Chapter 225
Chapter 225
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 225
Chapter Title: Late Summer Turns to Autumn (1)
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The Phileon Academy in late summer was lush with greenery. Cicadas, likely performing their final show of the year, sang everywhere.
A few staff members on duty and students who had returned early came and went through the gates. Looking out the window at the scene, Iril murmured to herself.
"School's starting soon."
Iril hummed a tune as she replaced the flowers in the vase. The bright yellow daffodils never got old, no matter how many times she saw them.
Suddenly recalling something from three years ago, she smiled softly. It was the first time her always prickly little brother had given her a gift.
'Daffodils back then, too.'
The daffodils Ronan had shyly offered were more beautiful than any she'd ever seen. Looking back, it was that very day he'd decided to attend Phileon Academy. She'd been so proud she'd burst into tears.
"...I wish he'd hurry back."
"He sent word yesterday, actually. Said they'd arrive today or tomorrow."
"Really?!"
A low, calm voice came from behind. Iril whipped around, her eyes widening.
Even after two hours of cleaning, Schlieffen hadn't stopped mopping.
"Schlieffen, you don't have to work so hard! I told you I'd do it!"
"I couldn't possibly. Giving our all in everything is the Grancia family motto. Besides, inhaling too much dust could lead to lung disease, so I have to be thorough."
"Jeez."
Despite Iril's protests, Schlieffen was stubborn. The sight of the next Sword Saint in a hood, mopping away, had become routine.
'He's grown up so much.'
Schlieffen, who once looked so boyish, now had the air of a proper young man. He'd shot up in height, and the veins bulging on his rolled-up sleeves spoke of his strength. Watching him quietly, Iril clapped her hands.
"Right! Schlieffen, you're the same age as Ronan, aren't you? You graduate next year?"
"Yes. Why do you ask?"
"Hehe, just curious. Lunch will be ready soon—eat with us!"
Iril headed downstairs. But instead of the kitchen, she veered toward her room.
Her room, decorated to match her kind and refreshing image, had never hosted a single guest—not even Ronan. She approached the bed slowly and got down on her stomach. Then she reached under it.
"Ughhh...!"
It wasn't easy. Stretching as far as she could, she pulled something out. It was a small box, just the right size to fit in her palm.
"Phew, maybe I should've kept it somewhere else."
She brushed the dust off the lid and opened it. Inside was a single device resembling a compass. It was a magic tool called a Bloodline Needle—if you smeared it with the blood of the person you wanted to track, it pointed to their location.
The red needle was fixed in one direction. Staring at it quietly, Iril murmured softly.
"...Not much longer."
She closed the box and shoved it back into the depths where her hand could barely reach.
As if steeling herself, she patted her cheeks and stood up. Suddenly, a familiar voice came from the entrance.
"Sis, I'm back. Senior's with me."
"Ah, Ronan!"
Iril's face lit up. She flung open the door and hugged Ronan at the threshold. It had been nearly two months. Adeshan, standing behind, greeted her with her face half-covered.
"H-Hi, Iril."
"Adeshan! Long time no see! Why cover your face?"
"W-Well, we just got back, so I'm kinda dirty. Haven't even washed properly..."
She was right. Exhausted from the long journey, neither looked particularly clean. But Iril didn't mind at all.
"Pfft, who cares! We missed you guys so much!"
"Me too."
Ronan replied curtly. She looked up at him and grinned.
Little brother. My one and only little brother.
****
"This hits the spot. Nothing beats sis's cooking."
"Hehe, glad you like it. Eat up."
"Whew, one more bowl then."
Ronan ladled more potato stew into his bowl. This was his fourth.
Nothing fancy in the ingredients, yet it was so addictive. He pointed at Schlieffen across the table.
"Good. That ferret-lookin' guy hasn't pulled any weird stunts, right?"
"Hm? Weird stunts?"
"Y'know, like suddenly asking to use the bathroom... or wanting help with workouts half-naked..."
"Koff!"
Schlieffen choked as if something went down wrong. Luckily, no food in his mouth, so it ended with some spit. He wiped his lips with a napkin and clicked his tongue.
"Crude. Baseless speculation."
"Good to hear. No sleazy tricks—stick to the proper steps."
Ronan and Adeshan had headed straight home upon returning to the capital. Perfect timing for lunch together.
Four sat around the long table, facing each other. Iril, sitting straight, gently stroked Adeshan's hair.
"Eat plenty, Adeshan. You're not dirty at all—don't worry!"
"Th-Thank you. I'll dig in."
Adeshan nodded. Even knowing they were siblings, she couldn't help feeling intimidated around Iril.
No one on the continent—not just the Empire—could match her beauty. Staring at Adeshan's face, Iril continued.
"Not dirty—you look even prettier! Hehe, got a boyfriend or something?"
"W-Well... um..."
Adeshan stammered. Should she tell the truth? What if Iril got mad, like how dare a lanky pumpkin touch my baby brother? What if she cried? She doted on him like her own child...!
Iril didn't seem the type, but the fear lingered. As Adeshan floundered, Ronan, quietly eating stew, spoke up.
"Could be. We're dating."
"Huh?"
"Ro-Ronan...!"
No hesitation in his calm tone. Adeshan cried out desperately, but the cat was out of the bag.
Silence fell over the table. Clink. Schlieffen's spoon slipped from his hand. Iril leaned forward and grabbed Adeshan's face with both hands.
"Whaaat?! For real?!"
"Y-Yes... that's how it happened."
Adeshan nodded like a woodpecker. Up close, she was even prettier. Iril alternated glances between her and Ronan, squealing.
"Eek! You guys are perfect together! Absolutely perfect!"
"I think so too."
"When did you start? Who confessed first? Held hands? D-Don't tell me you've already kissed...!"
Questions poured like a flood. Each time Adeshan squeaked an answer, Iril's legs kicked like a fish out of water.
'This is nice.'
Ronan chuckled watching them. He'd missed this atmosphere. The past two months tangled with auroras, eyes, and stinky furballs had been fun in their way, but nothing matched this pastoral warmth.
As the pot emptied, Ronan spoke up.
"Sis. Got something to ask."
"Hm? What?"
"You said you have no memories of Dad, right?"
"...Eh?"
Iril's face stiffened briefly, then relaxed. She nodded after mumbling.
"Yeah. He left when I was too young. Why?"
"Just curious all of a sudden."
Ronan shook his head. He'd hoped for info on the Savior or Abel, but it was a pipe dream. He'd seen the curse on her himself in the Heartscape World.
"If someone who looks like you shows up claiming to be Dad or family, don't open the door. Got it?"
"O-Okay. Not sure what you mean, but..."
Iril blinked in confusion. Ronan reiterated security like scolding a daughter. With Nebula Klazje cornered, this was the most dangerous time.
'Wounded tigers are the fiercest.'
He'd invested heavily in security, but better safe. If the cult discovered the house or Iril and tried kidnapping, it'd be a nightmare.
"Just be careful. Oh, got souvenirs from the north."
"Souvenirs?!"
Ronan shifted to gifts post-serious talk. He'd have to handle it himself. Soon after eating, he and Adeshan left.
"Thanks for the meal. Dropping senior at her dorm with her stuff."
"Take your time! Come again, Adeshan!"
Iril waved cheerfully. As the door opened, shadows scattered from the corner of his vision. Ronan spoke without looking away.
"How many?"
"Twenty-three close. Seven more a bit farther."
Adeshan replied. Her detection was always astonishing. Ronan smirked.
"Nice. They kept their promise."
Emperor's gift for their service: house guards. He'd expected six; thirty was generous. And skilled, by their movements.
"How long till school starts?"
"Two days. Spent the whole break up north."
"Yeah. Hmm... what to do."
Ronan groaned thoughtfully. No rest post-journey. Adeshan tilted her head.
"What's up?"
"Just... who to take. You're student council prez and graduating—gotta focus on academy."
"Huh?"
Destination was set. But it was brutal—timing and companions weighed heavy.
Ronan pondered till dropping Adeshan at her dorm. After confirming no one and kissing her cheek, even as he crashed for missed sleep back home, it lingered.
After waking, he organized northern intel. Sending raw data was easier, but cult spies in the palace? Better curate and report direct. He gave the seventh report to Cita.
"This one. Thanks."
"Pew!"
Cita flew out the window. Responses came in three hours avg. Palace visit pending.
Busy days flew; two gone in a flash. Opening ceremony at the plaza brimmed with familiar faces. Marya, arm-in-arm with Asel, waved spotting him.
"Ronan! When'd you get back?"
"Ma-Marya. Eek, can't breathe...!"
They'd returned safe. Seemed closer than before—maybe. Ophelia, Braum, Erzsebet looked more mature. Schlieffen needless to say.
"Where the hell's this guy."
But Ronan sought another. After circling campus, he found the blond boy in the club training hall.
Opening the door unleashed hot wind laced with ash. Training dummies ablaze—he'd been at it since day one. Ronan called.
"Hey, Ir."
"Who dares call me like that... Ronan?"
Itargand turned. His refined, dragonkin face glistened with sweat. Meeting Ronan's eyes, he grinned competitively.
"Long time. Here to train? Spar if you want..."
"Spar sounds good. Can beat you till you shit yourself if you want. But first, one question."
"What?"
Itargand raised a brow. Ronan brushed ash from his clothes.
"Tell me how to get to the Dragon City Adren. Preferably alive."