Lingering Dream (5)
The family head, who always kept a sword at his waist even while seated in his office, rose from his chair. The air in the room seemed to sink. I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes. Richen couldn't, even if I could. My body stiffened from the nape of my neck down to my spine.
"So you've grown arrogant just because you managed to cut down a few insect-like other races on the battlefield."
Richen had always feared this man. Memories flashed through my mind—how, whenever he deemed Richen's swordsmanship unsatisfactory, he would beat him with a wooden sword until his bones shattered, then summon a priest to heal him only to force him back into training. I hadn't experienced it myself, yet a sickening feeling crept up, followed swiftly by terror. I hated being afraid. Not many people enjoyed it, after all.
"...May I ask why you summoned me?"
The family head picked up an envelope bearing a luxurious seal and waved it lightly before speaking in a low voice.
"It's an invitation to the ball from the Monbern Marquisate. They wrote that they wished to invite you, the hero of the front lines... though everyone knows the marquis has a spoiled youngest daughter."
"......"
"The arrangements are mostly settled. Just show your face and return."
Looking back now, this man had simply been taking out his anger on a child. Because the boy born under him fell short of expectations, he had repeatedly beaten him until his bones broke, healed him, and broken him again. A Sword Saint like him couldn't possibly have failed to recognize talent.
"Is there any reason I must go?"
"Do you believe you have a choice?"
That damned bastard. This man was probably below average even by medieval standards. My lips froze, refusing to form words. I didn't think my neck would fly off just for cursing, yet my mouth refused to move. My body remembered the fear. My mind felt strangely detached, but my knees trembled on their own.
It had been about a week since I'd been deployed to the front lines. Whenever my body locked up like this, I sometimes died in truly horrific ways. The other races seemed to harbor quite a grudge against us. Once, I was dragged along and impaled on a pillar while my skin was slowly peeled away before I blacked out and died. Their technique wasn't as clean as ours, but it was close enough that the terrifying memory had turned into something merely disgusting. Ever since, I'd always carried a dagger on me. Because I had to overcome fear. Or perhaps because I needed to flee from it.
People weren't as strong as they thought. After enduring pain repeatedly... the mind collapsed. So rather than suffer greatly, it was better to choose the less painful path. And right now, I was terrified.
"I haven't disciplined you directly in a while, and you've become quite insolent."
I drew the dagger from my coat and drove it into my throat, then slashed sideways. When I pulled the blade free, blood gushed out like a fountain—dark and crimson. Only after the blood splattered across the middle-aged man's face did a look of bewilderment appear on his previously expressionless features.
"Ghk, ugh, ghk......"
With the sound of blood boiling through the air from my throat, strength left my legs and I collapsed, driving my head into the floor. My vision turned red, then black.
『Richen, doesn't this flower smell lovely? It's from your mother's homeland. I nagged your father all day, and he sent someone to bring the entire garden. He always speaks so gruffly, but your father... he's quite gentle, isn't he?』
I returned. Feeling as though sensation still lingered, I lightly touched my neck and spoke in a low voice.
"I haven't disciplined you directly in a while, and you've become quite insolent."
"...How about crossing swords with me after so long? If I win, I'll go quietly."
Having seen blood once, I could at least meet his eyes now. The family head remained silent for a long time. Then, as if his deliberation had ended, he spoke quietly.
"It wouldn't be bad to teach you your place after so long."
The family head slowly drew his sword.
"Draw your sword. I'll yield the first strike."
The moment those words ended, I drew my blade and swung it straight at his neck. He lightly deflected it to the right and struck my wrist with the flat of his blade. Then he kicked me square in the chest with all his strength. Several ribs felt broken. A metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.
"Haven't I always told you? If you lack even talent, live within your means... haven't I?"
Instead of answering, I raised the dagger to my throat again. The family head's words trailed off into silence.
『They say no one in this mansion grows up loved or loving. Living as cold steel... that's the Grayan family creed... But look. Even your father keeps approaching, and sometimes he smiles at me too. Richen, when your younger sibling is born, make sure this child can smile too.』
Usually, when I died, I returned thirty seconds to a minute before death. Sometimes further back, though I didn't know the criteria. I'd tried distinguishing the differences after dying hundreds of times, but all I'd learned was that I returned to moments that were at least solvable. The only new thing I'd discovered recently was that my affection or whatever it was rose when Leone turned my head to mush. Anyway, Father held his sword at an angle, ready to deflect my blade at any moment.
Once again, I aimed horizontally at his neck. The sword predictably flowed down to the right. This time, however, I dodged the incoming kick with all my strength and slashed upward diagonally from below with the deflected blade. I'd thought it was a brilliant strike, but apparently it was nothing to a Sword Saint. He grabbed my right wrist holding the sword, twisted it, and punched me in the solar plexus. I dropped to my knees and drew the dagger with my twisted hand. With trembling fingers, I placed the blade tip against the floor and let my body fall onto it.
"To think you'd discuss swords before me with only this much growth... what nonsense......"
"Urgh, ghh, ugh... hng, khk......"
I needed to pull the dagger out for it to end faster, but my hand gripping the hilt had no strength. After trembling for a long while, I went limp.
『Richen, don't hate your father too much. It seems he's someone who struggles to express love.』
She wasn't my mother, so it didn't matter if I ignored her words. Even if she were, I'd appreciate her thinking my puberty had simply come late. At this age, rebellion was natural. After all, she wasn't blameless for bringing a son into this world. Since such thoughts were typical of puberty, I hoped she'd accept them accordingly.
Once more, I aimed horizontally at his neck. The sword would naturally flow right, so I pressed down diagonally from below with the same force. The kick followed. I struck away the hand reaching for my wrist with my left hand and, just as I tried to aim the blade at his throat, the family head's sword swung with abnormal speed. It carried a blue aura. Sword Qi sliced through my blade like cutting tofu, and he kicked me away, his expression slightly flustered.
This time I'd braced my arm expecting the kick... it seemed broken. Still, a broken arm would heal quickly with a potion. Even as I coughed against the wall, the corners of my mouth curled up on their own.
"You must have aged quite a bit if you can be bested by the Grayan family's trash without mana."
"If only you'd shown this side of yourself sooner... I wouldn't have had to abandon you."
When I responded with nothing but a sneer, the family head's face slowly twisted. After coughing once, I continued.
"The head of the Grayan family, reduced to making cowardly excuses now that our skills are similar after trying to crush me with force......"
A cough cut my words short.
"How pathetic."
"......"
"Mother must have despised someone like you."
At the mention of Mother, the family head flinched. He couldn't even think of a reply.
"That's why she died of a broken heart, isn't it?"
She'd died giving birth to Leone, but when speaking, facts didn't matter. The family head had cherished Mother deeply. At least, that was what I'd seen in the moments before dying.
"......What is it you want to hear from me now?"
"I'll listen to your words one last time, so stop trying to control me."
With those words, I stood up. Staggering over to the desk, I picked up the ball invitation and tucked it into my coat.
"If sending your wife's treasure to hell has reduced her to this state, it should be enough."
"......"
I walked out of the office, leaving behind the family head's persistent gaze. My hands were trembling. Not my hands—Richen's.