My Name Is - 4
Having found a measure of peace, Section Chief 1 arrived safely at the mansion. She was the type whose memory stayed sharp even after drinking, so I could not help worrying she might bite her own tongue when she woke tomorrow.
Once I confirmed the maids were supporting her inside, I finally let out a long breath alone.
Thank goodness.
I had nearly set her tear ducts off again at the end. My own head had been swimming, and I had let a fatal slip of the tongue escape.
"Still, I've grown quite fond of you. I'll think about it seriously."
Even now the words made me wince. "I'll think about it seriously" sounded fine on the surface, but anyone could hear it as the classic civil-servant dodge: "We'll review it positively."
The moment it left my mouth I wanted to take it back. I had truly meant I would deliberate with care, yet I had chosen phrasing that could just as easily be read as a roundabout rejection.
Fortunately Section Chief 1 only beamed through her tear-streaked face. This time, at least, she seemed to have heard me correctly.
A real relief. Had she misunderstood again, she would have cried herself to death from dehydration.
Is it really a relief?
A bitter smile rose unbidden. Stopping her sobs was good, yet my own dilemma remained unresolved.
The Demon Duke, Luise, Irina, and now Section Chief 1 as well. I could not understand how confessions kept multiplying the more time passed. Was this some kind of bug?
How am I supposed to look at Section Chief 1 from now on?
Her confession had been a little—no, honestly, extremely—pathetic and heartbreaking. I felt as though I had seen her hit rock bottom.
A simple confession would have left me free to wrestle with it alone. But after watching her weep and plead like that, I no longer knew what expression I should wear around her.
...It'll be fine.
Yes. I would simply trust her. With her extraordinary mental fortitude and irrepressible energy, she would act as if nothing had happened. Then I only needed to match that energy.
And after everything that had unfolded today, I made myself a new resolution.
For the time being, I am not setting foot in the Imperial Capital.
For the sake of my own mental health, I would not even glance in its direction.
I had sworn the same oath not long ago and watched it collapse spectacularly, yet I believed this one would last.
Please.
I postponed my return to the Academy and drifted through the Imperial Capital for a while.
Visiting the Magic Tower, where the Demon Duke held court, was out of the question. The Crown Prince knew as much; he had ordered me back through a mage stationed at the Crown Prince's palace, but he had never set a deadline, so a brief detour should be fine.
Originally I had intended to return at once. After watching Section Chief 1 cry so desperately, however, I simply could not go back with a clear heart.
I wanted to pour it all out to someone—anyone. I needed counsel on what in the world I was supposed to do.
No one to talk to.
Unfortunately there was no suitable confidant.
Telling the Minister or anyone in the Audit Department would feel like airing Section Chief 1's darkest moment. Speaking to Margeta or the Baking Club would be pure madness.
The Crown Prince? That bastard would only snicker and say something like, "How nice for the Audit Department Chief's children to have so many mothers." And the Crown Princess would simply be overjoyed that a close junior was getting married.
My circle of acquaintances was this narrow. I had no friends...
"So I came to you."
I stroked the headstone and let out a short laugh.
It was funny, really. After wandering in search of someone to talk to, I had ended up here.
But what choice did I have? You were the only ones I could call friends, and anything I told you would never reach another living ear.
"I couldn't get any Boyar Wine. I'll bring some next year, so make do with this for now."
I poured the liquor I had bought on the way over the headstones. Asking for counsel empty-handed would have been rude.
My body stiffened for a moment in front of Hecate's stone, yet I poured the rest anyway.
Talking about romance in front of my late fiancée.
The sheer insanity of the situation almost made me laugh out loud.
But what could I do? You were the one who left me. If you had stayed, my love, my wife, would have been only you.
I resented you a little—no, a great deal. When I thought that none of this would have happened if you had not gone, even a flicker of hatred stirred.
Of course the resentment never lasted long. They say the one who falls first is the one who loses. I would lose to you for the rest of my life.
"Your husband currently has five wife candidates."
I leaned my back against Hecate's headstone. Sitting like this made me feel, however faintly, that I was still connected to her—even if only keepsakes lay beneath the stone.
"Ridiculous, right? I only ever meant to look at one person, and now it's come to this."
I burst out laughing at my own words. Yes, I had thought of only one. Until two years ago it was you; until recently it was only Margeta.
Then, as if by magic, the number had swollen to five. I half suspected Enen was pulling strings to help an invasive species breed.
"If you knew who they were, you'd be shocked too."
Laughter kept spilling out. The Iron Blood Duke's youngest daughter, a sitting Duke, a baron's daughter, a count's daughter.
And on top of that, a mere team member who had already been in the Audit Department when we were still team leaders. You remember her—the eccentric marquess's daughter who walked into the Audit Department of her own free will. She's a section chief now.
I snickered for a while, then put the bottle to my lips. I had bought one for myself as well; sober, I doubted I could manage a proper consultation.
"Hey. You said I was fated to be dominated by one person. So what the hell is this?"
After a long drink I turned my gaze to Oliver's headstone.
I had known the man was scatterbrained, but I never imagined even his confident pronouncements would miss so spectacularly.
"I can't see the future, but I've got years of experience under my belt. After watching so many people, I can pretty much tell just by looking at a face."
"Then how come you don't know your own?"
"Right? You should be able to tell just by looking in a mirror."
The way he had gotten angry at that told me even he felt a little guilty. I should have realized right then that he was not to be trusted.
I finished the bottle, then something occurred to me and I looked back at the stone.
"Don't tell me the one dominating me wasn't a wife but a superior?"
That made a surprising amount of sense. The one who worked me like a dog was the Crown Prince, after all. Even the Minister was mostly just rolling wherever the higher-ups kicked him.
Once I shifted perspective, the scatterbrained advice transformed into a chilling prophecy. Sorry, Oliver. I misread you and blamed you for nothing.
You could have at least warned me it would turn out like this.
I knew the complaint was pointless, yet the thought still surfaced.
Oliver had only extrapolated from experience; he could not see a person's path the way Tanian could. Of course he never foresaw this.
And even if he had, how could he have said, "We're all going to die and only you'll be left. You might end up with several wives"? Anyone who uttered something like that would have been lynched on the spot.
"This is hard."
I set the empty bottle on the ground and muttered. Hard. The situation I was in was simply too hard.
An excessive barrage of confessions left my head spinning. Accepting them lightly would be disrespectful both to Hecate and to the people who had spoken.
Yet rejection also made me hesitate. Fear of awkwardness? That was part of it. Feelings for Hecate? That was a reason as well.
But was it really only my feelings for Hecate holding me back?
It's an excuse.
The thought struck me suddenly. Using the name of someone long gone as a shield to push others away—wasn't that selling Hecate out? Wasn't I simply lacking the courage to face my own heart and holding up a shield instead?
If I carefully considered everything and accepted a confession with genuine sincerity, Hecate would not resent me. She was that kind of person.
On the other hand, if I lied to myself, claimed I was keeping faith with her, and rejected every last one, she would be the one to get angry. She would ask whether I was throwing away a living person's life because of a dead woman.
Am I thinking too much from my own side?
Of course I had no way of knowing whether Hecate would truly feel that way. It was only my experience, my guess.
And the fact that I was already leaning toward the positive answer made it obvious where my heart actually stood.
I've already been shaken.
A dry laugh escaped. Only after getting thoroughly drunk and making a fool of myself at these guys' graves did my true feelings become clear.
I did not really dislike the confessions. If anything, I wanted to receive the feelings directed at me.
Because these were people who said they liked me. Because they might become the first real family I had ever gained in this life.
My family...
True, I already had the Crassius family, yet I could not fully call them mine. Strictly speaking I was a thief who had stolen this body.
It had been the same before the possession. What family did an orphan have? We just tried to pretend the other kids at the orphanage and the director were family.
But these were bonds I had formed myself, not inherited from this body. Bonds born from my own actions. Bonds with people who looked at me—me—and said they liked what they saw.
A family made solely, entirely, by my own ability.
Nice.
Laughter kept bubbling up as if something inside me had broken.
The more family the better. Even one would have been more than enough; five was something I ought to kneel and give thanks for.
...But would five be enough? Could a man who had already lost six friends—six would-be family members—ever be satisfied with five?
"Crazy bastard."
I hastily shook my head at the deranged notion even I found insane. Of course I would be satisfied. Even Margeta alone was more than I deserved, let alone five.
Besides, if I were not satisfied, what then? Was someone else going to confess? There was no one left who could.
Every woman I know has already confessed, after all.
I laughed alone for a long time.
An unfamiliar sky.
"A-Audit Department Chief, sir."
"Ah."
And an unfamiliar voice.
I pushed myself up on a body that ached from sleeping outdoors for the first time in ages and looked around.
Empty bottles scattered everywhere, headstones that still looked damp, clothes caked with dirt, and finally the National Cemetery caretaker shifting from foot to foot in distress.
...Ah.
"My apologies."
I had only meant to lie down for a moment and had fallen clean asleep—right through until the caretaker's patrol time.
Fuck.
My face burned. I had gone to the trouble of delivering Section Chief 1 all the way to her mansion instead of leaving her in the street, only to devolve into a vagrant myself.
And thoroughly drunk at that. A sight I never wanted anyone to see.
"I-I'll clean it up, sir!"
The moment I began gathering the bottles that symbolized my dawn disgrace, the caretaker rushed over in a panic.
"No, I brought them, so I should clean them up."
"It's quite all right! Maintaining cleanliness is my duty!"
In the end his insistence drove me out empty-handed.
Fuck.
I really must not set foot in the Imperial Capital again before the New Year's Audience.
If I come back any sooner, I am not a person—I am a beast.