Chapter 364
Chapter 364
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 364
Chapter Title: How to Survive as the Second Son of a Magical Noble Family
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Brothers.
As soon as Ismailov opened his mouth, the faint noise coming from beyond the artifact cut off abruptly. Mecklenburg, standing behind me, tensed up. I grasped his hand on my shoulder and pulled it down as I asked Ismailov,
“You’re of Slavic descent, aren’t you?”
“…….”
“Well, ethnicity aside, you don’t look much alike anyway. And yet you call yourselves brothers.”
There was still no reply. I shrugged and continued,
“You must mean there’s something essential that you fundamentally share. Right?”
“…….”
“…Fine. What do you know about Narke Farnese?”
I could feel Mecklenburg giving me a strange look. He must be wondering why I was suddenly bringing up Narke Farnese. I kept my gaze forward without flinching, and after a long pause, a response came.
“A student from the Imperial Second Academy studying abroad in the Papal States.”
“Educated in Pleroma?”
The pale figure, who had been utterly still, lifted his eyes. I couldn’t see his eyeballs moving, but I could tell from the faint shift in the shadow on the cloth. My question encompassed two inquiries. I hadn’t specified exactly what kind of education, and sure enough, he didn’t answer. Whether my question was ambiguous or not, he wouldn’t have replied. I nodded.
“Then who am I?”
Mecklenburg crossed his arms and shifted half a step back. He seemed tense. Unfortunately, his tension proved unfounded—no response came. I glanced at the heavy ticking second hand on my pocket watch before snapping it shut.
“You clearly know who I am. Why would someone like the Second Coming of Christ know me?”
At those words, Mecklenburg suddenly clamped his hand over my mouth. I kept my eyes fixed on Ismailov and muttered,
“In this situation, why is our senior laughing? They’ve been calling Ismailov a prophet up until now, but really, they see him as the raw material for a god-to-be soon. The Lion of the Covenant, Shepherd of God—what else could it be if not the Second Coming?”
“…Don’t say such cultish nonsense.”
I waved him off and leaned forward. A suffocating silence fell once more. In this narrow, dim interrogation room, no one’s presence could be felt anymore, and it was quiet beyond the artifact too. The long white hair draped like a curtain and the boots of the same color showed not the slightest movement. I gazed at that artificial sanctity and spoke.
“Grant me confession, Jesus.”
“…….”
“I don’t believe in religious prophecies. I don’t believe in the events foretold to happen after the sun darkens, the moon loses its light, stars fall from the sky, and the powers of the heavens are shaken. Naturally, I don’t believe you’re the Lion of the Covenant, nor that you’ll perceive divinity and fully become ‘the Lord we’ve been seeking.’ So, what about it? Will you cast someone like me into the fires of hell?”
You can’t. Because you’re not a god. I turned my head and continued,
“As I see it, we’re all just mere humans. Of course, I’ve already suspected you’d praise a mere human as the Messiah. That’s the common trait of cults like yours. So here’s my question: Why does Pleroma call you the Lion of the Covenant?”
Why was a human on the level of the Lion of the Covenant here enduring this ordeal?
It was a pity. Just as I was human, Mecklenburg was human, my friends were human—this one was merely human too. Whether grand titles like Lion of the Covenant or Lord were true or not, he was just one of the billions of bipedal primates wandering this world.
The cigarettes in Mecklenburg’s pocket tempted me. I exhaled a long sigh, scattering the countless hypotheses and fragments swirling in my mind, and asked again.
“Whether it’s true or not, it must be infuriating to become the subject of a prophecy. Why must a human bear such a fate? I pity you.”
“…….”
“But regardless of the pity, the fact that you truly believe in this ‘prophecy’ and are trying to make it happen means we can’t just let it slide. So, there are three things we want to know. First, why does Pleroma call you the Lion of the Covenant? Second, what connection do I have with you all that they’d tell me to take you under my wing?”
I gazed at my silent counterpart and pressed on.
“Third. Do you know how far my suspicions go?”
What I hid between the ‘truths’ I spoke aloud—did you know if it was true or not? Did you see through my act? After a long while, the response that came was outside my expectations.
“I don’t.”
“You said you could read Narke Farnese’s thoughts?”
“I can’t read them now.”
His dry lips twitched once more.
“He can read me, though.”
He was repeating what he’d said before. Even though we’d seen Narke couldn’t use his ability directly, he said it again… How intriguing.
“Fine. On to the second question. I don’t know what you think of me, but I’m just a mere human too. Far from sympathizing with Pleroma’s ideology, I’m not even close to religion to begin with. So how could I, of all people, become the Pleroma of Pleromas, the one to support you? Should I offer my blood as a sacrifice?”
At my coldly tossed question, Ismailov’s head lifted. A shiver like electricity coursed through my waist at his reaction. Feeling my mouth go dry, I licked the inside of my lips with my tongue. Mecklenburg, seeing Ismailov’s response, was on high alert too— the flow of mana from his body had subtly changed. I looked at the blue veins on the back of my hand and the crooked red lines reflected on his cheek before speaking.
“Did Pleroma tell you to do that?”
“I don’t drink blood.”
“You didn’t come for my blood?”
“I don’t drink anyone’s blood.”
“…….”
Well, now.
I let out a light chuckle, swallowing the curse on the tip of my tongue. Suddenly becoming more Pleroma-like than Pleroma’s own Messiah was a novel feeling. Mecklenburg didn’t seem to believe him. I stared silently at the gray tiles on the floor, and unexpectedly, words came from Ismailov.
“They didn’t demand anything of you from me.”
“…….”
“They didn’t tell me anything about you.”
From what the investigator had said earlier, he’d been injected with our side’s psychoactive drug mimicking Pleroma’s. Perhaps because of the drug, he put long pauses between words, making it hard to wait. I watched his facial muscles move minimally and waited.
“They just said I had to come here.”
“So you’re saying this is the first time you’ve seen me in the Empire. Then why on earth would they entrust you to me?”
“…….”
“If you don’t speak, you’ll stay here indefinitely.”
“I heard nothing.”
Haha… I burst out laughing. Drawing on my twenty-odd years of experience analyzing people, he didn’t strike me as deliberately racking his brain to lie, nor did his demeanor suggest he was the type. Plus, with the Pleroma-mimicking psychoactive injected, his mind wouldn’t be working properly. Of course, basic caution that he might be lying was there, but if my guess was right… Pleroma was up to something ridiculous. The mere fact that he knew nothing was valuable intel in itself.
“With no knowledge and no justification, why would I have any reason to side with you?”
He couldn’t answer. This time, it wasn’t refusal—he simply couldn’t. His lips kept moving, but no sound emerged from his vocal cords. It was the first hesitant reaction I’d seen.
Dragging it further wouldn’t yield anything. Just asking about the connection between Gabriele Caetani and Narke Farnese had achieved my minimum goal. One of my many questions tied into them. Now it was time for me to figure out their exact relationship.
I shook my head, crossed my legs, readjusted the questionnaire. As I prepared to seriously address the government’s demands by picking their pre-written questions, that voice hit me.
“I like you.”
* * *
“Feels refreshing.”
As I patted the side of my head with a towel coming out, Heike looked at me.
“Washed your ears? Why?”
“Just did.”
I gave Heike a soft smile and wiped the illegally consecrated unlicensed holy water—well, it wasn’t holy water anymore since it was unlicensed, but for convenience—off the towel.
You like me? Thanks, but it was unsettling given the guy was Pleroma’s Messiah.
‘Heard nothing about me, just met me, and already likes me.’
At least one of those was a lie. Either he had no info on me, or the liking part was fake. Maybe both. Why think that way? Because assuming Pleroma’s Messiah purely liked me was less mentally healthy than suspecting hidden motives.
At least washing my ears with divine-powered water cleared my head a bit. I considered self-consecrating my whole head to purify every liquid in it, but that’d consecrate my saliva too, so no. Lowering it a notch, maybe consecrate the shower later—but that’d be rude to the Papal See, and sanctifying someone else’s bathroom just raised discovery risk, so I decided against it. I was feeling queasy enough to have these thoughts.
Anyway, I was back in Bavaria, at Nymphenburg Palace, which the command staff was using as lodging.
Heike handed me his pajamas while tossing out a meaningless question.
“Staying here?”
“Please.”
“I like that.”
These subtly clipped phrases chaining together were wondrous. I handed Heike’s pajamas back and pulled mine from my bag. For some reason, Heike clapped expressionlessly.
‘Who’d he learn that from…?’
“Why the clap?”
“Prepared.”
“Thanks.”
Really curious who taught him. Couldn’t they teach proper usage? It didn’t seem wrong, but paired with that face… As I thought that, the culprit who’d turned Heike like this flung the door open.
“Lucas!”
Ulrike shook off her shoes at the carpet edge and rushed in. I alternated glances between him and Heike before asking,
“What brings you here? Come to hang with Heike?”
“Sort of. Heard you were at Nymphenburg Palace—couldn’t not come!”
At that, Heike asked Ulrike with half-lidded eyes.
“You said you weren’t coming earlier.”
“Hahaha. But Lucas is here after ages! Hanging with you is fun, Heike, but I can’t drink anymore… Let’s play without booze this time.”
“Ah.”
Heike’s face lit with realization.
So I was the alcohol barrier this time. I smiled at them. These friends didn’t know what went down at the negotiations or what bomb had followed here. Narke and Leo were still nowhere, Mecklenburg and the 91st Class Representative had grown gravely serious discussing the future before being summoned back by the government. My head was swarming with thoughts too, no laughter left—but seeing these sunny friends let me forget the heavy worries pressing my shoulders for a moment. Then Heike glanced at the board game box and asked,
“What’ll we play?”
“Give him the one you wrote for Lucas earlier. Let’s hear his thoughts now.”
Thoughts? I raised an eyebrow and tilted my head. Ulrike rummaged in her jacket’s inner pocket and replied,
“Since Pleroma’s after you.”
“Hm? Yeah.”
What did that have to do with thoughts? I focused on Ulrike’s actions. What she pulled out was a letter envelope. She shook it flutteringly and rolled her eyes.
“The reason Pleroma picked you of all people… well, their intentions are pretty obvious. So, in case you got down or worried.”
“…….”
From the moment I got tangled with them, my image as a Pleroma member was set in stone. The friends probably thought Pleroma aimed for that, or at least worried I’d be seen that way by them. Ulrike smacked her lips and continued,
“Ah, of course, maybe you didn’t think that way! We just wanted to write to you.”
I stared at the papers and burst out laughing.
“Why laugh? Why why?”
“No reason. Glad.”
I unfolded Ulrike’s letter first. Like Elias’s, long lines spilled onto the next page, but the handwriting was sharp. Round personality, sharp script—unique feel. Now I noticed Elias and Cheringen’s letters sandwiched between envelopes too. Friends not at the talks must’ve gathered then.
I sat reading for a while, then alternated looks at my friends waiting eagerly for my reaction, and smiled.
“Thanks. More than words can say.”
Even that short phrase made Ulrike beam proudly as she pointed at Heike.
“Heike suggested it first~!”
“Really. What’s up with… you… how come?”
“Just like Luise said. I know you’re not Pleroma.”
The dry voice and colorless eyes fixed straight on me. Unexpected. I reread the end of his letter—magnolias blooming, let’s go to the park for photos—and nodded.
“Gotta reply too.”
I wasn’t good at letter-writing. Occasionally to fans, but not often.
Still, should learn from friends. Who knows when the last time is. No more brushing off with ‘Yeah, no, got it.’
Knock knock—
The sudden sound drew my eyes to the door. Heike snapped his fingers, mana turning the knob, revealing Narke smiling as he let go.
“Passing by, heard voices. Can I come in?”
“Yeah.”
Heike shifted slightly, making space on the bed for Narke. I watched him enter looking somewhat haggard and asked,
“Leo? Wasn’t even coming to the ward chatting with you.”
“Passed out.”
“Where?”
“Break room. Took him to his room; he’ll wake soon.”
Not like him to sleep in the lounge. I stared at the bedspread pattern, cast a soundproof spell, and asked Narke,
“What do you think of Ismailov?”
“Heard, huh. Best keep your distance.”
Narke leaned against the wall with an emotionless voice. Heike was already subtly excited laying out the game board, but Narke looked drained. Watching his closed eyes, I asked,
“Keep distance?”
“Nothing good comes from getting close to him. For any of us. …The Empire shouldn’t have accepted him.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“Haha. Quick on the uptake.”
“I know our side didn’t joyfully welcome him, but we should’ve refused anyway. There had to be a reason they insisted on handing over their ‘Lion of the Covenant’ to us.”
I wagged a finger mockingly. Narke chuckled lightly and asked,
“What reason?”
“Still hypothesis stage. Better verify first.”
I answered vaguely, unsure if it’d land with him, then asked straight,
“Narke. Can insight reach him?”
“Nothing readable. Shame.”
Nothing readable. I hadn’t planned to ask what he’d read anyway. What mattered was he contradicted Ismailov’s claim. As I opened my mouth again, weight settled on one shoulder.
“Sleepy, Lucas.”
“…….”
I stared blankly at the friend sliding against me and replied curtly.
“Sleep.”
“Wish tomorrow nothing happens.”
Narke whispered.
Not using foresight? Insight and foresight differed; when insight was limited, he’d fallback to foresight. Foresight shouldn’t be blocked too. I swallowed the question. Not the time.
We uncorked a wine bottle in Heike’s room, played board games long, and dozed off on the carpet under the bed. Well, everyone but me. Try as I might, Ismailov and Pleroma cluttered my thoughts, sleep evading. I gazed at Heike sprawled afar and Ulrike bundled straight on the bed. Pity the host was carpet-bound too.
‘Lift one to the sofa at least?’
Barely thought it when Leo grabbed my collar and dragged me out.
“Why you too….”
“…….”
Leo glared daggers silently, then turned. That expression, holding back words—lots to say. Unlike usual, his forehead-covering uncombed hair and dark under-eyes made me shake my head. It overlapped with Narke’s earlier fatigue. Sure enough, predictable words came.
“What’d you tell Narke?”
“Nothing much.”
“Can’t tell me?”
“…Asked if he could insight Ismailov. Narke said nothing readable, then wished nothing tomorrow. Happy? Nothing big?”
“…….”
Head bowed, Leo replied slowly.
“Thanks.”
“For what.”
“Heard you met Ismailov. How was it?”
“Nothing much. Guy barely answered.”
“Really?”
“Conversation stalled a lot. Sat long, little gain.”
No more details. Might need holy water for his ears too. Leo’s mouth parted slightly, brows furrowing.
“He answered? The prophet spoke?”
“…….”
He hadn’t? Government summoning me didn’t assume he’d cooperated fully. Head aching, I nodded. This’d drag. I turned back to Heike’s room, waving him off.
“No good. Heading back in. Bye.”
Fat chance. Blue mana from behind gripped my shoulder.
“Where? That’s not your room.”
* * *
For a coolly pointed remark, luckily Leo asked no more.
Less than three hours later, orders sent me to Nymphenburg Palace front. Narke and Leo, not ordered, contacted government first for permission and followed. Prussian Imperial officials, Mecklenburg, 91st Class Representative mage visible. I saluted them, eyed the man restrained by officials afar. A mage with neatly bound white hair. His gaze turned to me. Mecklenburg’s eerie description no longer fit this face. He just looked like a slightly standout new human. Why?
“…….”
This mage’s eyes were now pale blue, not white. Exact Papal hue. Even as Pleroma usurped their honors and titles, Narke’s expression didn’t change. Ismailov glanced indifferently and looked away.
‘…Why fix eye color?’
Shouldn’t he stay confined? Why summon me here? I cleared doubtful hypotheses, whispered to Mecklenburg,
“Why’s he here?”
Mecklenburg, in public blank face, lightly bit his inner lip troubled as I neared.
“…Simple explanation. Government, 91st A, 98th A delegation take responsibility, 24-hour surveillance. We and government handle all safety. In exchange.”
Mecklenburg showed restraints key and drug vial for Ismailov, then stopped. He rolled eyes consciously toward Ismailov behind, lips sealed.
“Speak.”
“You handle communication and daily life with Ismailov.”
Communication.
Not mere talk—information. That instant, Narke’s eyes sharpened. Damn, a silent sigh on his lips.