LVI ※ Perfect Memory: The Gift That Just Keeps Haunting Me

"For those who don't know, it means that a person has a perfect memory. People with this condition never forget anything, not even the smallest of details. They remember everything, whether it's a word someone said to them when they were a child, or even the very first memory they have from when they were a baby. It's as though the mind is a flawless recorder, capturing every moment, every word, every sound, and every sensation, all locked into place for eternity. Once a memory is formed, it remains untouched, unshakable, and permanent."

"It doesn't fade, it doesn't blur, it doesn't slip away. This condition allows the person to learn things at an incredibly fast pace, able to read something once and have it committed to memory forever, like an indelible imprint that cannot be erased. There is no fading, no slipping, no forgetting. Nothing is ever lost. Once it's in there, it's there for good. Every detail, every experience, all etched permanently into the mind's surface, like a mural painted across the walls of memory that can never be wiped clean. Every detail, no matter how insignificant it may seem to others, is preserved in crystal-clear clarity. I can recall the tone of a voice, the exact words spoken, the exact position of a chair, the smell of the air, and the feeling of the ground beneath me—everything remains as vivid and unchanging as the moment it happened."

I paused for a moment, letting the weight of what I'd said settle in, my voice soft but firm. I needed them to understand, to truly grasp the depth of what it meant to live with this kind of memory. "And I have it."

The Queen turned toward my brother, who had been standing silently beside her, waiting for a cue. He nodded slowly, giving a subtle acknowledgment, before speaking with complete certainty. "She's right, Your Majesty," he said without hesitation, his voice clear and unwavering as he confirmed the truth of what I had just explained. There was no doubt in his tone, no uncertainty. He knew this truth just as well as I did, maybe even better, having lived alongside me, witnessing the effects of this memory firsthand.

The Queen looked back at me, her face a mix of confusion and a touch of disbelief, as her brow furrowed deeper, her eyes narrowing in a way that made it clear she was processing this new information with some difficulty. "Why didn't I know about this?" she demanded, her voice sharp and almost accusing, a hint of frustration creeping into her tone. Her words stung, but I didn't let it show. I knew this wasn't about me; it was about her surprise, her realization that she had missed something so fundamental about me.

I didn't flinch at her words, not even for a second. Instead, I turned my gaze toward her with an air of casual detachment, though I made sure my words were pointed. "Have you ever bothered to truly know anything about me, my Queen?" I asked, my voice laced with a bitter truth, an edge to it that made it clear I wasn't pulling any punches. "I know you haven't, because I remember every single thing that anyone has ever done or said to me. Every glance, every word, every smile or sneer. It's all in here," I said, tapping my temple, the gesture making it clear that my mind was a vault where nothing, absolutely nothing, could ever escape. "If there's one flaw I have, Your Majesty, it's that I can't forgive those who were cruel to me for no reason. That's something I can't let go of. And it might just be the reason I don't tolerate being tested or belittled by those who have no real cause for it."

I let my words hang in the air for a moment, then added, my voice unwavering, "But yes, my memory is... extraordinary. It's not some skill I possess, it's just how I am. It's not something I chose." The silence that followed felt thick with tension. The Queen's breath caught slightly, her shock palpable, and I could hear the quiet, heavy inhale that followed as she processed my words. She was struggling to come to terms with the reality of what I was telling her.

A thick, almost suffocating silence fell between us, and I could feel the weight of her anger building as she processed the gravity of what I had just told her. It was as if the air had thickened with tension, the temperature rising by degrees. I could almost feel the burn of her fury radiating off her as she tried to collect her thoughts. "Then I take it will be a waste of time to test your memory," she said finally, her voice cold, as if she were trying to mask her emotions beneath layers of control. The tension in her voice made it clear she wasn't quite done with me, not yet. "You passed," she added, her words clipped, almost as though she were trying to get past this part of the ordeal. "Now, let's move on to the last test. Dancing. Get up, we'll begin. Who wants to be her partner?"

Before anyone else could speak, Rai's hand shot up into the air, and his voice rang out with such eagerness that it caught me slightly off guard. "I will!" he exclaimed, his enthusiasm almost exaggerated. I stifled a small laugh, amused by his eagerness, and for a moment, I wondered if it was because he genuinely wanted to dance with me or if he was simply trying to avoid the idea of being partnered with Daisuke, who was known for being less than pleasant. Either way, I wasn't about to complain. "I will dance with her," Rai said again, this time his eyes meeting mine, his smile confident and assuring, as if he had already decided his role in this little test.

"Don't go easy!" The Queen's voice cut through the air with a sharpness that made it clear she wasn't looking for any leniency. She issued her warning with an almost expectant edge, clearly anticipating that Rai might try to take it easy on me, as though she doubted his willingness to push me to the limit. The challenge in her voice was unmistakable.

"I wouldn't dare," Rai replied with a sly grin, though I could sense the subtle hint of sarcasm in his voice. It was a playful response, but something about it told me that he might actually hold back, that he might let me take the reins. Rai had always been the type to try and please everyone, and I wasn't sure if that tendency was endearing or frustrating at times. But I knew he wouldn't embarrass me, not in front of the Queen, not in front of anyone.

I turned my attention back to the Queen, my expression shifting to something more playful, more mischievous. "Can I choose the song?" I asked, my voice laced with a hint of amusement, though I wasn't really expecting her to say yes. After all, I knew how much she enjoyed having control over every little detail, and this was no exception.

"No!" The Queen responded immediately, her voice firm and final, and her refusal left no room for argument. Her annoyance was evident, her patience already running thin. Without giving it another thought, she turned to one of the attendants in the room and gave a swift command to have the song she had chosen played.

"Alright." I shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance, crossing my arms and putting on my best innocent expression. "I was going to choose Woerfel Act. 87, but I suppose that would be too easy, wouldn't it?" I allowed a small, mocking edge to slip into my voice, though I kept it subtle enough for only Rai to pick up on. Woerfel Act. 87 was well known as one of the most challenging pieces to dance to in the waltz, and it happened to be one of my absolute favorites. The complexity of its steps was unmatched, and the grace required to perform it was something few could manage.

When the first notes of the song began to fill the room, I couldn't suppress the grin that spread across my face. It wasn't just any song—it was the one I had been hoping for. I wasn't surprised, though. I had a feeling the Queen hadn't anticipated me outmaneuvering her, and I couldn't resist the chance to poke a bit of fun at her expense. "It seems like we think alike, Your Majesty," I said, my tone dripping with barely contained amusement as I watched her expression shift, her plan unexpectedly thwarted.

Rai glanced at me, his face momentarily unreadable, before he shifted into his stance, and we took our positions. The tension in the air seemed to dissipate just a bit, replaced by the familiar pulse of the music as we prepared to dance. We were standing close, but not quite touching, a delicate space between us, as the anticipation in the air hung thick. Then, we began to dance, our movements fluid and synchronized, the steps as familiar as breathing.

I could feel Rai's hesitance, the tension in his movements, but I guided him through the steps with practiced ease. He had always struggled with this particular piece, the complexity of the steps often tripping him up, and I had long since learned to take the lead whenever we danced this particular waltz. Rai had always preferred simpler steps, ones that didn't demand as much from him, and I had made it my task to ensure that he could keep up. We were still family, after all, and family looked after one another.

I refused to let him stumble, not in front of the Queen. If I allowed anyone to mock him for his shortcomings, it would be an insult to House D'Arcy, and I would not allow that. Not on my watch. "Come on, Rai," I muttered softly, encouraging him as we swirled through the complicated steps, my tone gentle but firm. "Just follow my lead."

The dance floor seemed to stretch on endlessly, the soft echo of our footsteps reverberating through the room as we moved with grace and precision. Despite his initial hesitation, Rai soon fell into the rhythm, the uncertainty fading as we danced together, each step more sure than the last. Every turn, every dip, every step we took was a reminder that no matter the obstacles, we were in this together. And that meant everything.