A Brother's Atonement
Abel had grumbled but boldly set off to find his father, Edmund, on the mission Baal had given him to confirm the truth. But...
“Abel, please leave us for today.”
“Yes...”
Due to Cassdia's firm dismissal, he had no choice but to slink away with slumped shoulders. In the end, with nowhere else to go, Abel decided to tackle one of the remaining tasks he could handle. And then, one person came to mind.
His younger sister, Liriet, who was likely alone in her room, quietly swallowing her sorrow.
With Baal, her emotional pillar, away for the moment, he resolved to stay by her side at least until he returned. But as he headed there...
“Has the crying stopped?”
“Yes, Brother.”
“...I see.”
He regretted the decision within three seconds.
What was I thinking, barging in here like this? No matter how much he'd resolved to change his mindset, his relationship with Liriet hadn't improved overnight.
You idiot!
With Liriet—her eyes still puffy—seated on the bed, he dragged over a chair and sat there awkwardly, mentally berating himself.
She'd just gone through something traumatic. Her heart must already be in turmoil even alone—why invite an unwelcome guest and make her even more uneasy?
“...W-Well, I'll get going then. Pull yourself together.”
Realizing too late that his enthusiasm lacked substance, Abel awkwardly rose to leave.
“Brother.”
“Y-Yeah?”
But Liriet's voice, which had always quivered faintly when addressing him, rang clear today and held him back.
“Can I ask you one thing?”
“What?”
“Do you still hate me, Brother?”
“...”
It was hard to believe such a detached, poignant question had come from a mere ten-year-old. Abel's hand clenched into a fist unconsciously. But he tried not to show it, sitting back down.
“That's what I should be asking.”
“Pardon?”
“Don't you hate me? After all the petty, despicable things I've done to you time and again.”
“...”
The roles had reversed. This time, it was Liriet who fell silent.
“I... did hate you.”
“Did? Why past tense?”
“Honestly, I probably still do a little. But more than that, I hated myself.”
“Why?”
Even from the perspective of the perpetrator, Liriet had done nothing wrong. So why had she hated herself?
“Looking back, I never once asked you why you hated me. If I'd asked just a little sooner, fixed it a little sooner... maybe you wouldn't have had reason to hate me, and I wouldn't have had reason to hate you. That's what I thought.”
“You're too kind for your own good. Most kids wouldn't even think like that.”
On the contrary, if Liriet had been the older one tormenting him like that? He was certain he'd have spent every night plotting ways to kill her.
“Did you think the same about Mother, too?”
“Yes.”
“Why go that far? If it were me, I'd have dreamed of cutting ties.”
Of course, abandoning the Argent Duke family's halo wasn't an easy choice. But considering the pain Liriet had endured, it might have been better.
“Cutting ties... You're right. Because we're family.”
“Family?”
“Yes. No matter how much we hate each other, no matter how brutally we fight, we're family. I couldn't bring myself to abandon that. All I could do was believe it would get better someday.”
So mature. That was Abel's brief impression of Liriet's straightforward answer. Far more adult than he was, despite being two years younger. No—perhaps more precocious and thoughtful than anyone else in the family.
Maybe it was Liriet, not me, who was truly suited to the Argent family.
Even his last shred of pride was crushed. But strangely, Abel felt unburdened. He'd never realized acknowledging someone else so cleanly could feel this easy and relieving. Was it because he couldn't do something this simple that he'd kept repeating those shameful acts?
No, back then it was even worse.
His eyes had been completely blinded. It wasn't just a matter of realization. If he'd had the objectivity to evaluate others' talents back then, things never would have reached this point.
“Then why did you hate me, Brother?”
“Because I thought you didn't belong in the Argent family.”
“I can't deny that.”
A bitter smile touched Liriet's lips, and Abel shot to his feet.
“No. Even if you can't deny it, I'll deny it from now on—for you.”
“Pardon?”
“Better late than never. The one who doesn't belong in the Argent family... it's not you. It's me, Liriet.”
“W-What are you saying? There's no way you don't belong in the Argent family...”
Was she even trying to defend a wretch like him? He was moved by her vast magnanimity, but it also made him feel the gulf between them, leaving his emotions oddly mixed.
“Well, I won't force it on you. And I'm not giving up either. The next family head position is still mine—that hasn't changed.”
“That's so you, Brother.”
“...Is that a compliment?”
“I-It is!”
It didn't sound like one. More like she thought he was clueless about his place. The words nearly escaped, but he held them back. Even if she said it outright, he had no retort. It was the truth.
“But Brother.”
“Yeah?”
“Why open up to me like this? And why try to be nice to me now?”
Pure curiosity filled her innocent eyes. Calling this being nice? He couldn't even guess her threshold. But since he was the one who'd shaped her that way, Abel gave a wry smile and explained kindly.
“It's not really about being nice. Even if I wipe my mouth clean now and change my attitude a bit, I can't undo my past mistakes. But...”
His throat felt dry for no reason. Abel poured water from the pitcher on the table into a cup, took a sip, and continued.
“When I saw you—someone who never flinched no matter how much I tormented you—come back sobbing like that... I just thought at least I couldn't keep doing this.”
“...I see.”
Righting past wrongs was impossible. The water was already spilled. But to avoid spilling more, he had to do his best. That was Abel's sole realization.
He didn't want to play the saint or the perfect big brother now. He didn't crave the respectful gazes Baal earned by doting on Liriet. But if he couldn't be a respected brother...
At the very least, he could remain her brother. As Liriet had said, that's what family meant.
“So, what do you plan to do?”
“About what?”
“The flowers. You're not thinking of trying to give them again, are you?”
No matter how outwardly strong Liriet was, after such a blunt rejection, she wouldn't have the courage to repeat it. Deep down, he hoped she'd drop it. He couldn't bear imagining how much it'd hurt if she crashed again.
“No, I am going.”
“For real?”
“Yes. After all, I'm Father's daughter. And though she didn't give birth to me... I'm Mother's daughter too. I want to give them to him no matter what.”
But hearing her resolute answer, Abel couldn't bring himself to stop her.
“I see. If that's your decision, I won't stand in your way. But...”
“But...?”
“I'll go with you. I didn't prepare flowers, but I can at least tag along and take credit.”
Abel grinned, voicing his intent, and Liriet's face went blank for a moment before blooming into a radiant smile.
He was just saying that—his real motive was different. Surely, if her flowers were rejected again, he'd comfort her from the side. The old Abel Argent might not have, but the current one? She could count on it.
“Thank you, Brother.”
“I'm the one freeloading off you, and you're thanking me? Feels weird.”
“Still, thank you.”
“Enough. Anyway, if you're set, let's go now.”
“Yes!”
Liriet picked up the wilted flowers again and left the room with Abel.
Mother said to leave, but a quick visit should be fine. She was picky with Liriet, but with him there, she wouldn't be too harsh.
“I'll announce us.”
“Ah, yes.”
Soon, they arrived at the Argent couple's bedroom. As Liriet reached to knock, Abel pushed her aside and stood before the door.
“Ahem!”
Clearing his throat lightly, he took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock—
—Kyaaak!
The sharp scream from inside set their nerves on edge.
“Mother!?”
“B-Brother! Hurry, the door...!”
“Right!”
Realizing there was no time to wait, they burst inside to find...
“...!?”
“Uncle...?”
Their father, Edmund Argent, slumped limply. And Baal, gripping his collar and dragging him toward the window like a butcher to the slaughterhouse.
“U-Uncle! What are you doing!? Don't tell me you've laid hands on our father...!”
Edmund had his faults, but he was still their father—no way could Abel stand by while someone manhandled him. As he glared and demanded answers, Baal sighed deeply.
“Don't worry. I just knocked him out for a bit. If I could, I'd have beaten him senseless for real.”
The caveat at the end nagged at them, but after checking Edmund's condition, they confirmed no serious harm and sighed in relief.
“I was just about to call for you two. Perfect timing. Come with me.”
“Go? Where to?”
As Liriet voiced her confusion, Baal gave a wry smile and extended his hand.
“To confirm the truth.”