Chapter 113: In Truth, They Knew (7)
Chapter 113: In Truth, They Knew (7)
Startled, he straightened his collar.
To think he'd been standing before the Emperor in disheveled attire. Of course, it was far too late to worry about such things, what with having been drenched in blood before and all, though he'd certainly crossed a line... Still, there was a big difference between pretending to care and not pretending at all.
'...Where the hell did the button run off to at a time like this.' He fiddled with the collar near his neck where the button had vanished a few times before giving up and glancing up to gauge the Emperor's reaction.
Fortunately, as if understanding his embarrassment, the Emperor pretended not to notice and changed the subject.
"Check his wrist as well. It was dislocated. We put it back in place, but there may be unforeseen issues."
* * *
The Demon King's curse weakened the body. The increased frequency of coughing up blood was also due to that. That was the extent of the information Cruel knew about the curse.
So was the fact that he moved around perfectly fine as if nothing had changed due to faulty information, or was it a venomous effort to show no weakness?
Cruel, no, everyone present including Cruel, confirmed the latter as they watched Deon Hart hurriedly trying to cover his stigma.
'He coughed blood, yet without a single word about it, he held out his wrist and said it hurt.'
He had even nonchalantly wiped the blood on his hand off on his clothes.
The real weakness, hemoptysis, was glossed over as smoothly as possible to hide it, while a less critical weakness was offered up in its place. A weakness that, once already treated, was of little use even if known.
It hadn't been a drunken act, nor needless fussing. As if catching on, the Emperor had averted his gaze as if he hadn't seen anything and ordered the court physician to treat his wrist.
"The bone has already been set, so there is no separate treatment required. I shall wrap it in a bandage, so please refrain from using the wrist for the time being. And..."
There was nothing after that. The court physician, who looked as if he had something more to say, closed his mouth and stared at Deon with tearful eyes. The way he tightly held Deon's hand in both of his clearly showed how deeply sorry he felt for him.
While the sentiment was understandable, this was problematic. Weren't they exposing everything that both sides had been struggling to hide and ignore?
He had to be stopped. But Cruel could not move. The Duke was watching. He had already done more than enough to warrant suspicion, and for the sake of future plans, moving any further was dangerous.
Instead, he turned to the Emperor. Fortunately, it seemed he had the same thought, as he quietly summoned the court physician.
"You've done your work, so withdraw. And Honorary Count Hart, it would be best for you to return and rest now."
"...Thank you for your consideration."
Deon turned his back. As if wanting to prove he was fine, he even refused his personal knight, who cautiously offered to assist him, and strode out of the space on his own two feet with dignity.
Senzer, his subordinate who had been entering, glanced at him before throwing a look at Cruel. At the action of lightly clenching and unclenching a fist while keeping his gaze fixed this way, Cruel paused.
'...His physical condition is poor right now.'
Did it absolutely have to be done?
It was a plan he had crafted personally. He'd had people constantly watching, and the opportunity had finally come. Even without experiencing it firsthand, he knew it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance.
To carry out the plan, or to delay it.
...The deliberation was brief. Cruel surveyed the situation, which was settling down to some extent, then approached Senzer. He could feel the Duke's eyes on him, but he didn't show it.
"Go and tell Deon. Just for today, don't wander the streets unnecessarily and go straight home."
He knew.
He knew that this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance.
* * *
From the moment Deon Hart was subdued by the Emperor to the moment he left the banquet hall.
Stigma Primiro, the instigator who had quietly observed all of this, lowered his eyes gently and sank into thought.
Now that the situation had calmed and he had some leeway, something became visible.
His junior, Deon Hart's drunken rampage.
'It's familiar.'
It was somehow familiar.
Such a violent drunken rampage should be rare. Why on earth did it feel so familiar?
He could have let it go, but because it bothered him so strangely, Stigma dug into it a bit persistently, uncharacteristically. He replayed the situation from moments before, rewound time in his head, and carefully dissected each detail.
—There was something in the Emperor's dialogue that snagged his attention.
[It is time to return to reality.]
[This is not a battlefield.]
...Ah.
A drunken rampage where one searches for enemies. The words the Emperor uttered to sober him up while subduing him.
Stigma had been through many battles in the south. He had probably been through the most battles among the current official Heroes, and was a Hero who was still actively going through them. As such, he knew this symptom better than anyone.
'This isn't a simple drunken rampage.'
There were symptoms commonly experienced by those who went through war, got hurt, killed people, and saw people die.
The scope of symptoms was vast and varied, so he couldn't list them all, but if he had to pick out a few: hallucinations and auditory hallucinations, extreme avoidance of crowded places, becoming extremely aggressive or depressed and lethargic, and so on.
Among them, in cases where one became aggressive, everyone in sight appeared as enemies, or—
—There was a symptom where one wandered solely in search of the 'enemy'.
Stigma named this 'Post-traumatic Stress Disorder.' PTSD for short.
'Right. He was out on the battlefield at that young age, so it'd be strange if he was fine.'
Unlike physical shock, mental shock was an area that couldn't be touched. It was tricky to deal with since even the person themselves didn't know the degree of its progression or severity, and depending on the person, the shock from that time often remained forever, strongly affecting daily life.
He'd heard that Deon Hart had come out to the battlefield at age 14. An age where the mind hadn't yet fully matured.
'In the end, you were human too.'
There was no disappointment. Rather, it drew admiration.
The fact that he only showed such symptoms when his mental strength was weakened by alcohol—didn't that mean, interpreted differently, that when he was sober, he suppressed it with astonishing mental fortitude?
The more he knew, the more interesting his junior became.
Feeling his fondness for Deon Hart rise further, Stigma wore a faint, barely perceptible smile.
* * *
I fled the banquet hall as if escaping. Rien offered to assist me, but I refused. Instead, I gave a different order.
[No, I'm fine. Rather than that, please make sure no one else follows me. For example, our knight order members, or Dan who's coming over there... Huh? Dan? Why are you here... Ah, right, I brought you.]
[My Lord...?]
[I follow your command.]
[Sir Rien? No, wait a moment. My Lord! You left your robe!]
[...Sir Rien, please let him through.]
[Yes.]
Something like this unfolded with the appearance of Dan, whom I'd forgotten about.
Rien, who obediently sent Dan to me, retreated, saying she'd catch the knight order members on our side who were sniffing around and creeping closer. I could hear someone stubbornly insisting they would follow me and then getting smacked from a short distance away, but I couldn't turn around.
Because I'd made eye contact with Dan. Ugh, could you please get rid of that hurt look?
"...It's because of the alcohol. It's not on purpose, it just slipped my mind for a moment because of the alcohol."
"I see."
"...Sorry."
"There is no need to apologize. Please, put the robe on quickly."
As if to attend to my clothes, he held the robe up to make it easier to put on.
In that gesture, I saw the image of someone familiar and lost my words for a moment. ...It must just be my imagination, right?
"Ah... I'm fine, I'll put it on myself."
"No. Allow me to help."
"...Ed?"
"Who is that?"
From a stranger... no, from a man I wasn't close with, came the scent of a familiar man.
I was making a sour face, reminded of my adjutant Ed from the Demon Realm, and Dan, who saw my expression, flinched for a moment before hardening his expression as if he couldn't yield on this.
I really wished he would assert such firm resolve elsewhere.
"It is in the sense of atonement, so you need not feel burdened."
"Atonement...?"
"Did I not dare to test you, Master?"
"...?"
I don't know. I don't know what he means. What the hell was this bullshit about a test? When did that even happen?
Anyway, judging by the atmosphere, it didn't look like he'd back down at all. In that case, I could just not wear it, I guess.
"Now that I think about it, I don't think I need to wear the robe. It's night anyway, so..."
"That is not the issue. Do you intend to walk around with your chest exposed like that?"
Ah, I reflexively fumbled with the gap in my collar that had come undone. That was where the Demon King's stigma was.
As I was brushing over it with my fingertips, his voice continued as if the matter wasn't over yet.
"And what about your conspicuous appearance? Aren't white hair and red eyes practically your symbols?"
"...Give it here. I'll wear it."
"I shall put it on you."
"..."
Had he smeared honey on my clothes or something?
Anyway, unable to refuse any further, I obediently accepted his assistance with my outer garment. The feeling was strange; he wasn't a servant, we weren't that close, and for some reason, he reminded me of Ed, but I was satisfied that I could finally chase this persistent guy away with this.
Finally, I was alone.
'At first, I wanted to be alone because I was so embarrassed...'
Looking at the state of my ruined clothes and the mess in the banquet hall, it was clear I'd done something when I was drunk.
There was such a thing as an undeniable reality in the world.
I couldn't remember what had happened, and I didn't have the courage to lift that veil, but the visible circumstances were mentally beating me up, knowingly or not.
It was clearly that, but...
'Now I want to be alone because I'm mentally exhausted...?'
Dan, you son of a bitch.
If your plan was to drain my mind and cancel out my embarrassment, I want to tell you it was a resounding success.
My head throbbed just thinking about Dan. So let's think about something else. When I was drunk in the banquet hall...
'Not this!'
The embarrassment I'd forgotten came rushing back. Quick, think of something else...!
...Right, the court physician. Let me think about the court physician who examined me. That person didn't just examine me; he did something rather peculiar.
'At first, I wondered what was up when he grabbed my hand.'
He had written letters on my palm with his finger. How dumbfounded I was once I deciphered it.
[Did I not tell you to please stay healthy!]
He'd written it very clearly, exclamation mark included.
Uh... right... He'd even packed restorative medicine for me back then...
When I looked at him, baffled, he met my gaze with eyes full of melancholy, and it gave me goosebumps. Why was such an elderly gentleman acting like this...?
Thank god the Emperor stopped him at just the right time; if I'd lingered any longer, I might have thrown a punch.
'Ah, damn.'
Far from calming down, my mind only grew more unsettled. I'd chosen the wrong thing to recall.
I brushed down my goosebump-ridden arms and hastened my steps. I needed to get home and rest quickly.
"Honorary Count Hart?"
"...?"
What now, I'm tired, who is it?
"Hello, I am Senzer, in service to Lord Cruel Hart. I have come to deliver Lord Cruel's message."
"..."
What was Rien doing instead of blocking this bastard?
...Ah, right, I'd ordered her to block the mad dogs. She wasn't a multi-bodied being, so missing one guy like this was understandable.
A message from Cruel... What kind of bullshit was he going to spout? I nodded slightly, signaling him to just get on with it.
"He said, just for today, do not wander the streets unnecessarily and go straight home."
"...What?"
For a moment, I doubted my ears.
What, was he my guardian or something? What the hell was his ulterior motive?
Hoping for a bit more explanation, I looked at him, but the bastard disappeared without even answering my retort. Taking after his superior, his obnoxiousness was through the roof. Tch.
'...Let's get back to the main topic for now.'
I needed to stay calm and think.