Scary Bastard, Bad Bastard, Reckless Bastard (5)
There was no way to find any clues, and with the already complicated situation getting even more tangled, Cleio felt a suffocating frustration rise inside him.
His lingering headache brought tears to his eyes, and he turned his head, wiping them quickly with his sleeve.
"Oh dear, you really do look unwell. Perhaps you should return home?"
"I'm all right. Thank you for your concern, Your Highness the Crown Prince."
"Then, may I ask you just a few more questions?"
"…As you wish."
It was irritating to deal with someone he couldn't say no to, but Cleio composed his expression with effort.Now was not the time to challenge this ominous and bizarre Crown Prince.
"I believe your father is Gideon Aser, a junior baron. But I don't recall ever hearing about your mother."
"My mother's name was Thelma Aser. She sadly passed away seventeen years ago while giving birth to me."
"I see… that is unfortunate. Arthur also lost his mother at a young age—perhaps that's why he feels like you're a brother to him."
"Brother? Please, that's far too generous of you."
The twenty-seven-year-old prince, who was idly touching his chin and tilting his head as if leafing through the pages of a mental register, suddenly spoke again.
"Thelma… yes, now that I hear the name, I remember. She held a number of splendid soirées in the capital—ones that are still talked about even today."
"I was unaware of that. I'm glad to hear such fond memories of my mother."
"Even royalty attended her parties. She was a woman of remarkable taste—and beauty."
He wasn't reminiscing for sentiment's sake.He was scrutinizing Cleio's every reaction, dissecting him with his eyes.
By this point, Cleio was certain.The prince wasn't asking about his father—he was questioning whether Cleio himself might be an illegitimate royal child!
'If the only people my "skill" hasn't worked on are my so-called brothers, then… well, it's a logical suspicion.'
"I see. I've always regretted having no memories of my mother, but it seems I've been unexpectedly blessed today."
"I'm glad to have given you joy. Arthur rarely opens his heart to anyone, but he clings to you as though he's found a sibling."
Cleio smiled in response, but without any acting skill to speak of, it was surely a stiff, awkward expression.Sweat trickled under his stifling clothes.
Thinking about it, King Philip was clearly a debauchee.Even as a prince, he had fathered Melchior with a commoner's daughter without ever marrying.After his coronation, he took Princess Juleika of the Brunnen Dominion as his queen in a political marriage to end border disputes.And yet, even after marrying an imperial princess, he couldn't restrain himself—he slept with a temple priestess and begot Arthur.
'Well, I can't blame him for being suspicious… If my father were like that, I'd doubt it too.'
Why did Lady Thelma Aser have to be both a genius party planner and a beauty, only to cause her son (or rather, the one inhabiting her son's body) so much trouble years later?
'The brothers are already at each other's throats—I really don't want to get dragged in as another "half-brother."'
He racked his brain for a way out, but there was simply no move he could make.That was when—
"There you are, Ray! I knew you were lost!"
Arthur's brash voice had never sounded so welcome.He clapped Cleio on the shoulder, stepping between him and Melchior, shielding Cleio behind his back.
"It's been too long, brother!"
"Indeed, Arthur. You're as elusive as ever."
"Hahaha. You wouldn't get much from seeing me swing a sword all day anyway—but your face still shines as brightly as ever, brother!"
Even under his nonchalant manner, the fine hairs on the back of Arthur's neck stood upright.The fearless protagonist himself was afraid of Melchior.
"Brother, if you delay any longer, the guests will flood the ballroom with their tears!"
"Your tongue is still sharp, I see. You've grown stronger as well. When I last visited the camp at Viscount Kishion's estate, I was disappointed not to see you. I'm pleased to meet you now."
"I rushed off to see a friend and just missed you! What rotten luck, huh?"
"I was quite glad to meet your friend too. But our conversation isn't finished yet—might you step aside for a moment?"
The vein on Arthur's neck bulged.Cleio heard him take a sharp, deep breath—he was about to explode.
Cleio quickly grabbed Arthur's arm and stepped forward again.
"Please, go ahead. I may be just a student, but I'll do my best to answer properly."
Melchior was struck by the impression of this frail-looking boy meeting his gaze squarely.
"They say you're quite the prodigious student, Cleio. Such talent is said to appear but once in a century."
"I'm receiving far more praise than I deserve. I'll work hard not to disappoint your expectations."
"A brilliant talent and a diligent one. I only worried that living and studying with my troublesome youngest brother might have… influenced you poorly."
Cleio was speechless. Worried, my ass. Clearly, he didn't like having a mage attached to his little brother.
Arthur couldn't hold back.
"Brother, what are you saying? He's so talented he doesn't even listen to me! He barely hears a word I say—what influence could I possibly have?"
"Hahaha, you two really are close friends. It's good to see friendship bloom, even if it began through shared punishment. I won't ask you to earn top grades, Arthur—but at least don't tarnish the royal name."
"I'll try next semester, brother."
Both princes wore something that resembled smiles, but not a soul in the hall mistook them for genuine.
Caught between them, Cleio absently read the strings of "Promise" floating before his eyes.
[―User's Narrative Intervention Rate is rapidly increasing.][―User's Narrative Intervention Rate is rapidly increasing.][―User's Narrative Intervention Rate is rapidly increasing.]
The same message repeated, until the corridor seemed to glow.
At first, he thought "Promise" was malfunctioning—but no.The messages appeared not only when Arthur spoke, but when Melchior replied as well.
Two princes of Albion meant double narrative points.The least welcome bonus in the world.
'So… this is where I really get tangled up.'
His brief peace had come to an end—right here, in this dark corridor.
"―So, your father's birthday is just an excuse, isn't it? These guests rode all the way by train just to see your brother — if you treat them so coldly, what good will it do?"
"Yes, you have a point. It would be rude to keep these distant guests waiting, so I will go alone. You, help Cleio get home."
"Of course — how could I refuse!"
"Thank you. It was an honor to meet you."
Melchior watched Cleio bow and leave, leaving an unmistakable hint of displeasure as he dismissed the two boys.
"You look ill. Go home and rest properly. We shall see each other again."
. . .
Ishiel, who had been waiting by the carriage, was alarmed at how quickly Cleio's condition had worsened.
Cleio arrived propped up by Arthur, dragged along like a stubborn child, and could barely stand on his own.
Ishiel assigned two knights from Viscount Kishion's household to escort them, then took Cleio's other arm and helped him into the carriage.
Cleio collapsed onto the seat in tatters. His head throbbed fiercely—he'd strained to resist Melchior's "unique skill" and even had his perception active, which left him aching.
Ishiel cradled Cleio's neck so he could breathe comfortably and, with cool fingers, pressed his forehead — a kindness that brought relief.
The carriage rode on in silence as they left the city. As they neared the Aser mansion, where the palace's hush gave way to a quieter atmosphere, Arthur finally spoke.
"How did you find the Crown Prince in person?"
Cleio, eyes clouded, squinted and glanced at Arthur across the seat before answering.
"Scary."
Arthur looked surprised at the blunt reply.
"Wow, you're incredible. You really see people well. Apart from me and Aslan, everyone else's been fooled."
"Who wouldn't be fooled? That face is—"
Cleio's thoughts kept breaking off. He couldn't find the words to describe that voice and visage, so his sentence trailed away.
That alone conveyed enough. Arthur finished for him.
"It's almost godlike power."
"…Yeah."
"I knew you and my brother would meet, but seeing you caught where no one else could see you—do you know how shocked I was? We ran all the way to my palace and got nabbed by Melchior while rubbing shoulders."
"I didn't mean to go there. I got lost. Then I saw the portrait—there she was, and your brother was already—"
Cleio answered clumsily, his thoughts scrambled.
Yes—the portrait. Min-san's portrait had been there. Her unmistakable figure, no one else could be mistaken for her, bearing a name he didn't recognize.
So much had happened so fast that he'd forgotten amid the chaos.
"A portrait… Oh, the archbishop's painting? You were interested in religion?"
"I'm not interested in religion."
"Then the archbishop? Are you into holy power or something?"
"Not really. But I'd like to meet him someday."
Whether she truly was Min-san, a person fashioned to resemble Min-san, whether the author knew her, what connection she had to him—there were so many questions, but he couldn't follow them further just then.
The carriage clattered into the street lined with mansions. At the end of the road, the Aser house came into view.
Arthur checked their position by drawing back the curtain and spoke quickly.
"I'll make sure you meet her someday."
"Do you actually have the power to do that?"
"Hey! I am a prince, you know."
"Fine, try it. I'll be expecting it."
"Wow, you've really got expectations for me. All right, I'll do my best."
"…You want something in return for arranging a meeting with the archbishop."
"Aha, so it's not free after all."
"You always say I should side with you and then expect me to be caught out. What a surprise."
"Well, seeing Melchior today changed my mind a bit. Are you swayed?"
"Changed, nothing. I'd already been positively considering your offer."
Ishiel's body, which had been supporting Cleio's neck, stiffened noticeably. The hand that had been resting on his forehead to ease the headache froze in place.
"Whoa!!!"
Arthur leapt up a beat late and bonked his head on the carriage ceiling like an idiot. The coachman slowed the horses, thinking something had happened.
"Nothing at all. Let's continue!" Arthur called, opening the window and rubbing his crown as he beamed.
He smiled so brightly that—although the resemblance was hardly close enough to compare—he could pass as a brother to the first prince.
Even if the hues differed, both had blond hair and blue eyes; their builds and heights were certainly similar. Of course, their speech, voices, and mannerisms were entirely different.
"Even that shitty royal ball was worth coming to. What a haul."
"We haven't signed anything yet, so don't get ahead of yourself."
"If you're already thinking positively, it's basically done! I'm genuinely delighted—"
Arthur, sprawled on the floor in front of the seats where Ishiel and Cleio sat, still grinning, said nonchalantly,
"—because I don't have to kill you."
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