Chapter 241: That Heart (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 241: That Heart (1)
The autumn sky was exceptionally clear.
While the summer breeze carried the scent of sun-drenched water, the autumn breeze smelled of fallen leaves.
It was the scent of memory itself—of leaves that had budded, thrived through the summer, and finally let go. Yet, it was also a scent of release, a quiet promise that the tree they once clung to would endure the winter to greet the spring anew.
Though the leaves hadn't yet turned, the wind sweeping across the lake already carried that rustling, fluttering scent, and it made Calian chuckle softly.
“Maybe it’s because they’re similar.”
The old Calian—Bern—was just like those fallen leaves.
Like leaves that had clung on through a summer that felt more like winter, carrying countless memories, yet knowing that Calian would live on.
“The wind smells nice, and I’m okay.”
Calian spoke the pleasant words softly, though he wasn’t sure who they were for. In the past, a day spent living as multiple people would have left him feeling broken. But today, a day spent as the son of multiple people, he was truly fine.
He felt he might start talking to himself more often, but what did it matter? Someone, somewhere, would listen.
And there was one more person.
Wasn’t there someone who would listen to him anytime, about anything?
Waiting for a reply, Calian quietly closed his eyes, facing the clear autumn wind rich with the scent of fallen leaves.
—Prince Calian…?
The wind blowing by the lake was exceptionally clear.
Incomparably clearer than the day he had waited for Demirea.
In that clear wind, he finally made his decision. And so, at last…
—Yes. It is me.
He finally reached out.
He reached out because today, finally, was a day when it was okay to do so.
—Has something happened?
Though Chase had been longing for Calian to contact him, his voice, carried on that same clear wind, was laced with concern. It was the voice of a man who would rather hear nothing at all than hear bad news.
Instead of rejoicing over the long-awaited contact, Chase worried first. Smiling gently at how typical that was of him, Calian replied.
—Nothing has happened. Just… yes. I contacted you for no particular reason.
Calian remained seated on a rock by the lake, still in his formal attire, which was as heavy and cumbersome as it was delicately crafted. If Satin knew he was treating her painstaking work this way, she might be hurt, but what did it matter?
It was autumn, a season where anything felt just right.
—May I offer my congratulations, Prince Calian?
—You knew?
—Even if more birds have found themselves unable to fly, I am still competent.
Fingering the warm blanket Yan had insisted on draping over him despite his protests, Calian’s smile grew a little warmer.
—Yes. Please congratulate me. I’d like to receive it.
—Congratulations. Sincerely.
He was receiving congratulations—words he hadn’t even dared to offer on Chase’s own birthday—for breaking free from a strange, unfamiliar shackle and becoming the Queen’s son once more.
—Thank you. For the congratulations.
—I am glad. It seems you have finally returned to your proper place.
It was only a few short words.
Yet, how did Chase know that Calian had sent summer away and welcomed autumn?
Feeling as grateful as he was amazed, Calian almost nodded before catching himself and replying.
—Yes. Thanks to you.
—I can only recall leading you astray, Prince Calian, so I doubt it was thanks to me. I wonder who is truly responsible.
—No, that’s not true.
—That sounds like a lie.
—I cannot lie. You know that better than anyone.
He heard Chase chuckle.
—Still, it’s hard to believe. But even if you don't think it was thanks to me, I won't feel sorry.
Chase, ever one to find a middle ground between stubbornness and compromise, spoke.
He knew Calian finding his footing was not his doing. Yet he would not apologize for suddenly appearing and shaking Calian to his core, for failing to hide Serenti’s mischief, or for any of his many past wrongs. He said exactly what Calian needed to hear most.
—I hope that is not a lie.
—You, of all people, know I'm no easy opponent. And you still say that?
—I suppose that is true.
—It is not a lie, so do not worry, Prince Calian.
They set aside the matter of Devlan, which weighed on both their minds, and exchanged lighthearted jokes for no reason—just as Calian had reached out for no reason. It was his way of telling Chase: I'm okay now, so I hope you can be, too.
—Thank you for letting me know. Truly.
Chase understood.
—Yes.
Calian gave a short reply, filled with the hope that autumn would soon arrive in Secritia as well.
The sky was high, and the breeze was cool.
It was, indeed, a delightful autumn.
*
Tap, tap, tap.
Before he knew it, tapping his fingertips against the edge of the bathtub had become a habit.
To survive, he had to keep thinking, so his mind was always at work, even in these brief moments of rest.
“I heard Baron Polun sent a gift at dawn to congratulate Her Majesty.”
“I’ll check it once I’m ready.”
“Yes. Also, a message arrived from my family home overnight. From my father.”
Just a short while ago, at dawn, as Calian was just waking up.
While the bath was filling, Yan—or rather, Shiroian, who had just returned from meeting Merlin—had spoken and handed him a letter.
—No suspicious individuals or missing personnel within the mansion. Confirmed that the birds stationed in the territory have already departed.
As the head attendant, Yan checked all letters delivered to the prince first. He had already seen the contents of Suleiman's message, and his expression was grim.
“Did another problem occur during the Roselita?”
Yan knew Calian had been tracking the group that attacked him for a long time. After reading and burning the letter, Calian smiled faintly and shook his head. It was always his job to reassure his deeply affectionate and worry-prone attendant.
“No. He said there were no issues. Don’t worry.”
“If any problem arises regarding Your Highness and my family home, please be sure to let me know. I will help you.”
“Alright, I’ll definitely tell you. Thank you.”
Though the lack of any issues was a relief for House Siegfried, it was a bit of a shame for Calian.
Tap, tap, tap.
Having sent Yan out, Calian immersed his body in the perfectly heated water and continued his thoughts.
He suspected the one who had leaked information to Devlan—the one who must have witnessed his swordsmanship—was among the knights or servants of the Siegfried mansion.
And Suleiman had reported that there were no such individuals.
He wouldn't have done a half-hearted investigation, which means there truly is nothing suspicious to find.
No matter how easygoing Suleiman might seem, he was the man leading House Siegfried. He might be the type to leave a Secritian spy alone to see what they plotted, but he was not someone who would fail to realize a spy was there in the first place. He was different from Evan.
Then where could they be?
Though he knew no answer would come, he kept turning the question over in his mind. After a while, he heard the low hum of the temperature control device kicking in. Outside the window, the world had grown bright.
Staring at a single beam of sunlight filtering through the curtains, Calian chuckled.
“I was getting impatient again.”
There was still time.
Devlan wouldn't expect Calian to reply by hawk right away. He would know Calian needed time to process their last conversation. Although Devlan would be anxious as his life slipped away day by day, he was not the type to ruin things by rushing.
Devlan would wait, at least for a little while, until the cornered prince had made his decision and sent a reply back by bird. So, there was still time.
“One step at a time. First, Evan.”
He just had to resolve the issue with Evan and then meet the elves.
Originally, he had planned to leave Evan alone to keep an eye on Zeon, but Devlan had intervened. So, he would deal with Evan first. If any problems arose from that, well, he would have to trust Arsen. Since Arsen had confidently declared he could protect at least one person, Calian decided to trust him and leave it in his hands. As for the Crown Prince of Tensil… once Evan was out of the way, Pea would handle it on his own.
He should try trusting that side now, too.
*
No, seriously.
What on earth was that man thinking?
Calian covered his face with his palm.
As his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter, Merlin and the other maids whipped their heads toward Yan.
Is he angry? their eyes screamed in unison.
In response, Yan briefly took his eyes off Calian and shook his head calmly. Then, with a slightly reproving look, he glanced at each of them.
Our flower-like prince is so kind and gentle; I don't understand why everyone always asks if he's angry. And how can you still not tell if he's in a good or bad mood? It's perfectly obvious.
I really can't understand you all.
Merlin wanted to retort, Don't you realize you're the strange one? Not even Alan can decipher that laugh, and only Kyrie, with his sharp hearing, learned to read the prince's mood by listening for subtle changes in his breathing. If you think everyone around you is weird, doesn't that just mean you're the weird one?
But since she couldn't say any of that, Merlin simply looked relieved when Yan indicated the prince wasn’t laughing out of anger. Even though Calian had never treated his subordinates poorly when he was angry, she had still felt needlessly self-conscious.
“No, why…”
Unaware of the massive, silent conversation that had just unfolded around him, Calian spoke softly.
As he barely managed to suppress his laughter, the tiny living creature cradled in his other arm made a pleasant sound.
“Meow!”
Melfir’s gifts were always like riddles.
They were never simple presents for Calian himself; they always carried a hidden meaning.
Thinking of Melfir, the owner of the Polun Trading Company, who had once again sent a gift that didn't seem meant for him, Calian understood the intention behind it and sent word that he would gladly accept.
And then, he burst into laughter again.
The tiny creature in his arms made another sound.
“Sorry. Sorry for startling you.”
Deep gray fur.
Amber eyes bordering on gold.
It was definitely not Lucy.
*
He hadn't tired of laughing, even though he'd been doing it all morning.
Calian, who had been laughing so hard he could barely speak, finally managed to get a word out.
“Brother, what color clothes are you going to wear now?”
Franz looked down with a truly complicated expression at the two cats holding an incomprehensible conversation on his lap—meow, purr, mrow, nya.
“I wish at least one of the three of you spoke human language,” he muttered.
The big, black-haired “cat” making the most noise grinned. It was a refusal.
Knowing that peace would return if only that one “cat” disappeared, Franz suppressed the urge to kick him out. Watching him, Calian finally mimicked human speech.
“Since you only wear light-colored clothes because of Lucy’s shedding, I’m dying to know what you’ll do when gray fur gets all over them, too. They say when this one is fully grown, its fur will be even longer than Lucy’s.”
A short while ago, Calian had strode into the dining room, set a deep gray kitten on the table, and burst out laughing the moment he sat down.
And that was the annoying part—not the cat, but the fact that Franz knew exactly why his brother was laughing.
“And here I thought Lucy had a special liking for you, Brother, but it turns out…”
“That’s enough.”
The moment Calian had set it down, the gray kitten had scurried over to rub against Franz’s leg in greeting.
“It seems all the cats in the world follow you, Brother.”
But if Calian were the type to shut his mouth just because he was told to, he wouldn't be Alan's surrogate son, nor would his words carry the glory of Serenti.
Of course he wouldn’t stop.
“So, what is it?” Franz asked, his voice flat.
“A cat.”
“I’m asking what kind of cat.”
“A kitten.”
A sigh of fading patience escaped Franz’s lips.
At that, Calian leisurely chewed and swallowed a bite of beef steak topped with green herb butter. Then, with an elegant gesture, he pointed to Franz’s steak, which was seasoned only with black salt.
“Eat first. I’ll explain later.”
Giving up, Franz finally picked up his fork and knife, and a quiet meal ensued.
Some time later.
Even after Franz finished his meal—ending with roasted duck leg and pumpkin topped with snowflake-like white cheese—Calian still offered no explanation.
By the time milk pudding filled with strawberries and “very warm” orange tea were served, Franz, surprisingly, spoke first. However, instead of asking about the cat, which Calian still seemed to have no intention of explaining, he asked about something else.
“When are you going to do it?”
An apology.
He could tolerate being treated like a broom, but being treated like a canvas was a bit much.
“I already did,” Calian replied with a bright smile.
Franz’s eyes drifted down to the gray kitten on his lap.
Melfir, who was not only the owner of the Polun Trading Company but also ran a magic academy closely associated with Valkan, knew that the Second and Third Princes were not actually at odds. Since he had frequently visited Chermil Palace to meet Calian, he also knew who Lucy favored more.
Therefore, as soon as Melfir heard about what happened at the Memorial Ceremony, he sent a cat to Calian. It was a way for Calian to apologize without opening his mouth. Calian, who felt sorry for treating Franz like a canvas but was also slightly annoyed by his brother’s utterly ambitionless attitude, decided to go along with Melfir’s plan. Instead of saying he was sorry, he simply handed Franz the gift that carried the meaning of an apology.
“There’s something I wanted you to learn before you master the magic for removing cat hair.”
And Calian conveyed another reason, one that Melfir hadn't intended, in place of an apology.
“But don’t discriminate against Lucy. Lucy is my cat, but she’s a gift I gave to Hina, so I can’t give her to you, Brother.”
Knowing that wouldn’t happen anyway, Calian made the playful remark, took a sip of the fragrant orange tea, and continued.
“It is alive. It breathes, and its heart is beating. It is small and weak. You never know when it might get sick, and… eventually, it will reach the end of its life before you do.”
Though one never knows what will happen to humans, as long as you, Pea, don’t go around selling your heart again, you’ll easily outlive a cat.
“Instead of just being curious, acquisitive, and wandering aimlessly… I want you to learn what it means to protect something.”
Living only to protect things might not have been unconditionally right, but it couldn't be called entirely in vain either. He hoped Franz would learn that this, too, was a way to carry on with life.
A faint meow was heard.
Lucy, who had been dozing, opened her eyes. Then, as if coaxing and soothing, she gently embraced the kitten.
Even young Lucy knew how to protect something weaker than herself. Quietly watching the scene, Franz replied.
“...Alright.”
Franz accepted the apology.
Franz’s cat let out a small meow.
It was autumn, a season where anything felt just right for living.