Remnants (1)
"I am utterly flabbergasted, Yohan."
"I have sinned, Your Highness."
"Is that so? And just what, pray tell, did you do wrong?"
Lobelia posed the single most terrifying question known to mankind. Cold sweat poured down my neck in rivers.
"When I say flabbergasted, I am referring to how you threw yourself onto your knees the moment you crossed the threshold. What on earth is wrong with you? Were you planning to peek up my skirt?"
"Forgive me, Your Highness!"
Ah, kneeling wasn't enough—I should have slammed my forehead straight into the floorboards! Without missing a beat, I flattened myself into a textbook kowtow, pressing my skull firmly against the carpet.
"Fine. Stay right there."
"Understood..."
Normally, she would have told me to knock it off and get up. Not today. Which meant she was genuinely, terrifyingly furious.
"Yohan, I no longer have any idea what to make of you."
"If you could just view me as I am..."
"That is precisely what is impossible. Honestly, listen to yourself. I can find no rhyme, reason, or objective in your patterns of behavior. Just when I think you want nothing more than to keep your head down, you run wild like a lunatic, as you did this time. And just when I assume you're looking to run wild, you slink away to an infuriating degree."
"I had my reasons, Your Highness."
"I'm sure you did. But don't you think your life has a few too many 'reasons'?"
"Tell me about it..."
I never imagined I would become someone with such an absurdly convoluted backstory either. My sole objective was simply to graduate in one piece, yet lately, I found myself entangled with every notorious criminal syndicate under the sun. Should I celebrate the fact that I'd practically met the entire lineup of potential final bosses?
"*Sigh*... Forget it. Let's see what excuse you've cooked up this time. Tell me: why were you even at that scene?"
"The Playwright blackmailed me."
"Who in the world is the Playwri—ha! Don't tell me you mean the mastermind of Ex Machina? Do you realize how unhinged you sound?"
"I wish it were a lie too, but Your Highness saw it for yourself, didn't you? Surely you noticed that the bomb I threw at the very end was an Ex Machina creation?"
"Indeed. I fully intended to interrogate you about that, yet here you are, serving up an excuse on a silver platter."
"Heheh. That's just how it unfolded."
"Wipe that smirk off, Yohan. I have no fondness for hitting a smiling face."
And if I stop smiling? Does that mean the beating is already guaranteed? Are you saying you just prefer hitting someone when it feels more satisfying?!
"You crossed the line this time. Regardless of the circumstances, founding a criminal syndicate is taking things far too far, don't you think?"
"Aiyoo, as if I would ever actually found one! It was merely a charade. I had to deceive Prince Loki, after all."
"Hmm..."
Couldn't she let me stand up already? The blood rushing to my head was making me dizzy.
"Frankly, you were far too suspicious on this occasion. You admit that much, don't you?"
"Yes, ma'am..."
"So I had a background check run on you. You don't mind, do you?"
"How could I possibly object?"
Not like you would've stopped if I said no.
"I received the report on you from Stan. And well... your alibi was quite neatly fabricated."
"Haha..."
I doubted I was the one who fabricated it. Since Emily had been entangled in the whole mess, Stan had almost certainly forged the alibi beforehand to cover for her. I never expected to reap the benefits of his cover-up like this...
"Your posture is slipping, Yohan."
"Rectifying immediately, Your Highness."
"Good."
I straightened my slackening knees and planted my forehead right back into the floorboards.
"Even so, far too much of this remains completely incomprehensible."
"Perhaps it is remarkably simple."
"Nonsense. The reason the Playwright would bother blackmailing you, and how you caught his eye in the first place, could never be simple."
"It really is that simple. He claimed he came to scout me because I seemed to possess a knack for alchemy."
"Do you realize you are describing yourself as a raving lunatic?"
"...Better to sound mad than to get purged, wouldn't you say?"
"Setting everything else aside, it seems you gravely misunderstand me."
Do I, though?
It's not as if only one or two people have been quietly disposed of by Lobelia's hand in this Cradle. She was not an absolute paragon of benevolence, but a ruler who meted out swift, ruthless judgment. That was why one had to tread lightly at all times. If you overstepped your bounds just because you were on speaking terms with her, there was no telling when an assassin's blade would greet your throat.
"You may rise for now."
"Yes, ma'am."
"I beg of you, if you truly have no wish to be swept into trouble, keep quiet and behave. You grasp my meaning, yes? Ensure I have no cause to present this contract before you."
"Believe me, I want that just as much as you do."
"In times like this, the proper reply is, 'Yes, understood.'"
"Yes, understood."
"Good boy."
Was the interrogation finally over? Could I leave now?
"One final question before you go. What was my second brother's scheme? And how on earth did you manage to screw him over so thoroughly?"
"Well... to put it simply, his plan was to take the entire town hostage and execute them one by one."
"A course of action befitting a lunatic."
Even hearing just the bare bones of Loki's scheme, Lobelia grimaced in profound disgust. Small wonder. The trade city of Creta was practically as populous as the Imperial Capital itself. It boasted immense foot traffic, and above all, the absolute martial might of Theseus guarded its streets. Hell, even I would have moved there if given the chance.
"And as for how I managed to screw him over, it was by using an antidote designed to counter his deadly poison."
"Hm? What was that?"
"Pardon?"
"Did you just say an antidote?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Hand it over."
"Gladly."
I had intended to hand it over all along. More specifically, I had saved it as a bargaining chip to beg for mercy if Lobelia genuinely raised her hand to strike me. But seeing as the mood had shifted toward forgiveness anyway, giving it up meekly seemed the best course.
It wasn't as if I wanted to see the Second Prince, Loki, ascend the throne either. Honestly, the unyielding convictions of an actual terrorist syndicate felt far more trustworthy by comparison. At least those zealots acted out of a genuine belief that they were saving the world; whatever the outcome, their intentions were ostensibly righteous. But Loki? That bastard had foul intentions matched only by foul outcomes. There wasn't a single redeemable bone in his body.
"The trouble is, I don't have a finished batch on hand right now. Would it be acceptable if I leave only the recipe?"
"Granted."
"And if I may ask one more favor... could you conceal the existence of the antidote for the time being?"
"Do you fear my despicable second brother will come after your head?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Very well. It is wise practice to keep one's trump cards hidden, after all."
Was that roughly everything wrapped up? Thank goodness she didn't obsessively pry into the details regarding the Playwright. Any topic involving him was bound to be riddled with glaring plot holes on my end, but Stan had forged my alibi in advance, saving my skin. Because Stan was a retainer trusted by the princess, his fabricated report was enough to let me off the hook.
"You may take your leave."
"Your boundless grace overwhelms me, Your Highness."
"Right. Now get lost before I change my mind."
With that, the most perilous headache of the day was officially resolved.
Finally liberated from Lobelia's clutches, I slouched through the sweltering heat, limbs limp as boiled noodles. I needed to head straight to the Alchemy Workshop. It was time to test the recipe the Playwright had given me as compensation.
I was so close now. With this, Ariel would overcome her Transcendence Sickness and ascend into a true Archmage. My promise to the Great Warrior was as good as fulfilled. The rest was up to Ariel herself; there was nothing left for me to meddle in. It felt as though a crushing weight had finally lifted from my shoulders.
"Do you have a moment?"
"Huh?"
I hadn't walked far toward the workshop before someone called out to me.
"Ah, Stan. What is it? Am I supposed to thank you right now?"
"I wasn't expecting any gratitude from you."
The very man who had personally forged my alibi and delivered the report to Lobelia: Stan Robinhood. We had a long, thorny history together. More accurately, I didn't care much either way, but this guy was utterly hysterical whenever I was involved. It wasn't as if I'd ever laid a finger on Emily.
"Is this going to take long?"
"Excuse me?"
"You want to talk, don't you? If it's going to take a while, at least buy me a cup of coffee."
"...I truly don't think I could ever become fond of you."
"Not like you had any intention to in the first place."
"Fair point."
Stan shrugged indifferently, seemingly unbothered by my snark. Then, without another word, he turned and led the way.
"Let us head to the academy cafe. I am in no mood to step off-campus today."
"Works for me."
"In your case, it isn't a matter of mood; you simply never leave campus if you can help it, do you?"
"Pretty much."
Stan Robinhood. Come to think of it, I had never once had a sincere, heart-to-heart conversation with him. Perhaps because we only ever crossed paths during crises or emergencies, our exchanges had almost entirely consisted of baring our fangs and snapping at each other. Or, well, like that time I visited the Robinhood estate and he slammed the door in my face. In every conceivable sense, our personal chemistry was abysmal.
"I heard you returned home to your territory recently."
"Hm? Ah, right. Though I turned right around and came back up practically the second I arrived."
"Her Highness shared a few stories with me. Regarding your family."
"Did she now?"
I wondered what she told him. Even Lobelia wouldn't have gone out of her way to badmouth my house. As much as I walked on eggshells around her, she wasn't petty enough to fabricate slander behind my back.
"She mentioned that your household was exceptionally harmonious."
"Was it?"
"Well, as you are well aware... Her Highness, the Ducal Lady, and I—none of our lives have ever known the meaning of a 'harmonious' family."
"Hmm..."
He wasn't wrong. Ariel had grown up treated like an invisible ghost within her ducal estate, and Lobelia's household was the ruthless viper pit of the Imperial Family. As for Stan Robinhood, I knew he had undergone brutal, agonizing training from early childhood to succeed as the next head of the Robinhood house. A family of assassins, to put it plainly.
"I held no particular resentment toward it," Stan murmured. "To me, it was simply the natural way of things."
"My, how unfortunate."
"Excuse me, but I did not bring this up looking for your sympathy. Please refrain. It only sours my mood."
"My, how unfortunate."
"Yes. That sarcastic edge suits you far better."
I wasn't even being sarcastic! Does this jerk just reflexively paint me as a villain in his head?
"*Ahem!* At any rate, that is why a certain question arose in my mind regarding you."
"I get the gist. But before we get to the point, care to clarify one thing?"
"Clarify what?"
"You're still buying me that coffee, right?"
"..."
This isn't the way to the cafe, you stingy bastard. Did you honestly think I wouldn't notice you were trying to extract answers while strolling outside to dodge paying for a drink?!
We eventually settled into seats at the cafe before delving into the main topic. Having an extended conversation while baking in the blistering heat was out of the question. To a human butcher like Stan, a trek under the sun might have been nothing, but to a delicate soul like me, it was pure agony.
I moistened my throat with the iced coffee Stan had bought me while scowling deeply, then cut straight to the chase. "So, what was it you wanted to ask? The secret to why my family is so harmonious?"
"No, nothing like that."
"Then what?"
"Hmm... I find myself agonizing over how best to phrase this."
"You should have figured that out before dragging me here."
"Stop badgering me."
"It's about Emily anyway, isn't it?"
"..."
Of course it was. He was an open book. The second anything involved his little sister, the gears in his brain completely jammed. In fact, without her, there wouldn't have been a single reason on earth for him to interact with me.
"Our family is not harmonious," Stan admitted slowly. "I take no issue with that. However... I am uncertain how Emily feels about it."
"Knowing her, she probably hasn't thought twice about it."
"One can never be certain. She might harbor grievances buried deep within her heart, kept all to herself..."
"Is Emily really that delicate of a person?"
"You know nothing."
Then why the hell are you asking me, you lunatic?!
"You know why I stayed my bowstring that day, do you not?"
"I do. So it really was about that?"
That was indeed the only incident that could ever prompt him to initiate a conversation with me. It must have been the first time Emily had stepped in personally to hold him back.
"You enrolled in the Cradle, threw yourself into alchemy, and ultimately saved your younger brother's life."
"..."
The fact that I entered the Cradle for Chris's sake was hardly a state secret. But why bring that up now?
"To be frank... I question whether I am doing right by her."
"Is there really any need to overthink it?" I said, waving a hand. "Siblings aren't usually as close-knit as people imagine."
If anything, my case was the anomaly. For one, Chris and I had a significant age gap, and since he had grown up bedridden and helpless from an early age, he never had the chance to cause trouble or be a brat.
"Yet that was your choice, was it not?" Stan pressed. "You managed to achieve that closeness because you actively resolved to do so."
"Honestly, I think you're overreacting."
Stan was doing fine. If anything, he was trying far too hard. Emily simply possessed a naturally quiet, unbothered temperament; it didn't mean she harbored any bitter resentment toward Stan.
"And yet, Emily saved you," Stan said, his voice tightening. "Furthermore, ever since she became involved with you, she has shown far more liveliness than she ever did before. Perhaps... she secretly harbored grievances against our family all along."
She looked pretty much the same to me. Then again, picking up on minute shifts like that was only possible because it was Stan. What baffled me was why a guy whose understanding of Emily vastly eclipsed mine was harboring something akin to an inferiority complex toward me. It wasn't as if I were some grand, inspirational figure.
Still, I might as well earn the price of this coffee.
"What makes you think that?"
"In truth... Emily is not my biological sister."
"Wait... what?"
"It is difficult to explain, but through a certain circumstance, our house took her in."
You two weren't real siblings?! And more importantly, is that something you should just blab to anyone?!
"All my life, I and everyone in my family have known only how to kill," Stan confessed, looking down at his clasped hands. "Is the way we treat her truly acceptable? If our influence ends up poisoning her life..."
"Hmm. Right. I see."
Wait, this really doesn't sound like something I'm cleared to hear! We're nowhere near close enough for you to be spilling your deep, dark familial traumas to me!
I had only tagged along for a free cup of coffee, and now I had wandered straight into an emotional minefield.