When Shichen woke the next day, he felt something in his hand. He reflexively squeezed—then realized something was off.
He snapped fully awake, hurriedly drew his hand back, and sat up.
Sure enough, he'd been holding Beatrice in his arms—and the place his hand had just been… there was no mistaking the feel. However inconsequential, it had definitely been that spot. He wouldn't misidentify it—his hands, after all, had seen plenty of action.
Guilt pricked him.
Too much. Doing that to Beatrice—even if she might not mind, might even be happy about it—was over the line.
Habit was a dangerous thing.
If he hadn't noticed how she felt different from Est, he might have slipped his hand in for a "closer look."
Good thing he hadn't. Good thing…
"Hm?"
Out of the corner of his eye, a flash of blue.
"R-Rem?" He stiffened, looking toward the doorway. At some point Rem had come into his room.
"Yes. Good morning." Rem stood with maid's poise—hands folded at her waist—and gave him a gentle smile.
It was a bright, genuine smile—one he had never seen from her before yesterday.
He didn't have the heart to admire it just then.
"Morning… W-when did you get here?"
"While you were still sleeping," she said, smile warm.
"I see… How didn't I notice?" he muttered.
Normally, he'd never miss someone entering his room.
Was it because he held no defenses up against Rem's presence? Or because sleeping with two little lolis had put him too at ease?
Probably the former.
"You seemed to be sleeping very soundly, so you didn't notice," Rem said.
"Right… But why did you come to my room?"
"I wanted to wake you. I accidentally saw your sleeping face and… couldn't help watching a while." She was frank.
"Then you must have... seen everything?"
"Yes. You were holding Beatrice-sama—and you touched her chest. I saw it," she said plainly, smile unchanged.
"…No need to be so specific. It was an accident. You know how bodies move on their own in sleep; Beatrice was in my arms," Shichen protested.
"I know," Rem nodded, smiling.
"You do? Good…"
He was just about to exhale in relief when Rem continued, musing aloud: "So it's true—Shichen, you do like girls' chests."
"…Beatrice hardly counts as a girl, does she?" he grimaced.
"Beatrice-sama certainly counts as a girl."
"Let's not talk about this. It was an accident."
"It's alright. I won't say anything. Beatrice-sama would likely even be happy to let you—"
"Alright, alright—enough. I'm getting up."
His raised voice woke Beatrice.
"Mm? Shichen, what is it?"
"Nothing. Go back to sleep. I'm getting up," he said, stroking her hair.
Even in sleep her drill curls hadn't flattened; they looked like augers, yet were surprisingly soft.
"Mm…" Beatrice murmured and dozed off again.
"I'll help you get dressed," Rem said, walking over as Shichen got out of bed.
"It's just one layer; I don't need help—"
"Please let me. I want to," Rem said, looking up at him, earnest.
"You want to… alright."
"Mm!"
She beamed, moved to stand before him, and began unfastening his clothes.
It was only a button-front pajama top.
Normally he didn't wear pajamas—when he slept with Est he didn't bother; skin to skin, satin smooth, what was there to feel through cloth? But with Beatrice here, not wearing anything was out of the question.
He didn't mind Rem seeing him, and spread his arms to make it easy.
At first she was unfazed, but as more buttons came undone, exposing the planes of his chest and abdomen, she became acutely aware of the difference between men and women and went shy. Her motions slowed; the backs of her hands brushed his skin; her cheeks grew warmer.
"You alright?" he asked, amused; the tips of her ears were pink.
"Y-yes."
She took a long breath, steadied herself, undid the last button, and slid off the top.
Only now did she notice—his skin was too flawless, almost more so than her sister's. She'd never paid attention to her own before.
"Shirt," Shichen said, pulling a modern jacket from his treasury and handing it over.
He pulled on a T-shirt first, then let Rem help him into the jacket.
"Pants…"
"No need for help with those, right?" He gave her a wry look.
"I understand…" she said, blushing, and turned away.
He quickly changed into trousers.
"Alright, let's go," he said, heading for the door.
The two little lolis could keep sleeping.
"Mm." Rem followed him out.
"What will you do next?" Shichen asked at the door, waiting while she closed it.
"I should make breakfast," Rem replied.
"In that case, I'll go walk the garden."
"Alright. Oh—Shichen, is there anything you especially like to eat?" Rem asked.
"Like to eat? Nothing particular. Whatever you make is great; I like it all."
"I understand." Her eyes curved into a smile.
"Then I'll look forward to breakfast," he said, ruffling her hair before setting off toward the courtyard.
Rem stood there watching until he turned the corner and disappeared. Only then did she head for the kitchen, the smile at the corners of her mouth impossible to hide.
In the kitchen, she found her sister already there.
"Good morning, Sister."
"Good morning… Rem, did something happen? Why are you so happy?" Ram immediately noticed the smile she couldn't quite suppress.
"Am I?" Rem hadn't realized.
"Did you go to wake Shichen?" Ram asked.
"Yes." Rem answered with a smile.
This morning had been the best she'd felt in as long as she could remember—despite nothing "happening." From the day she left her distant homeland and was tucked into this vast manor, she had never felt so light.
Back then, they had escaped danger; her sister had regained consciousness after losing her horn. But before she could be glad, the reality of a sister whose abilities had fallen below ordinary seized her heart.
Hornless, Ram's manner and poise hadn't changed, but the brilliance she used to bring to everything had vanished; even small tasks took effort. That left Rem with many chances to help.
Standing before a sister diminished, Rem felt the first stirrings of emotions she'd never allowed herself—and knew they were wrong.
Recognizing that, a compulsive need took root—greater even than her old inferiority. Guilt—for the sister once adored by the world reduced to the ground because of her.
That guilt drove her worship of Ram. If there had been any real jealousy, she would never have become who she was. But she loved her sister. And she could never forget what she'd thought in the moment the horn fell.
So Rem began doing everything in her sister's stead. Faced with any task or duty, she would ask, "What would Sister do?"—and do that. At first she didn't do it well; her results always fell short of what she hoped.
She thought that was natural—Ram was better at everything. A flawed sister and an inadequate self together couldn't match what Ram used to be.
The road that should have been blazed, led, and walked by her sister now had to be found by her—dragging her sister along. Of course it was hard.
On that road, there was no person named Rem.
Her whole being existed to imitate the "life Sister should have had." If she couldn't even do that, then this useless self had no value.
Day after day, that thought gnawed at her. Becoming a servant hadn't been her choice, though the lord who took them in was kind. But because her sister was so enchanted with him she would gladly give body and soul, Rem had to remain at her side.
In time, she got better and better. "You did well"—the lord's praise was something she'd heard a thousand times back home. "Don't overdo it"—sister's worry. Yet even overdoing it wasn't enough.
Why so desperate?
Why else?
Because she did everything poorly—because even burning herself to ash wasn't enough.
What are you living for?
Of course—for atonement for that foolish thought on the night of burning.
How to atone?
Only by staking her life to open the road she had stolen—the one her sister should have walked.
Because everything about her was a degraded version of Ram; she was only a stand-in.
And so Rem spent seven years of eroding her spirit. She improved, and people praised her, even called her capable and clever; she was made Roswaal's confidante at a critical time for the royal selection.
Yet her heart was still filled with that undiminished anxiety. Day upon day, the guilt didn't fade—it grew—forcing her to dedicate her life to her sister.
Until she met Shichen.
In his eyes, she wasn't anyone else, wasn't a substitute for her sister. She was simply herself—Rem.
And in his eyes, she saw only her strengths.
Despite the guilt, she found herself… lighter.
She became herself again.
"I see…" Ram stared, a bit stunned, at her sister—reborn.
"Sister, let's hurry and make breakfast. Shichen won't want to wait."
"Alright…"