A Cool Man! A Real Man!
Prince Randolph shook his head at Julbert, who stood there as though he could not believe what he had just heard, and added one thing more.
"No. You, Julbert, are worse than Greig. At least that one is entertaining, isn't he?"
"......"
"The fellow is nothing if not amusing. He never does a thing except exactly what one expects of him, does he?"
"......"
"And yet a man who cannot even keep that Greig properly in hand was sitting among my student council officers. Truly, I could hardly be more disappointed."
"...I am sorry to have disappointed you."
"Yes. Shall we speak of something more productive, then?"
When Julbert lifted his head to look at him, Randolph was asking in a serious tone.
"So. What will you do now, Julbert Mertios?"
Spilled water cannot be gathered up again. Having made up his mind, Julbert rose and answered.
"I will see this matter through to a proper end, and I will show you that I can become student council president."
"Do you think you can? Your standing took quite a fall this time."
By then Randolph had gone to the window and was not even looking at him. Seeing that, Julbert spoke in a clearer voice still.
"Which is precisely why I believe that if I succeed, it will be my chance to prove myself."
A faint smile touched Randolph's mouth.
"True enough. I have been curious what you would be, once that weapon of yours—your prestige—was gone."
"I will do my utmost."
"Yes. You had better prove it. Fail, and I will strike you from my plans."
"Thank you for the opportunity."
Randolph did not spare him so much as a glance. He spoke as if tossing the words over his shoulder.
"You may go."
Julbert bowed and was on his way out when Randolph's voice reached him once more.
At those words, Julbert could only freeze where he stood.
The name tangled his insides into knots. Julbert strained not to let his mood show, and bowed to the prince once more.
The next day, Blow Deblique—his mind grown busy in more ways than one—had to be discharged from the recovery room earlier than planned.
Back at the inn, the first thing he did was lay out for Melo the menus and plans he had been turning over.
"Wow! I get to see that pretty, kind big sister again!"
Melo said it brimming with excitement, then set off at once with Jane to do the shopping. Blow used the pocket of time that opened up to visit the renovation site he had not been able to check for days.
The moment he arrived, Rihendel and Bahama—the barbarians working alongside Ornn—let out a cheer and welcomed him.
"The boss is here!!!"
"Blow, the Slayer of Dusk Block, is here!!!"
How had they found out this time? Blow glanced aside, and there was Hans, sweating buckets.
"And what is this now, Hans?"
"I was telling them about the duel Young Master fought, and it got a little... haha..."
Hans said it while avoiding his eyes.
The barbarians, oblivious, went right on shouting in delighted voices.
"Indomitable will! Blow Deblique!"
"A man among men! Blow Deblique!"
The more Blow heard, the more embarrassed he grew. He looked back at Hans and narrowed his eyes.
"From the sound of it, you went into quite some detail."
"Haha... The two of them were so curious about the particulars of Young Master's duel... I'm sorry, Young Master."
"You weren't even there."
Still, Blow judged it better that Hans had told the story than that he should have to tell it himself, and he was about to let the matter pass when Hans, reading his face, added something barely loud enough to hear.
"...You won, so isn't that enough?"
"You've grown quite confident lately, Hans."
The moment Hans saw the look on Blow's face—the corners of his mouth lifted in a distinctly menacing curve—he folded at the waist and apologized over and over. Against that backdrop, the two barbarians slung their arms around each other's shoulders and began to sway as if dancing, shouting as they went.
"A cool man! Blow Deblique!"
"A real man! Blow Deblique!"
Something about their choice of words struck him as familiar, and not pleasantly so. His eyes narrowed. From upstairs, having heard them, Ornn came hurrying down and shouted.
"Bahama! Rihendel!! Can't you see you're making the Young Master uncomfortable!"
They clamped their mouths shut at once and slunk back to work.
There was something faintly cute about the way they did it, utterly at odds with their bulk, and Blow could not help a snort of laughter.
Ornn spent a good long while lecturing them after that. Then he smoothed his expression, came over, and offered a respectful bow.
"Young Master. You look well."
"Well. Set down that burden you spoke of, and I feel light as anything."
"As expected. Because you won, I take it?"
Ornn said it while subtly raising an eyebrow at him.
Barbarian blood, it seemed, was not something one could help.
Say another word on the subject, Blow thought, and they would spend this entire stolen visit talking of nothing but the duel. He moved straight on to business.
"So, Ornn. Is the remodeling coming along?"
"Ah, yes. The restaurant is nearly finished, just as planned. The potion shop should be done not this weekend, but the next. To be precise, that would put us around Monday the twenty-ninth—the day after Sunday."
"Quick hands. I hear you even went over the second floor and put the pump in."
"We called in extra people for some of it. And Hans proved quicker with his hands than I expected. Miss Jane has a good head for the work as well."
Hans, standing beside them, wore a proud look.
The man's frame had grown solid and fit, and Blow felt a quiet gratitude toward him.
"I'm glad you were a help."
"A very great help, truly."
Guided by Ornn, he looked the place over from one end to the other. Walking through the potion shop and the restaurant as they took shape, he felt a swell of emotion rise in him—and in his ears his own heartbeat sounded unusually loud.
Tension, or thrill. It made no difference which. He had faith in himself.
Blow, who had been thinking a moment of the days ahead, folded his blueprint away and spoke to Ornn as if in passing.
"Once the work is finished, I'm thinking of a party to mark the opening. I'd like the lot of you to come."
"I—is that true!"
"Waaah!"
"A party! A party!"
Bahama and Rihendel, who had been pretending to work with their ears pricked, threw their arms around each other again and cheered. Sensing something slightly off in the mood, Blow asked Ornn.
"Hm? What's the matter?"
"Ah. Well, we are barbarians, after all."
"And why does that matter?"
"I thought the other guests might dislike the sight of us. If it would be too much trouble, you needn't invite us."
Concern and consideration were mixed in Ornn's words. The moment he finished, Bahama and Rihendel drooped.
Blow looked at them, let a beat pass, then burst out laughing and shrugged.
"Is that all? It's fine."
He clapped Ornn once on the shoulder and smiled, and color rushed back into Bahama's and Rihendel's faces.
"Waaah!"
"A party! A party!"
"I'll drink a whole oak cask of beer!"
"I'll tear into a hog's front leg!"
Watching the two of them brighten again, Blow smiled. Ornn, standing beside him, looked moved as well, and bowed once more.
"We'll work hard."
"What you're doing now is already plenty."
A quiet smile rested on Ornn's face.
After that Blow went over the potion shop with him, corner by corner, stacking up his plans for what came next, one after another, in his head.
A short while later, the Nyx Inn.
His inspection finished, Blow had no sooner returned than he joined the kitchen and set about helping Melo cook—only for Yulia to arrive far earlier than their appointed time, so that he had no choice but to step outside and greet her.
Once the greetings were done, Yulia, her face full of apology, carefully opened her mouth.
"I'm sorry, Young Master Blow."
"Yes? What about?"
"The duel."
"As I understand it, you were the one who exerted yourself when I lost control. Is there any need for you to apologize to me, Senior?"
Yulia shook her head.
"If I had intervened sooner, as an officer, it never would have come to that. But I don't think I judged properly at the time... So I very much wanted to tell you I was sorry."
Blow was briefly wondering how he ought to answer when she added, in a calm voice.
"I must have been curious without even realizing it. About what you would do next, Young Master Blow..."
"Were you?"
"To be truly honest, a part of me had even started quietly cheering for you. But whatever the case, the fact remains that I failed in my duty. Young Master... will you accept my apology?"
Yulia Edfolk stood with a hand pressed to her chest, her face heavy with a grave sense of responsibility.
In truth, Blow had no memory of the moment at all, so he had no choice but to nod and let it pass.
"I'm the one who's grateful you looked out for me. It's really all right. Please don't worry."
"Ah—thank you, Young Master Blow."
Yulia let out a sigh of relief. Her expression grew noticeably lighter, and she took a seat at the table.
"Will this do?"
"Yes. Across from Lady Rachel."
"...I suppose this side is the seat of honor, then."
At the mention of Rachel, Yulia Edfolk's expression soured. Seeing it, Blow had a feeling today's meal would not be an easy one—but once she had settled and looked at him, a smile spread across her face again, and she spoke once more in that characteristically calm voice.
"Young Master, I was hoping we might have dinner together about a week from now, if that's all right with you. There's something I need to tell you."
It felt like good news and bad news at once.
Blow put on a businesslike smile and answered her.
"Tell me when, and I'll do my best to make the time. May I ask what it is you mean to say?"
"Ah, I'll tell you when we meet. I'm still sorting out my thoughts. Anytime is fine for me, so please just let me know a time that suits you."
"I'm taking leave this week, so I'll have one of the servants send word of the time before then."
"Oh, leave? Where are you going?"
"I'm planning to go to the Roten region."
"Roten! It's even lovelier after the snow falls. Will you be visiting the hot springs?"
"Yes. I thought everyone could use a chance to shake off their fatigue."
"Ah... then I won't be able to have the corn cheese."
Yulia murmured it so softly it was almost inaudible.
...So she really had meant it. Coming to eat every single day.
A chill ran down Blow's spine. He pretended not to have heard, and kept his businesslike smile trained on her.
A little later Skadi, Herbena, and Linne arrived at the inn, and the moment they did they greeted Yulia.
"Hello, Senior!"
"Have you all been well?"
"Thanks to your concern, we've been well."
Herbena spoke for the three of them.
Yulia's eyes caught Skadi looking a little awkward—perhaps on account of the business with Danvers. She was quietly worrying over her when Skadi addressed her in a bright voice.
"We've been truly well! The truth is, we even held an after-party of our own."
"Ah—no... and when was that...?"
"We had a drink in the recovery room."
Jane, who had stepped out of the kitchen at the sound of their voices, went straight back in. Herbena, who had something to feel guilty about, hurriedly avoided Yulia's eyes.
Yulia, as if she could not believe it, opened her eyes wide and pressed Skadi again.
"Drinking? At school...? Linne?"
"I-I don't know anything about it...! S-Senior!!!"
"Hahaha! Linne was there too that time, wasn't she?"
"Wh-what are you talking about!!! I didn't even go near the recovery room!"
"Huh! You said it was your first time with Ropert Special, and that you liked it!"
"What!?"
Linne looked thoroughly wronged. Skadi, watching her, burst into playful laughter.
Afraid the sparks of that conversation might land on him, Blow quietly drifted over to Hans and, for no particular reason, started discussing the seating.
Yulia, who had yet to recover from the shock, watched in silence for a while, then spoke with a deep sigh.
"Lady Skadi... alcohol at school is a little..."
"That's what makes it fun!"
"I—I beg your pardon? My lady! Were you... that sort of person!?"
"Because this isn't the school! It's Dusk Block! Haha!"
"S-Senior, I really didn't drink any!! Please believe me!!"
"Honestly..."
Skadi brushed the whole thing off in that slapdash way—but by then the faintest smile was playing at the corners of Yulia's mouth as well.
A short time passed. Megan, who had been receiving guests outside, hurried in and spoke to Blow.
"Lady Rachel Campbell has arrived."
Everyone rose. Then Megan lowered her voice and added, for him alone.
"Young Master."
"Is something the matter?"
"The lady asks that you step outside for a moment."
"All right."
What was she plotting this time? Doing his best to hide his unease, Blow Deblique stepped outside.
What met him there were the knights she had brought to their last duel, the retainers attending them, and Greig Campbell, standing unable even to meet his eyes.
At the very front, her orange hair tossing, Rachel called out to him in a cheerful voice.
"You've fixed the place up rather nicely. Not like you at all, Blow Deblique!"
"Thank you for the compliment."
"Been keeping well?"
"I saw you yesterday."
"You could have died in your sleep, for all I know."
"That isn't entirely untrue, but..."
It was not a completely incorrect statement, but something about it felt menacing, and Blow quietly steered the talk elsewhere.
"But will you not be going to school, Lady Rachel?"
"School? What are you talking about?"
"Astonishingly enough, today happens to be Wednesday, so I asked out of an excess of caution."
Rachel snorted a laugh.
"Ah, so that's what you meant! We finished in the first week an expedition that ought to have taken two!"
"Impressive."
"Well, for me, isn't that only to be expected?"
"It's cold. Won't you come inside?"
Rachel pointed at Greig, who stood beside her at a complete loss.
"Ah. Our Greig says he has something to say to our Young Master Blow."
She shot him a glare, and Greig came forward, watching her mood. Then he ducked his head hard and spoke as if shouting.
"B-Blow, I'm sorry...!"
Blow had thought there was no world in which he would ever receive an apology from the man, and he was inwardly startled.
"Well, if that's how you feel..."
Rachel Campbell, standing beside them, wore a thoroughly dissatisfied look and shook her head at her younger brother.
"Greig Campbell?"
"...What?"
"I told you an apology has to show sincerity!"
"Th-then what do you want me to—"
Before he could finish, Rachel drove a kick into his calf.
There was a thick smack of flesh on flesh, and Greig pitched forward.
"Agh!"
Rachel, her gaze fixed on him with a fierce intensity, dropped to one knee and spoke as if whispering.
"Again."
The pain must have been tremendous. For a moment resentment flickered across Greig's face as he clutched his calf—then it gave way to resignation.
"I-I'm sorry! Blow Deblique! I was wrong!"
"It's all r—"
Before he could get the words out, Rachel slowly shook her head at her brother.
Even Blow had no choice but to swallow hard beneath that sharp gaze. Greig himself looked up at his sister with an expression on the verge of tears.
"You have to say exactly what you did wrong."
"I... I got greedy over Herbena... I forced a duel when I had no business demanding one, and I said vile things to Jane as well. I'm sorry."
Blow, who had finally come somewhat back to himself, glanced around.
The servants and knights Rachel had brought only looked down on Greig with cold eyes, and even with him appealing to her, Rachel's expression showed no sign of softening.
...So. This means I can take it one step further?
Having decided as much, he helped Greig—who had been face-down until then—to his feet as he spoke.
"No! I'm really fine!"
"Th-then you'll accept my apology!"
"Of course!"
But Blow's manner was so readily agreeable that Rachel, sensing something off, looked at him—while he even brushed the dust from Greig's trousers and went on in a gentle tone.
"I really am fine, you know! Though I can't speak for how Jane or Herbena feel."
"What?"
"As you just said with your own mouth, you wronged the two of them more than you wronged me! Of course! I was plenty angry myself!"
"......"
"So what I'd like, Greig, is for you to set rank aside and apologize as student to student—or as one person to another."
Rachel stared at him with her mouth hanging open, delighted past all belief. Greig kept his lips tightly shut, then barely managed to begin.
"...All... right..."
"Greig! You are truly a model of the nobility!"
Having turned him neatly around, Blow Deblique slowly stuck his head in through the inn's entrance.
Aside from Yulia, the rest were on their feet waiting for them to come in, and they were a little startled to see his face brightened for no reason they could name.
"...What's all this, all of a sudden?"
Instead of answering, he beckoned Jane and Herbena.
"Jane, Herbena. Come out."
"...Me?"
"What is it this time?"
Jane hesitated. Herbena, afraid of whatever he was about to pull now, looked uneasy.
"I have a bad feeling about this..."
"Just come out."
The two emerged wearing expressions that said they would rather not, and what met them was Greig standing awkwardly, and Rachel Campbell beside him with her arms folded.
A little flustered, Jane and Herbena exchanged a look. Blow, who had somehow become master of ceremonies, approached Greig with a smile brimming on his face.
"Now then. Let's hear those words you've been saving. Greig Campbell."