Even a Scoundrel Gets Tired

198 – Omen

Well, even if we *had* had a sincere talk,

not much would have changed.

From the very first time I saw her, she seemed

to care not a whit for the eyes of others;

that she harbored such hidden depths was,

of course, quite unexpected, and

even though my first impression of her

had already been significantly

revised within me,

I still couldn’t quite take a liking to her.

I can understand that she has

her own circumstances.

I’m not so inflexible

that I can’t understand at least that much.

However, no matter how that may be,

if you asked me whether I’d

tolerate her continuing to

cling to me like this…

I don’t think I could.

I have always preferred to

act alone;

acting alongside someone

is simply not very familiar to me.

Of course, even that would

become okay if I were to spend

years together with someone like Ella,

but she and I were not destined

to see each other for that long.

From the very beginning, I was meant

to be correcting the bad habits of my juniors,

a sort of assistant…

Since I was now participating in the class.

‘Parting ways quickly is,

perhaps, what’s best for both of us…’

“Excuse me…”

“…?”

“I apologize for earlier.

You weren’t able to eat because of me.”

I’ll say this beforehand – after

our brief exchange,

we hadn’t spoken a word to each other.

What more was there to say?

If that was what she desired.

Surely, the members of her family were aware.

They must have known how

their lineage was being spoken of in society.

No, it was impossible for them not to.

Even I, with no interest whatsoever

in social circles, could easily discover it

with just a little searching.

A rakish family, a public enemy of women.

Practically a byword for lechery.

Shameful titles indeed, for a Marquisate.

Yet, until now, they hadn’t

taken any action.

They had simply accepted it.

Claiming nothing would change even if they intervened.

Yielding completely, ignoring it,

in order not to resist the tide.

And that custom of her family,

which all her siblings and elders

had tacitly accepted and embraced,

this girl, barely of age,

dared to proclaim she would change it.

Saying she didn’t want to subject others

to the same experience as her.

Saying she would ensure her family could hold

a little more pride.

With skin that seemed to burn

at the mere touch of sunlight,

and slender wrists, she swung a sword.

The evidence of her toil remained stark upon her delicate palms.

Deeds that even adults found daunting,

were undertaken by this mere child of a girl.

Surely she couldn’t be blind to the thorny path ahead.

Just moments ago, the morning sun had kissed

her eyes with blinding beauty,

and I found myself without words to offer.

What more could I say to a child

who already knew and handled everything herself?

All that remained was my silent support.

For comfort was merely pity,

and idle pity would be an insult,

so I truly had nothing to say to her.

Not even in this moment, as she dipped

her head slightly and offered an apology.

“….”

“..Say something, please.

I’m starting to feel a bit awkward myself.”

My speechless, frozen reaction clearly bothered her,

for she glanced at me askance, head tilted in a self-conscious way.

Seeing that,

I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Why… why are you laughing?!”

“..It’s just… I was remembering the first time I saw you. Forgive me.”

“Oh… no, that’s…!”

She scrambled for a response,

searching her mind for the right words.

Finally, she told me not to get on her nerves,

her face flushing crimson.

That expression, to my eyes,

suited her remarkably well.

Though her face burned bright,

her voice held a note of excited agitation,

and even from where I stood,

Valentine’s Day, a day for bestowing laughter and happiness upon someone.

So there was nothing strange

in her voice being tinged

with a smile.

“Seriously!! Must you always

answer like that even when

*I* am the one apologizing first..!!”

-A reminder that class will begin shortly, students please proceed to your respective classrooms..

“..Ah.”

But the passage of time

was beyond our control,

and so, we had no choice but to abandon our meal and dash to the lecture hall.

*

A sword is a sword.

Merely a blade forged from steel.

Duke Reinhardt’s belief,

a mantra close to being his conviction.

He had to keep nurturing swords.

He would burn himself out

until all those beneath him became swords.

Because he had promised his brother,

whom he killed with his own hands, he would.

The knight who slew the Swordmaster,

that was the oath he made to himself.

He wouldn’t fail to keep it,

nor did he intend to.

He had no other options.

Merely to endlessly nurture swords,

to forge and hone and polish them.

Never once

had he questioned his actions.

A sword is just a sword.

A sword possesses no reason.

He was only here to find the best sword,

not to listen to the whims

of the sword.

The best sword was the one

he named,

and a sword that wasn’t chosen

was merely a flawed creation.

And the failed piece,

it simply becomes obedient scrap.

For the sake of other

blades to be forged anew later on.

Yes, surely it must have been so.

*Cra-a-a-a-ck*

From the hand that grasps the blade,

the sound of steel grinding against steel

rings out, crystal clear.

It was because of his steel hand,

which he now doubted could even be called *his*.

He holds no resentment.

A blade possesses no emotion, after all.

He, too, was once a sword of this family, so

emotion had long been sacrificed.

And yet, a question lingered.

How did things come to this?

The blade’s hilt had been replaced.

By Imperial Decree, no less.

The blade he himself had nurtured

was utterly ruined by a lump of scrap

that should have been discarded,

and that lump of scrap, now a completely different blade, rejected him.

Why? Where had things

gone wrong?

“Hey, Swordsman. What

thoughts occupy you so deeply again?”

“..Be quiet, you mad old fool.”

But the sword then ceased

even to think.

That troublesome lump of scrap

could be cut down later, as needed.

After all, it was born as scrap, no matter how much it struggled.

Anything that blocked his path,

he would simply cut down.

He had lived as a sword until now

for just that purpose.

*Kyeonmunbalgeom,* was it called? (drawing a sword to kill a mosquito)

Even so, it didn’t matter.

Soon, everything would be —

People would kneel at my feet,

for that was the true purpose of the sword,

and soon all honors and

power would follow in its wake.

‘… Perhaps then, even I,

could offer an apology.’

“Hey, swordsman! Could you at least

mention where you’re going…!”

“..For now, even bloodstained

steel is all I have to offer.”

“..What?”

I’m going to the arena.

*

At the same hour, as the dazzling morning

sun bathed all in its warm embrace,

Emperor, Siegfried Pravel,

had already completed all his preparations.

Prepared, in the manner of an Emperor, to receive his vassal’s report.

Normally, arriving at such an

early hour would be, for

any subject, an act worthy of

the charge of great disrespect,

but the Emperor cared not for such things.

He was far too

loyal and capable a vassal to warrant

him worrying about something so trivial.

Thus, with every arrangement and

formality observed, what appeared before him

stood in stark contrast to the

warm morning sunlight still streaming through the glass,

a single, thick, black, and deeply

hued form of shadow.

“You have returned, I trust,

with the opinion of Reinhardt of the present line?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. As you

commanded, I have heard her thoughts.”

From the black shadow’s lips,

contrary to its unsettling appearance,

sprang a clean, middle-aged voice,

and that voice addressed the Emperor,

It was a voice so utterly familiar.

The report from within the darkness continued.

Thankfully, the encroaching morning sun still failed to disturb the shadows,

and the report from within the darkness

proceeded without incident,

until, at long last, when the report had concluded,

the Emperor found himself, without realizing it,

stroking his chin.

“Hmm…so the child made such

a choice, you say…?”

“Yes, she stated plainly that she

would not abandon her lineage.”

“Mmm…could it be that she

trusts her brother enough to act so…?”

The Emperor fell into thought.

The answer he had received was far too unexpected.

Though nothing had been widely announced as yet,

in the Emperor’s estimation, the

Reinhardt House was as good as

extinguished already.

If the fact of their pact with a demon were to be revealed,

nearly all the families

would undoubtedly turn their backs on them.

That was how grave the transgression was.

To be associated with a demon.

“Did the child make this decision

unaware of such things?”

“I am sorry to say, but,

at least in my estimation, she is not the type.”

“…Then she considered everything

and still made that choice.”

“….”

“Surely she didn’t do this trusting

her brother, did she?”

“Yes, it seemed that way.”

“….”

The one who saw the child directly

claimed such,

and the Emperor, feeling he had no right to argue,

decided to change the subject.

“Doubt of my subjects’ judgment, too, was not

a virtue befitting a sovereign.”

“Hm…Speaking of which, what has that child been up to these days?”

“..That child, you mean?”

“His elder brother, I mean.”

“Ah…”

“I was already thinking of summoning him

to the Royal City before long…”

“….”

“He’s still a student, so the fief can

wait, but I can give him some coin and goods.”

“..I will look into it promptly.”

“Good. And while you’re at it, find out what that escaped

old lion is doing as well.”

*

‘..Guess it’s about time I should visit that place they call the Arena, huh?’

I even got a recommendation letter, so

delaying too long would be quite discourteous…

I suppose I should make some time in the near future.