Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Homecoming (4)
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Elric had a dream.
It was a dream of slashing through soldiers on mud-soaked ground saturated with blood.
The stench of blood and rotting corpses mingled together, numbing his sense of smell. The soldiers' shouts left his ears ringing. His vision was black and white.
He swung his sword like a madman, barely pushing forward, only for the wizards' flames, the archers, and the matchlock units to unleash a barrage that blackened his entire field of view.
It looked just like a massive monster gaping its jaws wide open.
Elric stared blankly at the sight until, at the very end, he finally...
“Gasp...!”
He woke from the dream.
Bolting upright in bed, Elric looked around.
A desk, a bed, a set of knight's armor, and model swords hanging on the wall all painted a picture of serenity.
This was no battlefield. It was a quiet room untouched by the clamor of the western front—a room from his childhood, exactly as he remembered it.
‘...Right. I came back home.’
Fumbling, Elric reached out with his hand.
Even knowing there were no enemies here, his tension refused to ease.
His body was drenched in cold sweat. His heart pounded like a hammer gone wild, and his heightened senses picked up even the chirping of birds outside the window.
‘Sword... my sword...’
It was a sickness of the mind.
Having grown up on the battlefield, steeped in its mad atmosphere, Elric suffered from an illness that wouldn't let him be parted from his sword for even a moment.
With a clink, he found the dagger on the nightstand beside the bed.
Elric clutched the dagger to his chest and took a deep breath.
Only then did his heartbeat begin to steady.
That was the moment.
-Young Master, did you cough?
Aldio spoke from beyond the door.
Elric fully regained his sense of reality at the sound of his voice.
“...Yeah, I just woke up.”
The chirping of birds rang out lightly.
*
This was extravagance beyond his station.
Having arrived so late the night before and gone straight to his bedroom, Elric felt awkward amid the manor’s morning routine.
When he said he wanted to wash with cold water, a basin full of it was promptly brought.
After washing, his clothes were laid out—fabric so soft he barely felt like he was wearing anything. On the battlefield, his clothes were little more than rags he tore into, so the contrast was inevitable.
Elric buttoned his shirt and straightened his necktie.
Looking in the mirror, not a trace of Sword Ghost Kasha remained.
Feeling somehow out of place, Elric tried smiling.
‘Doesn’t suit me.’
As a child, he’d heard he had a pretty smile, but now it looked so forced. Probably because there’d been no reason to smile on the battlefield.
His expressions had all hardened.
Elric tore his gaze from the mirror and leaned on his cane.
As he left the room, Aldio was waiting.
“Breakfast first, sir.”
“Lead the way.”
Aldio smiled brightly and started walking.
The question came right after.
“But how did your leg end up like that?”
He’d been eyeing Elric’s knee since yesterday, and now he was finally asking.
Elric brushed it off.
“Rolled down a steep hill and got it crushed against a rock. Careless of me.”
How could he tell them a bullet had lodged between his knee on the battlefield?
It would heal in time, even if it took a while.
He didn’t want to worry them unnecessarily.
“Goodness... you’re still such a troublemaker.”
“Stop calling me that. Makes me feel like a kid again.”
They exchanged chuckles and jokes, and before he knew it, they were at the dining room.
Click. The moment the door opened, Elric’s steps halted.
“Did you cough?”
The modestly sized dining room already had a guest.
Hair like golden wheat, drooping eyes, porcelain skin, and red lips that stood out on their own—a woman making her presence known.
Elric belatedly remembered that Tirria lived here.
He’d seen her yesterday and still forgotten; his mind must have been elsewhere.
“Good morning.”
Elric offered an awkward greeting and headed to the table.
His knee throbbed especially after waking up. He tried to school his expression, but it wouldn’t cooperate.
He finally pulled out a chair and sat down with effort.
That was when he realized her gaze was fixed on his knee.
“Ah, don’t mind it. It’s not a serious injury.”
Returning home as an invalid only to whine like a child—how pathetic would that look?
Elric covered his knee with his hand, brushing off her stare.
“...I see.”
Tirria took her seat.
Breakfast arrived soon after.
Eggs, soft bread, and three strips of bacon.
A meal from his memories. A simple spread tailored to his father’s tastes, easy on the stomach.
The irony was that the man who’d made such meals wasn’t here.
Clink. Elric picked up his fork and knife.
Only then did Tirria take her utensils.
Elric ate while observing her movements.
She was remarkably quiet. No clinking from the glassware or metal utensils, and the way she sliced, speared, and brought food to her mouth was graceful.
She opened her mouth just enough to chew silently, breaking down the food without a sound—another stark contrast to Elric.
Having shoveled dirt-covered rations on the battlefield, Elric had forgotten all his table manners.
Their eyes met for a moment.
Elric flinched and looked down at his plate.
Then he thought, ‘Why am I the one avoiding her gaze?’ He cleared his throat and looked up.
She was still staring straight at him.
Elric flashed his usual forced smile.
“What is it?”
“...Nothing.”
Her gaze dropped again.
It was an unbearably awkward meal.
Still, sitting at the same table felt too cold, so Elric cautiously spoke up.
“Are you heading to check the wheat fields again today?”
“...Yes.”
“Hmm, I see.”
Tirria’s index finger curled slightly.
Was it annoying? Elric regretted opening his mouth.
‘You idiot.’
He’d gone and spoken up, repeating the same mistake.
His stomach churned. Sitting any longer would make him choke on his food.
Elric stabbed a half-eaten piece of bread, a strip of bacon, and a fried egg all at once, then shoved them into his mouth.
He wiped his mouth roughly with a napkin and stood.
“Nmm gng brkfst. Ejoy yur ml.”
I’ll be going. Enjoy your meal.
It was the most mundane farewell he could muster.
Whether she understood was anyone’s guess. He didn’t have time to think about it.
Elric leaned on his cane and hurried away.
Click. Only after the door closed did Tirria speak.
“...Yes, have a good day.”
It was a very small voice.
A faint smile tugged at her lips—so subtle it might go unnoticed—before vanishing without a trace.
*
The manor was bustling after breakfast.
Guided by Aldio, Elric exchanged greetings with the servants.
Some were from his memories, others replaced in his absence.
Those he hadn’t seen in ages welcomed him warmly.
Elric was deeply grateful.
For them to greet a shameless prodigal son who’d left without a word and skipped even his father’s funeral like this—their hearts must be vast indeed.
Each hug came with concerns about his knee, without exception.
Elric reassured them, “It’ll heal soon,” but no one believed him.
‘Was I really that unreliable as a kid...?’
Reflecting on the past, Elric had to admit it.
In Weibin, if you named the biggest troublemaker, all hundred people would say Elric Portman—no denying that.
The head maid, chuckling at his hesitation, pressed on.
“Goodness... so, Young Master! You’re back for good now, right?”
“Haha...”
Elric laughed awkwardly.
He hadn’t decided yet.
With his knee injury, he’d stay a while, but...
What right did he have now to play lord of the manor?
Coming to Weibin was just a fluke—a mix of nostalgia and coincidences.
On the very day he’d left the battlefield due to his knee, he’d stopped by and learned of his father’s death. Who would believe that?
The place ran fine without him; he didn’t want to wedge himself in and stir trouble.
He’d probably leave again.
“Young Master?”
“Hm, we’ll talk later. I have somewhere to go.”
“Oh, of course. What matters is you’re here. Hee-hee! We’ll prepare a grand dinner tonight.”
Leaving the plump head maid’s laughter behind, Elric turned to Aldio.
“Then let’s get going.”
“Yes, sir. Into the carriage.”
A carriage sized just right for one awaited.
Elric fiddled with the dagger in his pocket.
A habit whenever his mind wouldn’t settle.
With a tap, he limped toward it, cane thudding against the ground.
Their destination was his father’s grave.