Chapter 5
Chapter 5
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Unlikely Allies
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Evangeline tried for a long time after that, but even as the night deepened into the early hours of the morning, she failed to read the memory of the earth concerning Carlyle.
“Young Master, you must go now. The knights who were watching you will be returning soon.”
“Ah, then I suppose we must.”
At Maranello’s words, Carlyle released the hand he was holding with Evangeline’s and took out a handkerchief to wipe his own.
After holding hands with Evangeline for several hours, his palm was drenched in sweat.
“I-I’m sorry.”
As if embarrassed by Carlyle’s action, Evangeline furtively wiped her hand on her dirty apron.
Carlyle didn’t respond to her apology.
“A bit of a shame.”
“……”
“Well, it’s the first time, so I suppose that’s to be expected. You don’t even know the Spirit Tongue yet.”
The Spirit Tongue was a language used only by spirits.
It was standard practice for fledgling spiritmancers to take learning the Spirit Tongue from their contracted spirit as their first step toward communication.
“Yes…”
“You’ll get it with practice. So, try practicing with your younger siblings. I’m under house arrest, so it’s hard for me to come every day. I’ll send Sir Maranello here every night, so let him know if you succeed.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“Well then, I’m off. Be careful on your way home.”
With that, Carlyle turned his back on Evangeline and started walking toward the castle.
“Do you truly believe that girl can read the memory of the earth?”
“Probably.”
Carlyle answered Maranello’s question.
“Reading the memory of the earth isn’t a particularly difficult spell. She’s just inexperienced.”
“What will you do if it turns out you are the culprit?”
“What do you think?”
Carlyle scoffed as if the question was absurd and replied.
“I’ll have to admit to all my sins and grovel for my life.”
“Haha…”
“It’s the only way.”
Indeed, for the current Carlyle, Evangeline was his only hope.
The trial was only a week away.
It was too short a time to prove that the witness, Jeffrey, was a spy sent by the hostile Lauren family.
Besides, with public sentiment being what it was, pointing a finger at the witness and calling him a spy from a rival house was more likely to backfire.
“Well, even if I’m not the culprit, as long as I’m not executed, I’ll be fine. As long as I’m alive, an opportunity will come someday. Whether it’s for atonement or to prove my innocence.”
“It will not be easy.”
“What can I do? My life is in my father’s hands right now.”
“Are you not afraid?”
“I wonder.”
Carlyle was at a loss for words at Maranello’s question.
Having already died once and now possessing someone else’s body, his perspective on death was bound to be a little different.
“I…”
Carlyle slowly opened his mouth.
“I don’t know about dying, but living… that’s what scares me.”
“Pardon…?”
Maranello felt something strange in Carlyle’s answer.
Any other time, he would have dismissed it as the ramblings of a spoiled brat who did nothing but cause trouble, letting it go in one ear and out the other.
But now…
‘He sounds… like a man so weary of life he can’t be bothered to lift a single finger.’
That was how it felt to Maranello.
At least, those last words did.
* * *
The next day.
Having met with Evangeline the night before, Carlyle didn’t wake until the sun was high in the sky.
Waking up close to three in the afternoon, Carlyle spent a quiet day, eating his meal and having tea time as usual.
In his spare time, he sat on the terrace and read a book.
“What’s with him? Why is he so quiet? Has he given up?”
“I don’t know. But be careful. You never know when he might snap and go on a rampage.”
“He looks so carefree, though, doesn’t he? How can a person be like that? The trial is just around the corner. Does he think he’ll just get away with it again?”
The servants felt a mix of bewilderment and anxiety at Carlyle’s uncharacteristically placid behavior.
Watching him, one would doubt if he was the same raging lunatic they knew.
At the same time, his excessive calmness made him seem like a powder keg, ready to explode at any moment.
Regardless, Carlyle paid no mind to the stares of those around him and enjoyed his own time.
It started with his attire.
The original Carlyle had been pathologically obsessed with his clothing, even at home, always striving for a perfect ensemble.
He would meticulously style his hair and, despite being a man, even wore light makeup, paying great attention to his grooming.
But the Carlyle of now was dressed in comfortable trousers and a half-unbuttoned shirt, even walking around his room barefoot without slippers.
Of course, being a man of such striking beauty, his attire hardly mattered.
If anything, he looked more natural now than when he was all done up, a subtle, decadent charm emanating from him that made him even more attractive.
Not that Carlyle himself gave the mirror a single glance…
That evening.
“Young Master, I have returned from seeing Miss Evangeline.”
“What did she say?”
“She has not yet succeeded.”
“She’ll need more time, I suppose. Understood. Go back and ask again tomorrow.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
Carlyle showed no impatience at Maranello’s report.
“However, are you alright?”
“With what?”
“I asked because I thought you might be feeling anxious.”
“What’s going to change if I get anxious? This is entirely up to her. My situation is urgent, not hers.”
“Haha.”
“Don’t go tomorrow. Just go the day after. Feeling pressured might make her anxious and perform worse.”
This time, Maranello was truly dumbfounded.
The Carlyle he knew would never have maintained his composure in such a situation.
And on top of that, he was even managing to stay relaxed?
“Are you truly alright, Young Master?”
“If things don’t work out, I’ll have to try making a deal with Father.”
“A deal… you say?”
“Yes.”
“I do not know with what you intend to bargain with His Grace the Grand Duke, but…”
Maranello protested as if Carlyle had said something outrageous, but Carlyle paid him no heed.
From the perspective of a transmigrator, it was difficult to explain every little thing.
There was a limit to how many times he could vaguely brush things off…
“Stop nagging. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. My mouth hurts.”
“But, Young Mast—”
“One more word. I’ll swallow this.”
Carlyle picked up the fork that was stuck in his leftover cake and, with a blank expression, gestured as if he would shove it down his own throat.
“……”
At Carlyle’s action, Maranello could no longer press the matter and clamped his mouth shut.
Anyone else would have scoffed at such an absurd threat, but Carlyle was different.
Looking at that expressionless face, he seemed fully capable of actually ramming the fork down his throat and dropping dead on the spot.
* * *
That night.
Just as Carlyle was about to drift off to sleep, *creak*, the window opened.
‘An assassin.’
Startled by the presence, Carlyle instinctively reached for the dagger hidden by his pillow.
But on second thought, that possibility seemed very low.
‘No. I’ve been awake for a while. If they wanted to kill me, they would have done it already. Who is it, then?’
As Carlyle was pondering this.
“Carlyle.”
A slightly husky, androgynous voice called out.
‘Ah.’
Carlyle instantly recognized who the voice belonged to.
‘Aunt.’
It was undoubtedly the voice of Hestia, the younger sister of Carlyle’s mother, Adelia.
“Carlyle, Carlyle.”
“……”
“Carlyle, wake up…”
“You’re here.”
Hestia flinched in surprise.
“You could have given me some sign you were awake. Phew.”
“……”
“…Hurry and get up. Pack your things.”
“Why?”
“Do you really need to ask?”
A reproachful light appeared in Hestia’s eyes.
“Ah.”
Realizing why Hestia had come, Carlyle nodded his head slightly as if he understood.
“So that’s why you’re here. But, I’m not going.”
“What?”
“I said, I’m not going.”
“So you’re just going to die? At the hands of your own father?”
Hestia’s gaze sharpened.
Her intensity was so fierce, she looked ready to slap him at a moment’s notice.
“Really. You don’t think of your mother. Not even one bit, do you?”
Hestia spat out the words in a low, quiet voice, careful not to let the sound escape the room.
“If that happens, have you ever once stopped to think how sad your mother will be in heaven? Have you?”
Carlyle did not answer.
‘She’s already dead.’
Of course, Carlyle would never voice that thought.
Why?
Because if he did, he really would get slapped.
Carlyle was neither stupid enough nor obtuse enough to invite a beating.
“If that truly happens, your mother won’t be able to rest in peace even in the afterlife. Because of you, because of the evil you’ve committed, she will have lost her beloved husband and child.”
“……”
“Are you still not going to go? Will you only be satisfied when you see your mother cry tears of blood?”
Carlyle couldn’t answer this time either.
Not because he had nothing to say, but because he didn’t have the chance.
*Thud, thwack!*
*Crash!*
A loud noise suddenly erupted from outside, and the door burst open, revealing a man.
“Huh?”
Carlyle recognized the man and showed a surprised reaction.
“…Brother-in-law.”
Hestia recognized him as well and bit her lower lip.
Silas van Sigmund.
Grand Duke Guntram’s younger brother and Carlyle’s uncle.
“My, my. It seems I’m a step too late, my dear in-law.”
Silas smiled at Hestia.
“Since it’s come to this, let us cooperate.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Weren’t we both here for the same purpose?”
Silas took a large step to the side.
Behind where he had been standing, the knights who had been acting as guards could be seen strewn about the floor.
It was obvious he had used brute force to swiftly ambush and knock them all out.