Chapter 279: Himolica is Delicious (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 279: Himolica is Delicious (2)
Quiet violet eyes moved slowly.
Very slowly.
Yet, without hesitation, they shifted toward the person sitting opposite him.
—At the end of your thoughts, I will be there.
Glancing past the short, blue-gray hair so closely resembling his own, Chase stared directly into a pair of dark brown eyes that were vastly different.
Eyes more chilling than a serpent's.
Chase did not avert his gaze in the slightest. He met them head-on.
—If I were in his position, I would deeply suspect my own identity. Devlan will be no different. To uncover the truth, he will undoubtedly try to pry into you, Brother.
The words Calian had sent before Chase came here were proving true.
—You must not be shaken. If he suspects me, let him suspect. If he doesn't, leave it at that. If you hastily try to dispel his doubts or deceive him, he will only become more relentless. In any case, news of a potential connection between Zeon and me will reach him soon, so you can leave things as they are until then.
This was different from making petty bets on whether it would rain after scanning the morning sky. It was different from bickering over attacks and defenses with a chessboard between them.
"If you believe you share many similarities..."
Chase focused all his senses, ensuring his pupils did not tremble, that he did not so much as hold his breath.
"Would it not be a good idea to meet him in person?"
Devlan's finger paused.
It was a statement whose meaning shifted depending on one's interpretation—a completely useless remark to Devlan. Yet, he watched Chase's eyes and listened to his voice as he uttered those words without a shred of hesitation.
The faint smile that had lingered on Devlan's fingertips migrated to his face.
Predictions carrying stakes far greater than a single coin were exchanged.
A battle of wits had begun, with lives placed on the board instead of chess pieces.
"No matter. He is not what is important right now."
Devlan turned his head, which had been inclined toward Calian. Meeting him in person was an intriguing prospect, but Devlan decided to shelve his interest until he could make a more precise judgment.
"Also, do not attend the upcoming Noble Council. Rest."
Chase had intended to use the Noble Council to force Devlan to reveal his illness and his true intentions. But Devlan blocked the move, as if he had already read those thoughts completely.
A fit of coughing followed. Seizing the brief window to lower his gaze and organize his thoughts, Chase spoke.
"I understand."
Yes.
Of course he would know.
Chase was not disappointed that Devlan hadn't moved according to his wishes. He knew this was not a battle that would be won overnight.
"Did you summon me merely to tell me not to attend the council?"
"No. Rather..."
Once more, tap.
Devlan's fingertip tapped the back of his hand.
"I simply summoned you because I was feeling a bit lonely."
He had summoned the Crown Prince of a nation—his own son—and made him wait for an hour. He had kept him sitting there for an hour without acknowledging him once or uttering a single word.
Simply because he was a bit lonely.
For no reason other than being bored.
He was trying to drag Chase down to the very bottom.
No matter what you plot, you are ultimately my son.
You must realize that no matter how hard you try, you cannot defy me.
"Surely it is fine for me to do so, is it not?"
"Yes. It is perfectly fine."
Chase nodded slightly as he answered Devlan, who was looking at him with a benevolent face. Then, he stared back with unwavering eyes.
Just as you think.
Since I am your son.
"...For now."
Appending those two brief words, Chase offered a gentle smile.
Devlan's lips curved into a wide arc.
*
It sounded like the crashing of waves holding back the vast sea.
It sounded like the wind sweeping through the heart of a forest.
Whoosh—!
Rain was falling.
A chilly draft blowing in from the window made the chandelier hanging from the ceiling sway.
"It's a relief. It only started raining after we arrived."
A cold rain was falling over this southern land, as if to welcome autumn.
Relic had once told him that a younger Lucy and the current Anne both hated getting wet. Franz thought Calian was no different; he always looked displeased whenever it rained.
Was it perhaps because it made him feel as though he were sinking into the sea?
"Right."
Instead of pointing out that Calian had once again ended his sentence with an ambiguous tone—neither formal nor informal—Franz simply gave a slight nod.
The previous day, Calian had gone straight to bed after their sparring session, leaving Franz lost in thought all night. When morning came, they set off again, returning to the Siegfried territory by late afternoon. After arriving at the Mayor's Mansion and taking a bath, Franz stepped out for dinner, only to find a downpour had started at some unknown point.
"Should I close the window? You'll catch a cold, Brother."
Even with a proper meat dish before him for the first time in a while, Calian didn't seem particularly pleased. He simply ate his dinner in silence, only speaking up when the wind blew.
"Leave it."
"Yes."
He wasn't angry, nor was he in a good mood. He was still acting overly deferential, but something was vastly different from usual. Franz, who already knew very well what it was, leaned back in his chair and spoke.
"You're not barking today."
"Did I bark?"
"You did."
The younger brother, who usually barked without cease, was remarkably polite today.
Calian, who was about to excuse himself after finishing his meal, looked at Franz and smiled.
"I suppose it was because of the impending rain."
He then laid the blame on the innocent rain.
Hearing such a flimsy lie, Franz merely nodded without a word, then turned his gaze toward the sword leaning against the wall.
Calian watched him for a moment before speaking in a quiet voice.
"I will head in first."
Franz nodded. Calian rose silently, bowed politely, and left the room.
Lacking a scabbard, the sword had been loosely wrapped in cloth.
The cloth had slipped down, revealing the gleaming blue-silver blade.
Franz's gaze remained fixed on it as if pinned.
In the flickering light, the black letters engraved along the blade wavered. As he stared, the heavy, suffocating feeling that had plagued his chest since last night seemed to rise, making even his head throb.
—Until you can attack properly.
Franz knew exactly why his younger brother was acting this way.
He already knew it wasn't as if he had been unable to aim for Calian's heart from the beginning. He had certainly swung his sword aiming for the heart before—at Kyrie, at Demirea, and of course, at Calian.
Yet, in their last sparring session, he had failed to do so.
Even after hearing Calian's warning, he hadn't swung his sword properly. He couldn't.
Of all times, why now?
Of all times, right when they were about to head to Secritia.
That was why Calian was acting like this.
Normally, he wouldn't have. He wouldn't have spoken or acted so pressingly. Franz knew better than anyone that if it weren't for the current circumstances, Calian would have just watched quietly.
Glancing over the table, which as usual lacked even a single flower, Franz rose from his seat and walked out.
"Why is no one drinking? Is there really no one here who knows how to drink?"
"We'll drink once we return to the Royal Palace."
"Your Vice-Commander seems to have disciplined you well."
"The Vice-Commander handled the other discipline, but as for drinking discipline... anyway, it looks like Dame Hill will have to drink alone tonight."
Leaving behind the voices drifting from the larger banquet hall next to the dining room, Franz returned to his room. He sat blankly on the sofa, closed his eyes, and began to think.
Calian had guessed why Franz suddenly couldn't wield his sword properly, but Franz had yet to realize the reason himself. To find it, Franz began sorting through his memories, tracing back through recent events. In his mind, which rarely forgot anything, he searched for a potential cause, rewinding day by day.
Sinasta floating on the sea. Conch shells. The sound of waves. Banana trees. The cry of whales drifted through his mind. He passed the memory of stepping into a rainbow, of staring at the sparks of a bonfire, and continued to think.
He recalled the moment he almost couldn't tell if the flapping chicken in his brother's hands was the beast or if his brother was. He remembered the day they departed for this place, when he had reluctantly entrusted Lucy and Anne to Relic.
He remembered going down to the third floor to steal a ring, only to find the windows locked tight, which made him resolve to send that Crown Prince a communication device before leaving the Royal Palace.
As he traced his memories back like this, thinking for a long time…
...Ah.
He realized it.
By letting his thoughts run free, the connections formed on their own, and he finally grasped a certain truth.
Rising from his seat, Franz picked up his blue-silver sword and left the room. Then, with a face that showed no hesitation, he opened the door to one of the occupied guest rooms in the Mayor's Mansion and walked in.
Having spent all his consideration on his two cats—and what little remained on shielding the troublemaking Valkan members from Calian's sight—Franz thought nothing of waking his brother who had gone to bed early.
"Wake up."
Whether he had been asleep or not, Calian would have snapped awake the moment the door opened. He slowly sat up and answered.
"What is it?"
"We need to talk."
Calian raised his head and looked at Franz, who stood some distance away by the door.
Calian knew that Franz was surprisingly impatient and had to say what was on his mind immediately. Yet, he also knew that Franz was surprisingly gentle; if Calian told him he was tired and suggested talking tomorrow morning, Franz would simply agree and turn back.
"Alright."
So, Calian simply answered without complaint and got out of bed.
Franz turned, walked out, and headed up to the rooftop. It was the very place where Calian and Suleiman had conversed when they first arrived. Although there was a tea table under a roof, Franz deliberately walked over to an open, empty space with neither roof nor cover and stood there.
Calian, who had been looking at the falling rain with a displeased expression, walked over with soft footsteps and stood beside him.
"Go ahead."
His voice was still stiff, though in a slightly different way than when he was angry.
Having washed up, eaten well, and gone to sleep, only to be dragged out to stand in the rain, his voice was even lower than usual.
"It's not because of me. It's because of you, younger brother."
If someone could wake a person who had eaten well and gone to sleep early, tell them, "It's not because of me, but because of you," and have them immediately understand the meaning, they would have to be Sispanian. Even for Calian, those words were too difficult to decipher.
Fortunately, Franz seemed to realize this himself. Facing Calian, who was staring at him with a puzzled expression, he offered a further explanation.
"It seems my younger brother has misunderstood something."
"What misunderstanding are you referring to?"
"You seem to think I've become reluctant to get blood on my sword."
"I don't think it's a misunderstanding."
"Why do you think that?"
"Ever since we encountered that spy, you've been lost in thought every time you hold a sword. And yesterday, you couldn't even land a proper attack, could you?"
Franz did not answer, so Calian continued.
Shifting his gaze from Franz's crimson eyes to their surroundings, Calian noticed that a Silent barrier had enveloped them at some point.
"And this is coming from the person who said he would go find Devlan."
Franz slightly raised the sword he had brought with him as he replied.
"I don't need to be told what it means to use a sword. I know how heavy a sword is. I decided to learn it knowing all of that, so I have no intention of running away."
As Demirea had said, it was an object that divided life and death.
He had never forgotten that while learning. He had never harbored the illusion that he would spend his life in gentle sparring without ever getting blood on this blade. He had known from the very beginning that a sword was an object destined to harm someone, and he had never forgotten it for a single moment.
"So, it's not because of that spy."
Recalling the final moments of the spy who had swallowed poison, Franz furrowed his brow slightly. It was true that it wasn't a pleasant memory—it had cost him several nights of sleep. But that was definitely not why he had held back his sword during their sparring.
Even if getting blood on his sword meant he might lose sleep for a few more nights, he had no intention of putting down his blade because of it.
"Then what is the reason?"
"You. I think I know what you saw at the Marquis's mansion."
Franz had realized what Calian had seen at Evan's mansion that day, and who he had thought of when he stopped his blade.
"Shouldn't it be my younger brother who shouldn't let his guard down before sheathing his sword?"
"Are you saying that because the child I saw at the Brissen Marquis's mansion reminded me of you, you couldn't attack because you feared I wouldn't be able to block your sword for the same reason?"
Just as Calian's face showed he had finally grasped what Franz was thinking, and as he was about to say more, Franz drove the point home.
"Lest the same sword be stained with the same blood twice."
He meant that he couldn't attack because he feared that he, Franz, might hurt Calian again with this very blade. He was worried that past memories would resurface in Calian's mind, causing him to confuse the past with the present and drop his sword.
"Ah..."
Not knowing what kind of face to make, Calian bent his body slightly. He crouched down, resting on his knees.
He couldn't tell whether he should laugh or cry.
It was no different from a cat retracting its claws during a fight with a dog much larger than itself, out of worry that the dog might get hurt.
Calian knew Franz's train of thought was absurdly funny, but he couldn't laugh. He knew all too well what the past Calian had thought of Franz. And because Franz, who must have known that just as well, had reached such a conclusion, it wasn't strange at all. That was why he couldn't laugh.
"Let me explain."
Saying this, Calian didn't stand up but merely raised his head.
He stared up at his brother's pea-like eyes—his brother, who had only guessed half of what Calian had seen that day and had jumped to an entirely different conclusion.
"Speak."
"Ririe. That is the child's name."
Calian spoke of the child he had seen at Evan's mansion, the one Demirea was currently protecting.
"As you might have guessed, she does resemble you."
For several years after coming to Chermil Palace, Calian had never gone outside. Partly because he was too young, and partly because the maids caring for him refused to let him out, claiming it was dangerous. Then, one day, he looked out from the terrace and thought he wanted to visit the lake.
It wasn't so much that he felt suffocated, but simply that the sparkling lake suddenly looked beautiful.
So, he snuck out.
Or rather, he tried to.
When he had snuck out as far as the only staircase in Chermil Palace, he saw someone coming up. Panicking, Calian turned back from his descent and went up a floor instead.
And there, at the end of the hallway, he met his older brother for the first time.
"Though the colors were different, her tied-back hair, her face, her gaze... she looked very much like you did when I first saw you. So, I was startled. That much is true."
Seeing Ririe appear at the end of the hallway looking exactly like Franz had back then, the memory of that day had momentarily flashed back, startling him. That much was true.
"But that wasn't the reason I stopped my sword. Of course, I can't say it had absolutely nothing to do with it, but there was a slightly different reason."
Saying this, Calian brought up another story.
Words he hadn't been able to convey to Chase when he visited him after being injured. He slowly spoke of the real reason he had stopped his blade.
He explained how seeing Ririe and remembering Franz from that day had made him associate her with another child of a similar age. He also shared what he had done to that child. This time, he didn't hide anything, explaining exactly what he had done and for whom.
Crouching in the falling rain, looking up at Franz, then looking forward again as the rain forced his eyes shut, he spoke without hiding a thing.
And once again, Franz listened to every word.
"That is why I stopped my sword. I asked you to let it go because it was a difficult reason to explain."
"...I see."
These were words he likely couldn't have said to Chase or Kyrie back then. Knowing that this was the first time Calian was sharing this story with anyone, Franz simply listened without furrowing his brow. He just listened.
"Were you worried about something like that?"
This time, there was no sharp, immediate reply.
Calian let out a soft laugh, stood up properly, and continued.
"I wanted to show you first that you don't necessarily have to cut something down with that sword, but it seems we're heading to a place where you might have to do exactly that first."
"I know."
"If such a situation arises, I hope you won't let your thoughts get ahead of you and lower your sword first."
"I know that, too."
"And I am not someone who will die by your hand twice, Brother."
At those sudden words, Franz stared at Calian for a long time.
Calian, who had uttered words he would have never said in the past, added one more thing.
"Your younger brother is quite good with a sword, after all."
"...I know. Now."
"Yes."
A playful smile played on Calian's lips.
"Besides, you're far too weak to make a mistake, Brother."
Looking at his beaming younger brother, one corner of Franz's mouth curled upward for the first time in a long while.
Now he's barking in informal speech.
Even if he pointed it out, it didn't seem like the brat would ever fix his manners, but as the older brother, he couldn't just let it slide. He pondered what he should say first, but couldn't easily settle on a single point.
So, instead of words, he simply reached out his arm.
Clang—!
In the pouring rain, the two swords clashed once more.