Gone Mad, or Possessed by a Demon?
Soft piano music drifted through the hall.
A magnificent chandelier hung overhead like a cluster of gathered stars, and beneath it sat a pristine white round table.
A man and a woman were seated side by side.
"You're here?"
Leon answered the Duchess Elliot.
"Yes, Mother."
He turned his gaze to Duke Locke.
"Father."
"Good. Come, sit down. We'll still have a little wait before the guests arrive."
"Yes."
Leon started toward the table, then caught sight of Celia. For some reason, she had gone completely rigid.
Hmm.
He gave a small nod and leaned in to whisper against her ear.
"Bathroom's one floor down, on the left."
"Shut up…!"
Celia gritted her teeth and muttered under her breath, then composed her expression and approached the ducal couple.
She gathered both sides of her skirt and bent her knees.
"Celia of House Helbridge greets Your Grace the Duke and Your Grace the Duchess."
It was a flawlessly elegant greeting, perfectly in keeping with noble etiquette.
A flicker of puzzlement crossed Locke's eyes.
"…? What's all this of a sudden? We're in private, so you can just act as you always—"
Elliot cut him off with a light, musical laugh.
"Lady Celia, what a pleasure to see you on such a fine day. Please, do sit."
When she received the greeting properly, Celia's face lit up with a bright smile.
Once seated, Leon leaned over and whispered to her again.
"Didn't know you could even greet people like that. Why the sudden change of pace?"
"Please just shut up…!"
A short while later—
"Father, Mother. I trust you've both been well."
Limon appeared, looking unusually polished and, for once, not wearing his armor.
"It's been a long time."
"Come, come."
Locke was as reserved as ever, but Elliot's smile never left her lips as she welcomed her sons.
Leon addressed Limon.
"Brother, I trust you've been well."
"Of course. No trouble at all."
Leon asked about the previous matter — the Intelligence Bureau spies, specifically.
"How are things progressing with those?"
Limon replied,
"Mm. The task you entrusted to me is proceeding smoothly."
"That's a relief."
As the brothers conversed so amicably, Elliot's face flushed with emotion. Even Locke stroked his chin at the unfamiliar sight.
This time Limon spoke.
"Father, Mother — when did you arrive in the capital? Had you sent word ahead, I would have come to receive you."
"Ah, we came straight here the moment we arrived. No need for a reception. You have plenty of your own work, don't you?"
"What could possibly be more important than seeing the two of you?"
Elliot interjected.
"And how could work that benefits the world not be important?"
"Haha. You're giving me far too much credit."
Huh.
Listening to the three of them, Leon was quietly surprised.
The relationship between the ducal couple and Limon was far better than he had expected.
He had assumed that an eldest son who spent his days wandering around as a free knight would be treated like a cast-off child.
After a few more exchanges—
Leon, Limon, and Locke all rose from their seats at once. Elliot and Celia stood with them.
Moments later—
"Good to see you all."
Led by Ervion, the men of House Helbridge filed in as a group.
"Ah, you're here."
"Welcome, Your Grace."
"My lord, it's been too long. I trust you've been well."
As greetings flew back and forth, Leon suddenly broke away and strode straight toward Ervion.
"Well now, my lord!"
"Ah, there you are."
The two shook hands as naturally as breathing.
"My, you look magnificent today. That coat suits you extraordinarily well."
"Does it now?"
"Absolutely. You look a full ten years younger than the last time I saw you."
"Hahahaha!"
As Leon laid on the flattery with a silken tongue, Ervion looked ready to die of delight.
Of course it was empty flattery. A little service for having handled the Wendell Count affair.
"Leon, my brother — have you been well?"
"Ah, Brother!"
Leon shook hands with each of the three Helbridge brothers in turn. The brothers took note of Leon's matured aura and a gleam of interest lit their eyes.
"Shall we all sit?"
"Yes."
The table filled completely.
This dinner was not the formal introduction Celia had been hoping for.
It was a gathering meant to foster harmony between the Crusif of the East and the Helbridge of the West. The two houses had long maintained close ties and often held occasions like this.
Ervion surveyed the table and remarked,
"We're short one."
Of the ten prepared chairs, one still sat empty.
Just then—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps rose from the stairs, drawing every gaze. The steps were deliberately loud.
"…"
Leon quietly extended his senses. The man's aura, completely unconcealed, came through with perfect clarity.
If one had to describe that aura, it was like a blade heated until it glowed cherry-red.
A man's head appeared first — hair cropped short in military fashion — followed by sharply slanted eyes.
A longsword hung at his waist, adorned with gold fittings. Not excessive; just right.
He wore a black-dyed military uniform, and every movement was crisp with discipline.
"My apologies for being late."
He bowed his head with formal courtesy. He offered no excuses.
"Come, sit down."
"…"
At Locke's words, the man raised his head.
He began walking slowly toward his seat.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The man looked at Leon, and Leon was staring straight through him.
Their eyes meeting was inevitable.
"…"
"…"
For an instant, their gazes locked. Each tore into the other's eyes and looked deep inside. The two pairs of crimson eyes shared the same color, and yet almost everything else about them was different.
Leon wore his characteristic wild grin. He sent forth a fierce, unblinking stare.
Something in it must have registered, because shock rippled through the man's eyes.
—Tap.
The moment passed, and as if by prior agreement, both looked away at the same time.
Right…
Leon leaned back leisurely against his chair and let out a short snort through his nose. A scoff.
So that one's Raul Crusif.
Several hours later, at the restaurant entrance.
After the meal had ended, everyone was exchanging farewells before parting ways.
Leon spoke to Locke, who stood before the carriage.
"Where are you headed, Father?"
"The family villa, of course. Stop by sometime if you have a moment. You'll need to use it whenever you come to the capital going forward. Best to show your face to the staff."
"I will."
Locke regarded Leon steadily.
"Hmm."
Then, suddenly, he raised a hand and clapped Leon's shoulder twice.
"You're doing well."
Those few short words carried a great deal.
In Locke's voice, his manner, his eyes, there was a firm trust of a kind that defied easy explanation.
"…"
It left Leon speechless.
At Locke's unexpected gesture, his pupils trembled faintly. The muscles of his face twitched, and his expression shifted into something strange.
Before he could quite pull himself together, Elliot spoke.
"Don't push yourself too hard. Always take care of your health. Helping others is wonderful, but to me, your safety comes first."
She smiled gently and took Leon's hand in hers.
"…Yes."
Leon forced out a single-word reply. He couldn't even bring himself to pull his hand free.
This was far too unfamiliar. Strange and awkward. A bizarre sensation he had never felt in his entire life tickled deep inside his chest.
It was an atmosphere he could barely endure.
Fortunately, Celia stepped in at just the right moment.
"Your Grace the Duke, Your Grace the Duchess — this has been a truly meaningful evening. I wish you both a peaceful night."
Once again, Elliot answered her.
"Likewise. I do hope I'll have the pleasure of seeing you with my son again next time."
"…!"
At the duchess's warm words, color bloomed across Celia's face.
In the meantime, Leon quietly slipped away toward the Helbridge men.
"My lord, safe travels."
"You take care getting home as well. We'll see each other again at the banquet."
"Yes."
Ervion lowered his voice discreetly.
"You needn't concern yourself with Count Wendell and those barons. I'll handle blocking any political schemes myself. I hardly imagine you contacted me because you were afraid of a fight."
Here, "fight" meant an actual armed clash.
He had a clear grasp of the parts Leon found troublesome. Leon expressed his gratitude once more.
Before leaving, Aqua spoke up.
"Leon, my brother. Your skill seems to have improved considerably — how about a sparring match sometime?"
For Leon, who hungered for breakthroughs, it was a welcome proposal.
"Oh, gladly. Just name the time and place."
"Then tomorrow morning at nine. Come to our family's villa."
"Understood."
Inside a darkened carriage.
Gulp, gulp—
A hip flask tipped steeply. Raul only screwed the cap back on once the whiskey had stopped coming out of the mouth.
"…"
He looked out the window. The scenery drifted slowly past. The night streets of the Second District were still dazzlingly beautiful.
Raul asked the man sitting silently across from him,
"Mana backlash, you said?"
Even faced with a question that came from nowhere, the man answered calmly.
"Yes. After the Third Young Master lost consciousness in a mana backlash accident and awoke, he is said to have shown a completely different demeanor."
"Ha."
Raul let out a dry laugh. He replayed the dinner in his mind.
Leon's gaze, his bearing, his attitude, his personality, his presence, his expressions, his speech…
Everything. Absolutely everything was different. This was not the Leon he had known. Sharing the same face did not make two people the same person.
Mana backlash? Don't make me laugh.
Something that had suddenly occurred to him slipped from Raul's lips in a mutter.
"Whether he's gone mad in the head… or a demon's taken up residence…"
Shhk—!
Suddenly irritated by the swaying lights outside, Raul yanked the curtain shut with a scowl.