A Truth That Waits for No One (Revised)
The very next day after Mother passed away, her funeral was held with far more grandeur than I had ever imagined. It dwarfed the ceremonies of most nobles several times over. Had it not been for the sea of black draped across every guest in attendance, the whole affair could have passed for a small banquet — it seemed they had at least gone through the motions of honoring a Duchess, in their own way.
Then again, common-born as Mother had been, holding her funeral in anything less than full splendor would only have invited tongues to wag. There was no chance the Duke, who prized the family's honor above all else, would ever allow that.
Fewer tears fell than I'd expected. I had already poured mine out at length the day before. Thanks to that, Mother's garments had been soaked clean through, and the servants had suffered for it.
"Hhic... hck, my lady..."
Ella, who had come running far too late the previous day, was of course the exception. She wept through the night, wailing that she hadn't even been able to say her farewells, and at the sight of her I found myself choking up and crying right along with her. If no one else, Ella had been the one servant Mother truly cherished. She used to say that with Ella being close to my age, the girl seemed just like a daughter to her.
After stroking the hair of poor, still-weeping Ella a few more times, I straightened my face and smoothed down my clothes. From this moment on, I had guests to receive.
"To think such devotion would be lavished on a funeral for a mere commoner..."
"The Duke must have cherished his lady dearly, hoh ho..."
...What utter bullshit.
To everyone else, the Duke's behavior no doubt looked like that of a devoted, doting husband. To my eyes, which knew everything, it was nothing but a mask of hypocrisy.
If these people knew how many times a month the Duke visited Mother, they'd fall over backward and faint.
To be precise, it had been that way ever since I was born. The Duke had all but stopped setting foot in Mother's chamber. I didn't know the reason myself — it wasn't as though her beauty had faded. Well, the most likely explanation was that, having borne him a son, she'd served her purpose... which was infuriating in its own right. Mother had ached for the Duke every single day, and yet it was as if he had never held an ounce of affection for her. He had simply treated her as a tool for producing an heir.
...
Still, I decided to hold my tongue for now. I couldn't say whether the Duke had staged all this purely for the family's prestige, but either way, a grand funeral for Mother cost me nothing.
"Oh dear, how deep his grief must run."
"Lady Sariel was such a dear friend, and such a fine woman..."
"I couldn't agree more... she always listened so patiently to my troubles... hck!"
For the record, I was the chief mourner. I was Mother's only child. Which meant that facing this endless tide of mourners, all claiming they had come to honor her memory, was entirely my burden to bear.
...A 'friend' of Mother's who doesn't even know my name.
If she was such a precious friend, why did you never once come to see her?
You say she listened to your troubles — funny. No one ever listened to hers.
More than half the guests flooding into the funeral claimed some connection to Mother, yet not once in my life had I ever seen her in another person's company. Servants aside, Mother had been so frail she could barely leave her room — friends were out of the question; not a single soul had ever come to pay her a sickbed visit.
Which meant, of course, that it was all lies. Most of them had plainly come fishing for a connection to the Duke. Nominally and publicly, Mother's husband was the Duke of Reinhardt — no one would dream of passing up the chance to show their face at a funeral like this. Apparently they figured a few well-timed tears and a brief word of condolence would be enough...
What a shame. If you'd only waited a little longer, the rain might have come and soaked you through.
I silently sneered at them. There was no chance the Duke would appear here. This was a man who hadn't so much as blinked when word of Mother's death reached him — what could possibly draw a man like that to her funeral now? Showing his face here would do his reputation no good whatsoever.
And sure enough, my prediction held true: over the two days the funeral was held, the Duke did not appear even once. Tomorrow the ceremony would be over and done with, and still nothing. The guests grew visibly unsettled as day after day passed without a glimpse of him, and Ella, for her part, tore into the Duke's conduct behind his back as well. Out of earshot of everyone else, naturally.
They say you can curse even the king when he's not around — I had no particular urge to stop her. It wasn't as though I harbored any warm feelings for the man either. If anything, I resented him. He was the one who had left Mother to waste away like that.
And so, on the third day of our quiet badmouthing, the Duke and his family finally appeared at the funeral — every last one of them radiating a solemnity they must have learned somewhere.
"..."
Unexpectedly, I said nothing as I watched them. Not for lack of words, but because I couldn't be bothered to engage. What could I possibly say to people who hadn't come even once since Mother first fell ill, only to grace us with a personal visit three days after she'd become a cold corpse lying in her coffin — just to look upon her face? I was barely holding back from drawing a blade then and there.
"..."
"...Jenison, I understand the news of your mother has shaken you, but you should still pay your respects to your father—"
"...Your mother, is it."
Shouldn't that be "the second lady of the house"? At the very least — if they had ever acknowledged Mother as family.
"...What's with that look? Have I said something I oughtn't?"
"...No, Elder Brother. I hope you are all well."
Barely keeping my teeth from shattering, I ground my lips together where no one could see, and bowed my head to the Duke. In order: the Duke, the first Lady, my elder brother, and last of all my younger sister, Aria. I received every one of them in my capacity as chief mourner — and from that moment on, I exchanged not a single word with any of them.
When the funeral ended, I made up my mind. It was time to get out of this godforsaken family.
The only reason I had so faithfully carried out the Duke's orders all this time was the fear that something, anything, might threaten Mother's peace. Of course, things might have gone differently had I grown strong enough to defeat him — but sadly, this not-yet-fully-grown body of mine was no match for a man who had long since reached the pinnacle of his art. I had lived the way I lived for one reason and one reason only: to protect Mother. And now the mother I had been protecting was gone.
There's no reason left to stay in this family. No affection, no justification, nothing.
But as I gathered my things to actually leave, I ran headlong into a problem I had never once considered.
...If I leave, what can I even do?
It wasn't that I lacked options — they were practically overflowing. I could revive the memories and skills of my past lives and live by the blade, or I could put this talent literally etched into the back of my hand to use and become an alchemist.
...And yet.
The truth was, I had no real goal. I had lived through countless lives, and not a single one of them had ever come with my freedom guaranteed. Worse still, my ruined reputation would hobble anything I tried to do after leaving. Within the Academy, I was already treated as something of a leper.
Granted, that was partly the Duke's doing — his orders that I play the useless trash had also earned me a name as a gutless coward who strutted around on nothing but his family's backing. But the moment word spread that I'd left the family, the other students would never leave me in peace.
But to just keep living here as the family's laughingstock...
I would rather die. That, above all else, I refused. It was humiliating to share a family name with a man who had all but abandoned my mother. I had begged him so desperately when Mother fell ill, and all he'd done was assign a single family physician before acting as though his duty were fulfilled. The very memory of it made me sick.
And to make it worse, every last soul in this family revered him.
If you hate the temple, leave the priesthood — wasn't that how the saying went? Fine. I was leaving.
"Whatever you end up doing... I hope you reach the very summit."
After all, I had just remembered something I needed to do.
The next morning, I rose before dawn and headed for the main hall. At this hour, the family would be sitting down to breakfast any minute now.
I had abruptly stopped attending these family meals years ago, so I could feel the servants flinching at the sight of me every few steps along the way. Ignoring every last one of those stares, I kept walking — and before I knew it, I had arrived at the main hall's dining room.
Thud, thud— the rough sound of combat boots, faint but unmistakable. In this resplendent mansion, exactly two lunatics wore military boots. The first was the Duke. And the second was...
"...Jenison? What business brings you here at this hour of the morning?"
My elder brother, Allen Reinhardt. The boy who had been breaking every opponent his own age since childhood, and who had at some point leapfrogged the Junior Knight rank entirely to join the knight order as its youngest member. Considering that everyone else his age was still stuck at Junior Knight, he could only be called a monstrous talent.
"...I came to join breakfast."
"...Jenison. Must the two of us be at each other's throats first thing in the morning?"
"..."
"...Ha. Do as you like. I'm done concerning myself with the likes of you."
Click, click— the moment my conversation-that-wasn't with Allen ended, the sound of heeled shoes rang out. The list of people who wore heeled shoes in this mansion was just as short. The servants wouldn't dare.
...The first Lady, or else...
"..."
Right. My younger sister. Aria Reinhardt, and no one else. Descending the stairs as she slowly ran her fingers through her long black hair, she glanced at me once before shifting her gaze to somewhere behind me. There had been a time when she'd actually looked up to me, or so it seemed. But ever since the Duke gave her his orders, this was how it had always been. She didn't scorn me or mistreat me the way Allen did — she simply ignored me outright.
...Well. I was used to it by now.
Thud, thud— He's here. At last, the sound of yet another pair of boots. Duke Kyle Reinhardt. My father, and master of this house.
Descending the stairs just as she had, he let his eyes pass over me once. It was only for an instant, but his head tilted slightly to the side — as if he'd spotted something that had no business being there.
"Why are you here?"
"...I came to join breakfast."
"..."
Of course it was strange. A boy who hadn't shared a single meal with them in years suddenly changing his tune the moment his own mother died. It would look odd. Very odd.
"...I see. I'll trust you won't cause a scene on a day like today."
...Sharp eye, I suppose. He's got me pegged as a complete delinquent.
Well, no matter. As of today, I wouldn't be part of this family anyway.
And so, once even the late-arriving first Lady had taken her seat at the table, and the servants finally began setting out the dishes, bowl by bowl—
"Duke."
"...What is it?"
"I... am leaving this family."
I dropped the bomb.
Less than an hour had passed since Jenison made his declaration when two uninvited guests arrived at his room.
"He's already gone...?!"
"Yes."
Not even realizing that it was already far too late.