The Chairman's Son
"Ah, this handsome young man here is my son."
Eli kept flashing him stop signals with his eyes, but Rayegar had never been the sort to heed such things in the first place. Pointing at Eli for all the table to see, he preened.
"Not that I say this simply because he's my son, but he's an honors student who claimed the top seat in the Magic Department."
"I was well aware of that, though I didn't realize he was your son, Chairman. Now that you mention it, the two of you look remarkably alike."
"Do we now?"
Rayegar wore a contented smile; Eli, by contrast, looked supremely wronged.
Take after him? Take after what, exactly? Rayegar wasn't even his blood father, and being compared to the man bordered on humiliation for Eli. One could practically watch his face cycle from flushed to pale in real time. Being told he resembled the very person he despised most—anyone could sympathize with what that must feel like. But for now, he had to swallow it.
Don't. Rai, not here!
Bayul pleaded with his eyes, as discreetly as he could manage, though there was no hiding the anguish in them.
I am seriously holding back because of you!
With both fists clenched beneath the table, Eli labored mightily to erase what had just happened from his mind.
Thank you.
Bayul let out a silent breath and flashed him a grin. He would have to repay the man later, in whatever way Eli liked best.
"Word of you reached me even within the imperial palace. I sent my applause for so bold a decision. That is why I wished to meet the man behind it."
"I am a little unorthodox, I admit."
Expelling Jared, dismissing a whole crop of professors—every one of those choices had been made in a single day. It was the right course of action, but this was a world where acting on what was right was never easy. In the Empire as it stood, how many could afford to disregard Duke Hector? The Crown Prince was genuinely moved by Rayegar's conviction.
"I hope to learn a great deal while I remain at the Academy."
"Haha, stay as long as you like. Though I can't promise I have anything worth teaching."
Thanks to Rayegar's easy magnanimity, the breakfast gathering turned warm and convivial. The warmer it grew, the higher Eli's irritation climbed—though mercifully, Bayul was the only one who noticed his souring mood.
"By the way, what is on the menu this morning?"
The Crown Prince, who burned through enormous energy outdoors, ate a great deal as well. A devoted carnivore, he usually opened the day with meat.
"Your Highness's palate reached my ears long ago. Beef stew will be served shortly."
"Oh, beef stew is excellent. Nothing wakes muscles that slept through the night and restocks strength drained by sleep quite like it."
At the Crown Prince's praise, Chancellor Reinhardt's shoulders rose a full hand-span. Things were off to a fine start.
"Speaking of meat, something just came to mind."
Rayegar's gaze swung abruptly toward Bayul.
What is he about to say...?
Bayul dreaded that more than an arrow flying straight at him. For one instant, he was seized by the urge to stuff Rayegar's mouth shut.
"Bayul, are the Death brothers coming today as well?"
"...Pardon?"
How could anyone ask after the Death brothers' wellbeing in a setting like this? He isn't even close to them!
Chairman, are you quite in your right mind?
Why, of all moments, did Death's parting words—tell them something came up at home if Rayegar asks—choose now to surface? Could the man actually have foreseen this?
"Those friends of yours go mad for meat. I was wondering whether all three of them had been invited to the festival."
"...No. Something came up at their home, so I'm afraid they won't be able to make it."
"Something came up? What sort of business?"
"I'm not entirely sure myself..."
There was already more than enough conversation to be had around the Crown Prince, when out of nowhere the attention swerved onto Bayul. To be fair, as the son of Duke Randert, the living legend of the Empire, he was amply entitled to it. But right now, the question burning in every mind was simply this: who on earth were the Death brothers?
"Who is this Death person, that Chairman Rayegar takes such an interest in him? Do enlighten me as well."
"Your Highness! They are people you needn't know in the slightest. Ah—there's the stew now. You must be starving; please, eat!"
Bayul scrambled to turn the subject, but Rayegar restored it to its original course in a heartbeat.
"They are servants employed at Bayul's house."
"...Servants, you say?"
A steely edge crept into Crown Prince Lindemann's voice. Nor was he alone—most of the professors, the Chancellor included, glanced back and forth between Rayegar and Bayul in open bewilderment.
Hah...
Bayul understood their sentiments perfectly. Idle chatter about another man's household servants, at a breakfast attended by the Crown Prince himself—no wonder they were dumbfounded. Had a mouse hole presented itself, he would have crawled straight into it.
He had long since accepted that the Chairman was an eccentric, but he hadn't imagined the man would land him in a fix like this.
What even is this situation?
Eli, who had been radiating displeasure from the very start, speared Bayul with an intense look that plainly demanded an explanation.
Why is that bastard rambling on about the Death brothers? You knew them? And why didn't you tell me, hm?
I'll explain everything later.
It was well and truly ruined, then. He had meant to spare Eli any talk of Death wherever possible, but there was no escaping it now. He would have to explain—smoothed over and carefully packaged, everything except the fact that they were demons. All he could do was pray it would pass without incident.
"They must be rather remarkable servants, if the Chairman remembers them well enough to speak of them."
That was when Professor Rothius, silent until then, cut in with an easy grin. He seemed to have stepped in to help Bayul out—but this was the last thing Bayul wanted.
I do not want to hear another word about Death here!
Bayul wailed inwardly.
"The man is monstrously strong, you see. I was utterly stunned watching him hoist loads the size of a house all on his own, easy as you please. Of everyone I've ever laid eyes on, he's far and away the strongest."
"Truly? He's that strong?"
This time it was Professor Serarika. The woman who, upon her arrival, had swept up every title bearing the word "Goddess" now showed a keen interest in the subject of Death.
For the first time, Bayul counted it a blessing that business in the Demon Realm had kept Death from the festival. Had he come and crossed paths with all these curious parties, his temperament being what it was, he would never have simply passed them by. Whatever trouble broke out, it would have been enormous.
"It seems Professor Serarika has quite the fondness for strong men."
That was Professor Wight Church, who taught herbalism. The young professor—popular with the female students for his handsome face and easy humor—had, it was plain to see, awakened to a new attraction. The look in his eyes as he gazed at Professor Serarika was distinctly suggestive.
"I take it you're curious about my ideal type."
Answering with a sassy little smile, Professor Serarika was, even to Bayul's eyes, extraordinarily beautiful.
Yet perhaps thanks to all the years he'd spent adapting to life at Eli's side, he merely registered her as beautiful and felt nothing beyond that.
"I, for one, would love to know what sort of woman is Your Highness's ideal. If it is no imposition, might I ask?"
Confidence radiated from Professor Serarika's face. In all her years, no man had ever laid eyes on her without falling for her. Her chin lifted, proud and aloof.
"I would not call it an imposition, exactly, though it is an abrupt question."
Crown Prince Lindemann's gaze flicked briefly to Hayes, standing guard a short distance below. Near enough that she would catch every word.
"I care for people who are passionate about their own calling."
"...Passion?"
Everyone had braced for talk of looks or temperament—this had missed the mark entirely.
"Yes. A person who pours that passion into themselves gives off a light unlike any other. Of course, only I can see it. Isn't it dashing just to imagine? To me, that woman is the most radiant soul alive."
"Hahaha! 'The most radiant soul alive'—what a magnificent turn of phrase!"
Chancellor Reinhardt applauded outright in his admiration.
"Now that you've come of age, all that remains is to hurry off and meet that radiant lady of yours. I am most eager to see who becomes Your Highness's bride."
"Am I to endure nagging even here, of all places?"
"Pardon? Your Highness, whatever do you mean...!"
"A joke. His Majesty my father has been pestering me so relentlessly to take a wife of late."
"Ah—forgive me, I wondered for a moment if I had misspoken. I offer my apologies if I have displeased you, Your Highness."
"Let us consider this meat your apology accepted, Chancellor."
Today's main course was a platter of meats prepared in every manner of style, set off by a green salad arranged to perfection. Vigor bloomed across Crown Prince Lindemann's face at the sight.
Chancellor Reinhardt's grin threatened to split his face. He had schemed to earn points by laying out a proper meal, and with the plan succeeding beyond hope, his joy was beyond words. He half believed he could sleep tonight with both legs stretched out.
"Please, eat before it cools. Every dish was prepared from the finest ingredients."
"Then I shall dig in with gratitude."
With his thanks expressed, Crown Prince Lindemann fell to the meal in earnest. The professors, who until that moment had been so busy gawking at the Crown Prince that they couldn't have said whether their food was entering by mouth or by nose, finally gathered themselves bit by bit and turned to their plates.
Bayul, however, had lost his appetite entirely. Seeing him pick at his food, Aidan shot him a look urging him to eat properly, but his strength had drained away since morning and nothing would go down. At least the Crown Prince was eating well; that alone was a mercy.
I'd like to go outside and get some air.
As Bayul lifted his head with that thought, he abruptly felt a gaze settle on him from somewhere.
Who is it?
Everyone else was fixed on their own plates or on the Crown Prince, so finding the culprit was no great task. The identity of the person, however, came as a mild shock.
Professor Serarika?
The woman Schubik had dubbed the Goddess of Sunshine was boring her eyes straight into him.
Why is she looking at me like that...?
Her gaze was a tangled thing. To her, this had to be the first time she had ever laid eyes on him, and yet it held so much—enough that a stranger might mistake them for old acquaintances.
He couldn't have put a name to it if he tried. But one thing was certain.
Nowhere in all that welter of emotion was there a single trace of goodwill.