Chapter 364: The White and Red Rose (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 364: The White and Red Rose (4)
Turning away.
Yes. He had turned away. He closed his eyes, blocked his ears, and shut his mouth. He did so because he knew no other way to live.
That was how he had been taught to live.
That was how he had believed he was supposed to live.
That was how he lived.
He lived just as he had seen, heard, and learned, believing that to be the very definition of life.
“Are you saying it wasn’t a rose?”
Was the flower he had nurtured into bloom truly a rose? Could a life lived without answering that one simple question truly be called a life? Unable to respond, he asked the question as if wandering through a dream.
“Is that what you believe?”
“Are you asking me?”
Randel’s gaze drifted to his feet.
He looked down at the longsword dropped on the floor, blocking his path.
He looked down at the thick, red drops of blood clinging to the tip of its blade.
—I am Calian.
He remembered the red drops of blood that had once dripped onto the dining table. He remembered the blood spilling from the lips that spoke of a rose about to bloom.
He remembered the red rose, severed and dropped by a pure white hand.
—Look at me. Not at this.
His deep blue eyes gazed into the distance.
He took in the transparent window—a window that existed not to be opened, but to be kept shut.
A window he had never wished to open, but now had no way of closing. A chilly wind blew through the unsightly, shattered shards of glass. A spring rain had fallen in the early dawn.
“...A wind is blowing in. They said it rained.”
The wind streaming through the broken gap was blinding. So, he closed his eyes.
Dazzled by the wind blowing through the haphazardly shattered opening, those deep blue abysses—which so rarely let anything surface from the depths within—closed shut. They closed, unable to withstand the overwhelming light.
That small, unsightly rose.
That red, red rose.
The news that it had withered in the rain, only to bloom once more before anyone knew, was unbearably dazzling. His heart grew cold. His head throbbed with pain. So, he closed his eyes.
“Leave now. I am weary.”
The plea that the child who called the rose an Annerusia was gone. The plea to realize this was the result of countless people turning away. The plea, therefore, to finally accept the truth.
This was his answer to his second brother's request, which fell on him like a cold rain.
It was his answer to the blowing wind.
Fearing this was yet another instance of him turning away—that he had closed his eyes again because he understood the truth but could not accept it—Franz, still standing tall on the carpet damp with his own blood, spoke.
“I am not leaving until I have your promise.”
“Are you insisting on receiving my apology on his behalf? Even after I told you I understood.”
“Yes.”
“Why this sudden persistence?”
Randel opened his eyes. He stared down at the pool of red blood on the floor for a long while before continuing.
“I know that child crushed the rose I bloomed. And yet, you claimed you were the one who burned it.”
“I did.”
“I asked if he was the same as before. Even then, you did not tell me the truth.”
“I did not.”
“So why are you digging up what you tried so hard to hide? Why are you being so persistent now?”
The small rose that had bloomed while Calian was away in Roselita. The rose Randel had brought to bloom. The one who destroyed it was Calian, but Franz had lied, claiming he had done it himself.
Randel had once asked Franz if that child was the same Calian as before, or if he was now merely Franz’s younger brother. Even then, Franz had not revealed the truth.
Now, Randel was asking why.
Why was he suddenly bringing up a truth he had hidden so deeply? Why was he only now demanding that he accept it and apologize?
After shattering a perfectly sealed window. Why? Why now?
“...Because the one who left must be remembered, and the one who remains must be seen.”
An answer came.
“If you don’t know they’ve left even after they’re gone, and don’t recognize they’re here even when they’re by your side... then the one who lived and the one who is living will both be forgotten. Their lives will be forgotten. They must not be erased like that.”
An answer came.
A voice so small and faint, so thin and quiet it was barely audible, drifted over. It sounded like the last whisper of a dying wind.
“Because I was taught not to erase them. Because I know now. That is why he is telling you—before it’s too late, before they are completely erased—to remember and to see. My older brother is telling you, Older Brother.”
Red eyes—holding the fully bloomed roses, the spilled blood, the burning flames, and the life filled with it all—were looking at the two brothers.
“So, there is no need for you to apologize on my behalf.”
Telling him not to apologize for him.
“I will receive it directly. Myself.”
Declaring that he would receive it himself.
So said Calian.
*
The spilled blood was cleaned up.
The shattered window was removed.
Once all the stains and broken fragments were cleared away, a spring breeze blew into the quiet, clean room once more.
—It’s alright. Brothers fight. Everyone does. So it’s alright.
After returning to the floor below the room where the wind now entered freely…
—If you get hurt while fighting, you can get treated. If you did something wrong, you can get scolded.
…there was still the matter of being scolded.
The voice came from Hina, who easily untied the bright red tie that had been hastily bound to stop the bleeding. This was right after she pressed a pure white, round magic stone fragment into Franz’s hand—a device said to be crafted from collected Mermaid’s Tears.
It was a communication device that the mages of Valkan—who had enjoyed a great deal of freedom while their vice-commanders were away—had painstakingly created. Using the pretext that their precious healer shouldn't be unable to speak while performing treatments, they had worked hard to craft it from high-quality magic stones. Of course, the money came from Valkan’s public funds. If those ran short, Lemain would replenish them; if Lemain didn’t, they could raid Franz’s safe; and if that proved difficult, they could ask Calian’s safe to resolve the matter. Thus, without a single worry, they had passionately bid at auctions to obtain this valuable result.
“Your Royal Highness, do you know that your wounds heal faster than other people’s?”
“I know.”
“Do you know what happens if a wound heals with glass shards still inside?”
“I don’t.”
“It hurts.”
“...I see.”
Hina, who had been contemplating whether to throw away the blood-soaked red tie, instead folded it neatly and set it aside. She figured it would be better to return it to its owner, who could easily remove the stain with a single Clean spell.
Then, with a bold touch that showed no consideration for the patient, she began rummaging through the deep gash, searching for embedded glass shards and pulling them out one by one.
“Does it hurt a lot?”
“It hurts.”
“Bear with it.”
“...Alright.”
Franz, no longer sure which was more painful—letting a wound heal with glass inside or having the shards pulled out of a torn gash—furrowed his brow. Seeing this, Hina’s voice came again.
“Why did you break a perfectly good window?”
“Because he wouldn’t open the door.”
“If he wouldn’t open it, you should have asked him to.”
“I did.”
“Then you should have waited.”
“I waited.”
“But why did you break the window?”
“Because I couldn’t wait any longer.”
“Then why did you put your sword aside and break it with your arm?”
“It just happened.”
“I see. It just happened that you broke it with your arm. And that’s how you got hurt. So. Does it hurt a lot?”
“...It’s bearable.”
“Yes.”
While in Secritia, Hina had devotedly treated Louise, Chase’s mother. She had said Arianne was usually by her side.
Was that why?
He was being treated in his own room in his own country, yet why did he keep thinking of that woman—the fiancée of that bastard, the Ocean King, who was once his own brother’s brother? It was truly strange.
He considered asking why she wasn’t using the anesthetic Veronica had made, which was sitting right beside them. Seeing how well the sleeping incense worked, the anesthetic was sure to be effective. But after a moment’s debate, he decided it was best not to ask.
I think I’ve got them all out now…
He couldn’t ask, fearing that if he did, those small hands rummaging through his wound would tighten their grip.
“Ah. I guess I did get them all. There were fewer than I thought.”
“...You sound disappointed.”
“Disappointed about what?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay.”
Hina, having cleanly removed even the tiniest, almost invisible glass shards, smiled brightly. Feeling a sudden, inexplicable scent of salt in the air, Franz slowly closed and opened his eyes.
Soon, a familiar light seeped in, and the open wound began to heal.
“Did you say everything you wanted to say?”
“I didn’t.”
“You got hurt like this just to get in, and you couldn’t even talk?”
“I spoke. We didn’t have a conversation.”
He had said everything he wanted to.
However, since there was no proper response, it could not be called a conversation.
“Well, if you said what you needed to, then you didn’t get hurt for nothing. That’s a relief, at least,” Hina replied, understanding his meaning. “You didn’t get hurt anywhere else besides your arm?”
“No. Not me.”
“That’s a relief too.”
“Though the other two seem to have been hurt.”
“Really? Your Royal Highness was the only one with a visible wound.”
“You can’t see those wounds.”
Hina nodded quietly.
Warm energy continued to seep into his arm.
“You’re right. Everyone has more wounds that can’t be seen.”
“Yes.”
“Did they all get hurt because of you, Your Royal Highness?”
“No. Only one.”
“Then you should apologize to that one person.”
Unlike Hina, Franz shook his head.
“No. I can’t meet him.”
“Then if you meet him later, make sure you do.”
“I wish I could. But it shouldn’t happen. And it can’t.”
Hearing his cryptic words, Hina looked up at Franz for a moment before lowering her head again.
“It seems like you’re already doing it, though.”
Without knowing who that one person was, the one he couldn’t apologize to. Without knowing why they couldn’t meet, or why it must never happen. Hina…
“If you can’t apologize, just don’t do anything you’ll have to apologize for again. Then, someday, it will be alright.”
…comforted the person who said he had done wrong.
…consoled the things that could not be atoned for.
Without knowing a single thing. Hina.
*
The white and red rose.
“I thought there was only one white rose and one red rose.”
The rose that blooms and fades.
“But there are so many of them everywhere. Blooming and fading in abundance. It seems that was the case all along, without me knowing.”
The hurting rose was not the only one, the rose that shouldn’t hurt was not the only one, and there were even some mixed in that turned out not to be roses at all. He had been unaware of so many roses blooming and fading all this time.
Randel said nothing.
Listening to the ticking of the clock instead of an answer, Calian spoke again.
“Perhaps it’s because I have too many older brothers. Even after pulling out almost all of one brother’s worth of memories, there are still things I don’t know.”
Tapping his own temple with a faint smile, Calian continued to speak to the still-silent Randel.
“I didn’t cut the rose knowing what it was, nor did I give it as a gift knowing its meaning. I just happened to cut it, and I just happened to give it to you. I only did it because I thought you liked it.”
He was saying he hadn’t known it was an Annerusia.
“If I had known that rose was that kind of rose… I wouldn’t have urged you to look at it properly.”
If he had known it was an Annerusia, he wouldn’t have severed it just to demand attention. He wouldn’t have given a gift that forced Randel to confront it.
“Are you trying to apologize? I thought you came to receive one.”
“I should do what needs to be done before I receive anything. To keep things clean.”
Calian, who had inadvertently exposed his identity once again through a single gesture and a single gift, replied. He had not intended to force Randel to face the truth. He was sorry for having done so.
“You sound completely different from my second brother.”
“To him, it must have seemed unacceptable that you were turning away from the truth.”
“And what do you think?”
“In truth, it might not be okay. But regardless, I am fine with it.”
Following that, he laid bare his honest, unvarnished feelings.
“I can’t ask you to remember the one who was lost, nor can I ask you to properly recognize the one who arrived. That has to be taken for granted. That is neither my fault nor yours, Brother Randel.”
How could he feel hurt or demand an apology because someone failed to recognize that the soul inside had changed? Even if they had recognized it, how could it be a fault if they were unable to acknowledge it?
It was not Randel’s fault.
Of course, it was not Calian’s fault either.
“However, the real wrong you committed against me… the same wrong you committed as His Majesty… that…”
Calian raised his teacup and set it back down.
It was grapefruit tea again.
Swallowing a wry chuckle at the silly thought that the past Calian must have loved grapefruit, he looked at Randel.
“Even for that… you do not have to apologize. It is fine if you do not know.”
For someone who lived without ever learning to see a wrong as a wrong, is it truly their fault for not realizing it? Is a wrong committed because one only knew how to do wrong truly a fault? Is a wrong committed because one could not survive otherwise truly a fault?
Whether it was committed out of a desire to live.
Or out of a fear of dying.
“It is fine if you remain ignorant of it forever. I mean it.”
Is a wrong committed by someone who had to hurt others just to survive truly that person’s fault?
“If you think about it yourself and remember your wrong, then please apologize. I will wait. If you do not remember it for the rest of your life, I will wait for the rest of my life. Until you apologize.”
The window Franz had shattered. The window broken for the past Calian and the current Calian. The window that, in truth, had likely been broken for Randel himself.
Fearing it might cut Randel, Calian answered that it was fine to walk out slowly, and fine even if he never walked out at all.
“However, I cannot forgive you. Even if I accept your apology. I have the right to receive an apology, but I do not have the right to grant forgiveness.”
Of course, he did not hide or sugarcoat the fact that the past Calian was gone. He couldn’t render meaningless the wounds Franz had sustained while breaking that window out of concern for the person inside.
“What if I never remember?” Randel asked, having been looking out the window for some time.
Calian, gazing blankly at the garden outside, spoke at a pace slower than the hour hand of a clock.
“I will wait without blaming you. Even if you never remember until the day you die.”
“And while you wait… what about you?”
“As I said. I am fine.”
“You mean you will be fine, even though you are not.”
“Yes. Because it is something I must get used to.”
Because one does not live life only when everything is fine.
“Sometimes, the white rose heals alongside the grapes it treated with such pain. Sometimes, the white rose falls ill again because of the grapes that withered while it suffered alone. Sometimes, the red rose hurts even more than the white rose. Living while not being okay, living while becoming okay, and living because one has become okay… living this way and that, in the end, is what life is.”
Because things beyond one’s control are bound to happen. And to such things, one must simply grow accustomed.
Having taught Randel—who had buried even the simple fact of his dislike for grapefruit deep in his abyss and forgotten it—another thing he hoped would not be forgotten this time, Calian rose from his seat.
“They say it will take three days to fix the window completely because they have to recast the magic on it. It won’t be cold, but it might be an inconvenience. Will you be alright?”
“It is fine.”
“If the open window is uncomfortable, you can stay in my room. A cat visits occasionally. Or if you like cats, you could stay on the fourth floor. A cat goes there often.”
“It is fine.”
“Yes.”
Replying lightly, Calian bowed his head slightly. Then, he turned to leave.
“I will make good use of… the gift.”
A voice followed from behind him.
This time, unable to answer, Calian simply walked out of the room.
Because he knew that, until the day he died, that gift would never find its way to the garden. Because it was difficult to find the words to reply to such an obvious lie.