Even If It's Long, It Ends - 2

The Duke of Victory, who had written an undefeated legend, possessed an exceptional strategic eye. That was why he refused to be satisfied with the sight of me looking as though I had already taken a knockout blow, and drove the wedge in deeper.

But how was I supposed to resist? It was my own fault that my conduct had been such a wreck that the Duke felt compelled to say those words at all.

"Truth be told, when I first laid eyes on you, Karl, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I was quite taken aback. You clearly didn't resemble him in looks, yet somehow you did. It must have been the air about you."

If you'd looked alike as well, I might have taken you as my adopted son, he added with a laugh, and I found myself even less able to lift my head.

"So my gaze kept drifting to you. You were you, and that boy was that boy, yet I kept overlaying him on top of you. That was no way to treat either of you."

During the Great Subjugation War, the Duke of Victory had shown a degree of interest toward a mere team leader he had only just met that far exceeded what was proper. Thanks to that, Audit Department Section 4—which could easily have been left floating, given that we belonged to the Ministry of Finance rather than the Imperial Army—had managed to settle into place without much trouble.

And once I learned the reason, how pitiful it had been. He must have burned inside every time he looked at me and saw his dead son, yet because of that very resemblance he had been unable to turn away and had extended consideration after consideration. The man who carried the fate of the Empire on his shoulders had not even been able to find peace in his own heart.

"As time passed, I finally realized my mistake. I had trapped you inside the prejudice that you resembled that boy, and never managed to see you fully as yourself. I hadn't been able to let go of the past either."

I had heard this story three years ago as well. The farewell with his son that he could never forget yet had to release; the need to look properly at a person who was entirely different from that son. Two shackles had been locked around the Duke of Victory's ankles.

"So in the end I told you. I thought nothing good would come of keeping it bottled up any longer—not for you, not for that boy, and not for me."

A sudden summons from a superior so high above me I could barely see him, followed by an abrupt confession of the past. Yet that day the Duke's expression had been brighter than at any other time. He had not even been smiling, yet somehow it outshone every smile.

What had he said? That it felt as though he had finally taken off a blindfold that had covered his eyes? That only then could he see the world properly?

"Of all the choices I have ever made, none have made me prouder than the one I made that day. Thanks to it, have I not gained such an outstanding man as both friend and companion?"

"You give me far too much credit."

I lowered my still-unraised head a little further, and the Duke of Victory burst into laughter at the sight before personally taking hold of my head and lifting it. It was clearly meant as kindness, yet somehow it felt strange—like someone grabbing an enemy general by the hair to cut off his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠head.

In any case, the Duke continued.

"A long time passed between sending that boy off and speaking to you. Even something I thought I would never be able to let go of could, in the end, be resolved once enough time had flowed by."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Yes. Glad indeed."

The Duke nodded and quietly stroked his teacup.

"Time. In the end, time is the issue. Perhaps you too, Karl, will be all right once more time has passed."

I nearly nodded along without thinking, then barely held it back. Agreeing with an atmosphere like this would mark me as someone who had completely abandoned any sense of tact.

"But it is obvious you will suffer during that time, so how could I simply stand by? You have already endured two years of it."

The Minister and the Duke of Victory had trusted me and left me alone for those two full years. Yet today they had reached the conclusion that further neglect was no longer acceptable.

"I have already walked through the same pain you are carrying, Karl. I also know which method is the right one for resolving it."

Then the Duke patted my shoulder. Softly, as though acknowledging how hard it had been all this time.

"So why should you, Karl, have to spend the same amount of time I did? Is it not the role of an old man like me to guide the young so they do not waste their years?"

For a moment I could say nothing, and only bit my lip.

Because I know your pain, because I have endured that eternity of time, I cannot remain still. You do not need to suffer for years the way I did. That was what the Duke of Victory was saying.

"If you cannot bear it alone, confide in someone. That is the answer this foolish man took five years to find. For you, Karl, two years should be more than enough."

"...It may already have been more than enough."

"Knowing that only makes you more infuriating. If you knew, why did you act this way?"

"I'm sorry..."

The Duke of Victory's laughter rang through the office.

After sending Karl out, I returned to my seat. The way he kept glancing back even while being pushed along by the small of his back was so amusing that I had a hard time holding in the laughter that nearly escaped.

He really is still young.

Well, if he had only just passed twenty, young was exactly right. Crushed under the responsibility of being Audit Department Chief, he had shown only that rigid exterior—so seeing a glimpse of something that actually matched his age was rather satisfying.

Though it was still a pity that such a young fellow had become so stiff in the first place. In the North he had been a lighthearted, cheerful boy, so much so that one wondered if he was truly a noble at all.

"Your Grace, I beg you."

"Karl."

"Please, please I beg you. I will take full responsibility. So please..."

Everything had changed after Miss Hecate left that way.

From my perspective it had been a bolt from the blue. Though five of them had fallen, Karl and Miss Hecate had clearly survived.

Karl had even been lying wounded by the heretic, yet still managed to tell me he would invite me to the wedding and asked me to be sure to attend. So I had handed them over with a sense of relief. At least these two children are still alive, I had thought.

Yet when I returned to the Imperial Capital, only Karl remained—bowing his head and pleading.

Even Enen was too cruel.

He had delivered the most terrible disaster at the moment of greatest happiness. It must have felt like walking the skies only to plummet into the abyss.

I had managed to send the repeatedly bowing Karl away with words not to worry. Ridiculous words. Miss Hecate was already dead—what was there not to worry about? What kind of grand favor was it to simply turn a blind eye to the location of a grave?

I should have comforted him properly starting from then.

I trusted him because he always handled things well on his own; I watched from a distance for fear that interfering would only deepen the wound.

Looking back now, it was an absurd line of thought. Calling it trust was generous—objectively, it had been neglect.

The grief of losing a woman with whom he had promised a future and come within a breath of bearing fruit, and on top of that the misery of having to record her final moments as a lie—how was a nineteen-year-old boy supposed to bear that alone? Adult in name only; at nineteen he was still no more than an Academy student.

All the adults nearby were the same.

Neither I nor the Minister of Finance had ever been particularly practiced at looking after someone. Instead, we had met the dazed Karl frequently over work matters amid the succession disputes and internal purges.

I drained the long-cold tea and let out a sigh. To neglect a child that thoroughly and then hope he would somehow manage on his own was simply shameless.

I only hoped that from this point forward he could move in the right direction.

The moment the conversation ended, the Duke of Victory shoved me in the back and sent me home to the manor.

"Resolve it before your feelings cool. Anyone will do. Margeta, family, subordinates, servants—or even someone who owes you a debt, or someone you once advised. Anyone is fine."

"Your Grace, even so, isn't this far too sudden?"

"These days do young people call two years sudden?"

Every single word of his cut like a sharpened dagger.

I forced my reluctant feet to move and headed for the manor. Along the way the Minister contacted me—apparently the Duke had already informed him of the situation.

That was all he said before hanging up at once. Hearing something like that would evaporate any lingering urge to go in, true enough. Not that I had planned to go in the first place.

Leaving that aside, it had been a long time since I left work with the sun still this high. Even so, it was hardly a joyful early departure.

Damn it.

I felt helpless. The Minister and the Duke had been unable to stand by any longer and had given me advice, so following that advice was the right thing to do. Yet when I actually tried to open my mouth, the courage simply would not come. The Duke, who had confided in me first, was the impressive one. How on earth had he managed it?

I had to tell Margeta everything I had been holding inside. I had even sworn that if I did not speak today, I would go join the Second Prince.

At the same time, imagining Margeta's reaction made me hesitate all over again. Would she get angry and ask why I had said nothing all this time? Would she shed tears and ask how I had endured alone? Would she thank me for telling her even now and comfort me? Or would she simply pull me into her arms?

The more possibilities I piled up, the more the hesitation grew. Had I always been this indecisive?

I really am just a kid.

I was a kid after all, and the eyes of the Minister—who had passed fifty—had been perfectly accurate. Experience truly was not something one could ignore.

I was doomed. At this rate I was going to end up forcibly hanging out with the Second Prince.

Was it always this close?

Even so, I had already arrived at the manor, which for some reason felt nearer than usual today. I wanted to scream.

I loitered pointlessly in front of the main gate and let out a sigh. If I went in without having found the courage to speak and then ran into Margeta, I would probably say nothing at all, and the moment would slide past naturally into ordinary daily life.

That would not do. Even the delay until now was already frustrating—if I pushed it any further—

"Brother?"

"Hm?"

I turned around to find Luise standing there with her arms full of something. What? She had been out?

As if reading the question on my face, Luise held out the ingredients in her arms a little and said,

"I thought I'd try making something for the first time in a while. I bought a few ingredients."

The items visible at a glance were indeed mostly foodstuffs.

"We should have most ordinary things in the kitchen already."

"I use a few unusual ingredients, you know."

True enough—even in the Baking Club, the ingredients Luise used had never been ordinary. I nodded at her sheepish little laugh, then a different thought suddenly struck me.

Courage. The courage to confide something in another person.

Luise, who had found the courage to speak of her past to someone she had known for barely a single term.

"Luise, do you have a moment?"

If I sought counsel from someone who had already been brave first, maybe things would get a little easier?

I was in the mood to grasp at any straw at all.