Wine in the Face
Pierre Giesel, heir to the Giesel family, felt a rage that seemed ready to pierce the heavens.
And for good reason—the Giesel family was one of the so-called Torgenberg Four Great Houses.
Yet in this war they had piled up the disgrace of having done nothing. While the Meyer family drove the enemy back, that is.
It would have been better if everyone had done nothing together. At least then they would have been less reviled.
But with the Meyer family repelling the enemy, the heirs of the Four Great Houses had all lost face—to the point of being called “the Four Great Houses who couldn’t match even the Meyer family alone.”
Because of this, the heads of the Four Great Houses had berated the heirs who had served as acting castle lords in their absence—“What were you doing while the Meyer family held the enemy at bay?”—and those scoldings had left them extremely on edge.
And in that state, of all people, the target was Franz Meyer.
“Franz Meyer, you mean.”
Franz Meyer had been the one who, as a child, begged to join the Four Great Houses’ games only to be abandoned. A loser who couldn’t do anything properly no matter what he tried.
That loser had earned military merit. And because of that merit, they were being compared unfavorably and taking even more abuse.
“The guy who used to not even be able to meet our eyes…”
In the past he had been nothing but a loser. And he had been asleep for five years. Mentally he wouldn’t have grown at all—he’d still be the same as before.
That was what they thought. Never imagining that the person living inside Franz Meyer was an entirely different person. And so they picked a fight—because they thought he was still the old loser Franz Meyer.
“Can’t even drink wine properly? Still a loser, Franz Meyer.”
They picked a fight. They thought Franz Meyer would avoid the gazes of the Four Great Houses’ heirs and brush it off with an awkward laugh. Like before. But then—
Splash!
The next moment, wine was flung across Pierre Giesel’s face.
“Y-you crazy bastard! What the hell are you doing!”
Wine splashed across Pierre Giesel’s face, and the other heirs of the Four Great Houses flew into a rage. Meanwhile Franz Meyer—Lee Siwoo—was seriously pondering.
What was this bastard’s name again?
Was he the heir of the Endia family? Or the Giesel family? He remembered it was one of the two, but he just couldn’t recall clearly.
It wasn’t a problem with his memory. This guy had no presence. And for good reason—before this guy could become family head, the Four Great Houses would become vassals and fade into irrelevant background noise.
This bastard would never get to enjoy real power as a family head. Thinking that, Franz Meyer picked up another wine bottle and downed it in one go.
Ugh~ Tastes terrible. Why does anyone drink this stuff.
After downing the wine in one shot and grimacing heavily, Franz Meyer faced a barrage of protests from the three—excluding the one frozen stiff from being doused in wine.
“You crazy bastard! What the hell were you thinking doing this! Do you think you can handle the consequences!”
“If you’ve got a problem, come at me.”
“Fine, you bastard! Draw your swor—”
“Not me. With Asilia.”
“…”
“In the name of Meyer, I designate a champion. You’re not seriously telling a patient who’s been bedridden for five years to fight himself, are you?”
That’s right. What Lee Siwoo trusted was entirely Asilia. She was the S-rank combat power he’d gone to the trouble of bringing along. Better to trade on her name than leave her sitting idle—she’d be happy about that too. She’d be happy, right? Sure she would.
The heirs of the Four Great Houses couldn’t say a word. They just gaped, not knowing what to do.
And there was someone watching the scene with an unreadable expression. Andeln von Setia, heir of the Setia family. Looking at Franz who had thrown the wine and the Four Great Houses’ scions who had done nothing, he wore a complicated expression and simply watched.
Franz had enough temper not to just let it slide, but from Andeln’s position it was a thoroughly awkward situation. His direct subordinates—the heirs of the Four Great Houses—and Franz Meyer, whom he’d been planning to recruit as a new subordinate (in his own mind, at least), were fighting, so he couldn’t easily take a side.
Andeln quietly waved his hand. Meaning they should withdraw.
Franz Meyer politely bowed his head to Andeln and withdrew from the banquet hall. And so the banquet ended in a thoroughly dampened atmosphere, quiet as if water had been poured over it.
“You pulled quite a stunt back there.”
That was Asilia speaking.
“Thanks to you, it ended well.”
“Thanks to whom?”
“You, Miss Asilia.”
“Me?”
“I used your name to get out of the situation.”
She looked at me with contemptuous eyes. But I deliberately ignored that gaze and kept walking.
“A man should handle some things on his own.”
“I’m the kind of man who waits for the right moment.”
“Don’t you think today was that moment?”
“Oh my! Today was it? I missed it! It’ll come around again.”
“I can’t beat you with words.”
She shook her head and followed behind me. After walking for a while, we arrived where my little sister Lucill was.
“Lucill, let’s go.”
“Huh? Where to?”
“Home. The atmosphere here has gotten annoying to stick around in.”
Unfortunately, the party was over. I decided it was time to head back.
“Did you fight with the Four Great Houses’ heirs?”
“How did you know?”
“While the Four Great Houses’ heirs did nothing, big brother earned merit alone, so people would have started comparing the heirs. And that would have made them resentful.”
“Ah, so that’s why they picked a fight.”
Only now did I understand all the reasons. Not that I hadn’t known so much as I simply hadn’t cared.
“Shall we go, then?”
“What about the luggage?”
“I just need my books. We can leave the rest to the servants.”
“Alright. Let’s go.”
Lucill and I headed for the carriage.
But just as we were about to board—
“Wait!”
Someone shouted from outside.
“Brother Franz!”
Huh? Brother? There shouldn’t be anyone in this world who’d call me that…
Since the carriage hadn’t left yet, I got out and looked for the owner of the voice. It was a boy about Lucill’s height. Around eleven years old, maybe?
Who is this…?
For a moment I wondered who it was, but looking closer I could tell. Looking carefully, there was a slight resemblance to Andeln von Setia.
Adel von Setia?
The second son of the Setia family. It had to be Adel von Setia.
“It’s me! Adel! You’ve gotten so big you didn’t recognize me, right?”
“Ah, Lord Adel. Good day to you.”
“Brother! What’s with the formal speech between us? Treat me like before.”
Like before? So Adel and Franz had known each other before he lost consciousness?
But I need to know what kind of relationship they had.
Even though I was in Franz’s body, I didn’t know Franz’s personal history, so I decided to say the proper thing for now.
“We were young then, and now I know my place clearly. Lord Adel is the son of my lord. I am the son of a vassal. Please withdraw the word ‘Brother’ and speak down to me—as you would to any other retainer.”
I had decided to reverse it and point out Adel’s form of address.
“I-is that so? Haha… A lot has changed.”
“Yes. It has.”
“Brother… no, Sir Franz has changed a lot too. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“A great deal of time has passed, after all.”
“When I heard you weren’t waking from your sickbed, I can’t tell you how worried I was. Seeing you again like this fills me with emotion.”
“I’m the one who should be grateful for such words.”
What is this? Were Franz and Adel originally on good terms?
In the original story Franz was such a background character he only got one line, so how would I know… At least Adel was a more significant character compared to Franz, so that was fortunate. I did have information about Adel.
“Do you still enjoy kite-flying?”
There were records that Adel loved flying kites from childhood until his death. Unlike his psychopath of an older brother or father, he had a gentle nature. At my question, Adel’s face lit up brightly.
“Of course I do! I’ve made a new kite this time—want to see it?”
“The timing isn’t good. I’ll have to put it off for next time.”
Then his expression visibly soured again.
“Is that so? If you’re busy, it can’t be helped.”
“I’ll come again next time.”
“It’s a promise. You have to keep it.”
“Yes.”
And just as I was about to board the carriage—
“And, this.”
Adel held something out. Looking closely, it was a kite.
“What’s this?”
“A gift… for Lucill.”
As he said that, Adel blushed and fidgeted. What’s with this kid? Does he like Lucill?
Sorry, but you can’t have the Intelligence 100 Strategist. Thinking that, I outwardly accepted the kite with a smiling face.
“I’ll be sure to deliver it to Lucill. She’ll be delighted.”
When I bowed and turned around, he waved hard at me with a brightly lit face. I really wonder how such a pure son came from a beast like Henrik. They look similar, but the atmosphere is completely different. If only the older brother and father were half as much like this kid. Thinking that, I boarded the carriage.
“Do you know Adel?”
“Adel von Setia. Lord Henrik’s second son.”
“He said to give you this. Are you two close?”
“No. It seems like a one-sided affection from his end.”
“He likes you?”
“He did when I saw him before. Whether he still does is unknown.”
“Aha…”
So the feeling I’d vaguely sensed was true.
“What about you?”
“Not interested at all. Though the kites Lord Adel makes are rather fine pieces in their own right. Having a few wouldn’t hurt.”
“Cold.”
“I’ve decided never to marry for life. Since I’ve decided not to marry, not dating is the wiser path.”
Huh? She’d been thinking that? Just as I was about to ask why, Lucill continued.
“Lord Adel has had a talent for making kites since he was little. If he’d been born a merchant’s son instead of a lord’s, he probably would have made a fortune selling kites.”
“You make it sound like he has no aptitude as a lord.”
“Because he really doesn’t. Before even asking whether it suits him or not—he has no interest to begin with. In politics or diplomacy.”
“Hmm…”
Well, that was true. It was the same in the game’s story.
“The fortunate thing is that he’s the second son, not the first. The eldest, Lord Andeln, is very interested in family succession, and the second son, Lord Adel, has no interest, so Lord Andeln doesn’t watch Lord Adel with suspicion and there’s no fraternal conflict at all—that’s the fortunate part.”
“Right. Andeln’s ambition is something else.”
Andeln’s ambition was to swallow the empire. Not as grand as mine wanting world unification, but he had considerable ambition of his own.
“I only hope Lord Adel never becomes a lord. For his own sake, and for everyone else’s.”
“Well. Who knows how that will turn out.”
From my position of knowing the future, my feelings couldn’t help but grow complicated. After riding the carriage for a while, we finally arrived at Meyer Castle.