Even a Scoundrel Gets Tired

189 – My head ached

Meanwhile, back at the training grounds,

just as the children were in the thick of things,

or, honestly, whether you could even

call it “in the thick of things” was debatable.

Regardless, as the children were

each occupied with their own pursuits,

Duke Charlotte stood alone,

gazing out of a window in the manor.

Just moments ago, his aide-de-camp had chided him, urging him to attend to his duties, but

amazingly, he was now pretending

not to have heard a single word, simply staring out the window.

“Your…Your Grace, your duties await…”

“Ah, forgive me, but I still

have much to ponder, you see.”

“….”

And taking over those duties

in his stead, was none other than

that very aide-de-camp who had just been there.

To outside eyes,

they hardly seemed like employer and employee, but

they had known each other so long,

seen so much, that when alone, they were comfortable with each other.

Of course, the aide-de-camp

would never allow himself to slip,

always maintaining proper decorum, but

at least the Duke treated his

Among his inner circle, he was the one

he trusted most implicitly, and stories

that were not easily shared with others,

he would subtly bring forth, secretly

seeking counsel or advice.

The Duke harbored no

concern that secrets

would slip from his lips.

As long as he had observed him,

so too had he observed himself,

He would know even how the Duke

dealt with traitors,

and if he knew, then he

would never let his guard down, a

sort of unwavering faith

born of instilled fear.

Therefore, when burdened with worry,

he would often confide in him,

and the subjects were manifold.

Sometimes he’d inquire

how to best educate his daughter,

and other times he’d delve into the

taxation issues of the estate,

and he’d even entrusted the

weeding out of rats within the family

to him on occasion.

“Hmmmm…”

‘Please… Please, say nothing at all…!’

And in those moments, his

personal secretary was always in agony.

The fact that his superior,

a man of renown even within the nation,

would confide his troubles

to him was quite a burden,

and he always posed questions

at the most unexpected moments.

Yes, just as he was doing now.

“Gustav?”

“Haaa…”

Relaxing by the window,

basking in the warm sunlight,

His name, summoned forth by the Duke’s voice,

drew a sigh he could not quite contain.

He clapped a hand over his mouth a moment too late.

A skilled assassin missed nothing,

not even the smallest thing.

“Hmm? Why a sigh? Especially

before me… tempting charges of insubordination, hm?”

“Absolutely not, milord! Please, speak your mind!”

Another, perhaps,

could have dismissed it as nothing,

a charmingly careless slip,

but such ploys held no sway

over his liege.

He offered no resistance, only a bowed head.

From days of old, the Duke was known for

mischievous jests,

so often, the Duke felt,

almost…familiar.

But Gusstang knew better.

Behind that benevolent, familiar smile lay

a need for vigilance,

a caution in those surrounding him.

Have you ever heard of falling into a delicate ripple?

*Seiren*—a gentle wave.

To fall into a gentle wave, then.

Those who hear this for the first time

might find it incomprehensible.

A ripple, after all, is but

the faintest disturbance caused by a tossed pebble,

so why would it ensnare,

leave one flustered?

Some dismiss it, blindly declaring it nonsense;

others chide,

claiming the fuss is excessive.

And Gusstang,

well, he was once among their number.

‘Balderdash. Utter balderdash! Those fools

have clearly never met our Duke!’

He remembered Charlotte’s…

Each time I met his gaze,

there were moments I’d startle, almost flinch—

and he was the same reason.

Others didn’t know.

Just how many blades, hidden

within that tongue of his.

How much information, excavated

with a single glance.

How many souls’ blood stained,

how many necks severed by

that unflinching hand.

Perhaps only Gustave, who had

attended him since long ago, understood—

he was far more fearsome

than the world perceived.

A lord of the underworld?

A shadow serving the Imperial Family?

Another king

reigning from the dark recesses?

What good were any of those titles?

When he himself didn’t give

even a whit of interest to such things.

Well, amongst the ignorant nobles, there were those who’d murmur…

“Charlotte? Hmm… Not bad,

but still… compared to the other ducal houses…”

“Still, if we must compare,

then L’Nuel or Reinhardt…”

“Tsk! Reinhardt…

It’s about time we cut ties…”

Such whispers seeped out,

that much was true,

but Gustave inwardly wagered that those

who spoke such words were the most foolish,

the most ignorant, the ones destined for regret.

Because the Charlotte Dukedom,

as he saw it, was a snake.

A serpent coiled, waiting patiently,

laden with venom.

The Duke of Charlotte, who, more

than anyone, was almost never quietly at his manor.

I figured he couldn’t be ignorant of the rumors swirling amongst the common folk.

Which meant, of course, he was feigning ignorance, despite knowing full well

the scandalous reputation of the Charlotte ducal house.

‘Someday he might just…tidy up all those who spread such rumors in one fell swoop…’

“Gustang?”

“Y-yes?! Yes!”

“Hmph…so, you haven’t been

listening to a word I’ve said?”

“Ah… w-well that is…”

“Hmm…very well, I shall ask again.”

It was a golden opportunity.

A man who rarely, if ever, forgave even the smallest of errors,

was today in a mood, perhaps,

that was considerably better than usual,

so generous as to offer me another chance.

‘I must…I must give the best answer possible…!’

“If the Reinhardt ducal house

were to disappear, how would the empire’s

economy change, could you perhaps speculate?”

‘Oh, for crying out loud.’

He abandoned all pretense of thought.

*

The moment I blinked,

the surrounding scenery had

completely transformed.

The Charlotte family estate, where I had been until recently.

Despite the considerable distance

between the academy and here,

she had pulled me all the way here just by holding my hand.

‘Spatial magic? Or just a

simple portal, like…’

“This way.”

While I was confirming that this

wasn’t an illusion, feeling the texture

of the carpet beneath my feet,

she tugged on my arm and strode forward.

My body, of its own accord,

couldn’t help but be pulled along by her.

Well, if we speak purely of strength, shaking her off wouldn’t be too difficult,

but there wasn’t particularly

any reason to shake her off either.

And though the distance between us had closed

a little, or maybe quite a lot,

it was a situation I could sufficiently accept.

She had been this sort of person from the start, after all.

“Why would Duchess Charlotte want me—”

“Tch…”

Silently, being dragged along

by her hand felt awfully awkward,

so I tried bringing up some random topic,

but what came back wasn’t an answer

but the sound of her clicking her tongue.

The hand that gripped my arm and pulled me along, she now turned and stared into my face again.

“…?”

“Between us, isn’t it about time

we started dropping the formalities?”

No, what *is* our relationship, anyway?

We’ve hardly had any

private conversations,

just met at the palace recently,

exchanged a few words, acted together a bit…

‘…we did get along more than I thought, didn’t we?’

“I thought that we’d become

a little closer by now…”

“..Eh?”

“Was I the only one who thought so?”

Yes, you were the only one who thought so.

The desire to answer that way was mountainous,

but looking at her face as she suddenly

started to tear up,

I abruptly began to feel

like a criminal,

and before I knew it, I was glancing

around, furtively, taking stock.

Just in case there were any servants nearby witnessing this spectacle.

After all, inside the Charlotte family’s mansion…

The young lady they served,

weeping before a man who seemed her peer –

it was not a pretty sight to behold.

Moreover, if this news

reached the Duke…

For a moment, he considered how the Duke, known for spoiling her rotten, practically a daughter-fool,

would react if he knew.

A shiver crawled across his skin.

“…Nay, first, please don’t weep here –”

“Speak plainly.”

He’d intended to suggest she weep

not in this hallway, so open and exposed,

but somewhere else more private,

when her gaze changed again.

The tearful eyes from just moments ago

shifted, suddenly looking stark and dry.

“Speak plainly, you may. We’re the same age, aren’t we?”

“…”

“In the first place, I don’t understand why

you insist on using such formal speech

with everyone beyond necessity.”

He met her words with silence.

Truly, a perfect silence.

Knowing no answer would come from his lips,

she launched into her own presumptions, reckless as ever.

“Well… it doesn’t seem like there’s any

deeper psychological reason…”

“…”

“Is there a reason why you feel the need

to create a distance between yourself and others with formal speech?”

There was, in truth.

He simply had no wish to speak of it.

“No answer, then? It’s fine if

you don’t wish to answer, of course.”

“…”

“But at least to me…”

“Since we’re comfortable, would you mind speaking casually with me?”

“..Understood.”

“That’s all?”

“…Understood.”

Only then did she give me a smile, as if

a great weight had been lifted, and

I, for some inexplicable reason, felt a headache blooming.

“Alright, Papa is in this room!”