Spoiler. (2)
Yeriel recalls the footage she once saw—no, the recording delivered by the eunuch Jolang through the artifact.
"Just carry out your missions reliably. No matter the outcome, we can keep Yeriel holed up in the territory indefinitely."
······Every mannerism is so petty, so it should be reliable enough, but add surveillance to the mission list as well.
Deculein's mansion. Deculein, holding a wine glass, speaks of the missions. In the corner of his vision, Ganesha's red hair sways.
The content they exchange is probably······.
Yeriel stares at that moment. She gazes at the darkened scene.
Ganesha spouts words she herself doesn't even know, and Deculein sits silently, as if ignoring her.
Outside the frame's window, wind flows in from the night sky. The curtains flutter softly, and faint moonlight illuminates Deculein.
His shadowed face shows no expression.
Still, a face that reveals not the slightest hint of his inner thoughts.
Yeriel's momentarily stilled heart begins to beat again. That pulse spreads through her body, squeezing every inch.
Their conversation, the situation within this frame, slowly becomes painfully clear.
Deculein remains silent.
If only he would say something. But he just sits there, seemingly deep in thought.
"Ah······."
But Yeriel cannot possibly remain as calm as Deculein. Her thoughts in her head don't connect into long chains. They keep breaking off in fragments.
Her legs tremble, and her head throbs like a rat gnawing inside.
Yeriel's vision blurs. An inexplicable emotion swirls wildly within her heart.
A vortex she doesn't want to know, hard to accept. Within it, all her childhood memories mix with her mother's face and her father's voice.
"Biological distinction."
Yeriel mutters blankly. Words that deny her past, her very existence as a Yukline, root and all.
Her mind reels in confusion, but her logic moves instinctively.
The reason demonic energy doesn't affect her positively—why her throat still stings and her lungs burn······
Because I'm not a Yukline.
"······."
Yeriel feels the world pulling away from her.
Her ears ring, and the ground beneath her feet shakes.
The precarious footing seems ready to collapse and swallow her at any moment.
At that moment.
Deculein finally speaks.
Yeriel snaps back to the world for an instant, exhaling a trembling breath as she fixes her gaze on him.
Up to this point, Yeriel could endure it.
Her venom, the days she had lived abandoning herself and prioritizing only the family and territory, had supported her stance.
······But.
Deculein's words. A voice dry as if it might crumble, yet faintly trembling.
A reason that means no reason at all.
"Wha······?"
Just that one phrase's echo is enough to shatter someone's heart.
More than enough to burst the dam of emotions.
"······This."
Yeriel slowly feels her body tilting.
Her limbs, too hard to control, slump as they please.
'Yeriel remains Yeriel.'
Deculein's parched voice.
Overlaid upon it, another warm voice.
'Just as you remain Yeriel······ I remain myself.'
Deculein's subconscious, words honestly conveyed to her.
All of it ripples like waves on a lake.
Drawing forth certain memories from within Yeriel's chest.
······The Dpalem Forest near Hadekan in the empire's western reaches.
That day she accompanied the cathedral's 'demonic energy purification mission.'
'Why! Why can't it be me?!'
Me, shouting furiously in the returning carriage.
'Silence.'
Deculein, coldly rebuking her as always.
'You didn't even go all the way! It wasn't dangerous anyway!'
'You are a hindrance.'
Yeriel recalls that situation step by step.
She replays the words she had shot back accusingly.
'I'm a Yukline too? If demons are the enemy, I can contribute plenty!'
'Do not act foolishly. The responsible one does not step to the front lines.'
To herself, proudly boasting that she was a Yukline too······.
'Furthermore, should you ever participate in battle henceforth, consider our promise void. Know that.'
Deculein had threatened her that way.
'How long do you intend to act childish? Behave according to your station.'
No, it wasn't a threat.
'Show the proper dignity and grace.'
It was an attempt to protect her from the Yukline bloodline······.
Yeriel's memory shifts once more.
Deculein's voice echoes in her ears.
Words Deculein spoke in Jolang's artifact.
'Should that one ever attempt some foolish act······ you know what must be done without my saying it.'
Not being Yukline, not being true kin, the 'foolish act' she might commit if she ever learned.
Deculein's intent······ Yeriel finally understands.
That voice rings out then. Yeriel blankly rises and looks at the frame again.
Ganesha has already left, and Deculein wears a somehow sorrowful expression.
Gazing at his wine glass, he murmurs in a low voice.
Yeriel grits her teeth. She forcibly suppresses the sob threatening to burst.
"······Why."
She merely mutters, leaning her head against the frame.
"Why is this a fact with no need to be known······?"
His words that Yeriel remains Yeriel.
Did bloodline or kinship mean nothing to him from the start?
Yeriel bows her head. Her fallen hair covers her face.
"Why······."
What could be the reason?
Since when, to what extent······.
This man called Deculein, for the sole reason of being his sister······
Thud—
In that instant, footsteps approach.
The 'real' Deculein had returned.
"······!"
Yeriel hurriedly inserts the key into the frame. She must not let Deculein see this memory.
Click, grind!
Gripping her madly trembling hand, she twists desperately—and the entire frame fades away.
Thud, thud.
Immediately after, Yeriel stands frozen in the middle of the corridor.
Thud, thud.
From the darkness beyond, Deculein approaches.
"Yeriel."
He calls her name.
A tone somewhat angry, infinitely chilling.
"The reason you stole my diary shall be questioned later."
But Yeriel is not afraid.
Now that she knows his heart.
She had committed an act deserving dozens, hundreds of scoldings.
"For now······?"
Thump—
Deculein draws near. Yeriel butts her forehead against his chest.
Thump—thump—thump—
Like a woodpecker, three or four times.
Deculein, furrowing his brow, speaks.
"What is this behavior?"
"······."
Yeriel tilts her head sideways to glare up at him. Misinterpreting her gaze, Deculein scolds in a stern voice.
"Lower your eyes."
"······."
I cannot say a word, and this man pretends not to know still.
Does he intend to keep it secret for life?
"······."
He said it was a fact with no need to be known.
The heart behind those murmured words—I still do not know it. Perhaps I never will for a long time.
──But.
There are moments when the heart matters more than facts.
Thinking so, this moment is precisely that······
So it is right for me to pretend not to know as well.
Yeriel barely moves her trembling lips.
"······Gotta go find the vassals."
"Take them."
As if waiting, he hands over three notebooks. Each labeled with the vassals' names.
"You should find them easily upon inspection."
"······Yeah."
Yeriel reads the notebooks, distinguishing their memories. As she walks the corridor, Deculein follows behind.
"Why're you tailing me? Got some memory you wanna hide?"
"Your speech is impudent."
"······Hmph."
Yeriel pouts her lips and sets out with Deculein to find the vassals.
Her chest aches as if it might burst, she still doesn't feel fully sane, her head fogged with venomous mist in confusion, but still······ she looks at Deculein.
"······."
Walking side by side with him, grateful to know even now.
Yeriel thinks.
Of course, it's not like some floating-on-clouds euphoria. Neither Deculein nor I have personalities sweet enough to shatter walls and get chummy in an instant.
Rather, she thinks this is just the beginning.
Much to learn, much to strive for.
Deculein.
Just as he looks at her, accepting her as she is······.
She too must become a being worthy of that heart.
So she can be of help to him.
Suddenly, Yeriel speaks.
"Hey."
"······."
Deculein halts abruptly. He glares as if to kill, but at the next words······.
"Brother Deculein."
He seems somewhat flustered. Frowning his brows left and right, he retorts.
"······Struck by lightning, perhaps?"
"Puhaha."
Yeriel forces a laugh, and Deculein shakes his head.
"Let us go. Find them quickly."
"······."
The conversation ends swiftly. An awkward silence slips familiarly between them.
A natural thing, really.
Not close siblings, after all—no endless topics to chatter about.
Just······
Thud, thud.
Click, clack.
Different footsteps echoing in the corridor.
Dress shoes and loafers.
Deculein and Yeriel.
The two walk on, maintaining a proper distance as always.
Imperial University Tower, 77th floor.
"······?"
Returning from the diary, I discover a single note on the desk.
The note left for Ifrin. 'Explain to outsiders that I am in research, and if I do not return within three days, request reinforcements. Carry this paper just in case.' It was a transmission paper.
Info
: An ordinary paper, but enhanced with special transmission function via Midas' Hand.
Category
: Paper
Special Effect
: Mid-level transmission paper function.
[Midas' Hand: Level 3]
This transmission paper, when linked to another paper via mana, copies any content written on it to the other.
Hence transmission paper······.
"Did this idiot leave it right on the desk?"
I shake my head, picturing Ifrin's dopey face.
I tuck the diary from the desk into my inner pocket and step out of the office.
Ding—!
Just then, the corridor elevator arrives.
"Oh? You're back?"
Inside, Ifrin slurps on some smoothie. Drent and Allen are with her. Each carries armfuls of snacks.
"Professor! Welcome back!"
"······."
"Professor, it's not time yet, right?"
Ifrin points to the corridor clock. Muttering that about 52 hours have passed, she looks up at me again.
"Was gonna contact in another 20 hours or so. Told Knight Julie already. That you're deep in research in the lab~ something like that."
"······."
Seems she carried out my instructions diligently enough.
I nod, and she hesitantly offers the smoothie.
"······Wanna try? Made with milk, tastes weird."
"No need."
"Okay~ Then I'm off. Got tons of research too."
Ifrin saunters back to the [assistant lab], slurping her smoothie.
"Professor~ So where'd you go? Semester festival starts today!"
"Famous folks are coming."
Drent chimes in after Allen.
"Semester festival?"
"Yeah! So much to see~"
I glance out the tower's glass windows. Indeed, the festival is in full swing. Balloons float like airships.
"Oh right, Professor!"
Allen, hot dog in mouth, pulls a document from a binder.
"Hewe (here)."
It's the 'course registration list.'
"Tons signed up for the advanced lecture!"
"Is that so."
"Yep!"
Made from Floating Island specialty paper. High-tech, holding hundreds of pages in one sheet like a tablet PC.
"······Hm?"
I scan the names, frowning. Prince Kreto makes sense. But······
"What's with this one cat?"
Red-furred Munchkin. Literally a cat's photo, age, and resume on the paper.
A cat resume, word for word.
"Yeah, I thought it weird too, but it's a royal request. Cat's learning magic?"
"A cat, you say?"
"Yeah. Wild, huh?"
"O······."
"······."
I half-listen to Allen and Drent's banter, flipping through the list. Wizards selected by the Floating Island, tower mages, professors, etc······.
I tuck the document into my briefcase.
"Where is Julie."
Been gone three days; she must be worried.
Allen and Drent grin.
"Probably watching the knight tournament~"
"Knight tournament."
"Yeah~ In the central Zephrim Hall!"
Knight Grand Tournament.
A grand battle among knights, literally.
One of the continent's most famous, promising, hottest sports—not just in the empire. Currently, the 'Imperial Roiter League' holds the grandest status.
"Ooh······."
Julie sits in the knight seats, awaiting the tournament's start.
Today's semester festival knight tournament is practically a Roiter League exhibition match. The participants are that dazzling.
"Hey! Julie~ Long time!"
"Ah, Goher. Good to see you."
Friends from school days gather one by one. Warrior Goher, Knight Palain, Archer Seimi, senior Gwen, etc······.
Still active in the imperial knights or other empire knight orders, they greet Julie warmly.
Gwen smirks slyly.
"Julie, you look radiant lately~"
"Ah, do I?"
"'Cause Deculein's buried in research? Heard you barely go home anymore."
"Well······."
The moment Julie responds.
"Relieved without me, are you?"
A sharp voice drifts from somewhere. Julie and the knights startle and turn.
It's Deculein.
Suited up, he tilts his head to scan Julie's classmates. A knight beside her tactfully vacates the seat, and Deculein sits.
Julie hurriedly corrects herself.
"N-no, not that I was glad without you, but that I didn't have to worry about escorting—"
"Enough."
"No—"
"Oh ho—!"
A booming voice echoes through the hall. Knights in the seats, even commoners, turn to its source.
"Deculein and Julie, sitting together?"
Zeit von Brugan Phairden.
Participating in today's exhibition, armored up.
In that instant, nearly all knights leap up in courtesy. The knightly salute: head tilted, hand to chest.
Zeit laughs heartily, gesturing them to sit, and they do. A glimpse of the prestige in the name Zeit.
"Deculein, never knew you had interest in knight tournaments······."
Zeit says, loosening his muscles.
Shoulders broad as the sea, thick neck, waist packed with core strength.
That knight's 2m10cm frame could fit three grown men.
"Kehahaha. Since you're here, watch closely."
Zeit booms with laughter. But his smile differs greatly from usual.
Eyes sharply opened in pre-battle thrill. An unconscious aura overwhelming the space itself.
"The kind of knight your brother-in-law-to-be······ truly is."
The strongest knight, granted the title 'king' despite frontier origins. A warrior etched in imperial history.
One below none, above all. The winter king, Zeit.
"······Yes."
I had merely come to find Julie.
"I shall watch closely."
"Hahaha. Good. Expect great things."
Seems I've joined a fine spectacle.