Eternal Funeral (3)
"Ah… I still… I-I haven’t said everything yet…."
Casacos wailed. She wasn’t even the professor responsible for the boy, yet she wept as though she had lost her own flesh and blood. The sight bewildered everyone gathered there. Even Karalin—the one who should have been grieving most of all—found the intensity of it strange. Sorrow was understandable, but this seemed excessive. Still, if she was breaking down so completely, there had to be a reason.
Karalin addressed her with careful respect. “Professor, it feels as though we have closed the book without letting you see him off properly. What exactly is the matter?”
But Casacos only continued to sob, offering no reply. Karalin thought to herself, What in the world is going on…?
Pressing her further would only add to the woman’s pain; after all, she was directly involved. So Karalin said nothing more and simply rested a gentle hand on Casacos’s trembling shoulder.
The one who finally intervened was the old professor of ruin who had been watching silently from the back—Babalk ban Gidus. He strode forward, radiating a ferocious aura of wrath.
“Casacos. I don’t know what’s happened to you, but don’t you dare ruin this moment.”
His words were laced with thorns.
“P-Professor Babalk…”
At his arrival, Casacos froze where she stood. He was the professor of professors, the instructor of instructors. His presence alone could stiffen the spines of every faculty member in the room. Babalk had always shown her special favor; under normal circumstances he would never have spoken so viciously. But right now, his sharpness was justified.
After Yohan’s death, she had done nothing. Meanwhile Babalk, as the senior professor, had shouldered the entire burden of uncovering the truth. He had been the first to storm the chairman’s office when the man tried to bury the incident, forcing the creation of this funeral. He had decided the academy would formally offer condolences to the Grand Duke’s house. And throughout the mourning period, who had stood like a silent sentinel in the funeral hall? Aside from Karalin, only Babalk.
Of course, his motives had not been born purely of respect. This was rage in motion. Though he never spoke of it, his expectations for Yohan had been enormous—exactly as he had boasted when he claimed to have created the boy. Having watched over Yohan’s school life from afar all this time, his fury toward whoever had caused this tragedy far outweighed his grief. That was why he had thrown himself into every duty so completely.
Whatever his reasons, the result was that he had helped the Grand Duke’s daughter. Yet during those chaotic days of arrangements, Casacos had not shown so much as a single hair. And now she suddenly appeared, seemingly intent on disrupting Yohan’s final moment. How could any gentle words possibly leave Babalk’s mouth? Especially when the entire faculty was already on edge preparing for the upcoming forest practicum.
“You’ve been invisible for days, locked away by yourself, and only now—after everything is finished—you show up? Is that how it should be?”
“I’m… sorry…”
An apology would not suffice. Babalk pressed her harder.
“Furthermore, you have the audacity to stagger in here looking like that and receive comfort from the Grand Duke’s daughter, who must be the most distraught of all? Who is the one suffering the most right now?”
“U-ugh…”
“A proud doctor of Karlank, disgracing herself before everyone. Thank you. Thanks to you, every professor standing here feels utterly ashamed.”
It was venomous. But she truly had been absent the entire time, so Casacos could only lower her head.
“Professor Babalk, surely there must be circumstances we don’t know about,” Karalin said. As the one conducting the funeral, she offered a sliver of sympathy and tried to shield Casacos. Yet no matter how harshly he spoke, nothing Babalk said was wrong. The manner of expression might have been cruel, but it could not be helped.
This was the old professor of ruin, a man whose contributions to the empire ran so deep that even the emperor would struggle to withstand his fury and razor-sharp tongue. If she had done something worthy of such a scolding, she would simply have to endure it.
But what Casacos finally stammered out was nothing short of astonishing.
“Th-the truth is…”
“Yes. Let’s hear your excuse, at least.”
“Yohan… might be… my son…”
At those words, everyone who had come to witness Yohan’s final moment froze solid.
“Wh-what…?!”
The Crown Prince’s eyes flew wide. The next Tower Master tilted her head in confusion. The old professor of ruin’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly. And Karalin rode a violent emotional rollercoaster from grief straight into shock.
Babalk’s voice shook. “Casacos. How old are you exactly?”
“Not even thirty… It’s not too late yet.”
“Then speak sense, you fool! The students enrolling at Sigmund are barely adults. Are you telling me you gave birth at ten years old…?”
He roared like thunder. Logically, it was impossible. No matter how early adulthood began in this world, a ten-year-old bearing a child was still madness.
Yet Casacos answered with absolute conviction.
“I didn’t! I mean—I couldn’t have! When would I ever have had the chance?!”
“You absolute blockhead, that’s not the problem! The problem is that you would have had to conceive him at ten! Who taught you to dodge the actual point like that?”
Ah. So that’s what he meant. Casacos pulled herself together.
“Professor, have you forgotten the first thesis I ever wrote…? My father helped, but you praised the concept as astonishing for someone my age…”
“…Thesis? If it’s that one, then homunculus—”
The moment the word left his lips, Babalk’s mind went blank. In fact, every mind in the room went blank. Because that explanation made perfect sense.
“001?”
“Yes… the first unit.”
“Didn’t that one escape the laboratory…?”
“We never found where he went afterward. I felt such a strong sense of déjà vu when I met Yohan that I looked up his birth records. After digging desperately, I finally uncovered the truth…”
Casacos wiped her tears with both hands.
“When I went to see him in person, his room was empty. He had already vanished. I didn’t know what to do, so I investigated alone. Only now has everything become clear, so I came running.”
“This is fucking ridiculous—”
Babalk’s curse of pure astonishment was swallowed by Casacos’s heartbroken voice.
“I examined his room for genetic data. I captured every trace of residual mana and ran every test I could. Everything—everything—matched my own genetic information perfectly!”
“—And there is not a single lie in those words, correct?”
She answered without hesitation. “Yes. It is all true. No matter how many times I thought about it, I couldn’t accept it easily, so I proved it again and again and again.”
“…Damn it. Then the one who becomes trash is me, for hounding you.”
Yes. Babalk had become trash. But the person who suffered most from those words was Babalk himself.
After her father’s death, he had raised her like his own daughter and guided her all the way to becoming a professor. Having stayed close by her side, he knew better than anyone how deeply she cherished 001—her first and last masterpiece—and how tenderly she had cultivated her maternal love for the boy she saw as a son.
“I thought I had finally, finally met him. I thought we could share all the mother-son time we had lost and talk about so many things…”
She sobbed violently.
“I met the son who had been searching for me all this time, yet I couldn’t do anything for him. I’m trash. A stupid woman. When I think about how hard that child must have struggled all alone…!”
Karalin took her hand.
“Professor… were you my Yohan’s mother?”
At the sight of Karalin’s face, Casacos hiccupped through her tears. “Student Karalin… so it was you who took in the child I failed to protect.”
“Professor… I gave Yohan nothing. On the contrary, I received everything this world has to offer from him…”
“Do you truly understand how I feel?”
Casacos was grateful. Yet the simple words thank you felt impossibly heavy. The guilt, she realized, was simply too great.
If only Yohan would come back alive. Then she could devote herself entirely to caring for him again.
That desperate wish formed a strange intersection between two women who shared only one common point—Yohan. But since he would never return, they could only swallow an eternity of despair and regret.
After all, Yohan had already been swept far downstream beneath that cold river.
“We really are such foolish people…”
Yet in that very moment—
“Wait. This doesn’t add up. Yohan is Casacos’s son…?”
Class president Vankait muttered softly. The voice was low, but clear enough that someone might have caught it. Still, no one would have suspected him. After all, it sounded like nothing more than an ordinary expression of doubt at the shocking revelation.
The rest of the thought—The scroll that froze Yohan like that was clearly one that only affects the blood of the Thunder Clan…—never left his lips.
As far as Vankait knew, Professor Casacos had been born and raised entirely within the capital. If Yohan were truly her son, that scroll should never have worked on him.
…Of course, this suspicion existed only because he did not know her paternal bloodline came from the North. Even if the full truth emerged, the pieces would still fit. But for someone as attuned to danger as Vankait, every tiny detail now set his nerves on edge.
He couldn’t understand why the mere thought of Yohan made his heart itch so strangely.
Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. Everything seems to be going according to plan, yet my instincts scream that I’m missing something.
People usually called this feeling “anxiety.” But Vankait had never experienced it before and had no words for it. He had sensed it instinctively ever since the entrance ceremony—when he had humiliated the Grand Duke’s daughter, when he had grabbed her by the collar and dragged her away. Wasn’t that why he had killed the boy? He had even come here and confirmed the corpse with his own eyes.
…It’s fine. Yohan is dead. No matter what, it’s fortunate he died quickly. To think he still disturbs my mind even in death. Keeping him alive would definitely have become exhausting.
Now that everything was truly over, Vankait could only comfort himself with such thoughts.
In any case, the time to honor Yohan’s final moments came to a close.
Yohan had been the subject of endless talk and controversy both inside and outside the academy, but one thing was certain: he had been a deeply memorable existence, one whose life had become intricately entangled with far more people than anyone had realized.
Inside the carriage, the projection orb trembled.
Yet the images of Burga and the three Steel Spirits remained perfectly clear. On the road to the hunting grounds, he had wanted to check on their condition before any new complications arose. It seemed this incident had left its mark on them as well.
“Rorschach, obviously. You can tell just from the voice.”
Rorschach shook his head slowly.
The ever-loyal Drakaris offered no commentary on the subtext; since it was a plan his master had accepted, he raised no objection.
Only Azero, having witnessed something traumatic during the process, remained slightly depressed. She had fallen into a mild depression, yet her thoughts seemed to align with the other two.
It’s terrible to hurt the young lady, but since the memories will return anyway, it doesn’t really matter, right?
In summary, that was their stance.
Yohan hadn’t particularly sought their sympathy. So their opinions didn’t matter much. But for his own part, he still felt sorry that the process would wound her, no matter how things turned out.
In that sense, the attitude he found most agreeable right now might actually belong to Burga. It was honestly a little surprising. He had expected her to crack jokes even in such a serious situation, yet she was the only one showing the same feelings he held.
Now that I think about it, Burga has always shown strangely similar emotions to mine whenever moments like this arise.
Could she possibly be resonating with him?
“It is.”
While thinking, he noticed her answer sounded especially peculiar today.
There was one, then there wasn’t. No-knife-threat…? Isn’t that just a meme?
It was a question he had always harbored. Even if crude jokes and internet gags were Burga’s defining trait… every single one of them referenced things the people of this world could not possibly know. The “Lisa Su is a goddess” joke from before, and now this. When he thought about it, they were all strange. Even Cryan had not recognized the dragon poem he had once recited.
“Burga, by the way…”
“Where exactly do all those gags come from?”
She tapped her head as she answered.
“No problem… I was just pondering your existence for a moment.”
“Haha. Get lost.”
Before he knew it, they had arrived at the imperial hunting grounds where the forest practicum would be held. Life had been so hectic that he had never dug deeply into the matter, but once things settled down, he would have the chance to investigate.
Still, preparation came first.
He ended his thoughts, wrapped the projection orb in leather, and tucked it away.
…I will see you soon, my lady.
By the way, the dawn without you beside me is exceptionally cold.