The festival's clamor gradually faded, and after the crowds ebbed away like the receding tide, the path back to the mansion felt unusually quiet.
Imir, walking beside me, had poured all her energy into the day.
Or perhaps she was simply intoxicated by the afterglow of her first-ever festival.
Either way, uncharacteristic for the one called Frostfang, she staggered along with half-lidded eyes.
"Get a grip."
"Mmm... Maaaster... chicken leeeeg..."
In the end, I had to carry her on my back as she mumbled in her sleep and nearly collapsed.
The moment her heavy weight settled on my back, the sharp scent of alcohol and food wafted over me.
But what bothered me more was the vivid sensation transmitted along my spine.
"Mmm..."
As if finding a comfortable position, she wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her body tightly against mine.
In that instant, something ample and full from her body pressed squarely against my back, separated only by a thin layer of fabric.
"Good grief..."
I should've known better when she devoured so much honey mead, claiming it was delicious.
If she's this weak to alcohol, she shouldn't have drunk so carelessly.
Normally, a servant should look after their master, but...
In the end, grumbling all the while, I supported her and headed to my room in the annex.
I'll be leaving tomorrow anyway. Might as well let her cut loose.
One last day won't hurt.
The moment I tossed her onto the bed, she let out deep, even breaths, plunging straight into slumber as if she'd been waiting for it.
Only the occasional soft snore broke the room's silence.
"I should probably wash her before she sleeps."
But I couldn't exactly do it myself.
I shook her shoulders repeatedly, trying desperately to wake her.
"Mmm. Wanna sleep more..."
'Give up.'
Seeing her burrow even deeper into the bed instead, I cleanly gave up.
She won't wake up no matter what. It's just a waste of energy.
...She'll handle it herself when she gets up.
I gazed down at her for a moment, then sighed and sat in a chair, staring out the window.
Time had long passed midnight.
The wind blowing in through the window washed over me.
Perhaps because of her faint snoring beside me.
Or maybe due to the vague anxiety about full-fledged academy life starting tomorrow.
Sleep should have started creeping in by now.
But no matter how much time passed, it wouldn't come.
Realizing I'd end up pulling an all-nighter like this, I quietly rose from the chair and draped my outer coat over my shoulders.
"Maybe a short walk."
Fresh night air might help.
Creak. Creak.
It was late, and all the servants had retired.
My footsteps echoed loudly through the old corridors of the annex.
The mansion lay in deep sleep, silent, with only faint moonlight illuminating the halls through the windows.
As I wandered aimlessly outside, I paused before one garden.
"This place..."
It held no memories for me, who had possessed the character Evan at a very young age.
But I'd heard stories: back then, this was where he walked with his mother.
The real Evan might have felt bitter emotions every time he came here.
But to me, with no memories or attachments, it was just a scenic stroll spot.
"Hoo."
I sat on the bench, inhaling the cool night air, lost in thought.
Rustle.
The sound of someone stepping on dry grass came from a short distance away.
A slender silhouette stood with the moonlight at her back.
Silver hair gently fluttered in the night breeze.
Wearing only a thin robe over her nightgown, she didn't approach further.
She simply stood there, still as a statue, gazing quietly in my direction.
[That wench is back again. Persistent bitch.]
"Lin?"
I'd vaguely guessed it was her.
From the moment I left the annex and headed for the garden.
Along with the spirits' chatter, I'd felt someone's gaze from the main building.
No killing intent, so I figured it was her among the family.
"Brother."
"...You'll catch a cold."
I turned toward the voice.
There she was, looking a bit thinner than before.
Bathed in moonlight, her face appeared paler and more fragile than ever.
Her jewel-like eyes trembled uneasily.
Apparently, insomnia wasn't just my problem.
Well, of course. She'd received the enrollment notice from the herald too.
In The Glory's setting, she was a year younger than me.
Normally, she'd enroll a year later.
But due to her exceptional magic talent, she was set to enter early.
"..."
"..."
I'd avoided her as much as possible, turning away whenever we crossed paths.
So here, at this hour, in this empty place.
We stood dumbly, mouths firmly shut, saying nothing.
Celine hesitated in place for a moment.
Then cautiously stepped forward and sat on the bench beside mine, keeping some distance.
"Can't sleep?"
Though I'd steeled myself to cut ties.
I worried avoiding her even now would leave an indelible scar.
After agonizing, I sighed and broke the silence first.
"...You seem to be having the same issue, Brother."
She sat with knees together, eyes fixed on the garden floor, and replied.
"..."
"..."
Awkward silence flowed between us once more after those words.
It was the first time we'd faced each other alone since that day.
"Tomorrow... you'll be leaving."
She spoke again.
"Yeah."
"I'm... going to the academy too."
I already knew. She was enrolling in the same academy as me.
Just in a different carriage.
Unlike me, the virtual outcast, she bore the family's full expectations.
She'd have escorts, and a grand entourage at that.
In The Glory, her flashbacks never mentioned riding with Evan, so it fit.
"Yeah."
I replied indifferently, and she lifted her head to look straight at me for the first time.
Her eyes, lit by moonlight, quivered.
"Brother... did you hate me that much?"
"..."
"...Did you have to push me away so hard?"
Burying her face in her knees, her voice leaked out bit by bit, bursting with long-suppressed resentment and sorrow.
"Did you hate me that much? Because of... what I did to you, Brother?"
Tears finally spilled from her eyes.
Each word poured out like an emotional explosion stabbed sharply like daggers.
I silently watched her.
In this moment, I knew any excuse or comfort would only wound her more.
"It was my fault. When you were falling apart like that."
"I did nothing... no, I turned a blind eye. It's all my fault. So... please..."
She couldn't continue, lowering her head and sobbing.
Each heave of her slender shoulders made a corner of my heart ache uncomfortably.
I'd pushed her away to survive, but I wasn't heartless enough to remain unmoved by my little sister crumbling before me.
Yet I couldn't embrace her either.
That would only plant false hope—a cruel kindness.
Stuck between options, I simply sighed and looked up at the sky.
"Lin."
"..."
She slowly raised her head from her sobbing.
Her teary eyes sparkled pitifully in the moonlight.
Anyone seeing her would feel their heart wrench; her crying evoked a fragile beauty.
As tears trailed down her cheeks to the ground.
I finally stood and approached her.
Squatting before her reddened, bloodshot eyes.
I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and gently wiped her tears.
"...Hic."
Startled by the unexpected gesture, she looked up at me wide-eyed, and I said flatly,
"Don't cry. It ruins your pretty face."
I tried my best to show no emotion toward her, to keep my voice neutral.
But surely, a faint warmth I wasn't even aware of slipped in.
"I don't hate you."
That was sincere. I wasn't the real Evan Dreadnote.
I had no right to forgive her wrongs against him in his stead, nor to hate her for them.
"However."
I straightened up and continued calmly.
"Our paths are just different."
Leaving her staring blankly up at me, I turned and walked away without lingering.
A small voice calling me from behind, but I didn't look back.
The cold night wind brushed my collar.
Under the moonlight, our two long shadows overlapped briefly before drifting apart forever.
+ + +
The next morning.
Before dawn, while the bluish haze still lingered.
I was already fully prepared.
There wasn't much to pack anyway.
Just the Dark Grimoire, a few changes of clothes in a bag, and a sword at my waist.
For a noble house's prestige, it was pathetically meager...
If the family head saw, he'd probably tsk that it was too much for a bastard like me already.
"Yaaawn... Master. Leaving already?"
Imir sat up with messy hair, yawning.
She rubbed her sleepy eyes relentlessly; left alone, she'd flop back down.
"Hurry and get ready. You'll miss out if you're late."
"...Got it."
Ignoring her grumbles, after finishing preparations, I took one last look around the empty room I'd stayed in for a year before leaving.
A place I'd grown sick of, yet gained much from.
No regrets.
"Let's go."
I opened the door without hesitation and stepped out.
Crossing the annex, through the mansion's garden toward the main gate.
Early hour meant few servants about.
Those we passed startled and yielded the way.
At the gate, a carriage emblazoned with the royal crest waited.
"Oh? You're early, Young Master Evan."
"I don't sleep much, so I woke early."
Marcus, the herald from yesterday, bowed politely beside the carriage.
"Ah! Don't worry about Lady Celine. Her carriage will arrive shortly after we depart."
"What can you do? She's a sharp one; she'll manage."
I replied flatly to his eager chatter, unasked.
"..."
Even after the carriage door opened.
I tapped the dazed, unmoving Imir's back.
"What're you doing? Get in."
"...Master. This is really a carriage?"
Imir gaped incredulously at the carriage before us.
It was indeed extraordinary, befitting the royals.
The body of premium ebony wood gleamed.
The wheels' magic circles glowed faintly, absorbing shocks.
Pulled by four white horses, its grandeur was a culture shock for her from the mountains.
"It looks like a moving house."
"Stop being bumpkin and get in."
I clicked my tongue and shoved her by the scruff into the carriage.
"Eek! D-don't push, you jerk Master!"
Thud!
After the commotion of her tumbling in.
I followed and settled inside.
The interior was far roomier and more comfortable than it appeared.
Plush velvet seats, magically temperature-controlled air.
'The royals sure know luxury.'
I marveled inwardly as I sat; the door closed outside.
"Coachman, to the academy."
"Yes!"
With Marcus's voice, the coachman cracked the whip.
Neigh!
With the horses' cry, the carriage smoothly began to move.