Chapter 237: Whose Son I Am (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 237: Whose Son I Am (2)
Contradiction.
I wonder if Sispanian knows just how selfishly contradictory humans can be. Or Serenti.
Does Serenti know?
"Unlike me, he is a fragile child who looks like he might break at any moment. That's why he wanted to be by your side. That is what my brother said as he left for the royal palace. After that, his letters were filled with nothing but worry for you, Your Highness. But then, one day, rumors reached the Siegfried territory that you had changed overnight. News that you had taken up the Path of the Sword arrived as well. Even then, I didn't suspect a thing. Until yesterday, I simply thought it was talent."
"Demirea."
"Since it was a royal matter, I assumed you must have deceived everyone and hidden your swordsmanship, even with my brother at your side. That is how the royal family must survive, I thought. I just left it at that."
Yes. I hid it. I tried to hide it.
I tried to hide that the me of today was clearly different from the Calian of the past. Yet, at the same time, I wanted everyone to know. I wanted the whole world to know. Please, I wanted someone to realize.
Whose son I was.
Why did I have to deliberately remind myself of it, to realize that I, who was no longer Devlan's son and could never be Lemain's son, had become my father's son? Why wasn't it just a natural, given fact? It was a given that I was Alan Manasil's son, so why couldn't I just forget about it in my daily life? Why did we have to verbally confirm it, remind each other, and rejoice in the fact that I was your son?
Why did I feel like I was suffocating if I wasn't constantly validated by my name being called, as if seeking confirmation or permission? Why did I need some ridiculous title proving I was someone's flesh and blood?
"If you had been training with the sword consistently enough to walk the Path of the Sword a year later, your muscles wouldn't have deteriorated to the point where you couldn't even hold a blade, no matter how much poison was in your system. Even with Sispanian's blessing, your heart would have stopped long before your body reached that level of ruin."
Because I couldn't control the emotions that surged even when I tried to steady my heart, that reared their heads when I tried to cover them, that exploded when I tried to hide them. Because I couldn't control the overwhelming gratitude I felt for taking another step forward, having received Sispanian's attention, understanding, and comfort.
I was not that child, but I was no longer Bern, either. I couldn't be both. And yet.
Because I promised he would not lose his son twice. Because I promised to speak up if I was hurt and accept treatment. Because I promised to accept his protection so I would never fade from memory again. Because I promised to read a letter full of his regrets on a gloomy day. Because I promised we would visit that small beach one day and share a drink. Because I promised that I, too, would now try to have good dreams. Because I promised we would measure who grew taller as time passed.
Because I promised that I would dare to live well in your stead.
And so, I could not bring myself to give up.
I was that child whose eyes sparkled just the same at the red kaleidoscope handed over as if it were trash, and I was also Bern, who wept just the same at the cry of a whale in a sea bathed in silver moonlight.
"It makes no sense. It sounds insane. But it's impossible unless you were truly a different person."
I had been both that child and Bern.
And in the end, I was neither that child nor Bern.
Just Calian.
I wanted someone to know that this is who I was. Please, I wanted someone to realize. And at the same time, I wanted no one to know.
Serenti.
Did Serenti…
…know of this contradiction? Did she?
Did that damn Serenti, whose lofty will I couldn't even begin to fathom, know of this absurdly selfish contradiction? I laid everything bare, knowing I had to keep the secret, yet still wished they wouldn't find out. Why did she block my erased name instead of my mouth as I spoke of that secret?
"I'll… explain everything."
"Yes. Please tell me."
I answered, as if giving up, as if resigned.
Not once had I felt anxious or worried about Yan. But I didn't want him to know. I tried to keep him from knowing. I wanted Yan to remain in the dark.
Whether he remembered or not, whether we were the same person or not, whether he was my brother or not—it didn't matter. I knew I was the only one in this world who could take his life with a heart full of resentment, vowing revenge. Yet I still struggled like a madman to keep alive a bastard who claimed he would live with the face of a dead man, telling myself he might be needed one day. I carved away at my own insides, trying to pretend I didn't hear the apologies I couldn't accept on behalf of a child who was no longer here. Even while living each day like that, dragging myself through life… simply…
"Let's move. There are too many eyes here."
…because the mention of warm milk made me feel sleepy.
That was why I didn't want him to know.
Step.
But.
"…Leah."
Yan had returned.
He cut into our conversation without so much as asking for permission, calling Demirea's name first.
In that moment, he was not Yan, but Shiroian.
* * *
It was a small box.
With a soft thud, a box wrapped in pale pink silk was placed on the table.
While Arsen was away supervising the joint training of the mages and knights, Hina had entered after a hesitant but gradually louder knock.
Can you… help me… practice?
Then, sitting across from Franz—who was losing his mind trying to process two days' worth of work in a single day—she set down two glasses of milk filled with sugar-preserved strawberries. Without even getting to the main point, she had asked him for help.
"I can."
Franz answered without asking what kind of practice she needed or how much help she wanted.
Thank you.
It wasn't hard to refuse spoken gratitude or apologies. But he could never stop what she expressed with her hands. Her hands were always moving before he could tell her not to, and because he couldn't take his eyes off them, he couldn't stop her.
With a click, the box opened.
Inside was a pair of round earrings set with small, pale pink gems—a color that perfectly matched the box, Lucy's paw pads, and the strawberry milk Hina had set down. There was also a thin silver bracelet that, except for the matching gem, looked identical to the one some bastard in Secritia probably had.
Franz stared at them quietly before speaking.
"If you can't handle mana, you won't be able to use it in an emergency."
At his words, Hina looked slightly surprised.
How… did you know? I… didn't say… anything.
She hadn't often experienced Franz's sharp mind and quick wits, so she was taken aback that he seemed to know exactly what the items were and why she had them the moment he saw them.
"Just a guess."
Smiling brightly at Franz's brief reply, Hina signed:
Because… it was made… by processing… the mana stone… sent by… the King of… Libern. They said… it's fine… even if… I can't use… magic.
In other words, it was a mana stone that could automatically adjust bathwater temperature, regulate the indoor temperature of Chermil Palace, activate the teleportation magic circle that moved goods between floors, or trigger the window-locking magic. The pink gem was likely that very mana stone.
Neither Hina, Franz, nor Calian knew that a high-grade mana stone the size of two knuckles—painstakingly obtained by hunting a rare monster—had been deliberately shattered to fit the earrings and bracelet. It was a fact known only to Alan, who, despite deeply regretting the loss of a mana stone that couldn't be bought with any amount of money, had crushed it without a second thought because it was Calian's request.
Until… the kind… Prince… resolves… a certain matter… the silly… Vice-Commander… and my brother… are following me around… but still… just in case… an emergency happens… I can't… make a sound. So… he gave them to me. He said… the bracelet… is for my brother.
Calian had stopped by Arpia Palace the previous day for this very reason.
Although he had ended up with a headache after hearing Euria's investigation results, his original purpose had been to ask Alan if there was a way for someone to use communication magic without mana, and if so, whether they could obtain it.
Since he was already receiving reports from Chase inside the palace, he figured adding one more for Hina wouldn't be a problem. And just in time, an item that made it possible had arrived from Libern. That was how the gift came to be.
"…Ah."
He hadn't thought of the mana stone.
If that little brother of mine, who seems to have thrown human logic to the wind, makes a cat hair remover out of a mana stone and barks that he won't teach me magic, what should I say to refuse?
As Franz wasted his brilliant mind on such useless thoughts, Hina signed again.
I wanted… to speak… to my brother… first… and also… to the good… Prince. But… I've never… done it before. I was worried… if I… didn't speak… well… my brother… would be… sad. But today… the mature… younger brother… didn't come… so the only person… I could think of… was the good… Prince.
"Right."
She was finally able to ‘speak’ for the first time.
Though it was given out of concern that Devlan might pull another insane stunt, it was nonetheless an item that would allow Hina to make a sound for the first time in her life.
Hina, who had sought out the taciturn prince—who was either the perfect or the worst practice partner—took the bracelet from the box and handed it to him before putting on the earrings.
Franz, who had learned the basics of using a magic ring thanks to his foolish former sibling, slipped the bracelet onto his wrist with practiced ease. While she put on the earrings, he took a sip of the strawberry milk and waited quietly.
A moment later, Franz was about to nod at Hina but spoke instead.
"Speak. I'm listening."
Hina offered a small smile at his words—not that he would watch, but that he would listen—and nodded.
For a while after that, no sound was heard.
Instead of a voice that might feel both unfamiliar and familiar, only the occasional purring of Lucy, who had snuggled into his lap, broke the silence.
By the sunlit window, with the warm cat on his lap, Franz quietly closed his eyes. Even though he was busy, he could afford a moment of leisure, and he no longer needed to keep his eyes on her hands.
Again, no sound was heard for some time.
Through the quiet passage of time, Franz waited in silence.
Hello.
Quite some time passed again.
And finally.
I am… Hina.
A voice was heard.
It was halting, born of disuse. It was like a knock on a door, still cautious about so many things, and so very small.
Hina's voice.
Franz, who had no need to open his mouth to answer that tiny voice, smiled faintly with his eyes still closed.
…It sounds nice.
Lucy, curled into a ball, purred once more. By the sunlit window, the quiet moment flowed on.
* * *
Autumn was setting in.
The wind blowing across the lake felt cooler now, rustling through the bushes that were preparing to be dyed in the colors of sunset.
Yan had arrived and was now talking with Demirea. Unable to hear them, Calian sat on a rock by the lakeshore, watching the wind stir ripples across the water.
I think the weather was similar back then. Was it spring?
It must have been, since it was Lemain's birthday. On the day of his first private audience with Lemain, a wind had also blown across the lake. He suddenly remembered that.
That day, Yan had told him to get some fresh air, knowing his mind would be troubled after the meeting. Following his advice, Calian had gone for a walk and seen Randel, nursing his own inner pain, tending to his roses. And on that day, he had also seen a boiled pea soaked in alcohol. No, since Franz claimed he didn't drink, perhaps it was a pea just soaked in the smell of alcohol.
He hadn't known then that he would end up living like this with that Randel and that Franz. Just as he hadn't known he would come to care so deeply for that Yan.
As the wind blew, the lake rippled, and he sank into his memories as if falling into the water.
He had asked Yan about his family that day. Since he hadn't known which family Yan belonged to, Yan had answered evasively.
I should have been more curious.
If he had known things would turn out like this, he should have been a little more curious.
During the last war, Duke Suleiman had fought personally, but the young duchess Demirea had not. He should have wondered why. Siegfried's eldest son, Shiroian, had also not participated. Looking at Yan now, it made sense, but still, he should have wondered.
In the ten years between the third prince's short life ending and the day the war broke out, what had the third prince's attendant been doing? Was he all right? Was he even alive? He should have wondered. He should have looked into it.
"How could I not have known even that?" he murmured.
Even though he commanded so many birds.
Suddenly filled with regret, he silently watched the ripples on the lake.
Please don't let him go through such a thing again.
He should have asked properly about Yan's brother, the one who was said to have died. He should have asked properly and listened to the whole story.
"How could I be so thoughtless?"
Just as he was sinking into a chaos of past and present mistakes all tangled together, he heard the soft crunch, crunch of Demirea's footsteps. It was a different sound from Yan, who habitually walked on the balls of his feet.
"Demirea."
Instead of asking what they had talked about, he called her name once more. He was about to tell her everything and ask her to keep his secret anyway. Thinking of the little elephant who looked at him in place of his dead brother, he would ask her to keep quiet, promising to tell her himself when the time was right.
"He insists that I leave because you are tired, Your Highness."
But her words stopped him.
He had approached as Shiroian to drag Demirea away, only to become Yan again to speak to her.
"…Ah."
A laugh escaped him.
"He asked me to please leave without saying anything today, no matter what I came to say. He said you seem very tired and in need of rest, and that you appear troubled and distressed."
"…As if he knows what we were going to talk about."
"I…"
Standing beside the seated Calian, Demirea didn't look at his lips but stared straight down into his red eyes.
"I am Demirea of Siegfried. My family's conviction is more important to me than my own self. And my brother is more important to me than my family's conviction. That is the kind of person I am."
Demirea of Siegfried.
Instead of replying that he already knew all too well what kind of person she was, Calian merely nodded.
"I will leave without asking. I will pretend not to know whatever you have hidden and forget it completely. So please, Your Highness, bury it. Bury it until you die. Bury it for the rest of your life, as if you owe a debt to my brother."
Ha.
"Because if you get caught, I will kill you with my own hands."
Having said that, Demirea continued to look down at Calian with a silent gaze before speaking again.
"…Fiancée."
A laugh escaped him.
His fiancée of the same age, who had just saddled him with a lifelong debt, was truly terrifying.
"Yes. I promise."
Because now he could ask Yan to bring him a glass of warm milk, feeling strangely tired and thinking he should get some rest.
"Thank you, Fiancée."
Because he was so grateful for that.