Alcohol Drinks the Man
Sion Lagrange had been raised in high society, and her way of life was to never drop her guard for a moment—to always think ahead so she wouldn't get bitten over a single slip of the tongue. The same undoubtedly went for Alrun Orlan. After all, she had been a lady just like Sion before this year's prepaid rent scam. So no matter what happened, she was confident she could keep her wits about her. They were the noblest women in the world. There was no situation they couldn't brush off with a simple "Oh, I see."
But even that conviction crumbled at the sight before her.
To the point where the acrid cigarette smoke—thick enough to feel without moving—couldn't even be fanned away.
"………."
Uncle. Or Professor. The magnificent man they addressed with such reverence.
In a forgotten corner of the Professor's Residence where no one could see, he lay with his head buried on the desk.
His face flushed unnaturally red, as if he belonged to another world entirely.
Lost in a void of emptiness and futility.
Like a corpse awaiting its execution date.
The dissonance from the adult who never slouched no matter how exhausted—who always maintained perfect posture and gazed down on them with gentle benevolence... It was a sight that didn't seem human at all.
Kwang-dang!─!
Joseph took a few ragged breaths, then yanked off his tie with savage force and tumbled from the chair onto the floor.
"Uh.... Eut...."
But Sion, witnessing it, could do nothing.
As much as she hated to admit it, the mere fact that the one adult she trusted and relied on revealed such a shattered state when alone was enough to halt her thoughts dead in their tracks.
No energy left to bare her teeth at Alrun.
She had just resolved to uncover her uncle's secrets, but was that even something a girl like her could manage?
Embracing this man's wounds and claiming to understand them—perhaps that was nothing short of arrogant delusion.
Wanting closeness to the object of her admiration wasn't wrong. But now that she was nearer to the truth, Sion hesitated.
What happened to you?
How have you been living?
Yet in this crushing moment, the first to move was...
Alrun.
"…Water. We need water."
She quietly slipped off her shoes and hurried inside the residence.
Her wounds weren't fully healed, so no sudden bursts of speed, but this was likely her fastest pace.
"Shoes…?"
"For some reason, Professor Joseph can't stand entering the residence with shoes on. So... we have to take them off."
"I, I see. Even with our close relationship, I've never once entered his private space."
And that realization hit her with nearly the same shock as seeing her uncle's broken form moments ago.
But it was as if Alrun was flaunting it to Sion, who had vowed to be the first to draw near: I've already been here.
Beyond mere understanding, it boiled down to pure, instinctive care—something blooming naturally.
Maybe that's what this unbreakable adult needed.
But Sion hadn't grasped a single piece of it from the start.
Still, Alrun spoke.
"Duchess Lady, if it's all right... could you help out a little?"
No trace remained of the tense undercurrent from before.
It melted away Sion's stunned freeze.
"…Yes. No choice in a situation like this."
And so, without waiting for permission, Sion and Alrun entered.
The two ladies moved with mechanical precision, as if they'd rehearsed it.
"Ugh, what the hell kind of strength is this?"
"He's a man, you know. And his build is massive…."
"…I know."
They pried the trumpet bottle from his vise-like grip above all else.
"Duchess Lady, shall we toss the empty bottles?"
"Yes. But... honestly, I'm not familiar with this place."
"The trash bag's over here. I'll show you."
They gathered the empty bottles scattered uncleaned on the floor.
Ensuring their large, precious adult was safe.
"Cups go on that shelf over there. The blanket's... right next to the biggest wardrobe inside."
"I'll get the blanket. You handle the cups, Alrun."
It wasn't a path they'd choose lightly.
But to hoist what looked like a solid 100kg of burly adult male, they grunted and strained.
Well, it was mostly dragging him along, but they couldn't just leave him on the cold floor.
"Ugh, uuugh─."
"Hah…."
But Joseph—drunk to the point his mind seemed half-evaporated—somehow flickered to life the moment their hands kept brushing his body.
His ever-closed mouth cracked open, and he spoke.
He hadn't even registered their presence in the first place.
So it wasn't meant for them.
"Left flank, front line, hold.... Don't retreat……. Check mana reserves before pulling back…. Hold, damn it…."
Even in his stupor, the words formed clearly.
"…Ah, Alrun?!"
"──Ack."
His eyes half-open, half-shut.
His body limp, unresponsive.
Yet his shoulders trembled faintly, hands clenched as if gripping a sword.
And crucially, he was grunting to bring his right hand to his left—to pry off the glove he'd always worn there….
What it signified, they didn't know.
But it felt like crossing into his deepest taboo.
Sion and Alrun sensed it instinctively.
He kept muttering in a tone that sounded faintly desperate.
The reek of booze didn't matter.
"3rd Platoon, four left. No resupply. Awaiting response…."
The war had ended long ago.
The world was at peace, threats vanished.
Everyone called it a golden age of prosperity.
But where was the man who had ended that war single-handedly?
Precisely—he was still trapped there, five years in the past.
Still in that spot, fighting on.
"Response……. ─Respond. Please…."
And in the end, he groaned like the boy abandoned on the battlefield.
Alrun was seeing this for the first time too, it seemed.
Sion and Alrun both widened their eyes mid-drag.
They could never grasp its full meaning, alive or dead.
But they could feel it.
"Uncle, you…."
"………."
"…Should we keep moving him, Alrun?"
"Yes."
The raw, unvarnished Joseph, no frills.
Today, the two had inched one step closer to his forbidden core.
Finally dragging him to the bed's edge, Sion tucked the blanket tight to ward off the night's chill.
Alrun set water by his head.
They extinguished the light and slipped out of the residence to beat curfew.
But after witnessing that, the walk back couldn't carry the same tension.
Silence had reigned on the way there too, of course.
But now its edge veered in a different direction.
Toward Sion: restraint.
Toward Alrun: curiosity.
Unsure what words to probe with in between, they simply walked in quiet… until Sion spoke first.
"Does Uncle do this often?"
"Pardon?"
"…You seem pretty familiar with the residence."
Polite, yet unmistakably the tone one used with a peer girl.
"I'm not sure if it's often. I don't see it every time. But the bottles are always there."
"I see."
From that reply, Sion sized it up in an instant.
Ah, so even with experience inside, she doesn't know the full picture of Uncle.
She doesn't seem like someone he'd hide from.
So why does he drink until he's utterly senseless? And what torments him? She's got no clue at all.
By Sion's reckoning, Alrun just cleaned up the aftermath every time.
Never digging into the cause—not even as deeply as Sion had.
Subtle.
Truth be told, it stung her pride that Alrun had gotten close first.
But seeing this, Alrun hadn't touched the heart of it either.
But if it weren't for her, I never would've had the chance to see this. I didn't even dare think of entering the residence.
Her caring for the professor and Sion's quest to understand her uncle weren't the same thing.
But maybe both were necessary.
So.
So….
No need for outright hostility. At least not for a while.
Chalak─.
Only then did Sion snap back to her usual self.
She unfurled her fan.
The truth she'd brushed against today—closer to her uncle than ever—was profoundly shocking.
But no need to rush.
For now, just keep watching him.
Wait until he opened his heart….
No other path.
"Alrun."
Sion said.
"Don't tell Uncle about today. You won't, right?"
"…We should. Even as a professor, he wouldn't want us seeing him like that."
"Good. I'll be watching to see if you can keep a secret."
"For things like this… you can trust me a little."
With that, Sion said no more and headed to her dormitory.
But one thing differed from before.
The face she'd never spared a glance now received a fleeting look.
The next day, I opened my eyes.
A fresh blanket was pulled up to my neck.
Still half-dazed, I saw all the empty bottles had been cleared away.
And though I hadn't touched it, a glass of water sat untouched by my head.
Fuck, there's a bug in it….
But my throat was parched.
I roughly fished out the bug and took a sip in that brief moment.
…….
….
….
"Ah, Alrun?!"
I soon realized Alrun had been in my house.
But there was a familiar perfume lingering.
─Isn't this Sion's?
Fuck, fuck.
What the hell happened? Was I... screwed?