Chapter 7
Chapter 7
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: The Ritual of Truth
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Well then, I’ll begin.”
“Go ahead.”
Just before the ritual began.
‘If I fail, the Young Master will be angry, won’t he?’
Evangeline was a little worried.
But that was only for a moment.
‘No. Evangeline, you can do this. Just do what you’ve always done. You’ve performed this ritual successfully before. You just have to succe… Oh.’
The moment Evangeline’s eyes met Carlyle’s purple ones.
Thump!
Evangeline felt her heart drop.
‘Such… truly beautiful eyes. I was scared at first, but…’
Indeed, Carlyle’s purple irises looked truly mystical, but it was true they could seem frightening at first glance.
But looking again, she thought there were no eyes more beautiful in this world.
During their first meeting, she had been so overwhelmed by Carlyle’s notoriety that she was half out of her mind.
But, looking at him now, she felt as if no man more handsome could possibly exist.
That jade-like skin, that high-bridged nose, the clean line of his lips, and for a man, how soft and slender his hands were…
Could the hero from the fairy tale—the one who unintentionally captivated a goddess, earned the hatred of the other gods, met a tragic end, and eventually turned into a flower—have looked like this?
‘If I were to stroke that softly shining silver hair… what would it feel like? It must be incredibly soft, right?’
A blush—
Lost in such thoughts, a blush crept onto Evangeline’s cheeks.
‘He’s so handsom—’
Just then.
“What are you doing.”
“Pardon?!”
“I asked what you’re doing.”
“Ah! Th-That is!”
“Why are you staring? Are you supposed to stare directly into a noble’s face?”
“I-I’m sorry.”
Evangeline bowed her head deeply and apologized in a meek voice.
“Focus.”
“…Yes.”
Snapping back to her senses at Carlyle’s firm and concise command, Evangeline gently closed her eyes.
“■■ ■■ ■■■■. ■■ ■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■■■. ■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■….”
Soon, words Carlyle could not understand began to flow from Evangeline’s lips.
The spirit tongue.
A language that only spirits and those contracted with them could use, hear, and speak.
Shhh, shhh.
As the ritual began, the ground stirred as if alive, soon taking the shape of a person.
It was a perfect match for Carlyle’s form.
Although made of earth and thus lacking color, no one could deny that it was unmistakably Carlyle.
Soon, the Carlyle made of mud began to walk, staggering and swaying.
A sword was clutched in one hand.
‘It worked.’
The ritual was a success.
Now, it was time for the truth of that night to be revealed.
* * *
Swish, swoosh!
The Carlyle from that day swung his sword haphazardly, this way and that.
His movements were so unsteady, perfectly matching the state of Carlyle that night, who was said to have been dead drunk.
- Hehehe! What are they gonna do to me? *Hic!* I’m a direct descendant of the Sigmund family! My old man is the lord of Decaron! Haha! *Hic!*
The Carlyle from that day spewed curses and acted atrociously.
It seemed he was muttering drunkenly to himself while returning to the castle, completely intoxicated.
- Ughhh! So woozy! I’m drunk! Drun—
Stumble, thud!
While ranting to himself, the Carlyle from that day seemed to trip, landing flat on his butt.
- Ughhhhhhh…
Wincing in pain for a moment, Carlyle looked around and began to scream at the top of his lungs.
- Wh-Which bastard was that?! *Hic!* Come out! I’ll kill you! *Hic!*
The Carlyle from that day growled, pointing his sword at the innocent air, but soon realized no one was there and clumsily got to his feet.
- Right, there’s no one who’d dare touch me. Hahaha. *Hic!*
After that, Carlyle’s drunken rambling continued for quite some time.
- Buuuurp!
He let out a hearty belch.
- Bleeeeargh!
Preparing an early breakfast for the pigeons.
- Hmm!
Looking around.
Fumbling.
Unzip.
Pshhhhhhhhhhh—!!!
At last, the Carlyle from that day even engaged in a little reforestation project (?) to help a tree grow big and strong.
And in the midst of it all, his actual member was so…
“Ah. What is this, really.”
An exasperated sigh escaped the lips of Evangeline, who was watching.
“…Young Master.”
Maranello couldn’t hide his devastation and covered his face with his hands.
“That’s not me.”
Carlyle said, pointing at the figure from that day.
Unfortunately, his truth fell on deaf ears.
“Ah, yes…”
“Yes, if the Young Master says it isn’t so, then it must not be.”
Evangeline and Maranello didn’t believe a single word he said.
“But it’s true.”
Carlyle felt wronged, but when he considered it the karma of possessing a scoundrel, his displeasure seemed to subside a little.
Of course, that didn’t mean he could just stand there and be treated like trash.
“Didn’t I ask if you were supposed to stare at a noble? Turn your head and cover your ears. And get that look off your face.”
“…Yes.”
Having witnessed such an unsightly scene, Evangeline couldn’t bring herself to meet Carlyle’s gaze and, as instructed, covered her ears and turned away.
“What are you doing?”
“Pardon? This old man as well?”
“There are no exceptions.”
“Heh heh.”
“If you have a problem with it, you should have become a full noble instead of a quasi-noble.”
“…”
“Do you really need to watch while the one you serve is in a state of diminished capacity, his conduct a little unkempt? If you’re a butler, act like one. You should be covering up his shame, not staring at it.”
Maranello wondered how in the world that could be described as ‘a little’ unkempt, but he didn’t dare say the words aloud.
‘Good riddance. A world without a guy like this is a better world.’
Carlyle thought this as he watched the real Carlyle’s drunken antics.
The real Carlyle’s drunken behavior was that bad, and it was only getting worse.
‘How much longer do I have to watch this crap?’
He was watching the drunken spectacle with his arms crossed, shifting his weight to one leg.
- Pant, pant!
From a distance, the earth-figure of Alberto came running and collapsed with a thud.
He was out of breath, gasping, and couldn’t even run properly, limping heavily. It was clear he was utterly exhausted.
- Who are you? *Hic!*
- Wh-Who are you? *Pant, pant!*
- Dammit! Of all the places, to run into this damn scoundrel… *Pant, pant!*
- I asked who you are, you bastard. *Hic!* How dare a worm-like commoner not answer a noble’s…
It was then.
- Did you think you could run forever?
- I told you to give up. Stop making us sweat.
- This damn bastard. Thanks to you, two of our comrades are dead.
The figures of Jeffrey, the supposed witness, and his two companions—three in total—appeared and cornered Alberto.
Seeing them with their weapons drawn, it seemed they had run into Carlyle in the middle of chasing Alberto.
- Well, well, who do we have here? Isn’t it the scoundrel of the Sigmund family?
- Shit. This complicates things.
- This is going to get noisy.
Meanwhile, Alberto also looked none too pleased to have met Carlyle.
Of all the people to run into, it had to be a dead-drunk scoundrel.
- Y-Young Master! You must flee! These bastards are…
- Who are you!
Carlyle swung his sword at Alberto.
- Dammit! You stupid scoundrel!
Alberto yelled at Carlyle as he dodged.
- Oh-ho, looks like the scoundrel is on our side? Kehehe! So he can be useful after all! What are you waiting for? Let’s finish this quickly.
Jeffrey gave a chilling smile and rushed toward Alberto with his companions.
And so, a strange three-way battle began.
* * *
Unlike when he first attacked Alberto, the real Carlyle soon turned the tip of his sword toward Jeffrey’s group.
- *Hic!* Who are you people? How dare you bastards! *Hic!*
Though dead drunk, he seemed to have instinctively distinguished between those who held animosity and those who did not.
Thus, the fight pitted Carlyle and Alberto against Jeffrey and his group.
Carlyle and Alberto failed to gain the upper hand.
Carlyle managed to swing his sword despite staggering, but being so drunk, he wasn't much help.
- Pant, pant!
Alberto, having apparently been chased for a long time, was clearly exhausted.
Then, the decisive moment arrived.
- Y-Young Master!
Alberto desperately threw himself forward, taking a sword blow meant for Carlyle.
Spurt!
Blood sprayed, and Alberto collapsed.
- Young Master… y-you must run… *Gah!*
- *Hic?*
- Th-Those men… they are…
Alberto died without finishing his sentence.
- Just knock him out. Killing the scoundrel will only make things more complicated.
- Yeah, that’s a good idea.
Jeffrey’s group didn’t kill Carlyle, simply overpowering and knocking him unconscious.
- Now what?
- What do you mean? We give him this.
Jeffrey took a small vial from his pocket and poured its contents into the unconscious Carlyle’s mouth.
- He’ll lose his memory for about an hour. Let’s clean this up and get out of here before he wakes up.
- You mean we frame him?
- It’s the best option.
- True. If we say the scoundrel did it, everyone will believe it.
Having finished their plotting, Jeffrey’s group moved with practiced efficiency and began to manipulate the crime scene.
Judging by their movements, they were as skilled as people who had done this many times before.
Soon, the earthen figures of Carlyle, Alberto, and Jeffrey’s group crumbled like sandcastles.
Carlyle took a handkerchief from his pocket, covered his nose and mouth, and turned to Maranello.
“How dare they—!”
Maranello was already seething with rage.
Fwoooosh!
The aura erupting from him was so intense that Carlyle could see why he was once called the Grim Reaper of the North.
“See? I didn’t kill him.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
Maranello’s eyes glinted menacingly.
“This old man has seen it clearly. I will capture those bastards at once and…”
“Wait.”
“I must report this to His Grace the Grand Duke at on—”
“I said, wait.”
“Before dawn, I will round up every last one of th—”
“Tsk.”
Carlyle frowned.
“I told you to wait. Stirring things up now would be a disadvantage.”
“A disadvantage? What do you mean by that?”
“If we capture them now and close the case, what do you think the people of Decaron will think?”
“Hmm.”
“They’ll misunderstand and think my father framed some random guys to save me. They’ll curse us, saying all nobles are the same. So, it’s better to reveal this in an official setting. That way, the people will realize the truth and accept it.”
“Are you saying you’re aiming for a dramatic effect?”
“I wouldn’t put it so grandly.”
Carlyle turned to Evangeline.
“Good work. Well then, I’ll see you at the trial. Until then, don’t go anywhere and stay quietly at home.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
After instructing Evangeline, Carlyle immediately set off toward the castle.