6. The Reversal Opening Ceremony (16)
6. The Reversal Opening Ceremony (16)
Anais clenched her teeth.
Wonderstein's lips were unmistakably curved into a smile.
But his eyes were unfocused, as if he were gazing at something in the distant past.
He wasn't truly looking at her. He was projecting his own experience through her.
A stateless person from birth, with no known parents and no hometown to claim as his own.
What had he seen? What had he survived to become the man he was?
It must have been a life so harsh and exhausting that Anais could not begin to fathom it.
Wherever he went, he would have been forced to live alert to every sidelong glance, unable to find honorable work. The moment his status came to light, the people around him would have branded him a pickpocket, a swindler, a would-be robber.
That was how the world viewed Gypsies and unregistered people.
The road he had walked must have been paved with tears.
Yet after all of that, how could he...
how could he...
...smile so brightly?
There was not a trace of shadow in his kindness.
His goodwill was no facade, nor was it aimed at any profit.
If he thought someone was in danger, he threw himself into harm's way without a second's pause.
Even in dangerous, painful, gut-wrenching moments, he put others first and kept moving.
And through it all, he never once lost his smile.
The sight of it was sometimes heartbreaking, and at the same time painfully dazzling.
She, blinded by that light, had failed to read the wounds he carried behind him.
She had not noticed the darkness sunken at the bottom of his heart.
Just now, when she had coldly averted her gaze—what had he thought?
A noblewoman who, after being captivated by his appearance, had wept and clung to him, saying she loved him—only to recoil from him like something filthy the moment she learned his true standing.
People like that could not have been rare in his life.
People he had considered friends, to whom he had opened his heart, only to watch them turn their backs and leave the instant they learned the truth.
A single thought flickered through Anais's mind.
The reason he had kept refusing her persistent advances.
Was it not tied to that wound?
A noblewoman serving as chairwoman of a major trading company, and a wandering magician who had been stateless from birth.
He must have been afraid.
Afraid that she, too, would abandon him the moment she learned the truth.
Had that fear kept him from opening the door to his heart?
If so, then her act of coldly brushing off his gaze had just confirmed that his fears were justified.
Anais clenched her fists so tightly that her nails bit into her palms and drew blood.
She could not forgive herself.
- My lord, whatever happens, do not step forward.
Even as he heard of the trial, he had worried about her first.
What would happen if she—the ruler of a viscounty, the chairwoman of a trading company—stood forth to defend him, a stateless murder suspect?
The rumors would spiral beyond control.
And they would deal a devastating blow to her honor.
Perhaps, as she had warned him during the audience, she could even be dismissed from her position as chairwoman.
Even while cornered, he had been concerned for her before himself.
- For both our sakes.
He had even tried to make it seem like it wasn't a sacrifice.
He had passed it off as something he was doing for the both of them.
Framing it as: if you lose your position as chairwoman, I lose my patronage, so stay back.
Hah.
A laugh escaped her before she knew it.
Did he think a thin lie like that could hide his kindness?
Do you know something?
There is not a man alive who wears the villain's role worse than you do.
With that face, with that smile—who would ever believe you when you say things like that?
Especially when I have seen with my own eyes how little you spare yourself...
You really are a foolish man.
He was a person of strong will and sturdy resolve.
But even for someone like him, having his shame laid bare before hundreds would have been hard to bear. Especially before the woman who had told him she liked him.
Even though he had told her not to step forward, the human heart does not work that way.
It hopes, despite everything.
That she might still support him, at least in spirit.
That she, of all people, would still look at him the same way once she knew who he really was.
And that hope...
she had mercilessly trampled it.
She had smacked it aside.
As if insisting that the earlier confession commotion had never happened.
She felt like crying.
That was not true.
That had not been her intention.
The light of disappointment and despair that surfaced in his eyes pierced her chest with unbearable pain.
Before she knew it, Anais took one step forward.
She wanted to run to him.
She wanted to hold him.
And she wanted to ask.
Was it because of the difference in our stations that you kept pushing me away all this time?
And she wanted to answer.
Even so, I still like you.
Whatever your true identity may be, it does not matter.
She wanted to tell him that.
Another step.
Just as Sir Porshu behind her moved to stop her,
Wonderstein looked at her, gave a faint smile, and shook his head.
It was a gesture of refusal.
Do not come any closer.
Even though her coldness had wounded him moments ago, he was still worrying about her, right to the very end.
A foolishly kind man.
As Anais was about to take another step, his lips moved, just barely.
Among the defendant's camp, only she could make out the words.
- We aren't in any kind of relationship, are we?
Anais stopped squarely in her tracks.
She glared at him as he gave her a bitter smile.
His intention was painfully clear.
He was trying to protect her.
On top of that, he had even kindly dealt her a cutting remark so she would not have to feel guilty.
So you are telling me to stay back?
Because you and I have no connection whatsoever.
But do you know something?
You really... are the worst actor I have ever seen.
With such terrible acting...
how can you still make the person watching ache so much?
"Then we will begin the trial."
The sight of him stepping into the defendant's stand was like watching a man mount the scaffold.
Watching his retreating figure, Anais swallowed her tears silently.
***
I was grateful for the Smiling Man.
If not for that expression, my face would have crumpled the instant I saw the message that floated up in my Status Window.
[Circus Troupe Fame has decreased by 8.]
[Current Circus Troupe Fame: 7]
The question-and-answer with the judge, Baron Dosville's sneering—
I hadn't immediately grasped what any of it meant.
A wanderer? Aren't travelers and wandering acrobat troupes all wanderers?
What was the problem?
Listening to the jeers pouring from the gallery, I slowly began to understand.
The "wanderer" they meant—the stateless—wasn't just any nomad.
It meant a person who had never been listed on any national registry, whose name had never appeared on any local census. A drifter from birth.
To my modern sensibilities, it didn't quite hit home, but people here seemed to deeply despise rootless vagabonds.
Maybe it was because this was a class-based society.
They were extremely sensitive about that sort of thing.
Seeing our supporters' expressions shift, it was obvious the opposing side was lacing its words with a fair number of insults.
But I wasn't that offended.
This was nothing compared to the humiliation of crawling through the streets begging for alms as a child from the orphanage.
And the insults they flung were genteel next to the profanity people used to sling at me when I did internet broadcasts.
The message that had popped up in my Status Window rattled me far more than any of that.
My Fame had dropped by a whopping eight points in one blow.
Was the troupe leader's social status really that critical to the circus's fame?
As I stared blankly at the window, I felt the gazes of the people around me.
When a person stares off into empty space as if reading something with their eyes, it looks quite strange.
My act of reading the Status Window must have looked to others as if I were staring off, lost in thought.
I hurriedly dismissed the window.
And then, beyond where it had been, my eyes met Anais's.
She was looking at me with eyes that seemed on the verge of tears.
Apparently Baron Dosville's earlier remarks had shaken her emotions quite a bit.
That surprised me.
Given her nickname "Iron Mask," I had assumed she was the type of woman who could keep her cool in a crisis.
She wouldn't do something reckless like leap forward to defend me here, would she?
She wasn't fool enough to risk that much for a man who had already rejected her once.
When the manipulation rumor had spread, he was merely "a wandering magician," but now he was "a serial-killer suspect and a stateless wandering magician." The moment she stepped forward, the manipulation rumor would be taken as confirmed, and her fame would plummet in an instant.
She absolutely must not step forward—damn it!
She, who had been staring at me, took one step forward.
I shook my head.
Stay back.
Instead, she took another step closer.
I could feel the crowd's eyes converging on her.
This is bad.
If it drops any further, it's over.
I decided to remind her that she had been rejected.
'We aren't in any kind of relationship, are we?'
It was a little cruel, but I had no choice if I wanted to stop her in her tracks.
Sure enough, she stopped in place and glared at me.
I worried she might do something else unexpected, but she briefly pretended to stretch and then stepped back.
People's attention dispersed.
What a relief.
"Then we shall begin the trial. Defendant, to your place."
I stood in the defendant's stand set up in the middle of the stage.
"Prosecutor, please stand forward."
Baron Dosville ascended the stage, met with thunderous cheers and applause.
The judge frowned briefly but did not stop him.
Then he moved on to the next step.
"Defense counsel, please stand forward."
The courtroom fell silent as a tomb.
No one moved.
***
As the trial began, Anais fought to steady herself.
Though it took the form of a trial, this too was no different from the power games played in commerce.
It was a game of push and pull.
Right now, the opponent was casting bait and trying to reel them in.
She must not bite. Taking that bait would be a losing move.
She called to mind the lessons in real-world manipulation her uncle had taught her.
For now, the best course was to observe.
"Defense counsel, please stand forward."
Silence fell over the courtroom.
The prosecution side looked toward the defense camp, waiting to see who would step forward.
The defense side also glanced around, checking who among them might come forward.
"Haha, hello?"
The one who rose was a man in his thirties wearing horn-rimmed glasses.
It was Romeo, the playwright of the Rose Windmill Cabaret.
In his younger days, he had studied law at university.
Among the people Marquis Mustang had brought, he was the most presentable for an occasion like this—the one least likely to cause trouble or tarnish anyone's honor.
With him, they would at least be able to mount a defense capable of dismantling the flimsy evidence and testimony.
Appointing him as defense counsel was Marquis Mustang's way of showing what consideration he could offer.
But Anais thought differently.
Baron Dosville's skill was not something a mere playwright who had dabbled in law could match.
He was meticulous, cunning, and adept at improvisation.
To oppose him, someone superior was needed.
There were several such people among the nobility and notables present, but they had no reason to step forward here.
Not to defend a mere stateless man.
She reverted to being a merchant.
The best move now was to stay quiet. Then, in a formal trial, assemble a defense team and fight back. In the process, her honor would take damage, but since she had already drawn a line establishing that she had no personal relationship with Wonderstein, the damage would be minimal.
And the worst move would be to stand up and defend Wonderstein here, only to suffer a crushing defeat. That would cause irreversible damage. The board would suspend her authority, and the shareholders' meeting would dismiss her. The sole gain would be the small satisfaction of having helped Wonderstein.
It was a choice a merchant should never make.
But choices were not limited to best and worst.
The supreme move was—
The playwright Romeo stood before the defense stand.
Hearing the murmurs of the crowd, he felt dazed.
He, who had always only written scripts backstage, was actually stepping onto the stage himself.
His heart pounded, and cold sweat slid down his back.
Still, Yvonne, known as the flower of Rouge, had squeezed his hand and cheered him on before leaving her seat.
Feeling the lingering trace of cosmetics on his hand, he glanced back at the gallery.
He looked to see if Yvonne was still watching him.
But he soon noticed something strange.
The murmuring, the gazes—none of them were directed at him.
The point on which they converged was gradually approaching from the gallery, moving up behind him.
Romeo turned around.
There stood a twenty-year-old woman in a bright formal dress, with green hair and luminous golden eyes.
Head held high before the gazes fixed upon her, she declared:
"I am Anais Bergson, lord of the Bergson Viscountcy."
She smiled brightly at Wonderstein, who was staring at her, utterly stunned.
"I am the defendant's counsel."
The courtroom erupted as if a bomb had detonated.
Baron Dosville also stared at her in shock.
He had thought it would be enough to draw her into a minor agitation, but she had actually stepped forward as counsel.
Wonderstein was equally aghast.
[Circus Troupe Fame has decreased by 6.]
[Current Circus Troupe Fame: 1]
This is insane.