"Here, try this!"
Beside the crackling bonfire, Elysia picked up a freshly grilled saury and held it out to Durandal.
Seeing the fish, a certain lyric flashed through Durandal's mind. She answered almost reflexively, "I'm not a cat, you know."
Elysia blinked. Not a cat?
"Mmm... then how about you try meowing in bed tonight?"
Even if she didn't quite catch Durandal's drift, that didn't stop Elysia from being her usual playful self.
"Meow... Meow?!"
Durandal looked at Elysia, her expression a mask of pure shock.
She shot a quick glance at their surroundings before lowered her voice to protest, "I'm a cat person, sure, but that doesn't mean I want to become one! I just think they're cute."
"Well then..."
Elysia snapped the saury in two, keeping half for herself and tucking the other half into Durandal's hand.
She could tell that Durandal didn't actually dislike the fish; she had just been playing along with a bit of dry humor, even if Elysia didn't quite get the punchline.
"Who do you think is cuter? Me, or a kitten?"
Elysia nibbled on her fish, her eyes fixed intently on Durandal, tracking every shift in her expression.
Durandal was speechless.
Good grief, she thought. She's not just getting jealous of people anymore; now she's picking a fight with kittens that aren't even here?
Seeing Durandal at a loss for words, Elysia let out a mischievous giggle. "Alright, alright, I'll stop teasing you. But really, why did you say you weren't a cat just now? I feel like there's a story there I haven't heard yet."
When you're with someone, whether you mean to or not, you can't help but want to explore the parts of their past where you weren't present.
It might have seemed like Elysia was always the one asking the questions, but in truth, Durandal was just as curious.
The difference was simple: compared to Durandal's experiences across two lifetimes, Elysia's history—from the moment of her birth until she met her—was something she had shared quite openly.
What remained was a mystery even to Elysia herself.
As for Durandal, between her career as a Valkyrie fifty thousand years in the future and her life as an ordinary college student in another world, even her "mundane" memories were worlds apart from this reality. To tell it all would likely take a lifetime.
"Oh, that? It's not really a deep story. It's just a lyric from a song. I could sing it for you."
Durandal was reasonably confident in her singing voice. After all, she'd been a bit of a karaoke queen in her past life, and her current body possessed excellent vocal range.
However, before Durandal could even clear her throat, Elysia cut her off. "Wait just a second!"
Durandal watched, puzzled, as Elysia suddenly dashed away toward a large rock jutting out near the bonfire party.
Seeing Elysia take a deep, theatrical breath, Durandal's eyelid twitched. She had a very bad feeling about this.
Sure enough, that breath was just a power-up. A moment later, Elysia's clear, ringing voice echoed across the entire beach.
"Eyes on me, everyone! I have an announcement to make!"
The moment that opening line left Elysia's mouth, Durandal's expression turned increasingly strange. She was genuinely afraid the next words out of her mouth would be something utterly ridiculous.
Fortunately, the nightmare scenario didn't happen.
Instead, Elysia shouted, "The leader of Schicksal, our very own Lady Durandal, just said she wants to sing a song! Do we want to hear it?"
"Yes!"
The members of Schicksal, who had been busy grilling food or chatting, dropped everything.
They didn't stop to wonder if it was actually true; they answered with a single, thunderous roar. Nearly a hundred pairs of eyes swung around to lock onto Durandal.
Clearly, most of them were well aware of Elysia's penchant for mischief. Whether Durandal had actually offered to sing didn't matter—now that Elysia had fanned the flames, there was no backing out.
Resigned to her fate, Durandal had no choice but to step up onto the rock.
With the members of Schicksal watching, she didn't want to undermine Elysia's authority as Vice Leader—though Durandal seriously doubted Elysia possessed anything resembling "gravity" or "authority" in the first place.
Regardless, she didn't scold her publicly. She simply waited until her back was turned to the crowd to give Elysia a threatening look that only the two of them understood.
When she turned back to face the audience, she had donned her usual stoic, serious mask.
Just as the staff began to worry that their stern leader might reprimand them for the commotion, Elysia—standing right beside her—gave them a reassuring "don't worry" gesture. A second later, Durandal's voice proved her right.
"A song called 'Common Jasmine Orange,' dedicated to..."
Durandal didn't waste time with small talk. She jumped straight in.
She had originally intended to say "dedicated to everyone," but thinking of the song's nature—and specifically certain lyrics—she changed her mind.
"...dedicated to Elysia, my love."
Elysia clearly hadn't expected that. She looked at Durandal with wide, surprised eyes, her gaze practically screaming: Wait, what?
Durandal, still a bit annoyed by Elysia's sudden stunt, didn't offer an immediate explanation. She figured that once the lyrics started, Elysia would understand why.
Unlike the unique, rhythmic style of the original artist, Durandal's voice carried her trademark sense of dignified sincerity.
Her pronunciation was crisp and deliberate, as if she were terrified that someone—specifically Elysia—might miss a single word.
"The sparrows outside the window are gossiping on the wire,
You say that line has the true feeling of summer.
The pencil in my hand moves back and forth across the paper,
Using a few lines of verse to describe who you are to me."
Without accompaniment, Durandal had to sing a cappella.
Yet, even without music, the sheer quality of the song captured everyone's attention.
Eden, in particular, was enthralled.
To the others, it was simply a beautiful melody. Those with a bit more taste might have felt that, on this scorching summer night by a beach bonfire, the song felt as refreshing as a spring breeze.
But as a professional, Eden could hear the brilliance in the composition. The opening melody was built on a pentatonic scale, avoiding certain notes entirely to create a pure, classic resonance.
She couldn't be sure if the whole song followed this pattern, but she was hooked.
"The taste of saury—both the cat and you want to know.
The scent of first love is found again just like this.
That warm sunlight is like a freshly picked strawberry,
You say you can't bear to swallow the feeling away."
--+--
T/N: If you want advance chapters, you can find it at [email protected]/AspenTL