The Old King's Probe

Startled by the sudden appearance of my grandfather, I froze — but he paid my flustered state no mind whatsoever, dropping himself half onto the sofa as he spoke.

“The least you could do is put some tea on.”

“Ah—yes, sir...”

At those words I snapped back to my senses and started rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. Thankfully there was a tin of tea leaves, so I dropped some into the teapot and let it steep.

Digging a little deeper, I turned up a few cookies as well. Had they been set aside for a date between the two of them? I set them out for Grandfather for now — I'd just have to replace them later, quietly.

Before long the tea had finished brewing, and I carried the whole teapot out on a tray, walking toward where Grandfather sat.

“...I didn't know you would be visiting, so I must apologize for the meager preparations.”

“Forget it. I don't mind.”

My words caught for an instant, but I managed to say what I truly meant.

...It really is him. Grandfather.

The way he treated me was different from the man I knew — but there was no mistaking it. This was the person I knew.

...It stings a little, though.

He was the only family I'd ever had, so it did hurt a bit to be met with such bluntness. Of course, I understood perfectly well that from his standpoint I was practically a stranger — but the heart doesn't divide itself up that neatly.

I understood his position. Even so, it would have been nice if he'd treated me with just a little warmth.

“What are you staring at? A man's gaze does nothing for me, I'll have you know.”

“...My apologies.”

Knowing it was a hollow wish anyway, I lowered my eyes and poured the tea. When I managed it deftly with my one remaining arm, Grandfather looked at me with a flicker of interest.

“Skilled, too. How does a man pour tea like that with a single arm?”

“I've simply grown used to it. It's nothing special, but please, enjoy.”

Hardly the thing to say in someone else's home, but the awkwardness of the air wrung the words out of me all the same.

Thankfully, Grandfather drank his tea in silence without a word of complaint. He didn't say whether it was good or bad.

So he sat there quietly sipping and nibbling at the cookies — until, all at once, he spoke.

“Do you know why I came all this way?”

“I know it concerns me, but beyond that...”

“Hm...”

Grandfather's eyes bore into me. Something vast, something that seemed to hold the whole sky, lived in that gaze — and I found myself lowering my head before I could stop it.

It wasn't formality or deference. It was simply the way a body moves when grandfather stands before grandson.

“Strange one, aren't you.”

Thankfully, Grandfather said nothing about the gesture. Whether out of disinterest or a deliberate pretense of not noticing, I couldn't tell.

“Since that day, all manner of talk has been passing back and forth about you. If Maxim and Meteria hadn't actively taken your side, my children would have moved to strike you down on the spot.”

That startled me. I could understand Meteria — she was the one who'd commissioned the job — but Maxim?

Had our meeting that day left that strong an impression? I couldn't say for certain, but since I didn't seem to have drawn his hostility, my heart eased a little.

“But it's only a matter of time. Alfia is still sharpening her blade, and it seems the Empress has set her sights on you as well.”

“Eh?”

“Poor bastard. Of all the people to get marked by, it had to be those two...”

Grandfather looked at me with an expression of genuine, heartfelt pity.

Wh—that's not fair...!

“...Was I really in the wrong, then?”

“Well, Alfia's devotion to her sister is famous. As for the Empress, she most likely just wants to cross blades with you once.”

Watching Grandfather shovel a cookie into his mouth and chase it down with a long pull of tea, I sank into thought.

I'd assumed that with nothing happening these past days, I was free to focus on quests... Could I actually be in danger right now?

With their information networks, there was no way they couldn't know where I was. I hadn't been moving in secret in the first place, and I hadn't even tried to shake off the furtive gazes I'd been feeling lately.

One pair of those eyes belonged to Fels. And that information would have flowed straight to Lord Uranus — which meant the two Familias entwined with the Guild could not possibly have remained ignorant.

Even setting that aside, there was no way both Familias didn't already know about this place itself. Or else they simply wouldn't raise such a spectacle right beside the church.

Most likely, everyone knew about this place — and was politely pretending not to. Why those sharp, discerning people would go out of their way to look the other way, I couldn't imagine.

No — none of that was the important thing right now, was it.

Should I change my base of operations?

I'd been showing my face openly, precisely to signal that I bore no hostility — but one way or the other, if they were going to draw blades anyway, moving in secret would have served me better.

There was no reason to cling to this church in particular. Except that it was a place dear to me in both the past and the future, better locations existed in plenty.

Taking it to an extreme... living in Rivira Town was one option. Or I could simply leave Orario altogether. It was only one choice among many, but it was an option.

Not that I had to decide right this moment. But it was worth a little thought...

“Well, they won't come at you this instant, so don't look so terrified.”

“Yes?”

“You've got a face like a man about to die. You're a grown man — you can throw a punch, can't you? What're you shivering for? If it gets dangerous, you run. Don't waste all that brooding on nonsense like that.”

Watching Grandfather mutter this dismissively and drain the rest of his tea, I found myself speechless.

How should I put it — the phrasing was a little different, but I remembered hearing almost exactly those words before, long ago.

Words spoken by Grandfather as he walked hand in hand with me when I was small — advice that once shaped my every choice.

And the moment I remembered them, I felt as though the air had been crushed out of my lungs.

Have I been worrying about something?

What ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had I been agonizing over, exactly? Leaving this place? Going to Rivira Town? Leaving Orario?

I realized those answers were all close, yet all wrong. They were surface reasons only. The true worry was just one.

Do I actually want to go back to my own time?

Facing that question head-on, some heavy weight seemed to press down on my chest. The sense of unreality I'd been living in began to peel away, and the world sharpened back into focus.

What am I doing here, in this place? What do I want to do here?

Do I want to go back? Or do I want to stay?

While I drifted through this neither-here-nor-there stretch of days, I had somehow arrived at a state of being neither one thing nor the other — unable to choose, and so unable to move.

I want to go back. I don't want to go back. Which one is my heart in?

...I don't know.

Returning to my own time is the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠right thing. But in that time, no one is waiting for me.

I loved these days, where everyone is still alive. But here, I am nothing but a foreign body.

I ought to walk the correct path — and yet I already knew where that path ended.

I want to change everything. I want to deny that terrible future.

But — but is that truly the right thing to do? To declare that an ending everyone fought so hard to build was a mistake — to reach back and rewrite the past itself — is that really allowed?

I don't know. I don't know anything anymore.

My head was spinning. The worry I faced had grown far larger than before I'd turned my eyes from it, and now it began to crush me beneath its weight.

I had sworn I would become a hero — and somewhere along the way, I had become the most pitiful version of myself: committed to nothing, belonging nowhere.

“What could there possibly be to brood about.”

“!”

“My children and Hera's are gunning for you, and your head's in the clouds. Quite the bold one, aren't we?”

“Ah—f-forgive...”

“Forget it. A man's apology is worth nothing anyway, so there's no point in me accepting it.”

Grandfather severed the current of thought just as it was deepening. Did he do it knowingly — or without a clue?

“Mmph... well, all in all, this was rather enjoyable. When you appeared out of nowhere I wondered what sort of fellow you were — turns out you're a peculiar one, in an entirely different sense.”

“...I'm peculiar?”

“Peculiar, yes. Most men at your level treat the gods like dirt under their heel.”

“...?”

“Honestly, young people these days don't know the first thing about honoring the gods...”

And on Grandfather grumbled. Had the children of his Familia piled that much on him? His complaining showed no sign of stopping.

Come to think of it, I hardly know anything about Grandfather at all.

Grandfather, I understood a little. But the god Zeus — I barely knew him.

To me, Grandfather had always simply been Grandfather. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Hmph. Well, this should about do it. I'll have a word with my children, so don't trouble yourself over my side.”

“Ah—if you're leaving, allow me to see you out...”

“Ugh, get lost. I said I don't need an escort from some man. Honestly.”

Grandfather waved me off with a look of utter disgust. His disdain ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for men was as strong as ever.

...If he knew I'd once walked hand in hand with him as a little boy, what kind of face would he make? I found myself a little curious.

“Still, going out alone after dark is...”

“Persistent, aren't you. I told you — I don't need it.”

And with that, Grandfather turned on his heel and headed for the door — only to stop, as if suddenly remembering something, and glance back.

“Come to think of it — you said your name was Vesta, didn't you?”

“...!”

My whole body flinched.

The words came so abruptly that I jerked before I could stop myself.

I thought I'd smothered it in an instant — but standing before a god, I doubted the suppression meant much at all.

“Why give that name? Is there some reason you can't give your real one?”

“...”

So even the fact that it wasn't my true name had been seen through. Feeling needlessly caught out, I pulled my hat down deeper over my face.

And that was the mistake.

“Suspicious. What exactly are you hiding?”

“Hiding, I—”

“I am Zeus. Zeus, king of Olympus. Even Hestia answers to me. Did you truly believe you could utter the name Vesta in front of me and I would simply let it pass?”

At those words, I understood: the entire conversation had been bait. Loosen my guard with idle chatter, then slip in the real question in the gap.

I remained hopelessly weak to this sort of thing, which was why I'd caught on so late. Where Grandfather was concerned, especially, my one-sided sense of closeness had clouded me all the more.

Grandfather, now certain something was amiss, began closing the distance. His long, deliberate strides carried not the slightest hesitation.

It was the walk of a man utterly convinced I had no intention of striking him. Impressive instincts, I suppose...!

Step by step, I retreated to match his advance.

But this was a cramped basement. My back hit the wall almost at once, and before I knew it, Grandfather and I were locked in a wall-and-man standoff.

...It wasn't that I disliked Grandfather, but ending up in this position with another man was an extremely certain kind of situation. And I wasn't the only one who felt it — Grandfather's expression was rotting away by the second.

“Your sudden appearance, I can overlook. Your abilities, too — I can let those pass.”

“But invoking Hestia's name is another matter entirely. That crosses beyond the affairs of the lower world — it could become a problem between the gods themselves.”

Hearing that, I went cold. Vesta was my alias — but it was Lady Hestia's divine title as well. I had spoken it so carelessly that I hadn't spared a single thought for the storm it could raise.

There were plenty of gods who knew of Lady Hestia. I had been thinking entirely by my own standards...

No matter how much she felt like family to me, Lady Hestia was still, unquestionably, a god. Not a being whose every matter was settled down here in the lower world, the way a mortal's would be.

“Which is why I am now duty-bound to bring your information to light. Handle it carelessly, and Olympus itself could come out the worse for it.”

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

At those words, my mind went stark white.

Because of me, Lady Hestia and Grandfather would suffer?

After I'd resolved to cause no trouble and manage everything on my own — crisis had already come knocking.

Wh-what do I do...?!

Well — that was all a bluff, of course.

Watching the boy flounder so transparently at his words, Zeus sneered inwardly.

Why in the world would I take responsibility for that woman's sake?

He might be called king of Olympus, but that didn't mean Zeus personally answered for every matter that touched it. Even if he forecast the future based on the most likely theory right now — Hestia's early descent — there was nothing in it that would cost him.

The only reason he'd floated such talk was that he'd judged it would work on the man in front of him.

The affairs of the gods — things even his own children rarely bothered to consider — this boy had considered them. It followed from his deep tie to his own patron goddess, and from the extraordinary reverence he held for the divine.

...The boy had been unnaturally, almost absurdly favorable toward him as well, which had struck Zeus as a touch odd — but regardless, his prediction had landed squarely. Faced with disgustingly bothersome, irritating words like responsibility and duty, the boy had answered with deliberation rather than dismissal.

Probably a disgustingly earnest sort. A man who had surely taken more losses than gains over the course of his life.

Who had raised him to turn out like this? Hestia, no doubt. That shut-in NEET — this was exactly her problem. Kindness is not a cure for everything, you know?

The sight of the boy absorbing the losses all on his own struck Zeus as deeply pathetic. If he had raised him, he'd have brought him up far sharper and a good deal more cunning. A shame his Familia banned romance. Unless that Cranel fellow got Meteria pregnant, Zeus supposed he could write off ever getting to dote on grandchildren.

Well, given the boy's spineless nature, that was a lost cause unless Meteria pounced on him first.

“If you won't speak, then I'll have no choice but to press the other party instead.”

“!”

He hadn't named her — but the boy understood at once that he meant Hestia. The instant reaction laid the boy's inability to lie bare as day.

Confirmed, then. This was that shut-in NEET's child. Exactly alike. Down to the bone.

Why in the hell did Maxim suspect me, anyway...

Hera, who must have sensed the same foreign energy from that direction as he had, and Alfia, who could plausibly harbor suspicions given the circumstances — those two he could accept.

But Maxim charging after him out of nowhere and demanding answers was just outrageous. What exactly had happened to make him so certain it was Zeus's doing?

Lumping me in with that pint-sized brat. Absurd.

Being compared to that old-maid goddess — a woman who'd offered him nothing appealing anywhere except, allegedly, her chest — wasn't he far too good for that?

Entertaining these thoughts with all the shameless nerve he possessed, Zeus kept talking.

“If you'd rather avoid that, then I suggest you cooperate quietly.”