Misunderstanding (2)
Ah, that was a good rest.
A full week had passed since Evan returned to the mansion. He had rested so thoroughly it almost felt sinful. The Duke happened to be away as well. With no one summoning him, staying locked in his room was perfectly legal.
Heh. This is what happiness looks like.
Far too much had happened lately… For someone whose top priority was safety, every single event had been exhausting. Not that it had been all bad. Thanks to those trials he had obtained the health ring, and the anemia and headaches that had constantly plagued him were gone. If only the ring’s effects worked even without wearing it…
If it weren’t for the poor health, this body would actually be pretty decent.
The body of Evan Alcarte came with plenty of drawbacks—so many that they were a problem in themselves. Still, a year of effort had finally borne fruit. Steady improvement through potions. Rather than pure alchemy he had focused on “elixir arts,” trying to remake his constitution, and the results had not been zero. With the health ring added on top, he had at least reached the lower ranks of ordinary. All that remained now were the advantages.
Starting with status, I’m already crushing it.
This world ran on a class system. Status was law, power, and money. Evan’s position was that of a noble’s son—specifically the son of a ducal house, the highest nobility beneath only the Emperor himself. How enormous an advantage was that? Some might lament being the second son, but to Evan it was pure upside. True, he would inherit nothing. That also meant he bore no responsibilities. In other words: absolute free ride. If only it could last a lifetime.
How much time do I have left?
Evan stared at the ceiling and calculated. Roughly three years until the main story began. But that was not leisure time.
Maybe… about two years left?
The collapse started far earlier than the main plot. By the time the player appeared, the end had already progressed quite a way. To stop it, he had to start moving hard right now. Even if he slacked off, one year was the absolute maximum. He had to crush every future catastrophe before it arrived.
Of course, it won’t be me doing the crushing—my helpers will. But even accounting for that, I still have to run around like crazy.
…He hated it, but there was no choice. Being sick again was worse. So far he had met three main helpers: Adrianna, Arthur, and the Dark King. His relationship with Arthur had grown a little closer this time, while he kept a careful distance from the Dark King. The problem was the Saintess. He seemed to have earned her favor—otherwise the letter would never have come.
But the support is way stingier than I expected.
Practically nonexistent. Being healthy was part of it, yet it was nothing like the original story where she had thrown everything at him. Maybe because she hadn’t faced a crisis yet?
With the gift I sent this time, she should be satisfied and start taking better care of me, right?
Or he could just send more. He could even fix her flaw the way he had with Arthur. The curse nesting in the Saintess’s heart still remained, and solving it would require a mountain of materials.
Still, I did pick up a good connection at the ball.
Belia. The only useful contact he had made at the ballroom. Second daughter of the merchant lord who led the Golden Trading Company. People dismissed them as the eternal second-place company, but their scale could not be ignored. Second place could become first at any time. Hand her a few pieces of future knowledge and she would seize the top spot on her own, wouldn’t she? Kingmaker. That actually sounded pretty cool.
Knock knock!
Someone rapped on the door. Lapis, who had been playing cat’s cradle with Frey, poked her head up.
“Who is it?”
“Young Master! Two letters have arrived!”
It was Dolf outside, answering in his usual energetic voice.
“Would you like to read them both at once?”
“……Two of them? Anyone I know?”
“One of them is someone I’ve never seen before!”
“?”
Evan took the letters Lapis brought over with her threads and opened the first one with a puzzled look.
Sender: Belia
It’s been a while, Young Master Evan Alcarte.
I’m sorry I vanished that day without even a proper greeting. An urgent schedule suddenly came up.
In return, I’ll send the “good connection” you wanted straight to your mansion.
Thank you.
May you achieve everything you desire.
P.S. Beware the villainess of the century.
Ah.
She hadn’t forgotten him after all! A pleased smile naturally curved Evan’s lips as he carefully scanned the letter. She had written first even though he hadn’t sent anything.
Looks like they don’t get along.
Well, Asella was a famous villainess. Plenty of people hated her; no one liked her. How else could someone with that face still have no marriage proposals?
I heard there used to be some, long ago.
Apparently they died after drinking her black tea. The same kind of “accident” he’d seen a few times back on Earth. Accident in name only, of course.
I should send a reply.
Thank you. May even better things come your way.
That should be enough. Anything grander didn’t suit his personality.
“I’ll send this one! Ah…! And Young Master! This is the progress report on establishing the orphanage!”
Time to get back to work, I guess.
Evan swallowed a sigh and examined the documents. Hmm. He didn’t really understand them. Roughly how much money it would cost, how much manpower, hiring a manager, hiring someone to take responsibility for that manager… In short, there was a lot to do.
“Evan.”
Frey stood up from her seat.
“Ah! My thread!”
Ignoring Lapis’s protest, Frey walked over and held out her hand.
“That paperwork—let me see it.”
“? Go ahead.”
Evan handed the documents over without resistance.
“Just don’t alter them on your own.”
“Don’t worry. Everything I do is for you, Evan.”
“?”
Had the kid eaten something weird? Lately Frey had become excessively obedient. Probably the aftereffect of receiving a name. Aside from the occasional “walk,” she stayed cooped up in the room. Not bad, exactly, but it left him uneasy. Was she going to stab him in the back later?
“This orphanage. Why are you making it?”
“Even if we happen to find more people like you, Frey, we can’t keep them all in this mansion.”
Eventually they would have to become independent. The master of the mansion was the Duke. Unless Evan inherited the ducal title in the future, he would have to leave this place no matter what. A house to live in after that. He had deliberately chosen a peaceful city—one that barely appeared in the game and wouldn’t get dragged into major incidents. Of course he couldn’t say any of that. And it hadn’t been the original purpose anyway. Evan simply stated his goal.
“No matter what stories they carry, children with nowhere to go. Shouldn’t there be at least one ‘shelter’ where they can rest?”
“A shelter… like me…”
Frey murmured a few words, then nodded.
“…All right.”
“Hm?”
Lapis poked her head up again. She had been staring out the window.
“Evan! Evan’s dad is back!”
“…His Grace the Duke?”
Knock knock!
At the same moment someone knocked on the door. An unfamiliar presence. Frey and Lapis’s gazes snapped toward it, faint hostility flickering in their eyes. They seemed to have mistaken the visitor for an enemy. While Evan was calming them down, a flat voice came from beyond the door.
“Young Master Evan. His Grace the Duke summons you.”
…Do I really have to go?
Evan stood before the Duke’s study.
Ugh, I’m already exhausted.
Before coming he had washed, groomed himself, and changed clothes—all for the sake of proper etiquette when meeting the Duke. Did parent and child really need this much formality? But they were nobles before they were blood. People who lived and died by honor; such procedures were simply natural.
This is stifling.
He started to loosen the necktie he had spent two hours fastening, only for the maid beside him to shoot him a fierce glare. He quietly lowered his hand. Yeah, fine. He’d undo it later. He definitely wasn’t scared.
“…Your Grace.”
Evan carefully knocked on the study door.
“This is Evan Alcarte. May I enter?”
—Come in.
The voice sounded less and less like Evan’s the more he heard it. Unlike Evan, who was still growing, it was deep and solemn. Even a single word carried dignity; that alone was a talent.
Creak—
The door opened with a soft hinge sound. The study was filled with every kind of luxurious object, yet nothing felt excessive. Books were stacked high even though it wasn’t a library; a carpet woven from high-rank monster fur covered the floor; a peaceful music box played softly.
Click.
The music box stopped. The Duke, who had been alone at the desk focused on documents, lifted his head. Black hair and the golden eyes that symbolized Alcarte blood. A sharply raised nose bridge, flawless features, a face without a single ounce of excess flesh. A formal waistcoat over a white dress shirt. Just looking at him radiated dignity and pressure. Even in his own study he wore a full suit rather than casual clothes, yet it felt natural rather than awkward. He had been born a noble, a duke, and the master of the house.
Cabaro Alcarte.
This was the first time they had faced each other alone. The moment Evan saw him, tension seized his face so hard the muscles cramped. That was actually fortunate. Better a stiff face than a mistake.
The atmosphere is terrifying.
Especially those eyes. Now he understood why people said his two brothers didn’t resemble him. A brilliant color that would shine even in the dark. That wasn’t something you could acquire later; you had to be born with it.
I do resemble him… a little.
Evan looked like Duke Cabaro. Not to that degree of presence, of course. With effort he could probably cultivate similar poise and dignity later. His body would violently reject the idea, and Evan himself had no intention of trying.
Ugh. My stomach feels weird.
The memory was still vivid. The moment of possession. Inherited memories. His mother’s corpse, already cold. Young Evan collapsed in front of it. And those golden eyes looking down on them both.
—Father! Why! Why!!
—…Your voice is too loud, Evan Alcarte. Maintain your dignity.
—You loved Mother! So how could you…!
After that, even the original Evan no longer remembered what the Duke had said. Hardcore players were the same. It was a story never revealed in the game. No matter how much you wanted to know, you couldn’t.
—Then I… I…!
But the words original Evan had screamed in pure malice were burned clearly into the body.
—Somehow, I will bring Mother back. I will find your humanity again. Even if it means committing the Taboo!!
After that, father and son had never spoken again. Their most recent conversation had been the brief exchange before the ball. And this was supposed to be a father-son relationship?
“I heard you attended the ball.”
Cabaro spoke. Evan slowly nodded.
“…Yes.”
“Did anyone catch your eye?”
What did that mean? Was he asking if there was a girl he liked?
No way.
There was no chance this Duke would ask something like that.
“No one particularly impressive.”
Evan kept his voice as flat as possible.
“Everyone simply lived by surrendering themselves to their own desires.”
“……”
“It was a place where I learned a great deal. Though I failed to raise the reputation Your Grace desired.”
“It doesn’t matter. You have already raised your name high enough.”
…Excuse me? I have?
“Your name circulated quite a bit at this ball. I heard you conversed on the balcony with Young Lady Belita, second daughter of the Golden Trading Company.”
Cabaro’s golden eyes gleamed loftily.
“What did you discuss?”
Should he hide it? A brief moment of calculation. An ambiguous lie here could lead to unknown consequences. For safety’s sake, honesty was better. Cabaro wouldn’t use it to blackmail or scold him. He would simply say “I see” and move on.
“…It was about the heretics.”
“Heretics.”
Cabaro closed his eyes for a moment. He slowly set the documents aside, laced his fingers, rested his chin on them, and opened his eyes again.
“…I see.”
He looked deep in thought, yet he no longer showed it. Was that the end of it?
“…Well done.”
A dry compliment. The kind of response someone forced out when they truly had nothing left to say. As if declaring the conversation finished, Cabaro issued the dismissal.
“You may leave.”
“…Understood, Your Grace.”
Evan slowly turned and grasped the doorknob. Just as he was about to step out—
“Still.”
Cabaro’s voice caught his ankle.
“Do you still intend to commit the Taboo?”
“……”
How was he supposed to answer this? Evan turned it over in his head for a moment. The tone clearly sounded like “Do you still resent me?” Of course not. As he had said, Duke Cabaro felt no attachment whatsoever toward “Evan Alcarte.” He was the kind of black-hearted figure who wouldn’t even blink if Evan died.
This much should be fine to say.
He already told people this much on a regular basis.
“I no longer have any intention of committing the Taboo.”
Evan’s voice lingered faintly in the room as he turned the knob and stepped out.
“I will also no longer attempt Mother’s Dead Resurrection.”
“……”
A brief silence. Duke Cabaro left one final remark.
“…Soon a guest will visit the mansion. It should not be a bad meeting. Prepare yourself.”
“…Yes.”
That was the end. Evan stepped outside the room.
Hah, damn. I thought I was going to die.
His dark circles felt several shades darker. He really had been through way too much lately… Time to go rest.
The moment he turned his body—
“Evan.”
“…Brother Leonardo.”
The eldest son of the Alcarte family. Evan’s half-brother—and older brother—Leo stood there.
“I heard the news about you.”
“…News about me?”
“I heard you addicted every young noble who attended the ball to drugs.”
Leonardo’s eyes flashed.
“So you’ve finally decided to step into the light, have you?”
“…??”
Me?