Even Long Things End - 1
It was the first time I had ever been thoroughly dismantled by a minister with words instead of force.
You son of a bitch.
But the resentment turned inward, aimed at myself rather than him. Not a single word he had spoken had been wrong. How could someone lay out nothing but airtight truths until there was nothing left to argue?
Part of me wanted to stop taking it lying down—to shout back, to throw out the classic rebellious lines: Then what am I supposed to do? What the hell do you know?
Impossible. He had already explained exactly what I needed to do, and almost no one understood my situation better than the minister. No matter what I said, the debate was already tilted against me.
A minister really is a minister.
Maybe two years in the post had sharpened the once-blunt man’s tongue beyond recognition. Or maybe even that blunt man could see plenty of openings to beat me with words because I had made such a thorough mess of things. Possibly both.
The walk back to my office felt longer than usual today. Heavy heart, no doubt.
"In a few years, are you still going to push her away? Can you take responsibility for a duke’s daughter who has waited past her prime, looking only at you?"
Anyone who could hear those words and feel nothing wasn’t human.
I would marry someday. When I did, no one came to mind except Margeta. But when? When exactly was that “someday” supposed to arrive?
After Margeta had passed her marriageable years? After she had given up on me? After it was far too late for her to find someone else? When she no longer had even tears left to shed?
Am I out of my mind?
There was no bigger bastard than me. Selfish to the core.
I had assumed that Margeta, who showed me more kindness than I deserved, would understand my circumstances without me ever having to speak them—and that she would keep waiting anyway. As if that were only natural.
I scrubbed my dry face roughly and let out a sigh. If I had at least not made excuses about my official post to my mother, I might not feel this trapped.
No. Wrong. Even before that I had already done wrong by Margeta. I had almost fled in the wrong direction again.
I shook my head lightly, trying to clear the thoughts, when light leaked from inside my coat. Of all times, who now?
Perfect timing.
Honestly, in my current mood I would probably twist even ordinary words into something ugly.
Still, I could not ignore it. I pulled out the communication orb. Anyone contacting me directly through it had to have something urgent.
"This is Audit Department Chief Karl Crassius."
- Karl. Do you have a moment?
I had answered half-heartedly, then hurriedly composed my expression the moment I recognized the voice. I never expected the Duke of Victory at a time like this.
"Yes, of course, Your Grace."
- Good. Then come see me for a moment. I have something important to discuss.
"Understood. I’ll be right there, Your Grace."
The instant the call ended I hurried toward the Imperial Army General Headquarters. The Duke of Victory wore his usual gentle smile, yet the corners of his eyes were strangely rigid.
It was extremely rare for the duke to initiate contact. The last time—during the Magic Lord incident—he had only been in the capital briefly and wanted to see me before leaving. This time something major must have happened.
Damn it.
I clutched at my chest and picked up speed. The fist that had slammed into my solar plexus earlier still hurt, both inside and out.
"How did the fist that crippled the Heaven-Defying One taste?"
The minister’s imposing voice still seemed to linger in my ears. Extremely spicy, Minister.
The Duke of Victory received me as always—personally seating me and serving tea, an honor that still felt overwhelming. Face to face, though, his expression was clearly set hard.
A man weighed by deep worry. For the commander of the Imperial Army himself to look like that, the matter could not be ordinary.
The Emperor?
The only being who stood above the duke, and the one who had recently begun checking the Duke of Victory’s influence.
The conclusion dried my lips. Had simple restraint turned into direct action? If emperor and duke clashed head-on, the entire empire would tremble.
"Here, drink. It’s a popular tea these days—quite good."
"Thank you, Your Grace."
I bowed my head to the duke as he set the cup down and took it. Then I pretended to sip while watching his face at every opportunity.
"Karl."
"Yes, Your Grace."
He seemed ready to get straight to the point, so I lowered the cup from my lips.
If my guess was right and this concerned the Emperor, there was almost nothing I could do. Even the title of Audit Department Chief rested solely on imperial authority.
Still, there had to be some way. If I looked hard enough I could stop the Emperor’s sword dance, or at least blunt its edge.
"I heard from the Minister of Finance."
"Pardon?"
Why bring up the minister here?
"Margeta… I know that child well myself. How could a little girl be so clever and so gentle?"
The words that followed dried my lips for an entirely different reason.
At least it was not the Emperor. Encouraging news. Instead, the Duke of Victory had brought up the very matter the minister had beaten me senseless over. Catastrophe.
"I was surprised to hear she had been refused a marriage proposal, but once I learned the other party was you, I understood."
The duke smiled lightly and took a sip of tea.
"But this latest news… I cannot accept it."
"I—I’m sorry."
"You need not apologize to me."
The duke shook his head, and the mouth I had just managed to open closed again.
Seeing me like that, he gave a bitter smile and continued.
"I know your circumstances well, Karl. How could I not?"
Yes—the Duke of Victory knew about that matter too. During the Great Subjugation War, Audit Department Division 4 had served under his command, and forging Hecate’s cause of death had only been possible with his help.
Even so, the gentle words that he understood my situation still left me unable to speak. The fact that he had summoned me despite knowing meant my recent actions had been especially ugly.
"I know your wounds run deep. But I believed that someone like you could rise on your own, and that forcing a cure would only make things worse—so I stayed silent. The Minister of Finance felt the same."
"I’ve disappointed you. I’m sorry."
"I keep telling you there’s no need to apologize to me."
Of course the first person I needed to apologize to was Margeta. But that did not make the discourtesy I had shown others any lighter.
"Karl. Have you made any effort all this time?"
I could not answer the incomprehensible question. Effort? What effort?
"From where I stand, it seems you have made no effort to escape the past."
The words gouged at my chest, yet because they came from the Duke of Victory I could not refute them. Fresh from the minister’s fact-based beating, I felt like nothing more than a useless child who had done nothing at all.
I quietly lowered my gaze. A sigh from the duke reached my ears. I could not find the courage to look up.
"If you could free yourself alone, nothing would be better. The problem is that you have not."
"You’re right…"
"Then you should at least share it with someone. What good comes of carrying a problem you cannot solve alone?"
I knew exactly how heavy the burden was—because I could not bear it alone. That was precisely why I had not wanted to pass that weight to another. What sin had that person committed, that they should have to carry it?
Even if it was impossible now, I had believed that someday I would be able to resolve it alone. I had thought that was the right way.
"Come to think of it, this was back when you had just become chief. The section chiefs were still inexperienced, weren’t they?"
He suddenly changed the subject, yet I felt no relief.
"You said to me then: ‘It frustrates me watching the section chiefs struggle alone. The whole reason a department exists is so people can handle together the work they cannot do alone—why do they insist on this?’"
"Yes. I did say that."
"Then why are you doing the same?"
I had sensed the roundabout attack coming.
Still, the comparison felt a little unfair. A department was a unit deliberately formed so people would work together; private matters were, by definition, personal.
"You seem to think that case and this one are different."
"N-no, that’s not—"
The sudden reading of my mind left me flustered. Had I been cornered so thoroughly that everything showed on my face?
Whether I was flustered or not, the duke pressed on without hesitation.
"There is no difference. If you cannot solve it alone, share it with someone else. The person you finally decide is worthy of hearing your wounds will not mind sharing your burden."
"……"
"If you cannot believe it, look at me. Am I not living proof?"
"Your Grace, that—"
Sensing the conversation heading somewhere uncomfortable, I opened my mouth, but the duke raised a hand to stop me.
"I originally had three children. Besides the one who would inherit the title and the one who became crown princess, there was one more."
I felt nothing but shame. The benefactor before me was deliberately reopening his own wounds to persuade this worthless child.
"The youngest was a son. If he had not left this father behind first, he would be about your age now, Karl."
The duke took the teacup with faintly trembling hands. No matter how much more he had managed to set down than before, the pain of losing a child was not something one could speak of lightly. No one could remain unaffected while voluntarily mentioning that agony.
"The first time I told you this story was already three years ago."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"How did you feel then? Did you resent me for suddenly dumping something so heavy on you? Did you find it ridiculous that I was talking about something so useless? Or did it simply fail to interest you at all?"
"No… it didn’t. Absolutely not, Your Grace."
"Then the answer is simple."
Satisfied with my reply, the duke nodded. His hands still trembled, yet his eyes had grown quietly still.
"You already know the answer, Karl. You have simply been looking away from it."
For a long while I could say nothing, and only kept my head bowed.