Published: August 3, 2025
"Your home?"
"Yes. It’s so nostalgic… it’s a bit painful."
Myne pressed her hand to her chest. I could feel the emotion, as if she was on the verge of tears.
Until now, Myne’s thoughts had been focused only on books, so I had somewhat brushed it off. But she had said she had died once and found herself as Myne. If that’s the case, it’s only natural she would feel something about her former home.
However, I couldn’t let myself be dragged into sentimentality forever. Clearing my throat with a “ahem!”, I asked Myne a question.
“That shelf gives a rather cluttered impression—what’s displayed there?”
“...It’s my mother’s 'mom art'. She’s very curious but also fickle. After making one or two pieces, she’d quickly lose interest and dive headfirst into something new. The result is this. She dabbled in everything with curiosity, but her skills didn’t keep up...”
Though she spoke critically, Myne’s fingers reached out as if touching something she adored.
“This is a crocheted ‘coaster’, and this is a hair ornament. This hair ornament is now a product at the Gilberta Trading Company. Even my luxurious hairpin’s decoration is made with this technique.”
Recalling the hairpin I had closely seen on Myne during the knights order’s request, I nodded in understanding. They were certainly similar, though Myne’s hairpin was better made.
“This is a basket and bag woven from rolled-up newspaper ads. It was handy when making bags by weaving tree bark. The bag I always use was made the same way.”
Myne pointed at a bag. “Mom got bored halfway through, so I was the one who finished it,” she said, pursing her lips.
“A number of doll clothes and stuffed animals with questionable taste. These white and round ones were supposed to be the heads of ‘snowman’ crochet dolls. A nearly finished ‘cross-stitch’ picture and a ‘patchwork’ tapestry. A clay silver necklace and a ring that was supposed to match it.”
The oddly shaped basket seemed to hold unfinished items. As Myne took each out, memories of making them came to mind. Scenes flickered by—at different times and places, the black-haired woman saying, “That’s enough,” handing the work over to continue, or tugging her along with “Let’s go.” That black-haired woman was likely Myne’s mother.
“This painting, too.”
Myne left the room and walked down a narrow passage. The moment her finger pressed something square, the surroundings suddenly lit up.
“What’s that!?”
“Oh, it’s ‘electricity’. You saw it at the bookstore, right?”
As Myne pointed upward, I saw a much smaller white light than the one at the bookstore. I supposed that square thing was infused with something like mana.
On the now brightly lit hallway walls, several paintings hung. It was no wonder Myne said “the skills don’t match” given the variety of paintings.
“There’s no unity, right? Watercolors, oil paintings, then she said it wasn’t the artist’s fault but the materials’, so she tried ‘japanese painting’. Then she thought ‘colored pencils’ would be easier, but that didn’t work either. She switched to ‘calligraphy’, saying it was part of my bridal training. She even made me try ‘tea ceremony’ and ‘flower arrangement’. Mom got bored first and quit the classes.”
Myne chuckled softly, wiping her eyes. I could tell her chest was filled with indescribable nostalgia and affection.
“There was a period of frugal and natural living where she was into making everything by hand. When she got started, she’d get obsessed, and sometimes I was fed up having to tag along... But thanks to her obsession, I’m able to live as Myne.”
She said that was also when she made Rinshan, candles, and soap, and tried making glue, ink, and paints herself.
As she spoke, hot tears welled in Myne’s eyes, blurring her vision.
“I’m sorry, High Priest. It’s been too long…”
Saying this, Myne covered her eyes and dashed into a small room.
Picking up a soft, fluffy fabric, Myne stood before a white porcelain basin with a metal pipe embedded in a stand. Without hesitation, she twisted a round knob near the top of the pipe.