Born at the Wrong Time
1. Born at the wrong time.
1.
And they all lived happily ever after.
That phrase.
Who was that fairy tale written for?
The nine heroes who saved the world. The leader of those heroes, the Radiant Knight, and the Saintess. The only son born between the two of them.
That was me, born amid countless blessings. And yet—maybe I was simply born at the wrong time.
Tenth place. Nothing remarkable. Nothing disgraceful, either. Against everyone's expectations, I was nothing more than an utterly ordinary human being.
That was my original sin.
Tenth. Not a high rank. Not a low one, either.
"Young Master Cariel is as consistent as ever."
The gatekeeper's chatter drifted in on the wind. "To think the son of such a great father would turn out so pitiful. Like father a dragon, like son a lizard—or however that saying goes?"
"Are you serious right now? Shut your mouth."
"Why? Did I say anything wrong?"
"That's the young lord of the house you're talking about! Are you insane? Even keeping talk like that buried inside is blasphemy—and you're just blurting it out in the open?"
Barely a day had passed, and already the news had spread all the way to the family estate. Go figure.
I let out a sigh, vaulted over the wall, and slipped through the back gate of the house. "What a waste of breath."
Running a hand through hair long past due for a trim, I flopped into the corner of my room—until a knock came at the door.
"Y-Young Master? You've returned, haven't you?"
"...What is it?"
"The Madam asked me to bring you to her the moment you arrived... "
"Fine."
I pushed straight out the door and tore down the corridor. "H-hold on! At least let me fix your attire—!"
"Not necessary."
I smoothed down the overgrown hair that hung nearly into my eyes with a casual pass of my hand. "Don't follow me."
"Ah..."
I could feel her rooted to the middle of the hallway behind me, but I forced myself to ignore it. Tagging along with me would only earn her grief—what did she stand to gain by playing at a life of luxury anyway?
...Nothing.
I stopped some distance short of the parlor, gathered my breath, and walked calmly onward. "It's me."
Since the door stood open, I announced myself instead of knocking. "Come in." "Yes, ma'am."
Inside the parlor sat a woman in a pure white dress—the swell of her belly unmistakably prominent. My gaze dropped, as if by reflex, to the carpet at her feet.
"...I heard the news."
...Silence.
"Your effort fell short."
...Silence.
Fell short.
At this point I'd heard it so often it didn't even sting anymore. Yes—this was normal. This was how it should be. So why did it only ever get to me at moments like this? My heart felt like it would burst. My lungs felt like they were being crushed. A needle driven deep into my lower abdomen, forced in against my will—that was the sensation crawling through me.
I bit down the urge to grind my lips between my teeth. "I have no excuse."
"...Then why do what has no excuse?"
...Silence.
"You are a child who need only try, and you will succeed. Where on earth is your mind wandering?"
...Silence.
"Why no answer? Do you simply wish to know what I intend to say? Or... can you not bring yourself to accept it?"
The air was closing in around me.
"...No, ma'am."
"I can hear emotion in your voice. Could it be, Cariel—that you feel wronged?"
"Not at all... I don't."
"Are you lying to your own mother, right now, to her face?"
And then:
"...Why have you let your hair grow so long? I distinctly remember telling you to see to it regularly. Is my memory mistaken?"
"...No."
"Then are you defying me now?"
...Silence.
"And why do you answer—only—when it suits you?"
I'm going to lose my mind. Cold sweat trickles down my back. My thoughts blur, my consciousness bleeds white at the edges.
Maybe it's nothing. Maybe, to anyone else, it would be nothing at all. But there was no moment when I felt smaller, more pathetic, than these.
I don't know why. At some point, I simply stopped trying to understand. This was nothing more than a time to endure. To hold out. Without reason, without anything—just...
"Are you saying your mother's words make no sense to you?!"
The outburst cracked through the room. I flinched—a single jolt—and forced my breathing level, doing everything I could to keep it from showing on my face. Lips pressed hard together. Jaw clenched tight, so tight my teeth wouldn't grind.
And with that, I surrendered myself to nothing but slow, steady breaths for a long moment.
"You were declared the blessing the world bestowed upon us. To us as well, you are truly something that could not be exchanged for anything—"
And yet.
The words didn't continue. I don't know why. I've never once wondered. It had nothing to do with me in the first place. She was simply shouting whatever she wished to shout, and nothing more.
"You are the child of Rueld and me—of Ermina. A little effort is all it would take. So why... why won't you?"
...Silence.
"Do you refuse to answer?"
The lecture went on. I had nothing to say. Nothing I said would ever get through. Whatever I offered would be nothing but excuses. Or maybe—maybe they really would just be excuses.
"...Enough. Go rest."
I bowed my head, and from that moment until I passed through the door, I never turned my back, never once lifted my gaze.
"Young... Master."
"I told you not to come... Haah. Forget it."
Irritation boiled up inside me, but anything muttered quietly here would be caught by her ears all the same. I said nothing and walked the corridor back to my room.
...Silence.
There was no way to play my instrument here. If only to shake off this suffocation, I was already planning to sneak out again tonight, as I always did.
Knock, knock.
"...What?"
"Young Master, today... Lord Rueld said he would be coming home..."
"Oh, for f—"
I strangled the curse before it could escape. "His timing just rots, doesn't it." Even that much barely stayed held behind my teeth.
The birth was drawing near—that had to be the reason. Until now, Mother had been flung from place to place on missionary work, charity, this and that. Once the child arrived, there'd be no more of that.
"Haah."
Screeeech. From somewhere behind my temple—or maybe from somewhere around my heart—came the sound of iron grinding against iron. Or maybe not.
"What? Tenth? Tenth in the whole school? That's plenty fine. I never even managed that much, you know."
"Rueld."
"What? It's the truth, isn't it?"
I let the cheerful voice wash past one ear and devoted myself to my meal. Neither fast nor slow. Only when my plate was finished could I leave this table.
On the long rectangular table sat dishes that, on any other day, would have set my mouth watering. But I kept my eyes fixed only on what lay before me.
"But when things won't go your way, when it gets hard? I had plenty of times like that too. But that's how it is for everyone. So don't blame yourself too much, and don't lose heart."
"Rueld. Cariel is our son. Mine and yours."
"Ah, come now, who doesn't know that?"
"The expectations placed upon him are just as great as those placed on you and me—please remember that as well. The Emperor's and Meline's children, Bariel's children—all of them live up to what everyone expects of them."
"W-well, that's..."
"Remember. At Cariel's age, you had already felled a demon legion commander."
"Mm."
The moment her words paused, it meant the target of her address had changed.
"Cariel. Are you listening properly?"
"...Yes."
"Cariel." A man's voice cut in between us. "When someone speaks to you, you look at them. I don't mind, but isn't your mother the one talking?"
...Silence.
I swallowed the sigh rising in my throat and turned my head, just slightly.
"They say the eyes are the windows of the heart, Cariel."
"...So?"
"So right now, there's nothing properly reflected in your eyes. Not me, not your mother—nothing at all."
...Silence.
So what am I supposed to do about that?
"There's no need to give up and despair over so little. Haven't I told you time and again? Academy grades are hardly what matter."
"I know."
"Then why that look? Is losing to your friends really so hard to swallow?"
...Silence.
That's always how it is with you. Without understanding a single thing.
"It's all because your heart is weak. Train your mind and body harder, and you can absolutely become like your father here. So never, ever give up. Your old dad's heart wavered plenty of times too, believe me—struggled, and hurt. But in the end it all comes down to how you make up your mind. Look at me. That's how I saved the world, you know?"
I wasn't sitting here to be lectured.
"...Thank you for the meal."
I set down my utensils, dabbed the corner of my mouth with my napkin, and rose from my seat.
"Cariel! Your father is speaking—have you no manners at all—?!"
"Ah, now, darling! It's fine! It's the season when he's at his most sensitive. It falls to us to understand him."
Understand me? Understand what, exactly?
The urge to fire back a few choice words surged up, absurd as it was—but I pretended not to hear and left the room. Nothing would change anyway. I would simply bide my time, let myself rot, and quietly vanish. If my very existence was a sin, then the least I could do was disappear.
The fear lasted only a moment. In the end, I knew I would come to accept that as the best possible choice.
...Silence.
After all, a new sibling was on the way. The empty space I left behind—the child would fill it on his own. I wouldn't hope. I wouldn't trust. I wouldn't dream.
I didn't want to be any unhappier than this.
Back then.
Back then—even with my memories hazy—when I was very small, I didn't think the world had been this blurred. When exactly had everything turned so murky, so vast and featureless that I couldn't see even a single step ahead?
Because I wasn't a genius? Because I had no talent? Because my effort fell short? Because I had no drive?
At some point—truly, at some point—I had stopped wanting to do anything at all.
If I could wish for one thing, only one—
...Just leave me alone.
I feel like I'll suffocate. Like I'll die.
Please. Just let me breathe.