For You (1)
"Tired as you must be, go back to your room and get some proper rest. We'll talk again this afternoon."
With those words, Father sent me back to my room. I could have pressed for more conversation, but waking at dawn had left me in dire need of sleep.
"Yawn."
A child's body is always so sleepy. On top of that, I'd depleted my mana for the first time at full throttle, leaving my stamina drained. Protecting Noir had taken every ounce of my focus, making the exhaustion even worse.
"Guess I'll just crash."
The room was empty. The maids knew better than to enter my quarters uninvited—no one dared anyway.
"......"
Even if they cleaned, they never touched certain spots. I reached under the bed.
Jackpot.
The rough texture of a paper bag met my fingers. I pulled it out slowly and set it on the table.
To think I'd get my hands on this so soon.
Silver Dust. One of the Empire's signature drugs. Inhaled as powder, it sharpened the mind. Refined differently, it could plunge someone into frenzy or make them slaves to their emotions and desires—an alchemical masterpiece.
Better if Father never learns about this. They'll think they've been exposed.
The Imperial Intelligence Bureau was likely in full panic right now.
'Silver Dust has been exposed in Gibraltar.'
Their strategic weapon, the imperial secret, compromised in enemy territory? Heads would roll starting with the director.
'Too dumb for a Shadow operative anyway.
I sketched a scenario. Suppose there were disgruntled elements in the bureau, and the Shadows were tied by blood to them?
—Infiltrating the Margrave's house only to get killed undetected, and now Silver Dust exposed too? The blame falls on the father who raised such an incompetent daughter.
Something like that.
That's what I'd do. The Emperor would add torture, purge the inconvenient along the way, and fill the vacancies with loyalists.
Of course, it hadn't actually been exposed. I'd recovered it, and neither Father nor anyone else knew of the powder's existence.
'Soon their investigation will conclude "the Margrave seems unaware," but by then the purge will be over.'
The dead can't speak. They might die unjustly, but at least they'd earn a measure of honorable martyrdom.
"Hoo."
Complicated thoughts could wait. The sun was cresting the mountains, but I needed a nap.
And I have to dispose of this Silver Dust.
Just tossing it wouldn't do. Dissolving it in water was risky, and any stray bird or cat might eat it and drop dead.
Time to put it to its real use.
Silver Dust wasn't just for snorting.
You burn it.
Click.
I lit a match and ignited the lamp. A small flame flickered in the glass globe. I opened the lid and dropped the Silver Dust straight in.
"Sssip... haa."
No smoke. But a shimmering haze rippled transparently before my eyes. I inhaled the initial vapor deeply and collapsed onto the bed.
This is the real mana.
Silver Dust was a synthetic compound: ground mana stones mixed with various additives. A sleep candle warmer, or something like that.
Its effect let you breathe mana even in slumber while gifting deep sleepers a special present.
Dreams. Illusions recreating the happiest moments of your life. Happiness impossible in reality, conjured in sleep where the dreamer gained full awareness, reveling freely. Everything was permitted; desires could be unleashed without restraint.
Imperial alchemists called these lucid dreams induced by Silver Dust Lucifer Dreams.
The devil's whisper of blissful delusion. Some fantasized changes or unlived futures. But most chased 'past happiness,' amplifying real-world despair—hence the demonic label.
But.
Drugs are all about how you use them.
Sssip. Haa.
I breathed in the scent of the burning Silver Dust and surrendered to sleep.
"...Haa."
Crimson Gibraltar, Margrave of the Border, sat in his study chair and let out a deep sigh.
"......"
Phrases raced through his mind.
Gorge invaders: no casualties.
Claydoll Marquis and 5,000 troops: camping till morning, then withdrawing.
Allies: 2 casualties. Low-rank knight Balrak, killed in the bathroom by intruder. Head butler Malcolm, back pierced by intruder's dagger, gravely injured but alive.
Dagger traced to Ervant Langir Barony.
Intruder—early 20s woman, owner of dagger—throat stabbed, dead. Not instant; blade sharp but thrust weak. Yet she'd shoved it in brutally, twisting inside to crush vessels.
"Hoo..."
That was the physical damage tally.
"Wonder if Noir can stomach meat for a while."
Steak with red wine sauce might trigger a fit at the table. Even for a Gibraltar, the shock was immense for a seven-year-old.
Kidnapping aside—
"Grey."
His brother had volunteered as hostage to save him, charging forward without hesitation to eliminate the threat.
"According to Robert's report... ha."
He probably hadn't noticed, but he'd been drenched head to toe in arterial spray.
"Like the founder... no, like Sir Cardian Gibraltar?"
Through generations, certain Gibraltars stood out suspiciously young. Only two: one founded the house, the other mutual-killed 10,000 imperial elites.
Legends said they acted maturely from childhood. Especially Cardian Gibraltar, the strongest Sword Master ever—
"...He killed from a young age."
Personally beheaded a family spy nursemaid. How he knew? Still debated in academia.
Meaning, investigating Grey would yield little.
"Reincarnations of the founder and Sir Cardian. What a terrifying son I've sired."
Grey Gibraltar. The bloodline's hallmark was unruly hair colors, but his gray was the oddest.
If, like Cardian's wild tales, he had foresight—
"No. He wouldn't have let the kidnapping happen."
Even with future sight like Cardian, he'd have warned ahead.
"Wouldn't have wasted time sleeping while hunting kidnappers or searching guest rooms and pantries."
Even if he hid it and let his brother get taken, he'd have let him die outright—not risked his life drawing steel to protect him.
"...Still, it put my mind at ease."
Whether founder-like prodigy or Cardian-esque killer unhesitant with blood—
"Lad."
His nature, above all, screamed Gibraltar blood.
"Fell for the princess at first sight, eh?"
Somehow.
That day the King brought Princess Naria with the Queen.
"His gaze on her in the garden was anything but ordinary."
If so, it made sense.
"The boy's excuses."
Gibraltars were poor at expressing emotions.
"...Time to back him."
The Margrave recalled another report. How the family knights moved during Noir's kidnapping. How the household reacted.
Charlotte Gibraltar fainted; knights froze despite Grey's prompt orders.
He wouldn't have allowed that, but—
"Indeed, he needs hands and feet."
For his own goals.
For Grey's will.
Whatever the outcome, to drag that incompetent king from the throne and hurl him into the dungeon, 'Grey's hands and feet' were essential.
Drag.
The Margrave rose and strode from the study.
"M-Margrave, sir."
A butler bowed hastily; waiting knights exchanged glances and bowed.
"Much to discuss, but accountability later."
He scanned the retainers, then quickened toward a girl approaching from afar.
"Ah, Margrave."
"Lady Mente."
"I was just about to report—"
"I heard Grey wishes you as his mentor. Senior."
"Se-Senior...?!"
Lady Mente gaped, lowering her voice.
"W-Watch your words...! This isn't private. As a Morgania knight..."
"Invitation. I'll write it myself. Stay in Gibraltar."
"...Is this what they mean by like father, like son?"
Lady Mente looked up with half-lidded eyes.
"More blunt than your son, but definitely a similar vibe."
"He's my son."
"...What's going on? The guy who only had Charlotte on his lips since academy days."
Lady Mente eyed him suspiciously up and down.
"Fine. If you need someone to guard your boys, calling me as swordmaster works. But we encountered another assailant."
"...I see."
The Margrave's expression shifted briefly.
"We'll discuss inside."
"Yes, Margrave."
He led Lady Mente back to the study.
Humans can't stand discomfort. They chase convenience, scheming to work less. Fulfilling lacks.
The greatest lack in my current life would manifest first in this illusion.
So perhaps when I recalled my happiest memory, it led here.
"What're you thinking so deeply about, Count?"
In this world, I was a 'Count.'
"Why I'm here now."
The era when Gibraltar Margrave became mere Count. Kingdom fallen, colonized, Empire ruling.
"Obviously because I invited you."
The woman beside me hooked her arm in mine, pressing close.
"We're finally vacationing on the southern coast—gonna sulk the whole time?"
"Obviously."
I unhooked her arm.
"This is a dream, and you know it. Princess."
I faced the princess clinging to me.
"Coming here with you must've been a cherished memory. First Silver Dust phantasm-dream, and you're the one I meet."
"Honored. First among all those women in your memories."
The princess cupped my cheeks.
"Not your mother, not little sister Letar."
"Adultery, suicide. Enslaved ruined kingdom knights, tormented them till they killed her. Headache cleaning that up."
As Count then, duty bound me.
"Father became a wreck after her suicide; Noir slaughtered kingdom folk thinking his sister died."
"What did you do then?"
"Nothing."
When Father starved into ruin, I sent caretakers. When Noir whored drunkenly, I figured he'd sort himself.
Father sickened, fell to Emperor's drugs. Noir syphilitic dissipation to death.
"My family were just headaches to clean up in my life. You know."
"And now?"
"Now."
"Yes. This regressed moment."
The princess strolled the beach, hands behind back.
"Regressed so far, the people you knew are gone."
"One thing hasn't changed."
"Your mother fell to the Incompetent King?"
"Yes."
This dream world woven from my memories and hopes.
"What do you wish for your mother?"
"Blame it all on the Incompetent King, obviously. That her feelings weren't mere lust, but he drugged her into it."
I drew a familiar gelatin capsule from my pocket—soft like pudding skin.
"Lured to the bedroom by royal command, lost self to aphrodisiac."
White powder glittered inside; I crushed it, scattering to the air.
"Want her convinced 'I committed adultery' herself."
"Sad, maybe a bit."
Regrettably, this was dream logic.
"Ask her yourself?"
"She doesn't know if she wanted it or was forced."
"Harsh judgment on your mother."
"She's a flower garden. Knows nothing. Neither do I."
"Only the Incompetent King knows?"
"Yes."
My wish alone; truth—no one knows. Except the sole perpetrator.
"So you want to drag down the Incompetent King."
The princess approached, leaning in close.
"Reason to make current Princess Naria queen?"
"To find out."
"What?"
"Crowning Princess Naria might reveal why I regressed."
Post-regression.
"Why did she save me? Last Gibraltar bloodline."
I hadn't dwelled, but one thing nagged.
"Why bring me to Gibraltar territory at the end?"
What was here?
"I just want that answer."
"Guess?"
"Well... a few theories."
Probably.
"A game-changer weapon buried in Gibraltar, able to reverse the war even as colony."
"Wow. What for?"
"Obviously."
If such mythical weapon existed.
"Kill the Emperor."
My secret, unspeakable save in dreams.
"Must kill the Emperor."
I reached for the princess.
"Only then can you be truly happy."
Kneeling on one knee, I kissed her hand.
"Everything—for you, my beloved."