Chapter 39
Chapter 39
Translation: godsn
"Boss, see this?"
At the White Rose Villa in District 2.
"It's from the Regent. The royal palace is throwing a banquet to celebrate the Princess's recovery."
Gallo picked up a stiff card. It was the topmost one among the thick stack of invitations piled on the table.
"Hey, look at this. The paper's dusted with ground gold. The royal family's supposedly broke and struggling, so where's the Regent getting the money to sprinkle gold powder on a single invitation?"
He held the card close to his face as if inspecting it.
"Anyway, you're invited too. Clear your schedule. You're coming with me that day."
"No."
A flat refusal came flying back, as if such trivial matters weren't even worth considering.
But Gallo, seemingly accustomed to Cesare's dismissals, didn't back down.
"If we're going to keep staying in Valdina, we can't completely ignore the Regent. We promised Siseo we'd make a public appearance too. We have to attend."
"Then you go alone."
"Look here—'To the esteemed mercenary Acares.' It says the boss should come too."
Gallo rolled a die across the table. Dice of identical shape and size already cluttered the surface in chaotic disarray.
Acares.
The pieces engraved with letters on each face rearranged themselves like dancing at Gallo's gesture.
Cesare.
"Given how notorious you are, it takes some nerve to specifically name you like this."
"......"
"So, really not going? Don't underestimate him—he's this country's Regent, the one and only. Wouldn't hurt to get acquainted while we're at it."
Regent.
Cesare rolled the word indifferently in his mouth. Pfft—the corner of his lips twisted crookedly.
"Giving such a grandiose title to a moron."
"Come on, boss. I'm going just to see the Princess's face, if nothing else."
Mischief sparkled again in his gleeful eyes.
"Look—'Celebratory Banquet for the Princess's Recovery.' The title alone reeks of ulterior motives. Aren't you even curious?"
Truth be told, Gallo found this Regent Claudio extremely intriguing.
After trying to cut down his niece's maid only to lose his right arm and funding, what scheme was he cooking up this time?
And the Regent still hadn't realized that his niece was the true mastermind behind ousting the former Head Maid.
"How's someone this stupid still breathing?"
"Hence why I said it's too grand for him."
Finally, a response came.
Hmph—so he'd been listening all along while pretending not to. Gallo snorted.
"But I doubt the Princess will just take it lying down this time either. A while back, she sent someone outside the palace on an errand. I secretly checked what she obtained—several rare herbs."
"So? Probably making potions or something."
When Cesare dismissed it as trivial, Gallo exclaimed:
"One of those herbs causes impotence when combined with others!"
The arm holding the glass froze midair.
Gallo pulled at both cheeks as if dying of curiosity.
"Who the hell does the Princess plan to use that on?"
"Seems you've got too much free time if you're curious about nonsense like that."
"Nah! Just taking a break! Look, I'm going back to work now!"
As Cesare spun a dagger on his fingertip, Gallo bolted like his tail was on fire before the blade could come flying.
In the now-silent room, Cesare turned his back.
"Come in, Terence."
From the connected passageway emerged a tall young man carrying a steaming cup.
His slightly gaunt frame and lanky limbs made a striking impression.
The glasses perched on his nose and long chestnut hair amplified his calm demeanor.
"That bastard Gallo's as noisy as ever."
"You could've come in earlier."
"Would've just tired my ears with useless chatter."
Terence adjusted his glasses. The bloodshot eyes behind them betrayed his exhaustion.
Since accompanying Cesare, he'd spent every night poring over materials searching for a cure to the curse.
"How's your body?"
"Fine. Thanks."
Cesare answered curtly while accepting the cup.
Though the emerald medicine inside was bitter as hell, he didn't so much as blink.
Three years since receiving his death sentence.
Despite long outliving the initial prognosis and enduring life-threatening seizures, the fact he could still move normally was entirely thanks to Terence.
It was because he, well-versed in both magic and medicine, was utilizing all his knowledge to artificially slow the progression of the curse.
The man examining the arm bulging with blue veins narrowed his eyes.
"You had another episode. Why didn't you tell me?"
Instead of answering, Cesare merely spun his dagger idly.
"Cesare, there's not much time left. The intervals are getting shorter."
The increasing frequency of the seizures. There was no telling when he might not wake up again.
"...I know."
"Even if we find the Shadeia Prophetess, can you guarantee she'll lift the curse? What if she doesn't know? What will you do then?"
"That's why I have you by my side."
"You call that an answer... Are you joking right now?"
Terence glared at Cesare for his flippant remark.
"Cesare."
The smile gradually faded from his face as he looked at his friend, replaced by solemnity.
"It's already been three years. Death has grown closer to you than breaking the curse."
Before being his subordinate, Terence had followed Cesare as a friend.
The First Prince of Kazen.
The youngest Commander-in-Chief. Duke of Romagna. Master of the Principality of Venapro. Ruler of Alphanon. And even the mercenary captain of Facade.
They were titles too numerous and weighty for any one person to bear.
Yet for those who knew Cesare, not a single one was undeserved. He had seized each of them with his own hands.
'The first to charge down the most dangerous path.'
His unbelievably bold decisions and fearless actions had captivated people.
Terence, too, was among those who had been enthralled by him.
"Look, Terence. Men like that don't know surrender. Achievement comes swifter than surrender to them. They never stop until they've seized what they desire."
The Magic Tower Lord, his mentor, had once said this of Cesare in passing.
"So be wary. When such madmen encounter obstacles, they don't avoid them—they smash through."
But Terence hadn't realized he would refuse to surrender even to death.
A man standing against the Primordial—was it bravery or recklessness?
"Let's go to the Magic Tower. My master could at least slow the curse's progression. Even if we can't erase the Primordial Darkness, the speed—"
"So I should just wait to die slowly then?"
The icy question left Terence speechless.
"You know that's not me."
"......"
Terence had seen many patients.
"If this continues... it won't be easy to endure. Are you truly prepared for this?"
Had there ever been one who didn't crumble under the terror and despair that came in relentless waves?
No matter how exceptional, no matter how exalted—before death, there were no exceptions.
"Do I need to answer?"
At the words asking if he sought to hear what he already knew, Terence let out a sigh mingled with reverence and lament.
"...Aren't you afraid? Not knowing when the curse might swallow you whole in an instant—how can you remain so composed?"
"Terence, don't you hear the fanfare that will spread when I break this curse?"
The one who repelled the Primordial Darkness.
The conqueror who swallowed even death.
It would be engraved across the continent, beyond Kazen itself.
"You still hold hope in this situation?"
"There's never been a moment in my life that wasn't a gamble."
Cesare placed a hand over his chest.
The dull thud of a hardening heart. With each tightening moment, he felt death drawing nearer.
Yet he had no intention of sitting idly by, waiting helplessly for the curse to consume him.
He would seize fate slipping through his fingers by any means. Until the final instant before life's end, he would not surrender.
His victories had always been won that way.
"The beginning and the end are mine to claim. Even if there's but a sliver of possibility, I'll struggle to the last."
"You're truly..."
Golden eyes ignited with flame. They blazed dangerously, as if to incinerate everything.
"I've no need for a peaceful death."
On a radiant afternoon, a missive from Marquess Gilifos arrived at the princess's palace.
"Your Highness. Your mentor has sent word."
The Veterans' Village Medeia had ordered him to establish had been successfully completed.
A small settlement for retired soldiers had been built, named the Casey Relief Center after Medeia's middle name.
Over half the retired soldiers outside the city walls had moved in, and more residents were expected to come, he added.
With deepest apologies, the veteran named 'Theo' whom Her Highness had specifically inquired about could not be found.
However, refusing to give up, after thorough inquiries within and without the royal castle,
It was discovered that long ago, there had been twin siblings named Theo among the retired soldiers—one of whom had passed away.
Medeia had achieved what she desired.