〈 Episode 16 〉 Yandere Youngae 16

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The butler opened his mouth slowly. As the wait lengthened, I focused my listening even more intently, as if trying to take in everything he was saying.

"What does Tir think of this empire?"

The butler's question came as a surprise to me. Of course, living in the Aindar Empire, I couldn't say I didn't care. But the butler's words were too broad a question for me to answer.

"Good unspoken. Nothing looks more ignorant than answering without a solid point."

"What the hell does what the Empire is like have to do with what I'm doing here?"

The butler's eyes half-lowered slightly.

"Because it has something to do with the Squadron."

"The Squadron?"

That was all I knew of the man, the supreme general of the Earldom, the iron-blooded sword of the Empire, the man who made the Empire what it is today. Occasionally, innkeepers and passersby would enter the Earldom of Deckard, and much of what they talked about was either praise for the Charioteer or frustration with him.

"You mean the greatest sword in the empire?"

"A nostalgic nickname."

He chuckled.

"Then let me ask you this: do you think the Earl of Deckard is the best sword, or do you think the former Earl, that is, Northwell Deckard, is the best sword?"

The answer was obvious to me. No matter how good the previous generation was, there is no guarantee that the next generation will be as good. I've seen people born into wealthy merchant families, spend their way through life, and end up in the slums. I've seen a man who claimed to be the best swordsman's junior among adventurers, a man who lost a limb and became a cripple, and a whore who claimed to be the scion of a fallen family.

"I assume you, Earl of Northwell Squadron, are the best swordsman?"

"That's right, and if the best sword is to be lost, then my Earl of Deckard, no."

"Druk!

Slowly, the butler dragged a nearby wooden chair over and sat down, his white gloves conspicuous by their absence. They were dust-free, but they looked a little grubby today.

"What do you think is going to happen to the Empire?"

I remembered some of the men drinking and whaling about politics. They'd been shouting that since Northwell Deckard's death, the Earl of Deckard was a hollow shell of a reputation. The mercenaries who talked about how the East without Northwell would be eaten by the West, the mercenaries who talked about the big money-making turf wars that were about to break out, the merchants who talked about making a quick buck by buying up supplies.

"It's going to be chaos, isn't it?"

"Tir, you know a lot about what's going on for a man your age, and that's something I find admirable."

The butler smiled at the way I spoke after collecting my thoughts as best I could. I hesitated, realizing that his smile was tinged with compassion and sadness.

"Northwell Deckard, the former Earl," he said, "was always worried about what was to come after him, about the balance between the East and the West, which had been torn apart by differences of culture, differences of opinion, and differences of power, and the possibility that it might tear the empire apart, or that other kingdoms might come in and take advantage and bring it down."

I couldn't help but agree that this story included the necessity of me being kidnapped. My throat was scratchy with thirst, wondering where this story was going to end.

"Then came the witch. Or rather, our Earl of Deckard...Northwell Deckard may have gotten to her first. In any case, she had a proposition."

"..."

"I suppose you could say it's a lore."

What he meant was transmission, the passing on of a person's powers from one generation to another.

"She said it was a magic that only blood relatives could do, I don't know the exact name for it, but anyway...the Count at the time didn't look favorably upon it, and in fact, he angrily dismissed her for the possible side effects."

He looks into the butler's wistful eyes as if recalling those days.

"But as the years went by, ten, twenty years, and he saw that his child...that is, Samuel Deckard, was not gifted with the sword, he worried about his future. The present Earl...the Master of the House was not so much a man of the sword and the martial arts. He was more of a pacifist."

The image of Samuel Deckard, staggering as if ill, flashed before my eyes. For a moment, I thought of his youthful form.

"So how old is the butler, then?

I wondered about the butler's age, who appeared to be middle-aged.

"Mr. Northwell Deckard eventually called upon the witch again. She laughed, looking no older than twenty years, and handed us the old spell contract. It was the same old thing, with the same old side effects..."

I trailed off, an uneasy anticipation crossing my mind.

"It said that the recipient would be cursed with an extreme lack of affection, possessiveness, and eventually kill their loved ones with their own hands."

My breath caught in my throat.

"As if he had no choice, the Earl of Northwell signed the contract and stamped it with the Earl's seal, and the magic was said to be triggered immediately after the contract was signed. It was a strange kind of curse, and...it was only after that day that his hair and eyes turned silver and violet. It was as if he had been enchanted."

"...I see."

"However, the current Earl, Samuel Deckard, was unable to perform the spell properly, for he was too old to receive the spell from the practitioner, that is, Northwell Deckard...he had a mind of his own, and he went mad, as if he were a double personality. After the spell was completed, Northwell Deckard's usual robust self was nowhere to be found, and he spent many days in bed. It was like..."

Like the current Samuel Deckard.

"This is also the secret of the present Earl of Deckard," said Samuel Deckard, when he had his first child, and saw that it had silver hair and violet eyes."

It was like listening to a story I shouldn't have heard. I didn't believe it, as if it were a made-up tale from the legends of the storytellers...and yet, a sense of unease coursed through me as I awaited the butler's words.

"He told me that he would complete his unfinished lore through this child."

"You mean...the lore is...unfinished?"

"Yes. Twenty years is a long time, and it grieved him...and Northwell Deckard, who watched from afar, to see that his own ideas had prevented it from being completed...to see the power that had been created after the event...that had been the condition for its completion. He remembered the witch's words."

[Lore magic is a curse magic forbidden by the witches' circle, so please think twice about it].

The witch's voice seemed to be audible.

"That incident means..."

"That's what you expected."

I hoped I was wrong, but the butler was telling me I was right.

"You...murdered...the Count's original Countess?"

The rain outside was getting louder. The butler said nothing.

"Didn't I tell you that a witch's magic is a curse, and that the magic associated with it, along with the thirst for unfulfilled love, as is often the case with witches, is not magic but a curse?"

For a moment, there was a loud crack of thunder. The light illuminated the cellar for a moment, and the butler's expression turned stern.

"The legend begins with a courtship of affection for the beloved...and ends with the killing of him. Such was the power of the former Earl, and he was the hope of the Empire beyond the East."

"Then I am..."

Noelle Deckard. The granddaughter of the former Earl, silver hair and violet eyes, proof of the curse magic, and...

"You are the reason our earl is in such an important position."

A tribute to the gods, one might say, and a vehicle for the witch's curse.

"Ah..."

"Tir. Lady Noelle saw you, and the next day she had silver hair and violet eyes. It was magic...and the curse began to take effect. Since then, the current Earl has begun to age like his predecessor."

"...."

"After that, we began to hunt you down for the most important things: what you like, what you don't like, who you see, what you do...all of which was shared with me and all those loyal to the Earl."

It was frightening, and I understood why I had this overwhelming instinct to run away. I realized that an unknown, uncomfortable feeling had always held me captive, and that its hand had been outstretched to me all along.

"Why didn't you take me long ago?"

"Because there were certain preparations necessary for you to pass on the magic."

Everything was done according to Northwell Deckard's orders, and the butler prepared everything slowly, so that no gaps were left unnoticed.

"And when the preparations were complete, it was necessary to have Lady Noel meet you in the daylight, exactly five days ago, so that she would love you even more, woo you, and eventually kill you herself."

"Oh..."

I could see why it had all been a trap. It wasn't Noel, the desire that now seemed to consume me...the sense of duty...the butler and his men were the truth. The butler straightened his posture, as if he didn't need to know any more, though he still had many questions.

"Now, what do you say?"

"What?"

"For the well-being of the Empire, for the will of the Earl...and for you..."

The words that came out of his mouth were nothing less than a coercive offer.

"Will you die?"

There was a moment of silence between them, the pounding rain whispering in their ears as if to silence the cellar.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Please."

"...How many of the people I've met have been on your side?"

"I think I can answer that with one person."

The butler makes a gesture. And then...there before my eyes is one of the people I've always wanted to see.

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