Epilogue: The Story of Sharisha — Final Act

"Since the true daughter has returned, I have decided to vanish as her adopted daughter. Volume One — A Happy Past and the Virgin of the Barrier — now available on all platforms."

"Since the true daughter has returned, I have decided to vanish as her adopted daughter. Volume Two — First Love and the Debutante — is now available in advance through Comic Seemore."

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—Reunion is the prologue to farewell—

My heart was restless.

Today was the day I had long awaited.

This place is neither the imperial capital, nor the Frontier County, nor the Colloid Marquisate.

From the hotel balcony, below me stretched a vast expanse of blue water, vanishing into the distant horizon.

The waves arrived at even intervals, carrying with them a damp wind.

This is the land beloved by my closest friend—Emmental.

It shows me the very same scene she once described to me, long ago.

I longed to see my dearest friend soon, yet I could not help but worry for my granddaughter, who served the sacred duty with such reverence.

Truly, I am ashamed—aging only in years, while my heart remains unchanged from those days long past.

Unmindful of my thoughts, my granddaughter herself enjoyed the meal prepared for her, humming softly to herself.

Did even my friend… or Spica… eat in such a manner before falling asleep? I drifted into thoughts of the forgotten past of the great saint, now lost to all. She could not have eaten so peacefully, not with such joy. At least I knew one thing: she had not shared her final meal with the family she loved.

I bit the corner of my lip to stifle the tightening in my chest.

Upon leaving the hotel, I made my way toward the great cathedral of Emmental. As always, my granddaughter seemed eager, restless with tension and excitement.

Within the carriage, I watch it all with a quiet smile.

When she first declared her desire to succeed the High Priestess, I was truly astonished. For so long, her eyes had moved through the days with no particular aim, laboring through the given routine with solemn quiet. The first time I saw a strong light in them, I was disoriented—overwhelmed by the memory of the Pearl on the day of the Divine Offering.

Many had hoped, but she did not yield, did not flee, did not abandon. To surpass even the granddaughters of noble houses, the ones long hailed as the strongest contenders—this was something I could not help but feel pride in.

Above all, I rejoiced in her heart: the wish to protect the nation, her family, her friends.

In the current empire, the Virgin of the Barrier is not regarded as one who sleeps in forbidden death, but in radiant honor. To be chosen is a dream for young maidens and a pride for their families. After fulfilling her duty, she returns to secular life with such distinction that suitors come in great numbers.

Yet the length of the flower’s time remains unchanged—three years. That is longer than one might expect. She will not witness the weddings of her friends, nor know the final farewell to kin, as time passes unkindly and without mercy. There must be fear in that. And yet, the granddaughter seated across from her shows not the slightest trace of such dread.

She believes herself fortunate to hold this role. That conviction aches in her chest. And still, I wonder if I shall live to see the moment she awakens…

I have heard that Spica’s final farewell was from her grandparents. Unlike me, who finds even three years unbearable, her grandparents—aware of the long sleep ahead—must have endured a sorrow beyond imagining… merely thinking of it tightens my chest and stings behind my eyes.

It is the pain of a friend, and the pain of her grandparents.

She gently wipes the tear at the corner of her eye.

“Grandmother, what is it?”

“Nothing at all. I was simply thinking how splendid you have become.”

“Is that so…? In the military command hall, I still cannot surpass you, Grandmother…”

Her downcast profile blurs with her husband’s face. Her sincerity is unmistakably his.

“If I must lose to you, then I shall have to return the title of War Maiden’s Strategist. So I cannot afford to lose, not yet. When you return to the manor, we shall play again.”

Her granddaughter replied with a soft, drawn-out “Hai,” her voice tinged with quiet delight.

How sacred it was—this promise of the Virgin of the Barrier and a future yet unfulfilled. That her hopes had been rendered unattainable now felt deeply painful.

“After the duties are done, we shall embroider your wedding attire together, shall we?”

At that, her granddaughter flushed and smiled, a rare warmth in her eyes. The time they had shared had been spent mostly in the training yard or in military drills—few moments had passed in quiet conversation while stitching. To think she might have pleased her granddaughter so simply, even now, made her feel a little guilty for having overlooked such a small, tender thing.

Perhaps I shall keep this promise. No—no matter what, I shall keep it, even if I die.

The girl’s betrothed is her childhood friend. Though she wonders if he will wait, she believes that after the sleep of honor comes a happiness bright enough to shine. To believe in something is wonderful.

It pains me when I think of Pearl, who lives without dreaming of such happiness. Yet I find myself curious—what would she think, seeing him now, Arthur-sama? That thought brings me joy.

As we speak of such warm, trivial things, we pass beneath the gates of the church.

He who greets us is Pearl’s beloved, once a prince—Arthur-sama, now the esteemed Cardinal of Emmental.

The sharpness of youth, the vigor of blades once crossed in training, has faded from his face. Now it bears the gentle, radiant countenance of a holy man.

“Your Highness, welcome to Emmental. We have awaited your arrival with all our hearts.”

The former Marchioness Colloid is in good health, and I am truly delighted by her presence this time.”

“Indeed, Your Grace, this moment has at last arrived. It has been a long time, has it not?”

Arthur replied with a faint melancholy in his voice, “Yes, you are quite right.”

My granddaughter, seemingly unaware that we were old acquaintances, blinked in surprise as she looked upon us.

Even within the church, as we were led to the private chamber, neither I nor my husband was of the great estate, and this was our first time participating in such a selection of a close companion. We understood nothing of the proper procedures or rituals.

My granddaughter felt the same uncertainty. Hand in hand, we made our way to the innermost sanctuary in solemn pilgrimage.

During the transfer, my dear friend’s elder brother joined us as the acting head of Emmental.

He carries many burdens and inner struggles, no doubt. We exchanged silent bows, each acknowledging the other’s presence.

Had she walked this path forty-eight years ago, blindfolded like this… and the man before her was one of those who had caused it, yet she could not utter a word at the regret seeping from his face.

Side by side, they advanced, and before them lay a sanctuary—so still, so pure, its four corner lamps dim and unreliable.

No stagnation in the air, only the goddess statue welcoming them, and two sleeping chambers.

Holding her granddaughter’s anxious hand, one step, then another, they moved deeper, and there, unchanged from the last time they parted, stood her dear friend—her eyes hidden, no doubt because she had yielded them to Elder Brother Number Two.

She glanced down at her granddaughter, and her face was alight with joy.

No wonder. From the moment of her birth, she had been told stories of the Great Saint before sleep. And this child had endured the rigorous selection to succeed her. She must be overwhelmed with emotion, unable to speak in the presence of her idol.

"Then, Grandmother, I shall go now!"

Her granddaughter turned to me with a graceful spin and performed a perfect curtsey before walking toward the bed.

"Yes, be careful. I will wait for your return, at the light’s end."

The granddaughter smiled as she turned back.

The ceremony proceeded without pause. The incantations of Arthur and the granddaughter filled the air, and then, slowly, faded into a quiet afterglow.

It ended too abruptly. So sacred, yet so sudden—almost too quiet to believe.

Yet this was what she had longed for. She wiped her tears.

Soon afterward, the lips of the person on a cot separate from Spica’s sleeping one twitched slightly. Before I could reach them, Arthur hastened forward.

Truly, this man is deeply fond of Pearl.

With a smile that could almost be called a wry one, we onlookers watched in silence as the two, long separated, met again.

After a moment, before I could move, Pearl’s elder brother raised his voice, urging her to return her gaze to him.

Seeing her tears, hearing her call him elder brother—unable to wait any longer, I embraced her. A sight not meant for her eyes, yet she does not see now. So, perhaps, it is acceptable.

The sound of her voice calling my name after so long, the warmth wrapped around me, the familiar scent of flowers lingering in her presence—my heart tightened with longing, aching with the weight of years. I stroked her as one might soothe a child, and she responded in kind.

She is alive… Her warmth is precious, and tears well within me. She feels the same, as though time had reversed itself, as though fifty years had slipped away in an instant.

Then, as I briefly recount the years that passed, her sight restored, she is struck with wonder, as though a traveler from a fairy tale had been invited into the hidden realm of the elves.

And she weeps—joyfully, at the change in her own nature, at the truth that she, too, could not have been fulfilled.

She has always been this kind… truly, from the very beginning.

To speak of her presence here, thanks to her grandson, deepens her smile even further. It is so endearing that I find myself, despite myself, replying with a jest.

The bewilderment on her face when she learned she was called the High Priestess—such a look I had never seen before—was so striking I nearly laughed aloud and had to stifle the sound.

After a brief exchange of idle talk, her Elder Brother slowly withdrew his hand from her eyes. She did not wait, and with a sudden motion, opened them wide, blinking rapidly.

What will she say upon seeing me… I wait, half anticipation, half trepidation, and her large eyes widen even more.

So I have succeeded in startling her, then.

I smile, my heart light with joy, and my gaze shifts behind me.

And thus, it becomes once more just the two of us…

How enviable it is to see those who love each other gathered, comforting one another.

And before my eyes, the flowing proposal and wedding ceremony unfolded.

I believe it made for a fine keepsake tale to have stood as a witness to such a moment, as if from a fable.

We know the time of the two whose happiness shines so bright will not last long. It is beautiful precisely because we know this. It is precious because it is finite.

I left the sanctuary with my newlywed friend, her face still alight with joy.

—The Tea Party of the End—

Ten days have passed since that dreamlike ceremony.

Since that day, I have been cared for at the manor house of the Emmental family.

Madam Pearl and Lord Arthur use chambers within the church, yet they come to this estate during the day as well.

Though she has only just awakened, Madam Pearl is already exceedingly busy, and I have yet to be granted an audience.

Thanks to her careful arrangements each day, I have managed to secure a brief moment with her—yet I cannot claim more than a small portion of her time, so much of which is already spoken for.

I find it admirable how she personally reads every letter of request for an audience, day after day, and replies to each with her own hand. Yet I also wish she would spare herself a little more.

Today, she invited me to a tea gathering.

I don a composed dress. I wonder how she will be dressed… Even now, I cannot help but smile at the thought of us side by side—the fresh bloom of her youth, still in its teens, and myself, a withered branch past sixty, nearly at the half-century mark.

How foolish I am to think such thoughts. Though our appearances may differ, to spend time together is to share something irreplaceable—a friendship beyond measure.

And so, I made my way through the summer garden, as I always do.

By the gazebo, a figure with a white parasol peered through pale orange roses. Her attire, ivory in hue, wrapped around her like a gentle embrace.

By her side, Arthur-sama gently gazes upon Pearl, while a maid of familiar countenance stands slightly apart.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“No, I arrived too eagerly, too soon.”

Smiling, they proceed directly toward the gazebo, where Arthur-sama naturally escorts Pearl. It is as if she cannot be parted from his side, utterly impossible to imagine otherwise.

“Arthur-sama, thank you, but I am quite well now. The steward mentioned your duties have been piling up, did they not? You should return soon, should you not?”

“Spica… I vowed not to be parted from you, even for a single moment. Do you forget that promise?”

Pearl looks to me, helpless, seeking aid.

Truly, there is no helping it.

“Lord Arthur, I understand your reluctance to part—truly, I do. But this is a gathering of ladies, after all. There are matters best kept from gentlemen’ ears, secrets one or two we would rather not share. I shall not trouble you past the bedchamber. Pray, lend me Pearl for a moment.”

“Hush! Shasha, how can you speak so boldly!?”

Pearl turns crimson, her protest aimed at me. A tender, unseasoned reaction—briefly, I felt the cruel passage of time, the weight of experience yet to come.

“Then I have no choice but to accept… I shall return for you later, my beloved.”

Indeed, years have taught him well. Without a trace of embarrassment, Arthur speaks these words to Pearl and presses a kiss upon her brow before turning toward the gate, stepping from the garden.

As she settles into her seat, the flush upon Pearl’s face remains, vivid and unrelenting.

“Foolish Shasha! How could you say such a thing! I was startled!”

"Ah, you're newlyweds, aren't you? When else would you be affectionate, if not now? Or do you mean to say you haven't shared a bed yet?"

Said with deliberate malice, her face flushes even deeper.

"...We do share a bed... We are husband and wife, after all... You held me close and slept beside me last night..."

The way she said it, self-conscious and flustered, was utterly endearing.

She thought of how, with years of shared life behind them, she had spoken so boldly about bedding—now she felt a pang of shame. Even she, with a daughter and grandchildren of her own, had long since laid aside the bashfulness of a girl newly wed.

"Paulette, that’s something between the two of you. I won’t pry—really, I won’t."

I offered her a slightly embarrassed smile, and she puffed her cheeks just a little in mock offense. Too much teasing, perhaps.

"Enough jesting. I do recognize the lady here, though—do you?"

Upon hearing that, Pearl called forth the woman standing behind her and introduced her to me.

“This is Alyssa, my childhood companion and my personal lady-in-waiting. Now she kindly attends to my daily needs—she is a dear friend to me.”

The woman in the formal attire bowed her head toward me, her pale red hair swaying slightly.

“It is an honor to be introduced, Lady Alyssa. I was previously in service to the late Marquise. Please, do honor me with your acquaintance henceforth.”

The movement was exquisite—perfect, refined.

“If she is Pearl’s friend, then she is someone special to me as well. I am Sharisha. Not the former Marquise of Colloid—please, call me Sharisha.”

“Such kind words are too great a burden. I remain merely the former Marquise. Yet I am but a commoner without noble lineage. To receive such honor… it is not within my place.”

Her firm demeanor caused me and Pearl to exchange a glance.

It is quite all right—I shall not speak of impropriety. In truth, I have heard of you from your former master, Siria.

So let us now enjoy tea together as companions awaiting Pearl. I myself, and I believe Pearl as well, would very much like to hear your story.”

Alyssa opens her eyes slightly, her gaze drifting as if seeking guidance.

“I, too, would dearly like to share tea with Alyssa. There is no one here but my dearest friends. Tell me of your empire—of things I have not known.”

Pearl speaks, gesturing toward the seat between us.

After a brief hesitation, Alyssa serves tea for all of us and takes her place at the table.

“What shall we speak of first…? Since Alyssa is here as well, let us begin with Lady Celia. She currently resides in the northern great domain, serving as the consort of the former Grand Duke. With Lady Ariane, the elder sister of the current Emperor, having been wed to her eldest son, the Duke’s family has now governed the great domain for two generations.”

“Ah, which is why she mentioned in her letter that her arrival was delayed… The nobles of the great domain are bound by certain constraints.”

“Yes, she likely wished to meet Spica-sama immediately, but she is quite serious by nature… Moreover, her attention is currently divided, as the preparations for her eldest granddaughter’s marriage are underway.”

Alyssa offers these remarks with gentle interjections, and I listen attentively to what she knows of Lady Celia. Though it is my first time hearing her story, her words and manner feel so familiar, as if I have known them before.

Pearl listened now with quiet surprise, now with gentle nodding, a soft smile upon her lips.

"Once she has calmed a little, she has written to invite me over. I do hope we may all tea together then! …Ah… but Shasha will soon be returning to the capital or her domain, won’t she…?"

I gently shake my head.

"The estate is already entrusted to my sons. The military holds a seat, but I am but an advisor now, so unless an emergency arises, I should not be called upon. And thanks to Pearl, the empire is at peace. I have guided the knights with stern discipline. If Pearl is agreeable, I would ask to stay a little longer… It is dull and lonely, without Tom in the house."

"...I am sorry… I have reminded you of something painful…"

"No, I was able to see him pass in his bed—thanks to Pearl. Though I had long accepted that, as a soldier, his life might end on the battlefield, Pearl protected him, and so I was able to be at his side in his final moments. I am grateful for that."

Saying this, both Pearl and Alyssa lower their eyes, their expressions heavy.

I have been widowed for about ten years now, parted from my husband, Lord Thomas. He was a man of deep affection, who loved me until the very end. As I said before, I was able to watch him—five full years of life fulfilled—fade gently upon a soft bed. I know there are those who would scorn such a thing as shameful for a soldier. But I do not think so. To have held his rough, large hand as he was called home to the goddess, I count that as a pride.

"Both of you, please do not wear such faces... We have decided this time is for sharing stories and proud memories of Tom, our husband. Alyssa—what of your family?"

I have no family. My parents passed away long ago. I have no partner, no close kin. I was simply too absorbed in my work to think of such things.

“Alyssa…”

Pearl’s voice escapes in a quiet whisper.

I know it is a lie. I have heard of men who pursued Alyssa from Celia, and the former lady-in-waiting who wounded Pearl—her own mother—still lives, though advanced in years…

Perhaps the punishment of being erased from her daughter’s life, left without kin or shelter, is the fate that has befallen Alyssa’s mother.

“You never married, you say? Then there’s Yuna! Since returning from her studies, she has established her own brand and now runs the foremost dress shop in the empire!”

"Ah, was that so? Yuna… yet she never married. That came as a surprise. I recall she was quite beloved—many men would offer her flowers, I remember."

"Most men who approached Yuna expected her to enter their household, to be told that women should not work, clinging to outdated values. I’ve heard that the few men who recognized her talent and encouraged her were without noble rank. These days, even without holy power, more and more are being granted titles in commerce, industry, and the arts. And Yuna was among the first—she earned her barony through her own strength. This attire of mine is her creation."

"Ah, I thought this dress suited you so well—so it was Yuna’s design! How nostalgic, remembering when we all gathered at her debutante ball to discuss your gown."

"Indeed… that dress, in truth, my daughter wore it once."

“That dress drew much attention, Your Highness. It became a custom among high nobles for mothers to pass down their debutante gowns to daughters, and then to granddaughters. Lady Seria herself spoke of her granddaughter’s wish to wear her gown—she was truly delighted.”

“So it had come to that. How nostalgic. I received a letter from Lady Ana, though I wonder if we shall meet—she must tend to matters of state across nations…”

Lady Ana now serves as Queen Mother of the neighboring realm, renowned for her diplomatic efforts among the kingdoms. To think she might have come all this way just to see Pearl—it is touching, in its quiet earnestness.

And Pearl, too, watches the remaining time with quiet dread. She prays, fervently, that it will not be too late.

The tea gathering continued in gentle ease.

At year’s end, Pearl fell ill.

It was clear to all that her time was short. Indeed, they thought it remarkable that she had lasted this long.

They said that the Saintess Reilia, who had awakened the year before and begun her service, was called away just a month after her awakening…

In the inner chambers of the church, those who had known her gathered each day, forming a steady procession. It resembled a reunion of schoolmates, and Pearl seemed to find joy in it.

At the start of the new year, at last, Lady Ana arrived. She came accompanied by her cousin, the lady of a great merchant house from a neighboring country. Shiya had been waiting for this moment, and Yuna arrived with a dress she had sewn by hand.

Our long-awaited reunion, after that tearful farewell, was wrapped in tears of sorrow and joy.

And so, as if fated to reunite with us, Pearl was summoned to the goddess the very next day after our reunion. Though I, who am not of her blood, could not be present, I saw the depth of her joy in the faint smile that lingered upon her now-cool face. And beside her, Arthur-sama lay holding her hand tightly.

Had it been said that she had not died by poison or self-destruction, but had quietly received the goddess’s summons at the appointed hour—how wondrous it must have been, how deeply cherished—tears welled up of their own accord.

We were called to say our final farewell before the funeral began.

Her childhood friend had carefully applied her last makeup.

To her, still tender as a girl, yet bearing the compassion of a goddess, I bid farewell with a final offering of flowers and a heart full of gratitude.

If there is a next life, I pray with all my heart that she may know no suffering, only happiness.

She has finally been freed from the cruel fate of this world, and now soars into the open sky with the one she loves.

Epilogue Complete

And so, the tale of Shasha draws to its close.

I was frantic when the data vanished, and nearly lost my will to continue, but in the end, it has taken shape.

Next, I wish to write of the regrets of Spica’s grandmother in her youth.

The cover of Volume Three will feature a photograph of Spica and Stella together. It should soon reach your eyes—please look forward to it.

The new work progresses at a tortoise’s pace, step by step.

Already, the rainy season may arrive soon! This is a time when spirits grow heavy—let us persevere.

Mashiro Sato