Confession
Persuading someone requires no small number of conditions.
And when the person you mean to persuade stands at the complete opposite pole from yourself, those conditions grow still more exacting.
The listener is far more likely to regard the persuader with a sour eye. Even if you declare that black is black and white is white, they will not so much as let it graze their ear. Because of that, the one doing the persuading spends the greater part of their mental energy simply trying to lower the other party’s guard. You have to build a friendly relationship with the target of your persuasion; you must never take a lecturing tone; you must feed them only sweet words and gently lead them to change their own mind.
And even after all that long-suffering labor, there is no guarantee of a good result.
However—
The people Shiron intended to persuade already shared a friendly relationship with him. Moreover, they were in a position to receive orders, and they were not human.
I’m the lucky sort, all things considered.
Shiron slowly opened the door and stepped inside. Yuma followed at his back.
Thud— thud—
Every gaze in the room snapped toward the Young Master who had appeared without warning. The chattering atmosphere he had sensed beyond the door was gone without a trace. Silence swallowing the space was only natural.
Yet the concentrated attention of so many people did nothing to make Shiron tense. He was not so green as that. Ease sat on the boy’s face, and with every step he took, a quiet confidence seemed to radiate from him. This was something he had set out to do; the thought of turning tail here, of looking ridiculous, never even crossed his mind.
Thud—
Shiron stepped up onto the table in the center of the room. The elevated spot let him look down on every face and served perfectly well as a makeshift platform.
“Everyone’s here. No one missing.”
He looked down at them with a pleased little smile. Apart from Yuma standing behind him, all thirty maids were gathered in a single glance.
“Let me ask you something. Did anyone get any kind of message or briefing before they came here?”
“…….”
The maids gave no verbal answer. They only shook their heads. The way they moved as one, like a single colony, was so uncanny it almost made the room feel unreal.
As I thought…
Shiron slowly brushed his lips with a finger, as if turning the present situation over in his mind. Encia had summoned them without saying a word about what was coming. Of course she couldn’t have spoken in advance. These women were not so soft-hearted that they would obey the orders of a child who could still do nothing… That was how Encia would have reasoned.
And yet even Encia—who had every reason to feel the sharpest sense of betrayal—had followed the order without real complaint. The fact drew a thin, crooked smile onto Shiron’s face.
Ugh. Gives me chills.
Encia’s behavior only confirmed what he already knew. The servants of Dawn Castle were, every last one of them, not human. That truth carved itself into his mind once more.
According to the setting, they did not possess human hearts. They moved by purpose rather than emotion, judged by reason rather than sentiment.
First I confirm whether the purpose driving these creatures is the same as what I know.
Shiron firmed his resolve and considered what a childlike performance might look like.
“Sorry for making you all run back and forth again, same as yesterday. I don’t actually enjoy being a nuisance, but I’ve got a bit of an impatient streak.”
His pronunciation was a little mushy, yet everything beneath it was perfectly composed.
“As you all know, the fact that I passed the succession rite is plain and undeniable. I don’t think any of you are stupid enough to refuse to accept it just because I fell through the ice… but if anyone does have a complaint, you can say it right here and now.”
“…….”
Even after he floated the opening, not a single maid raised her hand. If they had harbored real discontent, they would never have assembled in the first place.
“Well then…”
Shiron looked around at the faces with a satisfied expression. Every gaze was locked on him. The only things that moved were eyelids. It felt like standing in a room full of beautiful dolls on display.
He let his eyes pass over them and turned his head toward Yuma, who stood at attention behind him.
“Yuma.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“I heard you told Encia about the power of prophecy. That’s a little disappointing.”
“……I am deeply sorry.”
The red-haired woman with the horn dipped her head slightly in apology. Yet her mouth was smiling. Shiron knew exactly why she was pleased, so he did not bother pointing it out.
“I thought you were a woman who didn’t know the meaning of mistakes. Quite the surprise. Never expected you of all people to go running your mouth. Still, you didn’t leak it to outsiders—only to the girls—so I’ll let it slide this once.”
“I am truly grateful.”
Shiron had spoken as if delivering a warning, but there was no real warning in it. The reason he had turned to look at the woman who already understood every circumstance was simply to float the topic of the power of prophecy.
When he faced forward again, the atmosphere had changed.
Would you look at that.
Their eyes were different. The pupils that had been full of questions now held light, and their faces were faintly flushed as if excitement had taken hold. At this point it was fair to say the room had heated up.
“Haa…”
Shiron dragged a finger across his lips. The bait he had casually tossed—that he had obtained the power of prophecy—had been swallowed whole. The maids leaned forward as if they could barely keep themselves from pelting him with questions; a few even rose onto their toes.
But—
Quenching the thirst of excited creatures is a fool’s errand.
Instead of the maids itching to ask questions, Shiron looked toward the corner where Encia alone stood looking downcast, and opened his mouth.
“Encia. Why so gloomy? You were so happy a little while ago.”
“Well…”
Encia slowly raised the head she had been hanging. But her lips did not move easily. Anxiety surged through her at the way Shiron was deliberately driving the situation to the edge of a cliff. She found the Young Master cruel.
“……There’s no need for you to concern yourself, Young Master.”
Encia deliberately avoided giving an answer. Shiron, however, had no intention of letting her go.
“Fine. Then… next question.”
He grinned as if he were enjoying her reaction.
“……D-do you mean you’ve marked me, Young Master?”
“I’ve got a bit of a grudge-holding streak.”
“You intend to keep at it until I answer.”
“Obviously.”
Shiron nodded, and Encia let out a sigh of resignation.
“Please ask.”
“You’re a demon, so why do you take orders from a little kid like me?”
“That’s…”
Encia squeezed her eyes shut. This Young Master was not truly directing the question at her alone. He was making Encia speak, as representative, a question that applied to every one of them.
“Because the Young Master is a Prien.”
“What’s a Prien? You’re not following me just because I’m some noble brat.”
“Because he is the only hope I have of ever leaving this place.”
“Not that. Are you going to keep dancing around it?”
Shiron’s brow furrowed. Encia had failed to give the answer he wanted.
He… already knows everything.
Encia felt her chest grow tight. As expected, the Young Master had awakened the power of prophecy. Facts that should have remained unknown until he became family head were about to leave his lips. The faint speculation she had been nursing grew sharp and clear.
My eyes weren’t wrong after all.
The power of prophecy. The head of the Prien family could see the future. In order to kill the Apostles of the Evil God—who resurrected no matter how many times they were slain—he could pinpoint the places in the Demon Realm where they would return, places that could otherwise never be known.
Encia’s eyes flew wide as she spoke. Strength entered her clear voice.
“Because you are the only savior who can kill the Evil God who betrayed us and whom we hate.”
“Good. You should have said that from the start.”
Shiron smiled with the satisfaction of someone who had obtained exactly the answer he wanted. Then he looked for another suitable maid.
“Ophelia. Why do you serve the Priens?”
“The same as Encia. To take revenge on the Evil God who deserves death.”
“So you’d do anything for that.”
“Of course, Young Master.”
Ophelia smiled brightly. She shared Encia’s thoughts exactly.
Shiron asked them one after another.
Aina. Vivian. Citri. Dorothy. Eliora. Flone. Gracia. Hemil. AiAi…
Twenty-eight demons made their confession to Shiron.
They served the Priens for the sake of revenge against the Evil God.
“Thank you for speaking so honestly.”
Shiron cross-checked the information and grew certain. They were not human. They were demons who loved wagers. And they were already bound by some contract or oath.
Once he knew what they wanted, persuasion was easy.
The reason they had spent five hundred years cleaning up after brats. The reason they had cultivated the Priens without complaint even though they could leave this stifling castle for only a single day each year.
Shiron nodded as if answering their expectations. Only now could he finally say that he would not become the family head.
“In that case, as long as I kill the Evil God, it shouldn’t matter whether I take the seat of family head or not.”
The boy drew a cluster of light out of empty air.
Standing in the place where every eye was fixed, Shiron drove in the wedge that would keep them from thinking any other thoughts.
———!
The Holy Sword in Shiron’s hand displayed its lofty form. To all appearances, it looked exactly as though he had summoned a Holy Sword from thin air.
“I don’t particularly see the need to become family head.”
He behaved as if he had received the Holy Sword’s choice the same way Kyle had five hundred years ago. He spoke with the confidence of someone who was its rightful master.
“I’m the hero, after all.”
Their suspicion became certainty.
The room filled with a surge of joy. Tears welled in faces flushed with emotion. Demons praising a hero—there was nothing more absurd. He had decided he would no longer do things that didn’t suit him, yet he had gone and done it again before a full day had passed.
Shiron bit his tongue and held back the laugh that tried to escape.
Thank goodness Lucia isn’t here.
Even so, he found himself curious. What kind of reaction would she show if she ever saw him posing as the hero?