Chapter 97: A Desired Betrayal (2)
Chapter 97: A Desired Betrayal (2)
The mansion’s study.
“Your outward appearance is perfect, Sir Knight. One could say you are the very personification of the Aranian ideal.”
I scanned the manuscript Johann had prepared.
“Even the timbre of your voice possesses an aristocratic resonance.”
I listened to Johann’s advice with rapt attention.
“Therefore, do not feel the need to raise your voice. The masses will be captivated by your appearance and the melody of your speech more than any logic.”
Suddenly, I recalled the speeches made by the Imperial Military before my regression. They were always shouting, veins bulging in their necks, consumed by a frantic madness.
“Do I need gestures as well?”
I swung my clenched fists back and forth. Whoosh. Whoosh.
“No.”
Johann shook his head firmly.
“If it were someone whose appearance was lacking or who lacked a natural aura, such artificial gestures might be necessary. But that is not the case for you.”
Appearance.
Perhaps it was the only natural talent the human known as Maximilian possessed.
Most of the individual ‘achievements’ I had attained in this life were thanks to the Virus and my regression, but this alone was my innate birthright.
“You are distinctly different from the members of the military, most of whom are eyesores… or rather, possess quite rugged features.”
I had received plenty of compliments on my looks since I was a child.
Of course, I wasn't some once-in-a-century beauty or a man whose looks were unparalleled across the entire continent. Such men surely existed elsewhere.
However, the ‘beauty’ Johann spoke of wasn't just about aesthetics.
“Cheveux d’or. Yeux de lumière. Traits fins. L’ombre.”
He described me using the grammar of Ancient Aran.
I let out a dry chuckle.
“Golden hair, eyes of light, delicate features, and a long, elegant shadow?”
That was the gist of it.
“Yes! Exactly. Have you studied the ancient tongue?”
“I’ve been reading a lot of books lately.”
Thanks to the Virus, everything I read felt as though it were stored in a library within my memory. It meant I could pull out the contents and look through them whenever I wished.
To have such an ability and still avoid books would be a dereliction of duty.
“…You are the Aranian ideal, Sir Knight.”
A strange glint appeared in Johann’s eyes.
“The ideal, huh…”
I thought of my father, Zebestian.
Zebestian also possessed distinct Aranian traits, but his height—easily exceeding two meters—was the issue. His chest and frame, reminiscent of a tiger, were more than enough to earn him the title of the continent’s strongest, but he differed from the personification of the Aranian people described by the ancient Empire.
“Yes. Even if you simply stand somewhere high up, the eyes and ears of the Imperial citizens will be focused solely on you.”
I also thought of the Emperor.
The Emperor’s greatest weakness was his appearance. He didn't have golden hair, he didn't have golden eyes, and he wasn't tall.
“In you, Sir Knight, both good and evil coexist. At times, one feels a boyish innocence, yet there is also an unfathomable abyss lurking within. That contradiction creates an air of mystery.”
What Johann was trying to convey was the method to maximize my strengths.
“To captivate an audience, it is no exaggeration to say your features were bestowed by the Aranian gods themselves…”
According to him, I was highly distinguished even among other nobles. Since I lacked nothing in lineage, appearance, authority, wealth, status, ability, or character, a more special ‘qualification’ was formed.
Therefore, I only needed to reveal myself naturally as I was.
…
“If you have a weakness, Sir Knight, it is your gaze and your vocalization.”
I had set up a small podium. In front of it were mannequins serving as the audience, and Johann stood beside me, observing my gestures and eye contact while explaining the correct ‘posture.’
“My gaze and vocalization?”
“Yes. You tend to stare at only one spot, making your eye contact feel rather awkward.”
Johann pointed to one side of the mannequins. It was the center. In terms of the State Council, it was exactly where Sonette had been sitting.
“Then what should I do?”
“Maintain silence for a moment before saying something important. Stop speaking briefly to focus the audience’s attention, then simply scan the room slowly, as if drawing a fan shape with your eyes.”
The flow of the gaze and the utilization of silence.
He continued.
“Even if your gaze only brushes past them, the masses below will fall into the illusion that they have locked eyes with you. They will either be filled with joy or struck with fear.”
I nodded and asked the next question.
“And the vocalization?”
“Your timbre is excellent. It possesses an aristocratic weight that oscillates between deep black and cold blue. However…”
Johann paused for a moment.
It seemed this was the ‘utilization of silence’ he had just mentioned. It certainly made me focus on what he was about to say.
“The clarity is slightly lacking. Your voice tends to linger in your mouth before scattering. Do not strain your neck and tighten your vocal cords. Doing so makes the sound thin and diminishes your dignity.”
As he spoke, he tapped his lower abdomen, near his dantian.
“Drop your breath deep into your lower abdomen. Keep your diaphragm taut and use that recoil to push the sound up. Do not let the sound simply ride up your throat; let it be fired from your dantian, striking your palate and nasal cavity to resonate outward.”
The dantian was a familiar concept. It was the most important element in all types of Mana Breathing.
“Also, move your lips and the tip of your tongue more firmly to accurately bite and spit out the consonants. Only then will your will be delivered precisely to the ears of even the most distant listeners.”
Eyes and mouth.
Gaze and voice.
I looked at the mannequins, reflecting on Johann’s advice.
Suddenly, a sense of dissonance washed over me.
“…”
Come to think of it, these were scars inflicted by Zebestian.
Whenever I stood before him, my gaze would falter, and my throat would tighten, preventing my voice from coming out properly.
“Sir Knight? Are you alright? Your expression is dark.”
Johann called out to me cautiously. He seemed to have felt a strange chill from my silence.
I gave a bitter smile.
Thinking about it again, I was always blaming Zebestian.
I was benefiting from Zebestian’s legacy while simultaneously fearing him.
Was I still just a child trembling beneath the shadow of that giant?
“…It’s nothing.”
Or was this finally the process of breaking free from my childhood?
* * *
The last Friday of April.
An abandoned factory on the outskirts of District 39. A place where the cold moonlight seeped diagonally through rusted steel beams.
Drip— Drip—
The sound of falling water droplets struck the ear like a ticking clock, and Yukia stood alone in the darkness.
Step.
The sound of footsteps breaking the silence spread like mist. A man walked out from the shadows. A contact for the Revolutionary Group and an insider of the Veil.
Sniff, sniff.
Yukia caught his scent first. The familiar smell of stagnant water stung her nose.
“Why did you refuse the order?”
The masked man asked abruptly. His voice was laced with accusation.
“…I thought I could get closer to him.”
“To earn Maximilian’s trust?”
“…”
Yukia only nodded. The man snorted.
“Just by showing off your driving skills?”
“I judged it to be far more efficient than injuring him and fleeing immediately.”
“It wasn't about injury; it was an opportunity to decapitate him.”
“…There was someone following us secretly from behind.”
That day, Yukia’s sensitive sense of smell had detected it.
The acrid scent of mana, like burning electricity, which was hard to believe came from a human.
“A plausible excuse. However, Mensi.”
The man took a step closer.
“The moment you entered the Veil, you committed yourself to the revolution. Every order is for the greater cause, and you must not refuse them.”
To enter the Veil, one must sign a vow with blood and mana. It becomes a record in their ledger.
“I know that.”
“…I see. I’m glad you understand so well.”
The man nodded with an ominous smile.
“It’s a damn shitty vow, isn't it? I always hated those things.”
“…?”
He was suddenly spouting nonsense that was hard to decipher. Yukia suddenly turned her gaze toward the factory entrance.
She felt another presence there.
— Step.
Footsteps that made no attempt to hide.
Yukia’s eyes widened.
— Step.
Quietly, a man revealed himself.
A person her keen five senses had only detected late. His blonde hair shone coldly in the moonlight.
“…Did you hear that? It’s the most definitive evidence.”
It was Maximilian.
“…”
He looked at the man without a word and pulled out a small card. The man took it.
“I hope to see you again later.”
The man gave Maximilian a short bow and disappeared.
The deal was over, and now only two people remained in the abandoned factory.
—
Silence settled. The air in the factory became as heavy as lead.
Yukia stared at the longsword hanging at Maximilian’s waist.
“…”
He was a Knight of the Empire. There was no way he would let a spy of a seditious revolution live.
Should she run?
No, could she even run?
…It was impossible.
Yukia simply lowered her head and prepared herself.
— Step.
He approached her.
Each step tightened around her heart.
— Step.
Death was approaching.
— Step.
Suddenly, she thought of her father. Her father was a man of few words. He didn't leave many words for his children either. However, she always felt warmth from his back, and she was proud of his shoulders, which were sturdier than anyone else's.
She couldn't even remember his face or voice clearly anymore, but was this also a kind of life-flashing-before-her-eyes moment?
— Step.
My dream was to one day reunite with my father and live a cozy life in a small house.
But the moment my father died, that wish was destroyed, and the purpose of my life changed.
It was only revenge.
— Step.
His footsteps stopped right in front of her. Yukia did not resist. She simply closed her eyes.
“…Yukia.”
A cold voice fell upon the crown of her head.
“Open your eyes.”
She quietly opened her eyes.
“Did that man just now also smell of stagnant water?”
The smell of stagnant water. He was referring to the scent of rotting water she had just smelled from the man.
She looked up at Maximilian without a word.
“…”
Maximilian said nothing more. He didn't interrogate her, he didn't get angry, and he didn't swing his sword. He simply spoke matter-of-factly.
“You shouldn't have turned the steering wheel back then.”
The day the truck came charging at them.
If she hadn't turned the wheel, would he have died?
Would she have lived?
“The Revolutionary Group is this kind of organization. You shouldn't have trusted them.”
Silence flowed.
A dusty wind blew through the cracks in the broken windows, fluttering their clothes. The Knight’s hand moved into his coat first. Yukia couldn't even take a proper breath.
It’s over now.
Just as she was about to squeeze her eyes shut.
Thump.
Something touched her chest.
It wasn't a sword.
It was a manila envelope.
“Take it.”
Yukia received it. With trembling hands, she looked at the contents.
Inside was a single document. Her own vow, clearly marked with traces of red blood and mana.
—「Mensi │ Yukia」—
“It’s the only original copy.”
Maximilian said nonchalantly.
“So, you can just burn it.”
Yukia stared blankly at Maximilian.
Maximilian unfastened an ornament from his chest. It was a crudely carved wooden necklace.
“…Think of it as a request from your father.”
Yukia looked closely at the marks and traces engraved on it.
It was her father’s carving style, so familiar to her.
“Yukia Tarik.”
Maximilian called her name.
“Revenge cannot be a conviction. It is only a poison that eats away at you. Eric would have simply wanted you to live.”
Leaving those words behind, he simply turned around. Without cutting her throat, without throwing her in prison…
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps.
He moved away from her.
“…”
Left alone, Yukia stared blankly at his departing back.
The dawn chill touched the tip of her nose.
Standing there amidst the dark dust, she reflected on his words.
‘Eric would have simply wanted you to live.’
She raised her trembling hands. In her left hand was the vow that held her life, and in her right hand was the crudely carved wooden necklace.
Slide.
She stroked the surface of the necklace with her fingers.
The rough but warm grain of the wood her father used to carve while staying up through countless nights.
A familiar warmth touched her fingertips. The unique texture of Yaken craftsmanship remained.
It felt as if she were touching her father’s hand.
* * *
“Will you be alright?”
On the way back, Schatz asked from the driver’s seat.
“There’s no reason to play into the Revolutionary Group’s hands. I need to keep the people I need by my side, no matter what mistakes they’ve made.”
“…No matter how I look at it, it seems you just let her go.”
“She’ll come back. Without fail.”
I was certain. Yukia would return.
In the previous encounter, I had used all the ‘methods to move people’ that Johann had mentioned, and besides, her wiretap was still in my office.
“I see. But are you going to leave that man alive?”
“…”
The man was an Izenheim. The Revolutionary Group hadn't given Yukia a second chance. They had tried to end her life by selling her out.
It wasn't the method of the Revolutionary Group I knew. Naturally, it was a response from the Izenheim hiding within the group.
Therefore—
“The Izenheim know that the Yaken are a threat to them.”
I could form such a hypothesis.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. For now, just leave him alive and watch him. Let him live in luxury.”
I would kill him eventually.
But now that I had identified him, I planned to watch a bit longer to see how the Izenheim, who had become a turncoat of the revolution, would operate.
Woof!
The sound of a dog barking came from the back seat. It was Shaun, one of the Shepherds Schatz was raising with particular care.
“That fellow barks at nothing quite a lot.”
“…It’s not that much.”
Schatz’s lips pouted slightly.
“It’s not your fault, Schatz. Bring him to my mansion sometime. He’ll get better once he meets Leo.”
“Shaun is also smart.”
“I know. He looks smart.”
Shepherds were naturally smart, but this fellow was also from the Premium Auction. He was likely two or three times more intelligent than an ordinary Shepherd.
“I’m saying that in comparison to Leo. Leo is smarter than most people.”
“I see.”
Schatz looked skeptical. Either that, or she was overestimating her own dog.
It didn't matter. Once she met him even once, she would know immediately.
“Leo is the king of Aran Shepherds. This Shaun fellow will realize it once he sees him.”
Woof!
Shaun barked. There was a lack of intelligence in his bark. There were also quite a few problems with his grooming. The stray hairs sticking out here and there made him look like a preschooler compared to Leo.
“Pfft.”
I let out a small laugh and leaned back in my seat.
“It will take about an hour. Please rest comfortably.”
Schatz said. I quietly closed my eyes.
Beside Schatz, who was growing as properly as Leo, was perhaps one of the safest places for me.
“I’ll do that.”
This kind of leisure wasn't bad.
The world was facing destruction, but no, rather because it was facing destruction…
I had to delicately manage my mental state and stress.