Chapter 239: Whose Son I Am (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 239: Whose Son I Am (4)
Secritia was warm.
Kairis was cold.
He hadn’t traveled the entirety of Secritia, but the places he had visited were generally warm, if not hot like the capital, Secreta. Even the winters there were mild. Kairis, in contrast, was so frigid that the biting winter winds made it difficult to even walk with your head up.
And it was all Hatsuara’s fault—the very pioneer of such absurdity.
Anyway. Having finished sorting through his two distinct memories of the same season and neatly assigning the blame to Hatsuara, Calian turned his head slightly.
A scarlet cloak fluttering in the wind caught his eye. The fabric grew heavier toward the hem, so densely embedded with jewel dust that the thick base material was completely hidden. It reminded him of a kaleidoscope he’d once seen, and also…
“It’s truly autumn now. The wind has changed.”
“Indeed. Autumn has crept up on us.”
Calian nodded in response to Yan, who spoke while helping him board the waiting carriage.
Secritia would still be sweltering, while Kairis had to begin its winter preparations. Autumn had arrived—a season that felt both familiar and foreign.
“I’m both glad and a bit sad.”
“Are you sad to see the summer go, Your Highness?”
“Yes.”
Sitting opposite Calian, Yan widened his eyes. Calian had been agonizing all summer and had only recently managed to shake off most of his troubles. What could he possibly regret?
“Because you won’t put ice in my mint tea anymore.”
It was a petulant reason, but Calian was entirely serious. Having noticed the change in the wind, Yan no longer permitted him to drink mint tea packed with ice.
Just last night, having fallen asleep exceptionally late, Calian had requested cold mint tea to clear his heavy head, only to be flatly refused. He had then secretly tried to cool the warm tea with magic but was caught and lectured at length. It was a true tragedy.
Clack, clack.
As the carriage moved at a moderate pace, Calian continued his complaints.
“Just look at this morning. I told you it wasn’t cold yet, but you simply wouldn’t listen.”
Amused that the future leader of this country was sulking to his attendant about mint tea with such lingering resentment, Yan finally let out a soft chuckle.
“Even so, I will not be giving you any.”
At the firm reply, a few more grumbles escaped Calian’s lips.
Aside from that minor disappointment, he didn’t entirely dislike the arrival of autumn. Just as Yan had surmised, he had sorted out most of the troubles that had plagued him throughout the summer. He said “most” only because, being human, it was difficult to fully grasp the state of his own heart. Still, his mind felt much clearer now.
Just like the wind blowing at that very moment.
“Still, I think there are more good things than regrettable ones.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Your Highness. That there are more good things.”
“Indeed. It is a relief.”
Another reason he welcomed autumn was that the crisp scent of the wind felt as if it were washing away the memories of the sweltering summer, bringing with it an incredible sense of peace. And another was that he would see less of the rain that had seemed to pour down with a vengeance, determined to keep him trapped in place.
…Or so he thought.
“Oh, dear.”
As if a simple “oh, dear” could cover it.
He had barely stepped out of the carriage at Siegfried Hall when a low voice, seemingly lying in wait, reached him. Hearing it, he was reminded that rain wasn’t the only thing that could keep him rooted to the spot. The flutter of excitement he’d felt from the pleasant autumn breeze instantly vanished.
Perhaps I should have caught a cold after all.
He had run straight into the one person he wanted to avoid for as long as possible, right in front of Siegfried Hall.
—I didn’t tell my brother, but Prince Franz actually helped me practice speaking a lot. Even though he must have been busy, he listened to me without a word, so I got used to it quickly. Prince Franz is such a good person, so please stop teasing him, Prince Calian. He is your older brother, after all.
Prince Franz is such a good person…
Please stop teasing Prince Franz…
The words, a bolt from the blue that had followed Hina’s thanks on the evening he drank warm milk and took a long nap, came rushing back to him.
Unbelievable.
To think he would live to see the day his precious Hina took the side of that weed-head. The emptiness, disappointment, sorrow, and grief of a day he had never dreamed would arrive so soon washed over him all at once.
And besides, why?
Not Kyrie, and not me.
Is it true, dear brother, that you were the very first to hear our Hina’s angelic voice—a voice that could make a garden of blue flowers bloom across the sky? Do you have any idea how sick it made my heart to hear her speak your name—a name like duckweed on a stagnant pond—before mine, and far more often, in a voice as lovely as sunlight on water?
Do you know how much I wanted to cast aside all understanding the moment I saw you? How I endured, aging three years in an instant, just to keep listening to our Hina while avoiding the very sight of your face?
Then again, there was no way that weed-head could comprehend such delicate feelings.
With desperate patience, Calian suppressed the killing intent that threatened to flare. In any case, today was a good day, and he was, decidedly, an adult now.
“…I greet you, Brother Franz.”
“You were lost in thought.”
“I was not.”
Answering the curt observation about his delayed greeting, Calian recalled Franz’s first words and spoke again.
“You don’t have to catch a cold on my account. Were you waiting out here just to confirm that?”
“One can never tell what my little brother might pull.”
“How hurtful. Anyone would misunderstand and think I do nothing but cause trouble.”
“Still barking, I see.”
He wouldn’t stop now, even if Franz called it barking. He knew Franz wouldn’t relent, but he had thought the man might show some restraint in a place with so many prying eyes. Franz did not. It was as if his words went in one ear and straight out his nostrils.
While Franz let out a short, resigned sigh, Calian’s “barking” continued.
“Even if today’s event is in my honor, it is also a day that brings us one step closer to our modest dreams—where I raise a dog and you raise a cat outside the palace. How could your precious, fragile body afford to fall ill? You must attend and grace us with your presence. Absolutely.”
“What a disaster. You’re dressed so well, yet you still refuse to speak like a human.”
A pure white cloak with gold embroidery. A long, deep blue-green jacket over white trousers. Complemented by perfectly matching accessories, Franz—whose attire clearly bore Relic’s meticulous touch—gave his honest opinion as he eyed Calian, who was dressed even more extravagantly.
Calian grinned.
“Lucy still meows even when she’s all dressed up, so why should I be any different? Sispanian herself said one’s essence doesn’t change with appearance, so I have no choice but to keep barking, no matter what I wear.”
Having no intention of responding to his younger brother’s persistent barking—which now dragged in both Lucy and Sispanian—Franz prepared to move on, having gotten the confirmation he wanted. But then Calian spoke unexpectedly.
“By any chance, is that… precious to you?”
As he asked, Calian pointed to the clasp on Franz’s cloak. It was a large piece, adorned with two golden feathers and a sizable emerald.
In short, it was an ornament perfectly designed to evoke the image of Brissen’s griffin, with its golden body and green eyes.
Franz briefly considered telling him that Evan had sent it with a short message suggesting he wear it, but then he recalled his younger brother’s warning to take care of his heart and simply shook his head. There was no way Calian didn’t already know.
“How could I possess such a thing?”
How could the still-ambitionless Franz have anything precious? The thing he cherished most, Lucy, was Calian’s cat. What more needed to be said?
“I see. That’s perfect, then.”
After his cryptic question and equally cryptic reaction, Calian extended an arm toward Siegfried Hall. Taking it as an invitation to enter first, Franz went inside without another word.
To keep from dwelling on what his younger brother might be plotting, Franz focused his thoughts on the lovely Lucy, who had come rushing in at dawn and leaped onto his chest with murderous intent to wake him.
A short while later, after confirming that all the nobles and both princes had entered, Calian stepped into Siegfried Hall with slow, deliberate strides.
“Announcing the entry of Prince Calian Rain Kairis.”
A familiar introduction. And a familiar silence.
As if by prior agreement, the hall fell quiet.
Finding it truly paradoxical that the man surrounded by the loudest rumors was always met with such stillness, Calian’s lips curved into a small smile today as well.
“It is a pleasure to meet you all.”
For he had waited so long for this day, precisely to draw out this most welcome silence.
*
He had a lot on his mind.
Calian would surely have laughed if he knew, but Evan Brissen had a lot on his mind.
First, he decided not to provoke Siegfried any further. It would be a headache if Lemain actually bestowed a title upon that haughty young duchess sitting in the seat of honor opposite him.
First, I need to stir up the nobles a little.
After all, was this not an occasion to elevate a commoner-born concubine—and a long-dead one at that—to the status of queen?
Even those who aren’t on Brissen’s side are bound to be dissatisfied… I should start by making use of the wolf pup I’ve reeled in.
With these thoughts, Evan had sent a gift to Franz.
It was an ornament signifying that the relationship between Franz and Brissen was unchanged, that Franz was the prince who would stand at the forefront of Brissen, and that Brissen would absolutely place Franz on the throne.
—So he might be seen not as a mere wolf pup, but as a young griffin, a lion destined to gain magnificent wings.
Though Franz understood Evan’s intentions, he could not defy Brissen’s demands and had worn the ornament as promised. Seeing the nobles nod as they looked back and forth between Franz and himself, what could be more satisfying?
Walking with silent, heavy steps, Franz took his place without a single glance at Evan.
Is he protesting being used so effectively?
But what did it matter?
The nobles weren’t paying attention to such trivialities anyway.
He saw Randel sitting there, not exchanging a single word with Franz. Come to think of it, he’d heard a rumor that someone suspected to be Gray Brissen had visited Randel in the palace. That was slightly concerning, but he could investigate it upon returning to his mansion.
As a result of these various thoughts, he maintained his satisfied mood for the time being—
“Announcing the entry of Prince Calian Rain Kairis.”
Finally, the bastard had arrived.
Rising sluggishly from his seat to offer a perfunctory greeting, Evan tilted his head. The nobles, who had been whispering when Franz entered, were now completely silent.
What did that bastard do this time…?
Dismissing the fleeting question, Evan raised his head. His mouth slowly fell open, then snapped shut.
A scarlet cloak that shimmered as if dusted with countless jewels. An apricot-colored jacket over white trousers. And…
Pearl-colored ruffles at his wrists and neck.
He could not mock it as an overindulgence in vanity.
Nor could he criticize the attire as overly gaudy. No one could think such a thing. Not even Evan.
“It is a pleasure to meet you all.”
An apricot-colored layered dress worn over a pure white one.
Layer upon layer of fluttering pearl-colored ruffles. A beautiful tiara crafted solely from every kind of red gem imaginable, without a single other color mixed in. And the vivid, scarlet hair that the tiara crowned.
For there was no one here who did not recognize the portrait hanging in Arpia Palace for all to see—a portrait Calian had deliberately avoided, but the nobles had not.
Freya…!
He had almost uttered the name aloud.
This unbelievably audacious prince had appeared with a face identical to his mother's, wearing an outfit that seemed to have stepped right out of the portrait painted on the day she first entered the palace.
Any thoughts of Franz’s ornament or Brissen’s prestige had surely vanished from the nobles’ minds. Even Evan was left utterly dumbfounded.
Footsteps that could not be ignored echoed through the hall.
The shimmering scarlet cloak looked like Freya’s hair. Or perhaps, like the fresh blood she had spilled so long ago.
Walking with exceptionally slow steps, he moved forward.
In doing so, he was declaring once more whose son he was.
—As long as I remember my mother, I will never tolerate Brissen.
It felt as though those unspoken words were echoing in the air, sending a shiver down Evan’s spine.
Calian, walking slowly, did not look at Evan either. He merely offered a light nod of greeting as he passed his fiancée, Demirea. Only when he reached the space between the seated Randel and the still-standing Franz did he stop.
Just as he seemed about to exchange a few words with them—
‘…!’
A fiercely sharp energy flared.
Evan, the only one among the nobles to sense it, unconsciously snapped his head up.
Crack!
It was followed instantly by a loud, sharp crack.
A sound that pierced the silence. The sound of something harder than glass shattering.
The sound of a gemstone being crushed.
An emerald, to be precise.
Franz’s brow furrowed slightly. Calian, standing face-to-face with him, turned his head. Withdrawing his slender fingertips from where the emerald had been, Calian finally looked at Evan. Curving his blood-red eyes into a sweet, beautiful smile, he parted his red lips.
“…Oh, dear.”
Clink.
The fragmented emerald and the golden feathers fell and rolled across the floor.
As the clasp vanished, the white cloak began to slide from Franz's shoulders, but Calian caught it lightly. A calm voice, entirely at odds with his smile, followed.
“I only meant to take a closer look, but it seems I’ve committed a great discourtesy, Brother.”
Because you were wearing something that didn’t suit you in the slightest.
Leaving those words unsaid, Calian unfastened an ornament from his own jacket, waving off an attendant who rushed over to help.
The sharp click of the brooch being fastened rang in Evan’s ears.
“For now, please wear mine as a temporary replacement. I will apologize to you properly later.”
Conscious of the watching eyes, Franz did not stop him and remained silent, while the nobles could not utter a single word. Seeing the new brooch now resting on Franz’s cloak, Evan was left speechless.
‘A cat?’
A black cat that should have held no meaning.
But by gifting Franz a brooch of a black cat with ruby eyes—an object that so resembled Calian himself—he had just given it a meaning grander than anything else.
Calian, to Franz.
Right in front of Evan.
“But fortunately… it suits you well, Brother.”
A chill ran down his spine.