Chapter 348: If Possible, a Dream (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 348: If Possible, a Dream (5)
Renieri.
A flower like the fluttering layers of a pure white dress caught in the wind. A flower that blooms and withers on a single day of the year. A flower whose scent lingers long after it has died.
A beautiful, deadly poison.
“A month after my older brother was born, Queen Aisha died of illness.”
“So I have heard.”
“But the truth is, she was poisoned. And the one who did it was my mother. Is that correct?”
It was a story Calian had told him after Silike’s death. Franz wasn’t asking because he’d forgotten; he was seeking confirmation.
“Yes.”
Calian gave a brief reply, his expression unreadable. Then, he shared a piece of information that Franz might not know.
“My mother and Whitrin were not related. My mother had one younger sibling, and Whitrin was older than her.”
Though he still didn’t know whose names were written above the gate of this house, it was clear that Freya and Whitrin were not sisters.
“Siona Hill—the Sword Master—my mother, and Whitrin. They seemed to have been quite close. For some reason, my mother later entered the palace using ‘Whitrin’ as her surname.”
Elves didn’t use surnames unless there was a special exception, so Freya likely hadn’t had one of her own. She had used her friend’s name instead.
Even at Calian’s words, Franz’s expression remained unchanged. He was still for a long moment before murmuring, his dry voice echoing faintly in the dusty room.
“In the winter of the year Queen Aisha died, Queen Freya became a royal concubine. Shortly after, my mother ascended to the position of Queen.”
“Yes.”
“Then… what about Hina…?”
His words, which had been flowing as if he were reciting a timeline from a history book, faltered.
“It was June. When Hina was born.”
Just as Franz used to cut bluntly through Calian’s difficult explanations, Calian answered before Franz could finish his sentence.
Franz closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them.
Watching him, Calian tapped the desk a few more times before speaking in a similarly hollow voice.
“Whether Whitrin’s husband was involved in Queen Aisha’s poisoning or simply found out about it, the letter makes it clear he was murdered to silence him. However…”
Emphasizing the last word, Calian continued.
“The one who prepared the poison for Aisha was Lennon, and the one pulling Lennon’s strings was Evan.”
“And?”
“It was said that Queen Aisha was the first person Silike ever poisoned. Circumstantially, it’s far more likely that Evan murdered Whitrin’s husband, not Silike.”
“…Why are you defending my mother, little brother?”
“Does saying she killed one person instead of three sound like a defense to you?”
“If not, am I supposed to consider it a relief?”
“I am merely stating the facts. I’m not defending her.”
And they were, indeed, the facts.
The Silike of that time would never have handled the aftermath herself. Evan wouldn’t have allowed it. He didn’t trust her, especially when she was still ‘clumsy’ at such things, so he never would have left the cleanup to her. That was just how Evan was.
“Of course, Silike killed many people. Though not as many as Devlan, the gravity of such sins can’t be weighed by numbers alone. She was undoubtedly in the wrong.”
Franz’s gaze sank, lost once more in the memory of the Renieri.
“But even so, there’s no need to pin every unsolved incident on Silike.”
Regardless, Franz would never be able to forget the scent of Renieri. He was far too intelligent for that.
Calian knew it was pointless to tell this ‘boiled pea’—who had begun to smell that terrible scent the moment he saw the letter—that it wasn’t his fault Hina and Kyrie lost their parents, or that it had nothing to do with him. Besides, Calian had no right to make such a judgment.
“Once we return to Kairisis, we will meet Siona. We should be able to learn more then. If what I suspect is confirmed…”
“I… will tell them.”
To Kyrie and Hina. About what happened to their parents.
“You will?”
“I can take responsibility. Even if I cannot apologize.”
Calian nodded.
“Understood.”
The ones who had lost their parents were Kyrie and Hina. Whether to hold a grudge against Franz for the sins of the Brissens was their decision to make. Therefore, Franz couldn’t apologize on behalf of the Brissens, and Calian had no right to interfere.
How they had received the letter left by Whitrin; from whom they had heard that Kyrie resembled his father and Hina her mother; why they had ended up trapped in Evan’s gambling den; and how the two siblings had managed to survive all this time…
—Freya Whitrin.
Did Hina and Kyrie truly not know the meaning behind that name?
Calian had never asked, so he didn’t know. And in the end, he wasn’t a party to this matter.
Perhaps all he could do was hope that Kyrie and Hina wouldn’t suffer too deeply, and show consideration for Franz by avoiding the term ‘your mother,’ just as he had when they first joined forces to drive Silike out.
“It seems my little brother is worrying too much again.”
“Yes.”
“It’s fine. I’m used to it. It doesn’t matter what else comes to light.”
He had lived a life where even gazing at a small, snowy world in the palm of his hand was tied to the atrocities of the Brissens. A life where, fearing that falling to an assassin’s blade would only serve as another tool for his family, he slept with a dagger under his pillow to end his own life if it came to it. He was accustomed to such suffocating days.
Calian watched Franz’s face for a moment before speaking.
“What exactly are you used to, and what doesn’t matter?”
“Everything.”
Calian said nothing.
He held his tongue, lest he voice his regret for not having broken every single one of Evan’s fingers and toes before killing him.
After staring blankly at the letter for a long while, Calian spoke in a dry, flat voice.
“Where is Sir Hertz?”
“Downstairs.”
“Let’s go. We should head back for now.”
“I thought you were going to meet the Mother Tree.”
“Later.”
“Why are you postponing it again?”
“Because I don’t think you should be dreaming right now, brother. If it’s urgent, I’ll come back and meet her alone.”
Staring at the silent Franz, Calian continued.
“If possible, dream later. And don’t try to figure everything out on your own again.”
“You’re meddling again, little brother.”
“…This isn’t just your business, brother. It concerns me, too. It’s not meddling, it’s protection.”
“Who is protecting whom?”
“I am. Protecting you.”
“Mind your language.”
“There’s nothing to mind.”
Calian stood up.
He placed the bundle of papers, Freya’s portrait, and the portrait of the three friends into his magic pocket, tucking it inside his shirt.
Franz did not move.
Calian looked down at the crown of Franz’s head—which resembled the cap of an unripe acorn—and spoke.
“I thought it would be better to let you suffer in silence, or to let Sir Hertz get drunk and pass out in front of the Serenti Temple instead of the Wilhelm Pavilion, if it meant we could uncover the truth faster. But I can’t do that right now.”
Franz furrowed his brow.
Calian ignored his disgruntled expression. What did a scowl matter when Franz was crawling back into the depths of the Renieri all by himself?
“Whether I have to dig up Danu by the roots or nearly die and meet Serenti herself, I’ll figure it out on my own. For someone with such a brilliant brain, brother, you seem to have forgotten how old you are. I’d rather come back alone than watch the pea I coaxed, coddled, and barely managed to turn green wither away, get boiled, and end up pickled again. Until you forget everything you’re so used to, I’ll handle it all by myself.”
This little bastard was now openly calling him a pea.
Staring at Calian after the borderline verbal abuse, Franz let out a long sigh.
He knew Calian was reacting this way because, despite everything Calian had dragged out into the open—urging him to get angry, to feel resentful—he couldn’t. Only by exposing his wounds could new flesh grow. Yet, the moment Franz was faced with this, he forgot all the progress he had made and tried to lock it all away again. He had been struck by familiar memories and had unconsciously slipped back into old habits, swallowing the pain and packaging it neatly as resignation.
“Fine. Let’s go back.”
“Yes.”
“We’ll come back. Together.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Not right now. Later. When I’m better.”
Instead of answering, Calian stared quietly at Franz.
“I understand.”
“Liar.”
“Stop speaking so informally. Watch your tongue.”
Calian, who couldn’t care less about the irritated tone, soon nodded. He watched Franz stand before walking out of the room.
Franz took a few steps to follow.
He followed the path Calian had just taken out the door.
But then.
—Flash!
A blinding light erupted.
Just like when Serjein and Adelia had vanished the day before, flashes of light burst from all directions.
Unable to withstand the brilliance, Franz squeezed his eyes shut. Through his closing eyelids, he saw Calian turning back toward him, but he couldn’t keep them open.
After a long moment, sensing the light had subsided, Franz slowly lifted his eyelids.
And he saw it.
The dream.
The dream he’d had that morning, of wandering alone in a place of pure light.
He was facing it once again.
Franz reached out a hand, then stopped before taking a step.
—Wrought by your life…
The words swirled around his ears on the wind.
Franz quietly closed his eyes.
Just like in the dream.
A space with no one, only light. In such a place…
—Behold the tragedy.
He knew he had been left utterly alone.
“…Calian.”
There was no reply.
Just like in the dream.
* * *
Calian quietly lowered his gaze.
Minethias.
A purple flower trapped in ice caught his eye.
“…Danu.”
When he opened his eyes after the light faded, he was standing in a familiar place. The very spot where he had first entered the village. Danu had transported him here.
He heard someone running toward him. The footsteps were not Franz’s. It had to be Arsen. Which meant Franz… right now…
“What is the meaning of this?”
When Danu had first met Calian, she had not acted this way. She had requested a meeting through Grand Elder Narzan, and Calian had gone to find her.
He had come to meet Danu this time as well. But they had decided to return and come back later, when they were ready. Since Danu surely knew the reason for their visit, she must have heard their conversation.
—Because there is something you must know.
As if proving his thoughts right, Danu delivered her mysterious answer.
—Thus, I have summoned you.
Arsen approached and said something, but Calian couldn’t hear him properly. Taking a deep breath, Calian pointed.
Outside the elf village.
He signaled for Arsen to wait there. He couldn’t risk accidentally killing him.
After a glance at Calian’s face, Arsen nodded and walked away. Once he confirmed that no one else remained, Calian asked again.
“What did you want to show him so badly that you had to forcibly stop him from leaving?”
“The consequence.”
The answer echoed from an unknown place.
“What consequence?”
“Of choice.”
“A choice? What do you…”
Calian looked up at the sky for a moment, then asked in a low voice, “…Was it my brother, Franz, who used the Axis of Time?”
“He made the choice.”
Calian showed no particular reaction. It was a question he was no longer curious about. He had only ever been curious about the reason; who had done it no longer mattered.
“So, you’re showing him the consequences of that choice? To my brother?”
“Yes.”
“And what are those consequences?”
“The world. A broken, twisted, and frozen place.”
“You mean the world after the Axis of Time turned? Not this world, but the one after Bern died—after time was set in motion?”
“Yes.”
His red eyes lowered once more.
Danu’s words continued.
“Something that should never have happened took place. Time was turned back. Defying death, everyone was brought back to life. That day remained, and everything stopped. It was twisted. An event that should never have occurred.”
“What we wanted to know was the cause, not the consequence.”
“The reason I wish to show this is to warn. To make him look straight at the consequences and stand firm.”
He understood what Danu intended. He understood why she had done this.
This was not the same kind of understanding he had for Franz; it was not acceptance or agreement. It was merely a comprehension of her words.
Danu was showing Franz the world after the Axis of Time had turned. Everything that had been ruined by that act. Not why Franz had turned back time, but what the world became after he did.
“You are showing the consequences of what my brother chose on that day to the brother of today? To someone who has absolutely no intention of doing it again? To a kid who isn’t even twenty?”
“He is, in the end, the same person.”
“Are you blaming him?”
“It is merely a warning and advice. So that his wandering does not last long. So that he may stand firm.”
“You’re good with wordplay. If you weren’t blaming him, there would be no need for warnings or advice. In the end, you are blaming him, and you’re making up excuses to summon an innocent kid and scold him. Showing him things that haven’t even happened, telling him, ‘You did wrong, so don’t do it this time.’ Telling him to snap out of his wandering so he won’t repeat the same mistake. How is that not blame?”
Danu saw the future. She knew the past. She lived in the present.
So she could worry. She could try to prevent a dark future using what she deemed the most efficient method available.
“When that event occurred, you merely observed, yet you told me I didn’t have to submit. And now you, who only observed, are delivering a warning to my brother. Is that it?”
So that Calian would no longer hesitate. So that he would bid farewell to the ‘past,’ steel his heart, and waste no more time.
So that Franz would no longer stand idly by. So that he would remember the ‘past’ and carry a sense of responsibility. So that he would never again lay a hand on the Axis of Time.
So that he would never repeat the same mistake.
That was why she had done to Franz what she had done to Calian.
Yes. She could do that.
Yes. Because she wasn’t human.
Because there was no malice in it. Because that was simply Danu’s way.
“…Why?”
* * *
So.
What of it?
* * *
So what if that was Danu’s way? What. Of. It?
“Why you?”
Not Evan, who killed Kyrie and Hina’s parents.
Not Silike, who killed the mother of Kairis’s Third Prince.
Not the second brother of the old Calian, who could no longer be redeemed.
The person the Mother Tree was blaming…
The person who had committed a sin that had not yet occurred. The Mad King, Franz.
And.
The victim of the sin that person had committed, yet had not.
“…Me.”
The one who remembered his sin, who hadn’t forgotten, who was alive and breathing.
The only person.
The sole victim. The only one with the right to blame him.
“Me.”
Yes. Me.
“I…”
That very me.
To hell with Danu, Sispanian, and Serenti. I…
“I said it didn’t matter… I did.”
A red sword materialized before Calian.
Then another beside it, and another. One by one, swords of crimson light formed, multiplying without limit until they rose in an endless tide.
Dozens, hundreds of red swords hovered in the air.
An overwhelming number, filling the entire space.
An ancient being, presumptuously interfering.
—But you. This time. No matter what you learn. You do not need to submit.
—That…
This unwanted consideration ignited an anger so intense he felt he could tear his own heart out. Ignoring the blood rising in his throat, he let his fury roar.
—I will decide that for myself.
He raged, recalling his past conversation with Danu.
“…I said I would just live. Whether that bastard brother of mine is the same bastard from back then or not, whether he tries to do the same thing again or not, I said I would handle it myself! I said it didn’t matter! I… I said it didn’t matter to me!”
His rage at her unwanted consideration turned murderous.
A rain of red light poured down.
Plummeting toward the earth.
“I said it doesn’t matter! To me!”
The crimson of one who had conquered death to live again cleaved the dark night.
—Boom!
The earth shook.
The earth wept.