ESL Chapter 47

The child was crying… A child of about five years old, having lost both parents, was standing before their coffins, tears falling silently without even a sound. The shadow that approached from behind the child lifted them gently, as though the child were made of fragile glass, and whispered. Though those whispered words were being carved deep into the child’s heart like a spell, the child did not know it.

“It’s alright, Luciel. Trust me… I will take care of you.”

At the gentle voice and affectionate smile of their only remaining blood relative, the child nestled into that warm embrace and cried out loud to their heart’s content. After some time, a large, warm hand slowly stroked the child’s head, and gradually the child stopped crying and drifted off to sleep. Deep, deep into the darkness.

“…….”

Luciel slowly opened his eyes, his handsome face creasing into a frown. He had thought those memories were buried deep enough — so why had he dreamed of this?

“….I still have a long way to go.”

Muttering self-deprecatingly, Luciel suddenly stiffened with a sense of déjà vu. For some reason, the entire room carried the strong smell of blood, and he couldn’t remember why he had returned to his room at all. He was sure he had gone out into the streets to avoid Rosia… An unpleasant premonition crept up his spine. He hurriedly sat up, and that was when he realized someone was lying motionless beside him.

“Surely not…”

Luciel clenched his teeth. No matter how much they wanted him eliminated, surely no one could be so cruel. At least, not any human being. But as if someone had anticipated exactly when he would wake, the bedroom door swung wide open and light flooded in — and Luciel felt the tiny, last fragment of hope still remaining in his heart shatter into pieces. He slowly turned his head toward the person lying beside him. Just as he had feared, the naked body of a young girl, her entire body slashed with a blade, came into view. Beside her lay the dagger he had inherited from his mother, soaked in blood. So wronged that she hadn’t even been able to close her eyes — the sight of Rosia made Luciel feel killing intent toward the person who had just stepped into the room, for the very first time.

“…You sacrificed this young child… went this far… Is the Ducal House truly that coveted to you?”

At Luciel’s low, rage-filled question spoken through gritted teeth, Cheor answered with the same affectionate smile he had worn in the dream.

“If you were going to be so angry, you should have embraced her. Then it would never have come to this.”

“Uncle!”

“Luciel. By the authority of the head of the family, I place you under confinement. The charge is…”

The smile at the corner of Cheor’s lips deepened.

“The rape and murder of Rosia Lucan Mihael — my adopted daughter.”

****

“…Hk—!”

Berchel snapped awake with a start from a terrible nightmare, eyes flying open. The moment they did, he ground his teeth with fury.

“That despicable bastard!”

In the dream, his lord Luciel had collapsed, bleeding, with a sword through his heart. And standing before him was Cheor, grinning his contemptible grin. Relieved it had only been a dream and cursing Cheor under his breath, Berchel finally noticed that the place he was lying in was somewhere unfamiliar. Startled, he jerked upright — and when he felt no pain anywhere on his body, he looked himself over in disbelief.

“How is this possible?”

He sat for a moment in a daze, then forced himself to calm down and tried to piece together his memories.

So… after receiving word that that bastard had joined hands with them and was scheming something…

He had left the bookshop, slipping past the shadows, in order to warn his lord to be careful. But before even a full day had passed, the shadows noticed his absence and assassins were immediately sent after him. The fact that they had set assassins on him meant that the bastard had made up his mind to eliminate his lord as well, so Berchel had to shake them off by any means necessary and get to his lord. But the assassins on his tail were no easy opponents. Perhaps because he hadn’t drawn a sword in so long, he couldn’t perform at his former level. He managed to cut down two of them, but he himself had sustained severe wounds all over his body.

Honestly, he had thought it was the end. As he was steeling himself that if he died he would become a vengeful spirit and never let that bastard rest in peace, he suddenly remembered the good-luck charm Lea had given him some time ago.

[A good-luck charm. Keep it close to your chest, and if something urgent ever comes up, tear it. Something surprising will happen.]

The image of Lea smiling as she handed him the charm surfaced in his mind, and as though spellbound, Berchel lifted his barely-moving arm and drew from inside his breast — where he always kept it — the charm. The assassins had noticed his hiding spot and were closing in on him, but his gaze, breath coming in ragged gasps, remained fixed on the charm in his hand.

Nothing to lose. Without hesitation, Berchel used his last remaining strength to tear the charm. And what appeared was a strikingly beautiful young man. Mysterious silver hair gleaming under the moonlight, silver eyes, a face of pure white… Even as a fellow man, Berchel couldn’t help but find him breathtakingly beautiful — but that beauty, it turned out, was entirely absent from his personality.

“What a nuisance…”

The emotionless young man muttered, then gave a light, casual wave of his hand toward the assassins flying at him. At that same moment, Berchel lost consciousness. Whether he collapsed from excessive blood loss or whether it was the doing of that silver-haired young man, he couldn’t say.

But anyway — where was he? As Berchel tensely looked around the room, he heard the sound of a door opening, and a familiar voice reached his ears. He turned to find Lea, dressed in a soft pink dress, walking toward him.

“Handy little charm, wasn’t it?”

At Lea’s teasing question, the tension drained out of Berchel and he laughed with hollow relief as he answered.

“So handy it gave me quite a shock. But where exactly is this…?”

“The guest annex of Duke Kaien’s residence.”

“Right up until I lost consciousness, I was sure I was done for — so waking up without a scratch on me came as quite a surprise.”

“My friend Abel, who brought you here, treated your wounds. Abel is a mage, you see.”

At the word mage, Berchel realized that the silver-haired young man who had appeared when he tore the paper she had given him must be the friend she was speaking of. Learning that this person had not only saved him but healed him as well made him feel ashamed of having thought, upon first seeing him, that he had an ugly personality. Though if Berchel had known exactly how Abel had transported him, he never would have entertained that feeling at all.

“I owe a great debt to you and your friend. I will repay it without fail.”

Berchel bowed his head and conveyed his sincere gratitude to her. Lea watched him for a moment, then crossed her arms and spoke.

“So — Luciel is in quite a bad situation, isn’t he?”

“…You’d already figured that out?”

“It would be stranger if I hadn’t, wouldn’t it? Between Berchel being absent from the bookshop, a shadow standing guard over the empty shop, and on top of that, assassins trying to kill you — it doesn’t take much to put it together.”

Under Lea’s gaze that said I already know everything, so just tell me honestly, Berchel relented and began to lay out everything he knew.

****

“It seems I’ll need to make a trip to the Kingdom of Teor.”

Duke Kaien set down the teacup he had been holding at his daughter’s unexpected words. He had sensed from the moment she returned from the imperial palace and sought him out for tea that she had something she wanted to say — but the content was something he had not anticipated in the slightest.

“The Kingdom of Teor?”

“Yes… It seems a friend of mine is in danger. So I want to go and help.”

“…I didn’t realize you had a friend close enough for that.”

Close enough to travel all the way to the Kingdom of Teor? the Duke’s eyes asked, and Lea nodded, meeting her father’s gaze directly. She answered him honestly.

“If it weren’t for that friend, I wouldn’t be here right now. That friend is the one who showed me who I was.”

“……”

A brief silence fell. The one to break it was the Duke. He let out a quiet sigh and slowly opened his mouth to speak.

“I’ll have a gate prepared for you. Take it there.”

A magic gate capable of traveling directly to another country. She had heard that using one allowed instantaneous travel. She had been intending to ask whether it might be possible to use one — and now her father was offering it before she even had to ask. Lea was deeply grateful.

“When are you thinking of leaving?”

“As soon as possible. His situation seems quite dire…”

“Understood. It’s late today, so… I’ll have it ready by tomorrow.”

“Thank you. Father. Then I’ll head upstairs.”

The Duke watched in silence as his daughter rose and took her leave. Honestly, he didn’t want to let her go. How could he send his precious, beloved daughter off to a foreign country, not knowing what might happen there? On top of that, she had only just returned home — he had no wish to be parted from her so soon. And yet he had no choice but to let her go. Because of the words she had spoken: that the friend who needed her was the one who had sent this beloved child back to them.

It wasn’t that he doubted his daughter’s abilities. She had more than enough strength to protect herself. Even so, he worried — because he was her father. In the end, without quite realizing it, he found himself speaking.

“But promise me one thing.”

“…?”

“That you’ll come back… safely.”

Lea looked at her father. Then she smiled gently, as if to tell him not to worry, and answered.

“Of course. I promise.”