Has the Vacation Been This Long? - 5

The reunion with the minister was the worst.

"Come in."

"No, please."

The scene I had witnessed a few months ago unfolded before my eyes once more. What kind of minister works out in the middle of office hours?

I opened the door but hesitated to step inside. Midsummer was already sweltering even if you stood still; with him exercising on top of that, the heat inside the minister's office was only natural. Was this a minister's office or a sauna? The Ministry of Finance building was a complete mess.

I held my ground out of sheer sticky reluctance, and the minister jerked his chin at me with a look that clearly asked what the hell I was doing still standing there. Fine, fuck it. I had to go in.

"If you're transferring to the military, take me with you."

"You heat-struck or something? What are you on about now?"

Faced with a figure that looked far more like an Imperial Army marshal than the Minister of Finance, I cautiously opened my mouth and immediately got an earful.

Right. It was way too late to jump to the military now. I knew that; I had just been poking at it. People do that sometimes—try things even when they know they won't work.

Anyway, the minister frowned at my words and tossed the dumbbell into a strangely sunken patch of floor. That dent hadn't been there last time. How much had he been throwing those things?

Is the floor below a warehouse?

Fortunately, it seemed no one was suffering from the inter-floor noise the minister so kindly produced. When the perpetrator was the minister himself, where exactly were you supposed to complain?

As I stared blankly at the dumbbell, the minister—shirt still in hand—spoke.

"How did it go?"

"Nothing happened. I think I can just live as usual."

I gave a suitably vague answer to the question that had chopped off all context. He would understand the meaning even if I replied half-heartedly like this.

Indeed, the minister nodded once at my reply, then immediately scowled again.

"A man younger than me, retiring."

The former Count Horpelte's flight seemed to have struck a deep chord with a great many civil servants.

In truth, it was understandable. The former Count Horpelte was only in his forties. To a minister still grinding away in his fifties, the sight would make his blood boil.

"I am envious. Retiring at that age isn't easy."

Retire in my forties? Not a chance. I would be lucky if I managed to retire before I died.

The more I thought about it, the stranger it became. How on earth had he managed to retire? He hadn't even been bouncing around sinecures; he had been a genuine power player. Had he grabbed some weakness of the Emperor's or something?

Good things ought to be shared.

How stingy, monopolizing that all by himself.

"I need to retire soon myself. That way I can make you the minister, can't I?"

"Don't say such fucking terrible things."

The sudden provocation yanked a curse straight out of me. Whose life was he trying to ruin by dumping the minister's seat on me?

Even the Audit Department Chief post was already burdensome; if I became Minister of Finance I might truly bite my own tongue. I had never been cut out for pure administrative work to begin with.

Yet the minister merely chuckled as though my reaction were pathetic.

Bastard.

If his personality had been even half as good as his ability, things would have been so much better.

The report itself finished quickly. Whatever the case's importance, it had ended so quietly there was hardly anything left to say.

"Come to think of it, I heard you went down to the fief."

Instead the minister tossed out another subject.

"Yes, well. I went and came back today."

"What did the Count of Tailglehen say?"

"He's not the sort who takes interest in other people, is he? He didn't say much."

Even with a fellow Imperial Count's retirement, the family head's reaction had been astonishingly nonexistent. Since I had actually been staying at the lord's castle I had expected him to summon me at least once, but he truly did nothing.

"Not that."

Ah. That hadn't been what he was asking?

I felt a little awkward under the minister's firm correction. I had naturally assumed it was about Count Horpelte; wrong tree entirely.

"If you were suddenly called back to the fief there had to be a reason. You even dragged a whole string of distinguished guests along."

"That was because Mother called me. It has nothing to do with the family ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠head."

At those words the minister's hands, which had been straightening the report I had submitted, went still.

He had asked under the assumption that the family head had summoned me for official business; instead it turned out Mother had called, not the family head. In a single stroke the minister had become the nosy boss invading a subordinate's private life.

From his position it must have felt unfair. He knew perfectly well that Mother and I were rather distant, so the idea that she would summon me would never have crossed his mind. Even I had been taken aback when I first received her invitation.

"I suppose she was worried about her eldest son still without a partner."

A summons from a mother with whom my relationship was hardly warm. I answered lightly, partly to free the minister who looked as though he had been hit with a stun spell after accidentally touching a sensitive matter. A man built like a mountain rolling his eyes so awkwardly was not a pretty sight.

"How frustrated must she have been to do that."

And the moment the atmosphere lightened, the minister immediately threw a dig, making me regret having rescued him at all.

"Indeed. She even mentioned an engagement."

"Engagement?"

I nodded at the minister, who was frowning as though he had just heard something absurd.

I had gone prepared for marriage pressure from the start. Still, I had never expected her to apply that pressure with Margeta seated right beside me, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and I certainly had not expected her to bring up an actual engagement at the end.

If a quick excuse had not flashed into my mind, I might truly have come home engaged—an engagement that could not even promise when the wedding would take place.

"She asked how I would feel about becoming engaged to Lady Margeta. But what meaning would an engagement have for me right now? I put it off for later."

At the brief explanation the minister was silent for a moment, then sighed and beckoned.

"Come here a moment."

"What is it? Just say it from there. My ears are perfectly fine."

"I said come here."

He kept stubbornly gesturing, so I stepped closer—and something drove straight into my solar plexus.

"How does the fist that turned the Heaven-Defier into a cripple taste?"

Along with that incomprehensible nonsense. No, fuck—had this man finally gone senile?

The surprise attack nearly knocked me senseless. It had been almost two years since I last took a hit from him.

How on earth was I supposed to deal with this idiot?

Idiot is even too good a word.

If a stronger term existed I would gladly attach it. With that thought I looked down at the fellow writhing and clutching his solar plexus. The brat was just being dramatic.

I barely swallowed another sigh. I knew he had carried a wound in his heart ever since that day. I knew it was hard to shake off.

How could I not know? Even I, who had merely been his superior, was driven half mad by ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it; how much worse must it have been for this one, who had stood far closer?

I thought leaving him alone was the medicine.

It had been poison instead. If I had stepped in more actively, this twisted outcome would never have appeared.

"Already a cripple, so you can't even taste it?"

"What the—you suddenly hit me and then start talking like that?!"

At the sight of him yelling at the top of his lungs my fist almost rose again. But I held it. This bastard was not a problem that could be solved with physical force.

It was late, yet I still had to inject the medicine now. Hadn't an innocent young lady who knew nothing already become a victim?

And because the medicine was late, it would have to be bitter.

"Playing with people like that—even the word cripple is insufficient. Why? Shall I call you the Second Prince instead?"

At those words I watched Karl's eyes flip. Performance guaranteed; the Second Prince never failed.

"Come to think of it, even the Second Prince never toyed with someone he claimed to like."

Since no lunatic had ever liked the Second Prince, the statement was not wrong.

"You push the young lady away like that? Are you in your right mind?"

"Isn't accepting her when I'm not ready yet even ruder?"

Still talking back, still failing to come to his senses. A sigh escaped me of its own accord.

Yes, rude was right. Accepting another person while someone else still occupied your heart was a grave discourtesy.

That was why, when he had refused the marriage talk with the young lady a year ago, I had said nothing. I had only felt sorry that he had not yet cleared Hecate's matter; the handling itself had not been wrong.

But this time? From the way he spoke, it was closer to putting things on hold than cutting them off cleanly as he had last year. Unable to answer love, yet also unable to refuse—a neither-this-nor-that situation. That was far ruder.

"Did you explain the reason to the young lady? Why you have no confidence to marry anyone else—did you explain that?"

If he had told the young lady about Hecate, I could understand. If she had heard the story and still chosen to wait, no outsider would have any right to be angry.

Of course a man who had stewed alone for two years was unlikely to have spoken of it, but I asked out of courtesy just in case.

"How am I supposed to say that?"

I knew it, you bastard.

At the sight of him quietly lowering his eyes another sigh left me.

"You've only piled on the years; you're still a kid."

Perhaps it was only natural. He had gone to war the moment he became an adult at seventeen, and he had lived through that horror at nineteen. In such circumstances, what real difference could two more years make?

Then the youngest, and still the youngest. I had treated him too much like an adult, yet a kid was exactly what he was. Damn it—I had left him alone because I trusted he would handle himself well.

"If you believe you cannot accept her, do not leave room. From the young lady's position it only feeds empty hope."

Once I recognized that the dark-haired figure in front of me was still a child, my voice softened a little. There was fault on my side as well for having neglected the young one.

"Yes, the young lady is still only eighteen. It is not an age where marriage is urgent. But later?"

"……."

"In a few years will you stop pushing her away? Can you take responsibility for a young lady who looked only to you and let her marriageable years pass?"

The fellow who had been defiantly talking back fell silent at those words. He himself had no certainty. How could he answer?

If he cut it off in a single stroke the young lady would grieve for that moment, yet she would still have a chance to find another connection. But if he left room like this and simply let time slip by, what crime had the young lady committed?

I knew why he acted this way. He was afraid. What if he gave affection and the young lady left him the way Hecate had? What if he pushed her away and became forever distant from her? Exactly the sort of worries a child would nurse.

I continued speaking of this and that afterward, though I had no idea whether any of it took effect. I had spoken hastily myself; it had been little more than saying whatever came to mind.

Damn him.

An unplanned lecture. I had never expected him to be in this state.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Clutching my throbbing head, I sighed for what must have been the dozenth time. If he had shown even a slow, gradual escape from the past I would have continued leaving him alone; but faced with an unchanging appearance, how could I stay still?

Of course it was meddling. A subordinate official's state was strange? Because of that a young lady I had met only a handful of times might be hurt? Strictly speaking, none of it concerned me.

But how could I ignore it when that subordinate official was this bastard? If this bastard also went wrong and joined those others, it would be a problem.

Young brats.

Daring to die before me, so that every year I had to visit the graves of ones who were no older than my own children. Six was already a miserable enough number; adding one more to it? Just imagining it made me sick.

After long consideration I stroked the communication orb. Having confirmed that two full years of neglect had only worsened the situation, I could not stall any longer.

I didn't want to use this method.

But the effect would be certain.

Steeling myself, I contacted the one person whose influence was guaranteed.

Fortunately the connection took.

"I am sorry. I have not even offered proper greetings in the meantime."

At the lightly laughing tone I hesitated a moment. It was the first contact in a long while, and not for an especially pleasant reason.

Still, it had to be done. There was no one else I could trust with this.

"Your Grace the Duke of Victory. I have something I must say."

Let's see whether you can hold out even against this man's words.