Chapter 306
Chapter 306
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 306
Chapter Title: How to Survive as the Second Son of a Magical Noble Family (306)
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Why would he need a piece of paper with words scribbled on it? To supplement memories he'd forgotten. But even reciting the words to pretend everything was fine had its flaws.
*‘No one would think to ask about his own ancestors, so he probably didn't prepare for that.’*
I wouldn't call it carelessness on his part. I wouldn't have prepared for it either.
“Why erase the memories in the first place?”
Naruke muttered with a smile.
It wasn't a question born of ignorance but of sheer disbelief. I felt the same. My deductions hadn't fallen apart—in fact, they'd been proven in this unexpected way, with the fact of the memory wipe itself. All I could do was let out a hollow laugh.
The real issue lay elsewhere now. Conveniently, Naruke brought it up.
“In the end… even if this man really is the thief, he has no idea where the Sapphire Perurer is now. He probably doesn't even realize he stole it.”
“Yeah.”
“Haha… So he knew it was an artifact with some power, and he passed it off to someone or somewhere other than his house. What now?”
Naruke had considered the artifact theory too. He smiled at the man, looking into his eyes.
“He won't know even if we ask…”
He wouldn't. That was the problem. Turning back time to prevent the theft entirely was impossible; all the checkpoints had updated, so we couldn't return to a point before that day. Even if we could, what would I do? Go alone and warn them that the French royalty was about to steal their family Perurer? I could picture the future: they'd let themselves get robbed just to throw me in jail.
“Naruke. Do you think he called in a divine power mage from his family?”
“Hmm, I was just about to say that… but there's no memory of a divine power mage wiping his memories.”
As I stared at him silently, Naruke explained in more detail.
“Even if memories are wiped, the mage who did it usually sticks around in front of the person. They go through a confirmation process to make sure it was done properly.”
That's usually the case. When employing a family-hired mage, that's the standard procedure. For example, the mage who wipes or alters memories might indirectly ask the employer something like, “I didn't hear that—what did you just say?” as part of the check. Since mages' divine power isn't usually that strong, they follow these steps.
“Of course, they don't let the person realize their memories were wiped, but since there's no way to preemptively block memory saves, they can't hide the fact that they interacted with a divine power mage for some time. Memory wipes are often disguised as purification rituals or Catholic masses… or, in truly confidential cases, as first meetings. But there's no trace of anything like that recently.”
“Hmm.”
If it was truly confidential, wouldn't it be normal to have no lingering memories at all…?
“I know how to figure it out.”
Of course, that's what he meant. No one teaches techniques like this anywhere. Whether the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith trained him for it, or what process he went through to know this well, I had no idea.
“But circumstantially, it doesn't make sense if he didn't wipe his memories, and it's weird there's no clue in his head like this.”
Naruke stroked his chin, mumbling to himself before looking at me. No divine power memory wipe, yet a royal doesn't know his own ancestor's name… Impossible unless his head was made of stone. Besides, Charles d'Orléans wasn't known for being stupid or debauched; he was upright, diligent, and trusted by the people.
We'd hit a dead end. No divine power wipe from childhood onward, so why didn't he know what he should? No answer in sight, but…
One possibility flashed through my mind.
There was a technique I'd known about since the catacombs three weeks ago—and months before that.
Naruke seemed to reach the same conclusion. He twitched an eyebrow.
Knock knock—
Without even being told to enter, Orléans's aide and interpreter walked into the room. This meant we'd had enough time to verify. Naruke withdrew his divine power without delay.
“……”
As the mental manipulation magic faded, strength returned to Charles d'Orléans's body. Regaining his senses quickly, he adjusted his crooked glasses and spoke.
“…It's over. Did I confess to stealing the jewel?”
“No, you didn't say that.”
“Then this should dispel the German Empire's suspicions.”
“……”
“Please convey that well. It would be appreciated if you pass this result to the Austro-Hungarian Investigation Bureau as well.”
He stood, offering Naruke a crooked smile and his hand.
He was leaving now. Instead of shaking it, Naruke glanced at me, and I spoke up at the same time.
“Please wait a moment.”
Charles d'Orléans scanned me before shaking his head.
“I have no more time here, Lord Ascanien. And…”
He scanned me up and down more thoroughly this time before continuing.
“I watched your match in Pentaron very impressively. It would have been nice to meet and greet from better seats, but I'm glad to meet Ascanien's young lord even today.”
Never mind the rest…
“Watched”… It wasn't wrong, but he could have phrased it more politely and ordinarily. I'd sensed it from how he handled my gaze earlier—this was deliberate. Nothing profound. Just that he had no respect for me or the German Empire. Plus, he probably wondered why I was here when he wanted the divine power mage. He'd just strongly signaled for me not to hold him back, but I had no intention of letting him go.
“It's not over yet.”
“What more do you intend to do?”
“Activities to further prove Your Excellency's innocence. Nothing dangerous, so could you spare a little time?”
“You've gone this far and still don't trust me?”
“It's not about trust.”
No point in explaining at length here. I stared at him with feigned sincerity. With a slightly annoyed expression, he sat back down. Naruke drew his wand.
“I'm not sure what to say to make it trigger. But…”
I began in French.
“Could you repeat what I just said? First, I've heard that artifacts duplicating unique abilities are being actively researched in occult cults. Second, do you know where Trier Cathedral's relic went?”
“…Hmm?”
Orléans frowned. The moment Naruke gathered divine power at his wand's tip, a flicker of realization crossed Orléans's eyes. Too late.
—Enter through the narrow gate.
As soon as the divine power left the wand, Orléans's head drooped limply.
Naruke stayed silent, asking nothing. The interpreter and aide eyed him curiously, receiving no orders. No further spells outwardly or inwardly— no divine power flowed from Naruke now.
Naruke quickly stowed his wand, releasing the mental manipulation magic.
“……”
“If you're not going to do anything, why cast magic? As I said, we don't have time.”
Orléans's aide scolded us. But Orléans's face, now recovered, was pale. He slowly adjusted his glasses, staring blankly into space, ashen. I observed him and asked.
“Do you know what I just said?”
“……”
“What's the point?! If you're just going to spout nonsense…”
“Your Excellency Orléans.”
I cut off the aide. Orléans glared at me murderously before answering with a look that said, “Why ask something so obvious?”
“You mentioned the relic.”
“Yes. That was second. What was first?”
“……”
A heavy silence fell, not even breaths audible.
“You don't remember. I said it a minute ago.”
After a long wait with no answer—just glares—the aide and interpreter looked at Charles in confusion. They hadn't heard a full explanation, but they sensed something ominous brewing.
I turned to Charles's aide.
“What did I say first?”
“…You said artifacts related to unique abilities are being researched among occult believers.”
“Good. That's worth remembering.”
I raised an eyebrow at the interpreter, and Charles shouted.
“Enough!”
“…….”
Eyes bulging, he spoke in a sharp voice.
“I never said I'd answer.”
Naruke, looking at his eyes with an “of course you will” gaze, said with divine power.
—“He forgot the first thing entirely. Nothing comes to mind.”
Right—he had no choice but to say that. Was this what the man who'd stepped up earlier, begging for divine power to clear his name, would say?
“You two should learn to act with more caution.”
He gave us advice that wasn't advice and abruptly left the room. The interpreter and aide followed.
No matter. He wouldn't leave the country anyway.
Naruke's yellow eyes obsessively tracked him. The moment he was gone, I tapped my ear to contact the Investigation Bureau.
“I have something to report to His Highness the Crown Prince about the Orléans interview.”
The bureau quickly connected me to the Crown Prince. No voices came through the artifact.
[……]
“Please contact Österreich immediately and Orléans.”
[Why?]
“His Excellency Charles d'Orléans has a magic that erases specific memories when divine power is applied.”
More precisely, a memory removal spell triggered by specific conditions and words. A small, satisfied chuckle came through. I cut the connection.
* * *
After that, things proceeded smoothly.
The Orléans family and France protested vehemently, but the Austro-Hungarian Investigation Bureau inside the country swiftly mimicked the guided interrogation method I'd described—almost a snap decision.
They publicly verified that Charles d'Orléans had a memory removal spell tied to specific topics, but the problem was…
*‘Now I'm curious how everyone will handle the aftermath.’*
With royals from various countries involved, this would devolve into a total mudslinging match. France wouldn't stay silent about unauthorized investigations on their royalty by Austria, and Austria-Hungary was already protesting why applying divine power erased memories of the Sapphire Perurer specifically. Soon, the French royals would counter, “We wiped it because we feared you'd frame him.” Even now, they claimed on the surface it was a “precaution against those trying to extract French secrets.”
All that remained was finding exactly where the Perurer went— the bureau's domain until new orders came to me.
So, was this Pleroma's doing after all?
“Meeting him didn't give that vibe. Weird, right?”
Naruke answered from the waiting room chair. Fortunately, this time I asked aloud and got a verbal reply.
I thought so too. The Austro-Hungarian bureau had tested the Pleroma angle too—no memory wipe triggered by the word “Pleroma” after divine power.
That alone ruled out sufficient connection to Pleroma.
And we could reason another way.
My interrogation method earlier relied on a technique I'd known since Pentaron three weeks ago—and months before.
First, in Pentaron, the curse magic triggers lost memories immediately after the plot. Naruke had explained the terrorists preset memory-wipe divine power spells on them, activating on trigger words.
It was a previously unknown remote-control method for divine power mental manipulation. Not the same as Orléans's case, but it reminded me of remote or long-range mental control possibilities.
Second, months ago, Nikolaus Ernst received a letter from the Emperor. This was the route I now favored higher.
*‘As you may know, the moment divine power or drugs are applied, everything about the catacombs is forgotten.’*
That's what the Emperor wrote. In the catacombs, to prevent spilling locations or members under divine interrogation, a spell forgets catacomb info the instant a certain divine power amount enters. As a noble, his spell isn't identical to the catacombs', but yesterday I verified he used something functionally very similar.
This gave me higher odds Charles d'Orléans wasn't Pleroma.
Why?
*Pleroma doesn't have such refined tech…*
If they did? The Federal Council Pleroma members I held hostage wouldn't need to fear exploding. They stuck to crude, full-of-holes silencing not from philosophy, but because they lacked catacomb-style survival tech.
If Pleroma had it, why blow up rare high-value Federal Council spies? Why persist in costly, irrational methods when memory wipes existed? If killing was more rational than wiping despite the tech, they'd need to prove recruiting new spies cost less than wipe benefits.
The logic so far doesn't collapse if it's not Pleroma. Maybe I'd fixated too much on them. So many incidents were theirs; I assumed this one too.
True or not, Abraham was milking this event profitably, as I'd first thought.
[Does France's Orléans Royal Family Have 'Pleroma'?]
[Charles d'Orléans, French Royal Pushing 'Pentaron Reparations,' Suspected of Pleroma]
[Österreich Perurer Thief Revealed as French Royal]
The last kind existed, but most hammered France and Pleroma links wildly. No hard evidence for Pleroma, but Pentaron lacked firm proof too—and even if Pleroma, the Empire was victim, per imperial press.
*‘These guys…’*
There's a limit to pretending not to see.
In any incident, truth or falsehood matters little; the public craves stimulation. Abraham's own words. He was following them faithfully.
“Stop reading the papers.”
Lost in thought over newspapers, Elias snatched mine.
“Time to go. Get in.”
“…….”
“I told you everything yesterday~ Why drag your feet now?”
I hesitated, looking at Elias. After he smacked my back, I left the waiting room. Hohenzollern guards attached themselves.
Following them down the hall, the familiar ballroom of Berliner Stadtschloss unfolded.
[His Excellency Lucas von Anhalt has arrived.]
The first time, even entering the ballroom felt novel; after three or four, it's routine. Flanking the room sat Hohenzollern and Prussian notables. I nodded to Adelbert, eager to greet me, and took the podium.
Standing to Prussia's anthem, a familiar voice soon rang.
[Her Highness Elisabeth von Preussen has arrived.]
Why was this guy here again?
Right. I'd come to receive the Empire's highest honor.
* * *
Yesterday at this hour, I'd finished the interview and returned to the Wittelsbach Berlin residence—not my room, the parlor. Elias sat before me with a chessboard out.
“Why do this here today?”
“Treating you like a guest.”
“…….”
Why not the bedroom like normal? Elias kept changing venues for games. Days ago, the study; before, a corridor lined with Wittelsbach portraits, small table set up. Felt like a dozen spectators despite being alone. Next he'd drag a table to the stables for poker. My fault for having the vast house to myself.
“Where next for games?”
“The stables?”
“…….”
Dumbfounded, I shook my head at him.
“End of the hall's Leo's old piano room. Go there.”
“Nah~ I hate music rooms. Hate them most in the world.”
Most?
But thinking back, Elias never did anything music-related in the novel.
“Why?”
I asked casually, but he ignored me, focused on chess. Fine if he didn't want to say. I had another topic anyway.
“Elia.”
After a while, I tapped my glove idly.
“Yeah?”
Fussing over a chess move, he replied soullessly.
“Your cousin's giving me the Black Eagle Order.”
Crash—
A porcelain piece rolled off the desk to the floor. I checked Elias's face, picked up his dropped pawn, and handed it back.
Elias's mouth gaped. Shaking his head slowly in disbelief, he blurted.
“Take it.”
“Huh?”
“You have to take it. You won't if I say no?”
Force entered Elias's eyes. Rare to see him furrow his brow at me. Unsure why yet. Regardless, I gave my planned reply.
“Yeah.”