I Lived Kindly
The sensation of my throat being sliced felt much colder than I had imagined.
The world spun upside down, and the blood-red sky faded into complete darkness.
When I opened my eyes, I was in a rattling carriage.
Gasping for breath, I reflexively swept my hand down to my throat.
Instead of the cool sensation of a blade, all I felt was smooth skin.
"Are you alright?"
The coachman's voice, which had been worrying from the seat beside me, didn't reach my ears.
My brain was using all its capacity to figure out the situation I was in right now.
'Dream? Or some kind of illusion spell?'
My head was calculating realistic possibilities, but the cold, tangible reality pressing against my whole body was forcing a different answer onto me.
I took a deep breath.
Instead of the winter air from the south that had torn at my lungs, the musty smell of dust in the carriage filled my nostrils.
What lay before me was a pair of smooth hands with no calluses at all, despite six years of grinding on the front lines.
The body that had been torn apart by the Kin of the Evil God while facing the Southern Barbarians on the barricades.
I pressed my palm down with my fingertips.
The sharp pain that pierced my flesh sent a jolt through my brain.
Regression.
It wasn't an illusion or a spell.
My throat that had been sliced was intact, and my dead body was beating my heart like crazy.
The carriage stopped.
The door opened, and what poured in wasn't the acrid smell of blood but a luxurious scent of perfume.
The preliminary gathering for the Altraute Central Academy acceptances.
I had returned to that day ten years ago.
The moment I stepped out of the carriage, I reflexively bent my back a little and tucked my chin in.
It was a habit.
If one head sticks out among many people, eyes will stick to it, and if eyes stick, stories will follow, and eventually only I will be in trouble.
I was just about to pass through the academy gates.
"Kaizan."
Even without turning around, I knew the voice.
Yuzurina Lovellon.
Third-year student, Student Council Vice President, eldest daughter of the Lovellon family.
And publicly, my half-sister.
Her vivid blonde hair was tied back into a high ponytail.
Unlike me, she had fair, smooth skin and deep blue eyes that seemed to glow with intensity.
"...Long time no see?"
"Please."
Her way of speaking was arbitrary.
My memories were hazy, but back when we were young, we had been quite close.
"Act like you don't know your little brother and live quietly. In half a year, we'll be at the same school. The fact that my family name comes out of your mouth is already gossip."
Despite the height difference of about a handspan, the older sister in front of me continued to say what she wanted without fear.
With her arms crossed, she sent me a gaze she didn't understand.
"Yes, of course."
With my words finished, Yuzurina went back inside the academy.
—Ugh.
For the first time in a long time, when I tried to show courtesy to someone, my whole body felt stuffy and itchy.
In my previous life, I had lived quietly like a turtle, but later I became the kind of guy who enjoyed dirty talk while smoking cigarettes with soldiers on the front lines.
The path to the banquet hall was flashy and noisy.
Even while walking as narrowly as possible along the walls, two female students coming towards me slowed their steps when they saw me.
"Is that the guy?"
"Yeah, the Lovellon bastard."
It seemed like they thought they were lowering their voices, but it didn't lower at all. Or maybe they were just saying it openly.
"I heard he drugs girls with his eyes and makes them wake up in bed the next day?"
"Really?"
"Yeah, my sister's friend saw it."
The person who saw it changes every time, and no one knows who it is.
No way to explain.
If I open my mouth, my naturally low voice will make it sound threatening, and if it sounds threatening, another rumor will attach.
I sped up my steps to pretend I didn't hear and passed by.
Lowering my gaze and quietly existing.
That was the answer that had worked for my entire life.
Unable to endure the suffocating air, I moved my feet to the garden outside the banquet hall, and there stood a woman in the center.
Carmiel Krause.
Magenta hair and matching purple eyes.
For now.
My fiancée.
Even considering she's a romance fantasy character, that distinctive hair color was noticeable from afar.
"Lady Carmiel."
I turned my head. Upon confirming me, she took half a step back.
That half step was always precise. Maintaining etiquette while ensuring my hand never touched her.
"...Since I've received the greeting, you may pass."
"Are you well? I heard you collapsed last month."
Pretending not to hear, I approached.
"...Hah."
She let out a sigh openly.
Her lips curved up in perfect etiquette and then down.
"Why are you asking me that, Your Highness?"
"..."
"If I collapse, shouldn't you be happy instead? The price of the goods you sell will go up."
My chin lifted a bit.
"Ah, sorry. Goods? I must have misspoken."
My words were fast.
Short sentences, ending abruptly, and etiquette never wavered.
In short, she had no manners.
'...Ah, right. This woman was like this.'
It wasn't a marriage we both wanted.
Count Krause had seen something in me and proceeded with the deal, and the Lovellons received money while disposing of the illegitimate child.
It was a thorough transaction. And I knew how this woman would end up.
This engagement would be broken, her name erased from high society, and she would quietly die without anyone noticing for a year. At twenty-four or twenty-five.
At that moment.
"Stay away from the lady!"
Someone came running from the far side of the garden.
Fabian Rauen.
The eldest son of a family that had gained some fame in swordsmanship.
A decent swordsman with no extra in his posture.
The problem was that he blocked my way in front of me with that good posture.
"You bastard, color-mage!"
The garden became as quiet as if lying.
People who were strolling stopped, the group sitting on the bench looked up, and gazes from the second floor windows were fixed.
I didn't move.
I knew this picture. The sound of the garden freezing, the gazes from the second floor, the sound of that guy running and his shoes scraping the ground.
I looked at Carmiel.
It wasn't like I expected him to say no.
If he surrounded me here, it would tie him up too, so no calculating woman would step in.
"Lady, why are you with this kind of scoundrel!"
"Unfortunately, it's a betrothal between families."
"So what about this dirty scandal-filled guy!"
Everything turned around from there.
I knew what I would do next.
I lowered my gaze, said nothing, and passed by.
Rumors would die down in a few days, I would endure quietly for four years at the academy, and so on.
And then I lived kindly for ten years. Really.
I endured, stayed quiet, and endured the four years that others took, and I did it while vomiting blood for ten years, trying hard to become strong.
But the world had chewed me up and spat me out, and my throat was sliced.
I looked around.
A group of people gathered in threes and fives, covering their mouths and whispering.
Even ten years ago, the world treated me exactly like this.
Fuck. I really couldn't take it.
I tried to straighten my shoulders, but my back muscles screamed.
The body that had bent and lived for my age.
My body couldn't catch up in one second just because I decided with my head.
Forcing down the resistance that felt like my joints were dislocating, I stood up straight.
My vision shot up a handspan.
Only then did Fabian look up at me.
When he jumped, he hadn't realized how small he was.
I swept my bangs roughly aside.
"Color mage?"
"What, what?"
"What I said just now. What do you mean?"
I didn't lower my voice.
The thick low voice coming from scraping my throat.
The vibration that had been a disadvantage when I was hiding was crawling on the garden floor.
Because I didn't lower it, it spread well.
"You, what are you trying to—"
"Why are you stuttering when I'm just asking?"
The garden became even quieter.
A different kind of quiet from before.
This was pretty comfortable.
I should have done this earlier.
It wasn't that silence made the rumors disappear.
Rather, when I stayed quietly, everyone relaxed and piled on one by one.
"Hey."
"...!"
"You don't like that woman."
I pointed with my chin at Carmiel.
The garden completely froze.
Fabian's face turned white, then flushed from his neck.
The reaction I couldn't read in my previous life.
Reading people's faces was the most useful skill I learned while grinding on the front lines.
"M, mad talk—"
"Or why are you calling the lady to the fiancée of someone else."
"...!"
"Plotting adultery? And you don't know that woman's temper?"
A sound of swallowing came from somewhere.
Fabian opened and closed his mouth.
If he denies, his actions wouldn't make sense, if he admits, he would be a guy who coveted someone else's fiancée.
'But you shouted first.'
"...This bastard!"
Fabian's hand, with his face twisted, reached for his waist.
He was trying to draw his sword.
I waited.
"Draw it."
"..."
"Your sword, have you ever cut someone with it?"
Fabian's eyes widened.
"Besides the heir competition, besides the neck test, besides the etiquette fencing. Really. The feeling of the wrist and the smell."
"...W-what does that mean."
"You don't have any? As expected, your posture looked very pretty."
Gasps erupted from all around.
The most painful sound for a swordsman.
Saying posture is pretty is like mocking that there's no real combat experience.
"Then you shouldn't have shouted at me. This is a conversation among people holding swords."
"..."
"If I draw here, I win. There are twenty people watching, you were the first to move, and I'm unarmed."
Fabian's hand stiffened.
He stopped because he wasn't a bad guy.
His calculations were a bit off.
"If you're angry, send it by mail."
"...What?"
"Formally. With the seal."
I turned around.
"From now on, I won't accept it by mouth."
I scratched the back of my head.
Whatever I did, if I was a color mage and a delinquent, just live like that.
Fuck.
