Return to the Beginning (2)
Is this a dream, or is it reality?
Was the life of the adult Grey, who became a traitor and was executed, all just a dream? Or is this moment now, having returned to the age of ten, the dream?
'Both are real.'
He chose to believe that. Humans are selfish creatures, and he decided to think in the way that suited him best.
'I've returned to the past.'
He didn't know how. But he had definitely lived through the future. And now he was in the past. He still couldn't comprehend what miracle had occurred, but if there was one regrettable thing...
'Of all times, to return to the day Father raises his glass.'
What if he had gone back even further, to before Father chose betrayal? He might have been able to prevent the Gibraltar family's treason—
'No.'
He could stop it once. At the party in the capital where Mother went alone and caused an uproar, he could have just stopped her. But that would only have been once. The incident didn't erupt in a single moment; it was the accumulation of grudges that finally exploded.
"As you know, the king once fancied your mother."
As could be seen from the reason Father had called him aside for a private talk.
"Even after I won Charlotte's heart, that man still harbored feelings for her. Rotten bastard."
"He's the king for now, Father."
"Can't I speak freely in front of my understanding son?"
"No, please continue."
I hated the current king just as much.
"Until before you were born, people called it the romance of the century and such. If it were a novel, your mother would surely have been the heroine."
"The kingdom's crown prince—heir to the throne—and the Sword Master Margrave, with the realm's most beautiful baron's daughter caught between them."
If it weren't about my parents, even I would have been intrigued.
"For a romance novel, that's a solid foundation."
"Right. And the story would end with the margrave marrying the baron's daughter and having children. Maybe some side stories of raising the kids and sharing love."
Father tapped the table with his finger and chuckled.
"But that happy ending? The king, that scum, decides to kick off a sequel as a war story."
"......"
"What a pathetic wretch. As you know, that man has..."
"A daughter my age, I believe."
The princess exists.
"Yes. Even with a daughter already born, he still tried to claim Charlotte."
"The current queen is the daughter of a grand duke, as I recall."
"Talking to you gets easier the more we go on. It's like you've aged ten years overnight."
Father eyed me coolly.
"What happened to you?"
"Isn't this the son you wanted, Father?"
Before regression, Father had wished for me to become this.
"Until you raised your glass, you treated me like an ordinary son. Now, on the eve of great events, we speak as comrades... or perhaps, retainers—"
"Successor."
Father smiled faintly.
"How could I treat you as a mere subordinate? You're my son, my heir. Even if I fail, you must avenge the insult to your mother from that king."
"...Yes."
The word successor felt heavier today than ever.
"Noir and Letar are clever enough, but not ready for such talks. It's you after all. You've been hiding your talent. Just like your old man."
That meant Father saw me as close as that.
"So your responsibilities are great. I won't assign you tasks right away, but when the time comes and preparations are ready, you'll do whatever is needed."
"Anything within my power."
Father demanded it.
"Yes. Anything."
Betraying friends. Dragging them into darkness and ruining them. Toying with a woman's pure heart, extracting noble secrets in bed. Killing spies yourself when the family's secrets risked exposure. And planting the Gibraltar banner as the Empire's vanguard in conquering the capital.
All things I had done. All things I would do.
"Then, Father. May I make a proposal?"
"A proposal?"
"Yes. Instead of twiddling our thumbs waiting for the Empire to start the war, there's something we must do right now."
"Oh? What is it?"
"Why, to comfort Mother, who's collapsed."
Avoid this situation.
"So she can recover quickly."
"......"
A flicker of 'that's it?' crossed Father's face.
'Sorry, but I've played margrave a bit myself.'
Father was an excellent swordsman, but politics wasn't as sharp as his blade.
"Mother needs to recover soon, or Father might end up chopping off the king's head."
"What?"
"I need to go cheer her up and help her rise. With the bloodbath Father caused, who wouldn't feel the flames licking at their feet?"
"......Ah."
As if he hadn't considered it, Father covered his face with his hand.
"Damn it."
Fortunately, true to his nature of jumping to conclusions, he grasped my meaning quickly.
"You mean that lust-crazed beast might come to Gibraltar?"
"Yes. Well, rumors might spread."
I raised both hands and stepped back from Father's personal space.
"If word gets out that Father killed the servants in rage upon hearing of Mother's ordeal, and she collapsed in shock, hovering near death."
"......!!"
"Blinded by greed, he committed a grave sin against the margrave. If the object of that greed is now at death's door, what would he do?"
"...Grey. First order."
Father clenched and unclenched his fist, pointing outside.
"Wake your mother. By any means necessary. Before the king gets here."
"Yes."
* * *
A moment later.
"Mother."
This woman, pale-faced and lying motionless on the bed like the dead, was my mother—the pivot of the love triangle—Charlotte Gibraltar. Formerly Charlotte Gunther. Nicknamed Charlotte by both men, a legendary figure who dominated high society with her beauty alone. Perhaps inheriting that superior beauty, my siblings and I all had looks that ranked in the top five wherever we went.
Yet now, such a woman lay unconscious, unable to wake.
"Has she eaten?"
"Not at all..."
The terrified head maid answered as if guilty of a capital crime.
She hadn't been at breakfast. But I knew several maids had knives in their hearts there, regardless of the reason. The bodies were cleared by the other servants who happened to be absent.
"Y-Young Master?"
And this woman now feared me.
"D-Did the count say anything...?"
After a long private audience in the study with the suddenly deranged count, and my 180-degree change overnight.
"Father said to tell you directly once you wake."
"Ah, that..."
"And I'd like to be alone with Mother for a bit."
"...Pardon?"
"It's Father's command. Hmm, I don't want to bother him with something so trivial either."
I glanced at the door.
"Head maid? If you've served Father long, you should know to read the room."
"...Y-Yes! If anything happens, please call for me."
The head maid glanced at the other maids in the room, waited for them all to leave, then exited last, firmly closing the door.
"Whew."
Since Father had started with a massacre, the servants obeyed with just a hint of threat. Terror politics was effective. Though history wouldn't judge it kindly later.
How did I know? Because when I toppled a certain kingdom house, I made sure the histories reflected that.
'The Gunther family.'
Mother's house. My maternal grandfather, who harbored grudges because his daughter became a margrave's wife, not queen.
"Mother was invited to the capital's celebration banquet via an invitation from Grandfather Gunther, the baron."
I pulled a chair beside my sleeping mother and sat.
"Mother."
Gently, once.
"Are you afraid of me?"
No movement, but I already knew.
"You should be."
The reason Mother was unconscious.
"Because I know what you did last night in the palace's third bedroom."
A lie.
She bolted upright.
"Y-You...!"
Her face more terrified than ever, staring at me like a ghost, body trembling.
"Shall I get you some water?"
"......"
"No matter how you look at me, it changes nothing. It's fine. I'm on Father's side, but also Mother's."
"You..."
"Fortunately, you're my birth mother. This face proves it, doesn't it? Though the hair and eye color are completely different."
"......"
Mother silently took the glass I offered.
"How much do you know?"
"You believe me?"
"You're the son I bore. Honestly, even now, I'm not sure if you're really my son..."
"Sorry. I'm here as the heir to the Gibraltar count family."
"...What happened overnight? Did you study politics at the academy or something?"
"Father said the exact same thing. Minus the academy part."
"Ha..."
Mother downed the water in one gulp and handed me the empty glass.
"Fine. How much do you know? Shall we play riddles like your father? Or do you suspect..."
"I."
I deliberately cut her off, raising my voice with emphasis.
"I, Grey Gibraltar, believe I was born not of the king and Queen Charlotte, but of Lord Crimson and Lady Charlotte."
"......"
"And that's the truth. For now."
"For now, huh."
Her words had bite. She muttered to herself, but she seemed too unstable to notice.
"Mother. You're worried, aren't you? But what exactly?"
Obviously.
"That Father might find out about your indiscretion?"
No parent wants that.
"Or that he knows but pretends not to? That it wasn't being toyed with by the king, but a momentary lapse dragged by old affections?"
Caught committing adultery by family—especially a child.
"It was a m-mistake! The alcohol—"
"No. You're afraid because I know everything."
I smiled at Mother.
"It's okay. I haven't told Father."
"......"
"I told you. I'm on both your sides."
"Haa..."
Mother covered her face with both hands. I refilled the glass and took a sip; she peeked through her fingers.
A gaze of relief. She might not realize it, but I instinctively knew Mother felt relieved.
"The shock must be great, but let's say you fainted from the sudden servant killings. You need to get up now. Or a blood wind will sweep Gibraltar Castle."
"Again...?"
"Not just any blood wind. Against the king himself if he comes here..."
"I-I'll get up. Th-that can't happen...!"
"Yes. You must."
Mother hurriedly rose from the bed and stood before the washbasin on the vanity.
"Um... Grey? My son?"
"Yes."
"...I'm sorry."
"It's fine. No need to apologize."
True.
Because.
"Wh-what I mean is..."
"Don't say you're sorry I'm not the king's son."
"!!"
She had already wounded me with those words once.
"I'm quite happy being the son of Margrave Gibraltar, Lord Crimson Gibraltar."
"......"
"But we need to clean this up before Father kills more, so I'll take my leave."
I bowed to Mother and left the room.
The door creaked open.
I'd gone quietly, but no one was outside.
"Good."
A bit further down the hall, around the corner.
"Anyone eavesdropping at the door would surely be dead."
"Eek...!!"
The maids, pale as ghosts, clung to each other, trembling.
"Kidding. Mother's awake. Go tend to her."
"Ah, uh."
"Making me say it twice?"
"Y-Yes!!"
The head maid and others rushed into Mother's bedroom.
"Phew. For now, that's a relief."
Now that his beloved woman had awakened from unconsciousness.
'From the start, I've changed the fated future?'
No way the king would fly here from the capital after his deed, as in the future.
A moment later.
"You're back? Good work."
I reported mission success to Father.
"What do you want...? Why the rush?"
"A carriage from the royal family is approaching, my lord."
"......"
