slipped past him.
Then she turned to the frozen, stunned Garfiel and extended her hand.
"Here—these are some sweets I made. They're not much of a thank-you, but I'm confident in the taste, so please take them. I'm asking you."
"...Ah"
A smile, free of any malice.
Garfiel stood rigid, unable to speak, his breath caught in his throat.
Watching the exchange, Garlick's face wore an expression of deep sorrow.
No one could stop what passed between Garfiel and Riara. If you understood what this atmosphere meant, that much was obvious.
And so— "Ooh! Sweets! Awesome! I'm gonna brag to the lady!"
Mimi snatched the bag of sweets right out of the space between them and beamed with uncontainable joy—reading the room had never been her strong suit.
Garlick stood dumbfounded. Garfiel remained speechless. But Riara alone smiled happily at Mimi's reaction.
"That makes me happy to hear. Please give my regards to the lady as well, will you?"
"Sure sure, roger that! Roger, roger!"
Mimi saluted with the hand that wasn't gripping Garfiel's—the hand that was still bruised blue—tucked the bag of sweets into her coat, and delivered a whack to Garfiel's back.
The force made Garfiel lurch forward, nearly coughing up a lung. Mimi laughed.
"Well, time to hit the road! Gorgeous Tiger and Gorgeous Mimi are signing off!"
"Yes, do take care. And Gorgeous Tiger—watch out for the canals, won't you?"
Mimi pulled Garfiel by the hand while Riara gave a small wave from behind. Mimi waved back vigorously, and Riara waved back with even more energy. The two men were the only ones watching this heartwarming exchange with expressions of pure anguish.
"— — —"
And so, Garfiel was led along the canal by Mimi, his arm pulled along without resistance. Mimi said nothing, and neither did Garfiel. They walked and walked until Riara and her family could no longer be seen. Then— "Hey, shrimp—"
"—Touya!"
"—!?"
Garfiel tried to call out to Mimi, but she cut him off with a sudden, startling movement.
Still holding his hand, Mimi leapt lightly onto the side of a building. She hooked her foot onto the edge of a three-story stone structure and began climbing upward.
Dragged along with her, Garfiel had no choice but to follow, kicking off the same ledges. In three quick jumps, they reached the rooftop.
"Mmm! This feels great!"
"That ain't the point. What was that about..."
As Garfiel circled in front of her to ask about her sudden actions, Mimi—who had been basking in the wind with evident pleasure—fixed him with a look, her smile gone.
Her round eyes reflected his face, and Garfiel felt an inexplicable sense of unease.
As he clamped his mouth shut, Mimi suddenly broke into a grin: "Garf, are you about to cry?"
"Wha—?! What the hell are you saying? Like I'm gonna—"
"I know Garf is tough, but there's no need to pretend, okay? Riara is Garfiel's mom, right?"
"—!"
Mimi's words caught Garfiel completely off guard.
She had seized on the flow of the conversation with pinpoint accuracy, and if she knew Garfiel's situation, the conclusion was an obvious one. But Garfiel knew for a fact that Mimi knew nothing about his family circumstances—and she certainly didn't come across as someone with a sharp analytical mind.
And yet she had cut straight to the truth with terrifying directness.
"Why... would you think that..."
"Because Garf and Riara smell really, really similar. And the two kids smell a bit like Garfiel too. So, y'know—figured."
Not through logic, but with the raw instinct of a wild child, Mimi had hit the bullseye.
If it had been a matter of words alone, he might have deflected. But having been pointed at something so fundamentally undeniable, Garfiel had no rebuttal.
He crumpled to the ground, limp, and stared vacantly at the sky.
The stars and the moon gazed down on him just as before.
"So, was I right? Is Riara Garf's mom?"
"...I dunno. Is she? Is that person really my mother?"
At Mimi's question, Garfiel covered his face with his hand.
He didn't know. Truly—he didn't know.
He was certain that Riara was Leesia. That much, he believed without doubt.
But as Garlick had described, and as Riara's own behavior up to this point made clear, Riara had completely forgotten that she was Leesia.
She had forgotten everything. As Riara, she had spent fifteen years, borne children, and was living what appeared to be a happy life.
"H-Huh... think about it, and that means those two are my little brother and sister, huh..."
He hadn't thought that far ahead, but if they were half-siblings—sharing a different father—then it was exactly the same relationship he had with Frederica. In other words, those two kids were his dear younger siblings. For Garfiel, the youngest in his own family, they were the little brother and sister he'd always wanted.
—Assuming anyone actually wanted that kind of relationship.
"Even if I told her... it wouldn't change anything..."
Riara had forgotten her time as Leesia.
Even if Garfiel revealed everything he knew, the fifteen years she'd spent as Riara wouldn't vanish, and the fifteen years she could have spent as Leesia would remain lost all the same.
Riara would be burdened with fifteen years' worth of guilt she didn't need to carry, and the sense of loss for the life of Leesia. Garlick would have to watch his wife sink into despair. And the children, who knew nothing, would be unable to understand their mother's suffering.
It was all, entirely, for Garfiel's own self-satisfaction.
Forcing Riara to acknowledge that she was Leesia—and the only person who could feel any sense of gain from it—was Garfiel and Garfiel alone.
Neither Frederica nor Ryuzu knew about Leesia's existence in this form. If Garfiel didn't tell them, they would surely never learn.
The same went for Riara's family—without Garfiel speaking up, they could never know her past. That happy time would remain unbroken, preserved intact.
If Garfiel could keep it all bottled up in his chest and genuinely let go of what he'd already been on the verge of surrendering—that would be enough to set everything right.
And yet— "Why can't I..."
The resolve to cast it away. The decision to forget. The courage to lock it all away. Why couldn't any of it come?
Where had the tiger gone? Show me the path. The right way.
The strength to carry it all on his shoulders, to hold it all in, and still stand tall.
Tell me, tiger, oh tiger. A real tiger is the strongest of all—undefeated by anyone.
"— — —"
He clutched his head, bit back what was rising in his throat, let the grief claw through his mind, and was on the verge of throwing it all away in one reckless heap—when Garfiel finally became aware.
"Oh, there, there."
His head had been pulled into a small chest, and a hand was stroking his hair.
"— — —"
Mimi was hugging him from behind as he sat on the ground.
She rested her chin on top of his head, and her small palm gently ruffled his hair. Through that soft touch, he felt the throbbing pain inside his skull begin to fade.
"What... are you... doing..."
"Hmm—Mimi thought Garf might want to cry. But you know how guys can never cry unless they're in the right place for it? So annoying! I forgot where I heard it, but the lady said so!"
It was an answer that was simultaneously not an answer.
Careful not to let his voice waver, Garfiel chose his words with precision.
Still holding him, Mimi grinned.
"And—forget where I heard it—but I think it was inside a lady's chest? Yeah, I think so! A guy is allowed to cry inside the chest of the woman he loves!"
"...Who the hell says they're in love with a shrimp like you?"
The woman Garfiel actually loved never looked his way, never showed him kindness when he needed it, was nice to him only when he least expected it, and then collected double the measure in fist afterward—a real handful.
She had nothing in common with the girl sitting in front of him now.
But even so, Garfiel's words didn't faze Mimi in the slightest.
"Mmm, but that's okay! Even if Garf doesn't love Mimi, Mimi loves Garf! See? A girl who loves Garf—right here! This chest! So it's totally fine to cry!"
"...Ah"
It was the most idiotic reasoning imaginable.
What even was that? Wordplay? A child's excuse? Nothing but sophistry.
And yet—it was nothing, and it was everything. Stop laughing at me.
Tiger, tiger, where have you gone?
Come back to this chest right now. Let out that fierce growl, slap my trembling spine and drag me back up, and do something about this feeling.
Because if you don't, if you don't, if you don't—it'll be too late.
"Mom..."
Stop it, stop it, stop it— He didn't want to hear that word. He didn't want to let out weak, pathetic sounds like that.
He was a tiger, a tiger. The strongest, the greatest, an unyielding shield harder than anyone— And yet— "Mom... Mom... Mom...!!"
"There, there."
"Why...?! Why did you forget about me?! After all this time... after I finally found you... Won't you even let me call you that... won't you let me...?!"
"It's okay. Garf, you're such a good boy—such a good boy."
"M-Mom... M-Mom... Mom..."
Tiger, tiger, where have you gone?
What do I look like right now? Stars, moon, sky—tell me.
What do I look like right now?
If I'm not a roaring tiger, then what am I—?