Unspoken Secrets (4)
By the second day of the festival, the streets thronged with even more people than the day before.
And there, on the terrace of a nearby café, Milia and Schwarz sat with the boy, watching the lively scene unfold below.
"Whew… it's so hot. There's no way we can wander around in this heat during the day."
Milia fanned herself with her hand and grumbled, letting out a short sigh.
The already hot and humid climate, compounded by the festival's fervor, had turned the streets into a veritable steam bath. After walking for barely five minutes, her clothes were already soaked through with sweat.
"Here's the lemonade you ordered!"
A waitress approached with a bright smile, setting glasses filled with ice in front of Milia and the boy before hurrying back downstairs with busy steps.
"Here. You drink too."
"Ah… yes. Thank you."
Milia brought the straw to her lips as she spoke, and the boy, after glancing cautiously at her, lifted his own glass and began to drink.
An awkward silence settled over the table for a moment…
"Whew! That's better."
"Pwah…!!"
In no time at all, both Milia and the boy had drained their glasses, setting the empty, dew-beaded cups down almost in unison.
"So. What was it you wanted to say?"
"F-first of all, I wanted to thank you… for saving me and my siblings."
The boy bowed his head as he answered the girl who sat with her arms crossed, waiting.
"Don't worry about it. I only did what I had to."
The moment Milia had decided to take the boy and the children in, they had come under the protection of House Valentine. As such, she bore the duty of safeguarding their well-being—so stepping in to rescue them had been only natural.
"What I had to…"
Yet the boy regarded her with a face that clearly said he found her words hard to believe.
"Well, believe it or not—that's up to you."
"N-no! It's not that I doubt your kindness! It's just…"
"Just?"
The flustered boy waved his hands in denial and lowered his head again. Milia pressed him once more.
"I-I'm not used to kindness that comes without a reason…"
"Hmm…"
Watching the boy mumble his reply, Milia narrowed her eyes with interest. To her, he looked utterly bewildered. What kind of life had he led, to react this way to goodwill that asked nothing in return? For someone like Milia—who had always answered kindness with kindness and hostility with hostility—it was difficult to understand.
"Think whatever you like. Now that I've brought you here, I simply intend to take responsibility for you as best I can."
"Responsibility…"
The boy watched her as she spoke with a quiet sigh, murmuring the word over and over. After a moment of that…
"I think I made the right choice, following the two of you after all."
"I'm glad you feel that way."
When the boy lifted his head, his expression noticeably lighter, Milia offered him a faint smile. That reaction was as good as a sign that he was beginning to open his heart to her.
"Then I'll trust you both and tell you everything. About who I really am… and about what's going to happen from now on."
"What…?"
Milia let out a puzzled sound at the boy's suddenly serious face—so different from before. In that same moment he raised a hand, brushed back his hair, and his appearance began to change.
No—more precisely, its colors began to change.
The deep blue of his hair lightened to a soft sky-blue. The lifeless brown of his eyes shifted to a blood-red crimson.
"You…!?"
"That form…"
Milia and Schwarz both cried out in shock. The boy looked at them, let out a short sigh, and raised his head.
"My name is Vincent elo Avarizia. I am the younger brother of Marcel belo Avarizia—the man you two confronted."
And so the boy… no, Vincent elo Avarizia, spoke those words with a calm, steady face.
"W-wait a second… what did you just say your name was?"
"Vincent elo Avarizia."
Vincent's sudden bombshell left Milia looking utterly dumbfounded. He simply repeated the name for her.
"Avarizia…"
"No. No, no, no—this is way too sudden, even for that."
Schwarz murmured the name under his breath while Milia shook her head in disbelief. It was a perfectly reasonable reaction. After all, a boy they had happened to pick up from a slum turned out to be a descendant of the old royal house that sought to overthrow the current order—and the younger brother of a pirate captain, no less. At this point, coincidence could only be called fate.
"Fine. Let's say you're telling the truth. Then why on earth were you there? Why weren't you with your brother?"
"That's… because I decided I couldn't stay with him any longer."
"What do you mean by that?"
Vincent answered in a gloomy voice, and Milia tilted her head in confusion.
"My brother… isn't the brother I used to know anymore. Everything changed after that man appeared."
"That man…"
"You mean the Masked Man?"
Schwarz finished the question for the trailing Milia, and Vincent nodded. So that man was behind this as well. Schwarz let out a low groan at the thought, then looked up and asked the boy who was watching his reaction,
"Can you tell us more?"
"I don't know the details myself. Every time I tried to ask, my brother only told me to stop meddling in things that weren't my business. But…"
"But?"
Milia regarded the trembling boy with a puzzled look. Was it a memory he would rather forget? Vincent, sweating coldly and shaking faintly, drew a short breath and continued.
"Deep inside the royal castle… I saw what my brother and that man were doing."
"…"
"It was… monsters. Prisoners they'd captured, sea beasts… all of them mixed together, screaming…"
"Don't tell me…!!"
At Vincent's words, Milia sucked in a sharp breath as a memory surfaced—the monster discovered in the count's territory three years ago. That horrific creature fashioned from human materials.
"My brother is a villain. There's no denying it—he has taken countless lives and plundered wealth. That is a fact I cannot and must not deny."
Still looking down, Vincent shifted his gaze toward the window. Outside, throngs of people laughed and chattered, enjoying the festival without a care in the world, setting aside every worry to savor the present moment. He watched them for a time, then turned back to Milia and Schwarz with a hardened expression.
"But that doesn't give him the right to steal the lives of ordinary people just trying to live. Whatever my brother intends to do, it will clearly demand the sacrifice of countless others."
"Hmm…"
Milia let out a low hum as she regarded the impassioned boy. Until a moment ago she had not been able to trust him. Given that he was the younger brother of Marcel—one of the central figures in this whole affair—her wariness had been only natural. But the Vincent she had just seen was enough to change her mind.
"Pfft…"
"…?"
Vincent looked puzzled at the soft laugh that escaped her as she studied him. Then Milia spoke.
"Still, I'm glad. You didn't turn out like your brother."
"…"
Vincent stared at her as if he wanted to protest. It was hardly surprising—after all, she had essentially insulted his brother right in front of him.
"Don't take it the wrong way. I didn't mean anything bad by it."
"I know."
But what could he do? Vincent clearly understood he was in no position to argue with her just then. He merely pouted and answered without further protest. No matter how mature he seemed, a child was still a child. With that thought, Milia let out a quiet chuckle and looked at him again.
"All right. I'll trust you. But first there's one thing I need to make absolutely clear."
"Something to make clear…?"
Vincent tilted his head. Milia regarded him for a moment, then drew a short breath. When she spoke again, every trace of the earlier lightness was gone; her voice was utterly serious.
"You're choosing a path different from your brother's. And anyone can see that path won't end in a happy ending. Even so—do you want us to stop him?"
"…"
It was not a question Vincent could answer lightly. Even if someone was a villain, the bonds of family were not so easily cast aside. What Milia was asking was whether he was prepared to sever those ties and see through what he believed was right.
"I have no intention of forcing you. I only need to know that when the critical moment comes, you won't hold us back."
"Prepared…"
At her cold words, Vincent repeated the phrase as if entranced. It was ruthless, yes—but necessary for both of them, and for Vincent himself. Below the terrace the laughter and chatter of the festival-goers drifted up, yet between the three of them a silence colder than ice had settled.
How long did it last?
"Yes. I want the two of you to stop my brother."
And with that, Vincent—resolution firm in his eyes—nodded and lifted his head to face them.