Case 87: To the mystic Miss Rael.
*****
''Hoo...''
Pulling up the welding mask briefly to take a breather, Quasar fell back onto her chair.
Unlike the old, creaky, and uncushioned chair she used to sit at her former store, the soft and plentiful cushion held her body gently. Every time she felt that, some sort of gratitude swelled in her.
'I-I've come this far.'
She nervously thought.
With a nice lab, a booming business, unending revenue, and unparalleled freedom—she had nothing to worry about anymore. Just lock herself in this space and create whatever she liked, be whoever she wanted—to the end of time.
Ruffling her messy, slightly dirty pink hair, Quasar slowly got up from her seat and started stretching. This project wasn't urgent, so she could take a break for now. Just in time, her belly had begun protesting. Maybe a meal would do.
''Miss Quasar.''
''Hm?''
But before she could open the fridge, someone knocked on the door. It was clearly her assistant's voice.
''You have a guest.''
Quasar didn't have many guests. She wasn't a business-oriented woman, so she found pouring her time into growing it wasteful. Instead, she hired a team to do all of that for her—a gamble she would rather take than not having time to enjoy her hobbies.
Because of that, not many seek her directly. At this time, only one person would pay a visit to the young inventor.
''Good day, Miss Quasar.''
''A-Ah, hello!''
It was the mysterious, charming woman named 'Rael.' She was also a person Quasar held personal respect and gratitude for. If she hadn't decided to invest in her that day, Quasar wouldn't have been where she was now.
''C-Come in, Miss Rael. I'll prepare tea!''
''My, thank you.''
''Please sit there...''
But perhaps thanks to that admiration, Quasar was always a mess around 'Miss Rael.' In her mind, Rael was an endlessly elegant, irresistibly enigmatic existence—something akin to an undercover angel.
Beautiful, almost definitely a noble, and kind-hearted.
No, Quasar already knew more than that. As the young woman began to brew some tea in the kitchen, she couldn't help but feel her head spinning.
'...I wonder what her true self is.'
That person liked to use some sort of artifact whenever she was 'Miss Rael.' It moderately reduced her impression, making it harder to recognize and remember her face and voice... but at the end of the day, even that had limits.
After meeting Rael dozens of times these past two years, Quasar had seen through that cover. Those loose strands of sky-blue hair occasionally flocking out, those vivid blood-red eyes peeking under the hood, and most of all, the unmistakably frail physique—all pointed to one person: Cecilia de Orleans.
At first, it was but a wild guess. Only after she attended numerous banquets and saw Cecilia in person did the uncertainty completely vanish.
They were the same person.
Yet, somehow, finding that out wasn't as shocking as Quasar thought. Rael didn't wear a mask, nor did she really try to conceal her identity. She must have known that the artifact she wore wouldn't be too effective. Almost as if... she wanted to be discovered.
Quasar considered confronting Rael at some point, but she was too much of a coward to do it. She didn't want to sever this friendship. So, for the moment, she would be the oblivious young woman, not knowing the infamous seductress of high society's identity.
''I-Is there something on my face?''
''...No, I just thought you seemed rather lively these days.''
As the young inventor settled down opposite Rael, she let out a foolish laugh at the flattering words.
''It's all thanks to y-you, Miss...'' She replied. ''But... how are you doing lately...?''
Quasar watched as Rael raised the teacup, her thin, bony hand almost struggling to stay still under the weight. After pondering for a bit, Rael softly smiled, ''I'm doing well. Thank you.''
''T-That's a relief.''
''A relief? Did you think I was struggling, or...?''
Belatedly realizing the rudeness of her comment, Quasar nearly broke out into a panic, ''N-N-No, I was just...!''
Rael remained calm, perhaps amused at the sight of her clumsy friend's vivid expressions as she scrambled for an excuse. ''I was just joking, of course. But Miss Quasar, did anything come up on the favor I asked you?''
''Eh? A-Ah, that...''
Quasar quickly killed her fright, returning to her somewhat rational mind. Aside from visiting just to check on her projects every now and then, Rael also borrowed her name numerous times to secure different types of artifacts and growth elixirs. Since it didn't bother Quasar, she was more than happy to help.
Yet, at some point, she started to wonder about the purposes of these purchases. Rael clearly didn't use the items on herself, seeing how she only got more and more frail by the day, but she seemed delighted whenever she got what she wanted. Who were they for? Why didn't Rael try to improve her health instead?
'...No, it isn't my place to care for her.'
Nonetheless, as a friend and a business partner, Quasar couldn't help but worry about Rael, so much so that she impulsively did something she normally wouldn't.
'I-I went ahead and brought it anyway, so I need to man up and give it to her!'
Although her thought process was rather strange, Quasar still resolutely stood up and brought back what she had prepared—a suitcase containing a dozen concentrated mana elixirs, each costing a fortune. Of course, Rael still paid for all of them herself, and she wouldn't forget to give some to Quasar as compensation, too.
''These are the p-potions you asked for.''
''I can't thank you enough, Miss Quasar...''
''A-And!''
''...?''
From her pocket, the clumsy pink-haired woman pulled out four more vials, all nesting an appetizing red liquid inside. Seeing them laid out before her eyes, Rael turned from satisfied to puzzled.
''I s-saw you coughing the other day, s-so I brought them for you...'' Quasar barely muttered, her cheeks and ears burning. ''You can drink them as you like...!''
''...Aren't these expensive?''
''Not at all! I'm rich now!''
Health potions—high-end ones, too. Made from extremely rare thousand-year-old mandrakes, their prices were sky-high. In any other scenario, it would be heartwarming. Yet, looking at the unwavering sincerity in Quasar's watery eyes, the frail woman felt a pang of guilt.
Because she would have to take advantage of her later.
'...Well, at least she wouldn't be harmed.'
Rael thought to herself. As for these gifts... she would undoubtedly cherish them. An unexpected friendship, but she didn't hate how it had progressed.
''...Thank you, really.''
That day, Miss Rael's footsteps as she left carried a slight color of somberness.
Once again, slumping down on the chair, Quasar wrestled with a premonition in her head. She wouldn't say she had strong instincts, but just by observing that person for a long time, she could tell that her friend's time forward wouldn't be so blissful.
'Stay strong...'
*****