Chapter 204: Because I Can't Lie (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 204: Because I Can't Lie (4)
Marquis Evan Brissen’s eyes blazed with fury.
He had no idea that someone had just compared him to a half-chewed piece of mugwort bread, nor that the person who did so had fallen fast asleep after contemplating whether to end his life on the spot. Having returned to his mansion early, Evan had locked himself in his study, slowly trying to soothe his simmering rage.
But the anger he had barely managed to suppress exploded at a single sentence.
“I told you to think before you speak! Did you forget how to think during the time you spent locked away from the light? Sending poison or assassins? Did you honestly think that would work?”
Evan glared fiercely at Lennon, the culprit who had finally pushed him over the edge, and roared. Seeing his father bring up something that didn't need to be mentioned, Lennon flared up in response.
“Why do you keep bringing up my confinement?”
Though he had been provided with all his basic needs, he had spent a year in an unknown location without seeing a single ray of sunlight. It was better than a prison, but that didn’t make it livable. Recalling those days of being locked away without even knowing why, Lennon grimaced and retorted.
“Even when I told you that bastard Melfir Polun must have been behind it, you didn't even bother to find out who locked me up. I even let it slide when you refused to explain why you sold the trading company to him. But today, you drag me to the banquet hall without a single word of explanation, and now you get this angry at me when I was only speaking out of concern for you, Father? Why have you changed so much?”
Lennon had absolutely no idea that the one who had confined him was Evan, nor that the place he had been locked up was his father’s own mansion. He had been imprisoned for nearly a year without rhyme or reason, yet upon his release, Evan showed no intention of finding the culprit.
Had he carefully examined Silike’s death, the rapid sale of the trading company, and the general flow of events, it wouldn’t have been difficult to deduce that Evan was the mastermind. Unfortunately, Lennon was not a deep thinker. He was simply angry that Evan—who had ‘rescued’ him—made no effort to catch the perpetrator, instead doing nothing but call him stupid and yell at him whenever he opened his mouth.
“If your brain were even half as sharp as the 2nd Prince’s, I wouldn’t be this frustrated! I don’t want to talk to you anymore, so get out!”
Unaware of whose genes were responsible for a brain that couldn't even match half of Franz’s, Evan kicked Lennon out. He then let out a long sigh, a mix of lamentation and lingering irritation.
“If it weren’t for that bastard, I would never have let him out.”
If it weren't for Gray—who at least knew how to use his head a bit more but was equally greedy—Evan would have had no reason to release Lennon. He had tolerated the frustration and let his son out, but instead of yielding any results, things had only become more tangled. He felt like his chest was about to burst.
“In any case, what should I do about the 3rd Prince?”
It was a banquet he had eagerly anticipated, intending to parade Lennon before the nobles so that rumors would reach Gray, and to thoroughly upset Alan and Calian. Yet, at that very event, he had been caught on an absurd technicality, forcing him to return without uttering a single word against Freya’s memorial ceremony.
“Since I couldn’t say anything, the others won’t dare raise their voices either.”
No matter how much he racked his brain, he couldn’t think of a clever way to stop Calian. Eventually, the face of a highly unpleasant individual came to mind, and Evan let out a low groan.
“Should I go see Franz?”
He briefly considered visiting Franz to ask for advice, but he soon shook his head and frowned. He remembered being told to start using his brain. It was far too early to hear that kind of mockery from him again. He decided to ponder a bit more; only if he still couldn't think of anything would he seek him out.
He remained completely unaware that his decision to keep his distance from Franz out of petty pride was exactly what Calian had anticipated.
*
The quiet, rhythmic sound of footsteps echoed softly.
The steps, belonging to two people with different strides, occasionally overlapped, then fell out of sync, only to align once more. Yan smiled, finding a strange amusement in how they fell in and out of step yet ultimately walked at the same pace.
He then spoke to his younger sister, who had grown so much that she now stood nearly eye-to-eye with him.
“Even if you want to spar, don’t come tomorrow. Come a bit later. The Prince is in a bad mood today.”
It wasn't because of Evan that Yan said Calian was in a bad mood. He simply knew that every year on his birthday—even last year, right after Calian had so suddenly changed—the Prince was always on edge. Whether it was because he had to face the nobles and Silike, or for some other reason, Calian had always been that way.
However, since there was no need to explain all of that to Demirea, Yan kept his explanation brief.
Remembering how annoying it had been to deal with Evan when they were hiding Calian at their mansion, Demirea frowned subtly and replied, “Well, it's not like I'll have free time right away anyway.”
Just as Calian had his own circumstances, Demirea had hers. As the young duchess, her schedule was packed with other duties. No matter how much she wanted to learn swordsmanship from Calian, it was difficult for her to suddenly visit the palace every day to train. Thus, she gave that reply and resumed her leisurely stroll.
“Right. Let me know when you’re free after next week, and I’ll adjust the schedule.”
“Yes, I will.”
Yan had set out to escort Demirea back to the mansion on behalf of Calian, who could not leave the palace. Calian had told him to spend the night at his family home since it was late, but because the Prince's expression hadn't looked very good when he said it, Yan hadn't been able to readily agree.
Meem, meem.
As they walked quietly toward the carriage, a cicada chirped—perhaps awakened by their footsteps, or perhaps unable to sleep due to the brightly lit palace. Hearing the sound, Yan spoke softly.
“I guess the cicadas can’t sleep because Siegfried is so bright.”
“I can go on my own, Brother. You should head back inside.”
Demirea’s voice was slightly raised as she replied. After all, she knew better than anyone how much Yan disliked the unavoidable sound of summer cicadas, and exactly why he disliked it.
“It’s really strange, Demirea.”
Yan offered a faint smile, speaking as if he were answering her, yet not quite.
“Before last summer, I was always stuck inside Chermil Palace anyway, and whenever I heard that sound, I would run indoors… Last year, I must have heard it the entire way home, but I can’t remember at all whether I actually heard the cicadas or not.”
Yan listened quietly to the chirping as he walked, then spoke again.
“The Prince caused so many accidents during the entire trip that I completely lost my mind. That’s why I don’t remember a thing. I can’t even recall if I heard them.”
He had been so focused on Calian, who had gone around breaking things left and right on the way to and from Roselita, that he hadn't even noticed the cicadas. As a result, the sound didn't bother him as much now.
Demirea let out a soft chuckle. She, too, had witnessed today just how massive of an incident Calian could cause if he set his mind to it.
“It certainly sounds like you had your hands full.”
“Yeah. I remember constantly making him iced mint tea, but I don’t remember the cicadas. Not a single bit.”
Repeating himself, Yan laughed in the same way Demirea had. Then, just as Suleiman often did, he reached out and gently patted the head of his sister, who had grown into a reliable little shield of Siegfried and was still worrying about him.
Had anyone other than Yan placed a hand on her head, their wrist would have been severed on the spot, but Demirea stood still without showing any sign of displeasure.
“Don’t just tell me not to worry about you; you shouldn’t worry about me either, Demirea. I’m growing too, you know.”
Just like their footsteps, their rates of growth might be slightly different, but they were both moving forward all the same. After all, Yan had grown taller, just as Demirea had.
As Yan smiled at the thought, his face suddenly turned pale.
“Ah, come to think of it…!”
Looking down at Demirea, whose face asked what was wrong, Yan said with a tearful expression, “I think I’m growing too fast. What if I win the bet?”
In truth, the baby elephant had absolutely no desire to win the height bet against his flower-like Prince. However, because the baby elephant’s father was a massive elephant, the baby elephant, who took after his father, was growing rapidly day by day.
Realizing that Yan was genuinely worrying about how to stop growing taller just because he might accidentally win the bet against Calian, Demirea’s expression soured for a moment.
And you wonder why I worry, her face said.
*
Was this a dream, or was it real?
He blinked.
As if sharing the same thought, a pair of red eyes came into view, trying to gauge if what they were seeing was a dream.
“Your Highness?”
Arsen, looking at the red eyes with his bright blue ones, called out in delight. His voice slurred heavily at the end, and Calian, utterly speechless, briefly looked up at the sky.
The night sky was truly beautiful, dotted with countless yellow stars.
He tried counting them one by one, but finding it too difficult, he turned his head to the side. He figured looking at the light-green-haired man standing next to him would be more calming.
“Ah! Our Prince is here!”
It was useless. No matter how much he stared at that eyesore of a face, his mind would not calm down.
“Our Priiiince. Prince Caliaaaan.”
Ah… this crazy bastard has truly lost his mind.
Unable to hold it in any longer, Calian lowered his head and began to laugh.
Arsen, who had entered the palace practically carried by Kyrie, grinned foolishly. Seeing this, Kyrie’s face stiffened.
“I am sorry. He was fine until a moment ago…”
Whether Kyrie meant ‘He was quietly passed out until just now, but he suddenly woke up,’ Calian’s chuckles echoed across the courtyard of Wilhelm Hall.
Even in this moment, Franz stood there with a frown, not cracking a single smile, which was truly remarkable. But Calian had no time to ponder that. If something was funny, he was going to laugh.
“Why…”
He pointed a finger at Arsen, asking ‘Why is he like that?’ without the words actually leaving his mouth, and laughed for a long time. His fingertip shook wildly along with his trembling shoulders.
Staring blankly at that hand, Arsen spoke with what little wits he had left.
“Your Highneeeess, today, I…”
He was about to say, ‘The Vice-Commander Prince told me to go to the Prince,’ when he suddenly turned his head.
“Ah! The Vice-Commander Prince is here too!”
Staring at Arsen as if looking at a piece of walking trash, Franz let out a short sigh and spoke to Calian.
“Clean him up and come back.”
Judging by Calian’s reaction, Franz had already found it strange that he hadn’t met Arsen at Siegfried Hall. Now that Arsen had returned dead drunk, there had to be a reason. Not that Calian would ever tell him why.
Thus, Franz intended to excuse himself before he got dragged into whatever was going on.
Watching Franz walk away before he could even reply, Calian turned his gaze back to Arsen. After all, he was just as clueless about the reason.
“Sir Hertz.”
“Yes, Your Highneeeess.”
The sky was clear, the yellow stars were out. He was hungry but hadn't eaten. And a crazy mage had just been carried back dead drunk.
“Speak. I’m listening.”
So just tell me what upset you so much that you drank yourself into this state.
Hearing those words, Arsen grinned once more.
“Your Highness. Today, I…”
Borrowing the courage of the four beers he had consumed, he began to speak without hesitation.
There were so many things he had wanted to say to Calian but had kept bottled up inside, and now they poured out like a broken dam.
While Franz returned to Chermil Palace and Kyrie resumed his late-night training, Arsen went on and on, sharing every little detail—the things he hated doing, the things he wanted to do, the hardships, and yet, the things he loved despite it all.
Gathering all the words he had bottled up for so long, he spoke for a very, very long time.