Chapter 186: Not Yet, But... (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 186: Not Yet, But... (3)
He couldn’t remember when it had started, but it had become a habit.
“Is that how habits form? Or is it just me? I’m not sure.”
Chase quietly murmured as he refilled his wine glass, which had emptied before he knew it.
One night on the rooftop became two, then three, until drinking here was a habit he’d formed without even noticing.
Teilan, who had been watching Chase in silence, replied in a low voice.
“It can be both, and yet neither.”
“Is that so?”
Chase nodded, his tone casual. Under the silver moon and blue stars, his bluish-silver hair, reflecting their hues, swayed in the breeze before settling.
“Unless it is a habit Your Highness deliberately cultivated to mimic the preferences of Kairis’s Third Prince, I believe there are many things you wouldn’t recall starting.”
He was referring to the mint tea Chase had recently taken to drinking.
At the quietly spoken words, Chase turned his head and stared blankly at Teilan. The wine wasn’t strong; he was far from drunk. He couldn’t have misheard.
“Ah, you caught me.”
Chase smiled as he spoke, but a deep, sorrowful sigh seemed to cling to the edges of it.
Ordinarily, Chase wasn’t one to wear such an expression.
He had a smile for everyone, never showing a face as cold as chilling frost or as transient as a fading mist.
Teilan, who had watched over and taught Chase for longer than any of his personal servants, knew this better than anyone.
That was why he couldn't have missed the reason behind Chase's new habit.
“Chase.”
Instead of his usual polite honorifics, Teilan simply spoke his name. He felt he had to hold on to the man who was smiling like scattered, falling leaves.
Hearing a name he hadn't been called since becoming Crown Prince, Chase looked at Teilan with an expression of mingled surprise and amusement.
“I must be drunker than I thought… for my master to call me by my name,” he remarked playfully.
It was a clear attempt to change the subject—a silent plea to stop probing—but Teilan firmly shook his head and spoke again.
“I speak because I am worried.”
Chase let out a low chuckle. Looking down at the rooftops stretching out below, he murmured, “I drink out of habit. My master stays by my side out of habit. I dream out of habit, and my master worries about me out of habit.”
So many things had become habits over time, stirring so many thoughts. As he listed them, Chase’s violet eyes shifted to Teilan.
“That’s enough, Master. Leave the mint tea out of it.”
He was telling Teilan that he couldn’t explain why he was mimicking Calian’s preferences, not even to him. He was asking him to stop worrying, to stop wondering.
“You must tell me what’s wrong so I can help you. Don’t just sit there looking as if you’re about to leap from this rooftop.”
He couldn’t bear to see his disciple look as though he might throw himself to the ground below without a single regret. Deep worry etched itself onto Teilan’s face as he spoke to his only disciple.
As Teilan addressed him as a disciple, Chase slipped back into the role for a moment.
“I already fought off the urge to jump,” he said quietly. “A long time ago.”
Ah, or maybe it wasn’t so long ago, he added in his thoughts.
Another silent smile touched his lips.
“So you don’t need to worry about that.”
“But, Chase—”
Determined not to back down, Teilan tried again, but Chase just shook his head and smiled once more.
He knew. His dreams were heavy, but he could not forget them. He might stumble, but he must not fall. By now, he understood his life was not so light a thing that he could cast it away over something like this.
A hushed wind, like a silent laugh, blew past and scattered. Gazing into the far distance, as if following the wind’s trail, Chase spoke again.
“I’m truly fine.”
* * *
Since you said you would draw your sword to protect him, do as you wish.
Whether you protect him or endure it, go ahead and try.
If you succeed…
I will spare that boy and place him on my throne.
Just as you wished.
* * *
He showed no irritation, nor did he close his eyes.
He simply sat still, waiting for the laughter from the person across from him to stop. Waiting for whatever it was—laughter, or something else—to cease completely. He waited until those vividly burning red eyes met his own clear, light-green ones.
“……At first,” Calian began, finally catching his breath after a long fit of laughter, “I wondered if I was dreaming. I kept wondering if I would wake up one day and find this had all been a dream.”
Wondering if he would return to that moment: growing cold, dying, an arm lost, bleeding out from a hole in his chest—having lost things far greater than any of that.
“Though, to be precise, it was more of a longing than a mere thought.”
Whether he understood the meaning hidden between those words or not, Franz quietly turned his head, breaking his gaze with Calian.
“Unfortunately, it wasn’t a dream.”
In his dreams, he had met the old Calian. He had met Chase. He had met and parted with those who were no longer there, those who had slipped far beyond his reach.
But now, Calian didn’t dream at all.
And how can someone who doesn’t dream ever wake up from one?
For Calian, this wasn’t a dream. It was the end.
Clack.
Calian took a sip of his cold black tea, set the cup down, and looked at Franz.
“……I heard that not long ago, half of the Secritian spies stationed here were killed.”
One moment he was talking about dreams, the next about death.
It was just like him—completely out of nowhere.
“It wasn’t surprising. I would have done the same, so I understood his decision immediately. Still… he wasn’t the type to do something like that before. Now, he has no choice. I suppose that part felt a little unfamiliar.”
Calian spoke calmly about Chase eliminating spies he himself had raised, continuing on as if he had no intention of hearing Franz’s opinion on the matter.
“He must have felt the void between his past and present self. I believe he realized he has to fill that void himself now, which is why he made that choice.”
Chase was still wise.
He was only wise. That was the problem, and it was causing cracks to form.
Chase must have finally realized what Bern—the Bern from his memories—had been doing for him. He must have felt that there was no one left to do that work in his place. He would have learned what Bern did to preserve his image as a wise, benevolent ruler; what shadows Bern lived in just to keep Chase in the light.
How massive that void must seem to him now.
How overwhelming it must feel to fill it alone. How terrible the nightmare of reality must be after waking from an endless dream.
“I… am not… ignoring that.”
Calian knew Bern’s absence was a crack forming in Chase’s foundation. But instead of explaining that he was seeking Chase out for Franz’s sake despite all this, he simply took another sip of tea.
“I’m asking this of you because I know.”
He was seeking out Chase despite everything because he knew the man would be several times stronger now than he was in the past. The situation might be worse than when Bern was alive, and it would undoubtedly be painful for Chase to finally realize the foul stench of the blood Bern had shed in his place, but Calian was certain he would ultimately fill that void.
– Did I not tell you? To take your opponent’s hand, you must first wager your own. If you want to get what you want, you must stake something. So go ahead and try. Since you said protecting him was your dream.
Bern, who had walked in the shadows in Chase’s stead, had been younger than the current Chase, the current Franz, and the current Calian. Yet, he had been fine.
He might have gone mad, but he did not break.
Because…
“He is strong enough to have lived as that man’s son until now.”
After all, Chase and Bern were brothers who resembled each other so very much.
To endure that hellish Devlan.
That was something that wouldn’t have changed at all, whether Bern was there or not.
“So, I know that even if he might waver, he is not someone who will collapse.”
Clack.
Franz lifted his teacup without a word.
At that, Calian immediately reached out, took the cup as if snatching it away, and set it down far out of reach.
Only then did Franz realize the sweet scent of apple, over-steeped in the cold black tea, was wafting as thick as perfume.
“……Besides, he isn’t high-maintenance like a certain someone I know.”
Franz briefly debated whether to tell him to hold his tongue or to politely ask him to stop spouting nonsense.
While he was pondering this, Calian pulled something from his breast pocket and placed it on the table.
“I must ask you to act as a carrier pigeon just one more time.”
Seeing what was placed on the table, Franz let out a silent sigh.
It was a plain silver bracelet, likely the very one that had been on Alan’s wrist—the one who had handed Calian a similar-looking ring when Calian left Roselita.
It would be useless inside the royal palace, but outside, it would transmit voices no matter how far apart they were. Staring at the communication bracelet, Franz spoke quietly.
“I’ll need a hawk.”
He meant a pigeon wouldn’t suffice; he’d be carrying something heavier than a letter.
With that, he conveyed his agreement to Calian’s request and let out a small sigh.
He sighed at the thought of how much more frequently his younger brother—who already snuck out of the palace often enough—would now escape. After all, they would have to be outside the palace walls to use it for a conversation.
Noticing this, Calian shook his head and said, “You won’t have to worry, Brother.”
He meant they wouldn’t have the leisure to spare time just to chat.
The bracelet was Calian’s promise to create a day peaceful enough for such leisure, and a demand for Franz to keep his wits about him and help make that day a reality. It was also a deeply selfish request, asking Franz never to take it off, as Calian would call on him for help whenever he needed it.
“I’m not a brother who only causes trouble, after all.”
The boy who no longer dreamed smiled out of habit, gifting a voice to call back the one lost between a nightmarish reality and a realistic nightmare.
He looked at the person he hoped would find a dream slightly better than raising a cat.