How to Survive as the Second Son of a Mage Family - Chapter 306

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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How to Survive as the Second Son of a Magic Family (306)

 

Why would he have needed a paper with words written on it? Because he had to supplement memories he had forgotten. However, even when he tried to review the collection of words to act normal, there were gaps.

 

‘Normally, you wouldn’t think someone would ask about your ancestors, so it’s understandable he wouldn’t prepare for that.’

 

I wouldn’t consider him careless. Even I wouldn’t have prepared for something like that.

 

“Why would he deliberately erase his memories?”

 

Narke muttered with a smile.

 

He wasn’t asking because he didn’t know, but because he was dumbfounded. I agree. To have my deduction proven correct in this way—through the fact that memories were erased—was unexpected, so I could only let out a hollow laugh.

 

Now the problem lies elsewhere. Narke happened to speak up.

 

“In the end… even if this person really is the thief, he doesn’t know where the sapphire Peruer is now. He probably doesn’t even realize he stole the sapphire Peruer.”

 

“Right.”

 

“Haha… So he knew the Peruer was an artifact containing some kind of ability, and he handed the item over somewhere other than his home. What do we do now.”

 

Narke had also been considering the artifact theory. Narke smiled while looking into his eyes.

 

“Even if we ask, he won’t know anything…”

 

Even if we ask, he won’t know. It’s definitely a problem. To turn back time and prevent the incident itself, all the checkpoints have already been updated so I can’t return to before that day. Even if there was a save from before then, what would I do first? If I went alone and said that French royalty would soon steal your family’s Peruer… I can picture a future where they let themselves be robbed and then send me to prison.

 

“Narke. Does it seem like this person used an arcane mage from his family?”

 

“Hmm, I was just about to say that… there’s no memory of an arcane mage directly erasing his memories.”

 

When I just stared at him quietly, Narke explained in more detail.

 

“Even if memories were erased, the mage who did it would normally remain in front of this person. Usually they go through procedures to confirm if it was properly erased.”

 

That’s usually the case. When employing a mage hired by your own family, they do it by the book. For example, a mage who erased or modified memories might ask their employer indirectly, like ‘I didn’t hear that, what did you just say?’ as part of that procedure. Usually mages’ divine power isn’t that strong, so they go through these procedures.

 

“Naturally, they don’t let the person know that their memories were erased, but since there’s no way to preemptively prevent memory storage, at least the time spent interacting with an arcane mage can’t be hidden. Usually the time for erasing memories is disguised as purification procedures or Catholic mass… in really confidential cases, it’s even disguised as a first meeting, but recently there are no memories that even slightly catch on.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

If it’s really confidential, wouldn’t it be normal to have no memories that ‘even slightly catch on’…?

 

“I know how to find out.”

 

Right, that’s naturally what he must mean. This kind of technique isn’t something taught anywhere. I don’t know if he’s been doing such work at the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, or what kind of process he’s gone through to know so much.

 

“Still, given the circumstances, it doesn’t make sense unless memories were erased, but it’s strange that no clues are caught in his mind like this.”

 

Narke stroked his chin while muttering to himself, then looked at me. A member of royalty doesn’t know his ancestor’s name even though memories weren’t erased using divine power… Unless his head is made of stone, it’s impossible. Also, Charles Orleans wasn’t particularly famous for being stupid or debauched, and he’s a member of royalty trusted by the people for being diligent, though somewhat rigid.

 

Now it’s a dead end. He doesn’t know what he should naturally know, even though memories weren’t erased with divine power and he hasn’t been delinquent since childhood. I feel like I can’t see the answer, but…

 

One possibility flashed through my mind.

 

There was a technique I had already known about three weeks ago in the catacombs, and even months before that.

 

Narke seemed to have reached the same conclusion as me. Narke raised an eyebrow.

 

Knock knock—

 

Without even being told to enter, Orleans’ aide and interpreter came into the room. This meant they had given us enough time to verify. Narke also withdrew his divine power without further delay.

 

“…”

 

As the mental manipulation magic was no longer maintained, strength began returning to Charles Orleans’ body. He quickly regained his senses, adjusted his crooked glasses, and spoke.

 

“…It’s finished. Did I answer that I stole the jewel?”

 

“You did not answer that way.”

 

“Then this should have cleared the German Empire’s suspicions.”

 

“…”

 

“Please convey this well. I would appreciate it if you could also report these results to the Austria-Hungary Investigation Bureau.”

 

He stood up from his seat and extended his hand to Narke with a crooked smile.

 

Now he’s thinking of leaving. Instead of shaking hands, Narke glanced at me, and I opened my mouth at the same time.

 

“Please wait a moment.”

 

Charles Orleans looked me up and down, then shook his head.

 

“I don’t have time to stay here any longer, Count Ascanien. And…”

 

He looked me up and down more thoroughly than before and said.

 

“The match you showed at Penthalon was impressive to watch. It would have been nice to meet and greet in a better setting, but I was pleased to meet Ascanien’s heir like this today.”

 

Never mind the rest…

 

He said he ‘watched’… It’s not wrong, but he could have expressed it more tactfully and conventionally. I got a feeling from how he handled his gaze earlier, but there’s intention embedded here too. It doesn’t have any deeply profound meaning. It just means he has no intention of respecting me or the German Empire. Moreover, he’s probably thinking that the person he had business with was the arcane mage, so why did I tag along? He just strongly expressed that I shouldn’t detain him, but I have no intention of letting him go.

 

“It’s not over yet.”

 

“What more do you intend to do?”

 

“This is an activity to strengthen Your Excellency’s innocence. It’s not a dangerous activity, so could you spare some time?”

 

“Even after doing all this, you still can’t trust me?”

 

“It’s not that we don’t trust you.”

 

At times like this, there’s no point in speaking at length. I acted with an appropriate gaze and stared at him intently. He sat back down with a slightly annoyed expression. Narke drew his wand.

 

“I’m not sure what I should say to catch something. However…”

 

I began like that and spoke in French.

 

“Could you remember and recite what I just said? First, I heard that artifacts that replicate unique abilities are being actively researched in occult social gatherings. Second, do you know where the relics of Trier Cathedral went?”

 

“…Hmm?”

 

Orleans frowned. The moment Narke gathered divine power at the tip of his wand, a look of ‘oh no’ surprise flashed through Orleans’ eyes. Unfortunately, it was too late.

 

—Enter through the narrow gate.

 

As soon as divine power emerged from the tip of the wand, Orleans’ neck drooped powerlessly.

 

Narke remained quietly without asking any questions. The interpreter and aide looked at him questioningly as he gave no commands. Since no additional spells were executed outwardly or inwardly, no divine power flowed from Narke’s body.

 

Narke quickly withdrew his wand and released the mental manipulation magic.

 

“…”

 

“If you’re not going to do anything, why did you cast magic? As I mentioned earlier, we don’t have time.”

 

Orleans’ aide scolded us. However, Orleans’ face was pale when he regained consciousness. He slowly adjusted his glasses, turned pale, and stared into midair. I observed him and asked.

 

“Do you know what I said earlier?”

 

“…”

 

“What’s the purpose?! If you’re just going to say such nonsense, why…”

 

“Your Excellency Orleans.”

 

I cut off the aide’s words. Orleans was looking at me with a terrifying gaze, then answered with eyes that said ‘why are you asking something so obvious?’

 

“You mentioned relics.”

 

“That’s right. That was the second point. What was the first?”

 

“…”

 

A heavy silence fell where not even breathing could be heard.

 

“You don’t seem to remember. I said it just one minute ago.”

 

When Charles still didn’t answer after a long wait and only glared at me, the aide and interpreter looked at Charles with confused eyes. They hadn’t received an exact explanation yet, but they must have noticed that the situation was flowing in an ominous direction.

 

I looked at Charles’ aide and asked.

 

“What did I say first?”

 

“…You said that artifacts related to unique abilities are being researched among occult believers.”

 

“Good. You should indeed remember something like that.”

 

When I now looked at the interpreter and raised an eyebrow, Charles shouted.

 

“Stop!”

 

“…”

 

He glared and spoke in a sharp voice.

 

“I never said I would answer.”

 

Narke looked into his eyes with an expression that said ‘of course you would say that’ and spoke with divine power.

 

—”You completely forgot what I said first. You don’t remember anything.”

 

Right, so you wouldn’t have anything to say. Is this what someone who had stepped forward asking for divine power to be used to clear up an unfair misunderstanding should be saying?

 

“I hope you two learn to act more prudently.”

 

He gave advice that wasn’t advice to me and Narke, then abruptly stood up and left the room. The interpreter and aide followed behind him.

 

It doesn’t matter. He won’t be able to leave the country anyway.

 

Narke’s yellow eyes persistently followed his gaze. As soon as he left, I tapped my ear to contact the Investigation Bureau.

 

“I have something to report to His Highness the Crown Prince regarding the interview with His Excellency Orleans.”

 

The Investigation Bureau quickly connected me to the Crown Prince. No voice could be heard from beyond the artifact.

 

[…]

 

“Please contact Osterreicheste and Orleans right now.”

 

[The reason?]

 

“His Excellency Charles Orleans has magic cast on him that erases specific memories when divine power is applied.”

 

More precisely, he has memory erasure magic that responds to specific words under specific conditions. A small laugh tinged with satisfaction can be heard. I immediately cut the connection.

 

* * *

 

After that, everything proceeded swiftly.

 

Though the Orleans family and France continued their fierce opposition, the Austria-Hungary investigation bureau that had entered the country followed the guided interrogation method I had informed them of in an almost lightning-fast manner.

 

While they had to publicly verify the fact that Charles Orleans had memory-erasing magic cast on his body regarding specific topics, the problem was….

 

‘Now I’m curious how everyone will handle the aftermath.’

 

Since royal families from various countries are involved, this issue is bound to become a complete mudslinging fight. The French Imperial Court won’t stay quiet about Austria conducting unauthorized investigations on French royalty, and Austria-Hungary is already strongly protesting about why memory-erasing magic regarding that sapphire Peruer was cast specifically when divine power was used. Soon the French Imperial Court will retort, ‘We erased it because we were afraid you would frame us as criminals like this.’ Even now, they’re superficially covering up Charles Orleans’s magic as ‘magic set up to guard against those trying to steal French information.’

 

What remains is finding exactly where that Peruer went, but until new orders come down to me, this is the investigation bureau’s territory.

 

So, in conclusion, is this Pleroma’s doing?

 

“When I actually met him, I didn’t get that feeling. Strange, isn’t it?”

 

Narke, who was sitting in a chair in the waiting room, answered my question. Fortunately, this time it was an answer I received after asking out loud.

 

I think so too. Austria-Hungary’s investigation bureau also experimented with the topic of Pleroma, but after the word Pleroma came up, using divine power didn’t erase memories.

 

This alone is enough to conclude there’s insufficient connection to Pleroma.

 

And I can also deduce through another method.

 

The interrogation method I used earlier was this. I had already mentioned that there was a technique I knew existed from Penthalon three weeks ago and from several months ago.

 

First, the people used as triggers for curse magic at Penthalon lost their memories immediately after being used for the operation. Narke explained at the time that the terrorist had preset divine power magic formulas on their bodies to erase memories, designed to activate when they heard the incantation.

 

Though it was a special technique unknown until then, this showed that mental manipulation magic through divine power could also be remotely controlled. Since this wasn’t the method used on Charles Orleans this time, it was only meaningful in that it reminded me again of the possibility of remote or long-distance mental manipulation.

 

Second, several months ago, Nicolaus Ernst had received a letter from the Emperor. This is the route I placed higher probability on this time.

 

‘As you know, the moment divine power or drugs are used, one forgets everything about the Catacombs.’

 

This was the phrase the Emperor sent. The Catacombs has magic that makes one forget everything about the Catacombs the moment a certain amount of divine power enters the body, to prevent accidents of revealing Catacomb locations or organization members through divine power interrogation. Since this person is a nobleman, we can’t say the Catacombs’ magic and his magic are identical, but yesterday I directly verified that he used functionally extremely similar magic.

 

Here I placed higher probability on Charles Orleans not being Pleroma.

 

Because.

 

‘Pleroma doesn’t possess such sophisticated techniques….’

 

If they had such techniques, the Federal Committee Pleroma whose life is mortgaged to me wouldn’t need to worry about exploding to death. Their adherence to crude, loophole-ridden silence techniques isn’t because they have their own philosophy, but because they don’t possess the Catacombs’ survival-specialized techniques.

 

If Pleroma possessed that technique, why did they choose the method of making them explode to death when opportunities to use high-level personnel like Federal Committee legislators as spies are rare? Why did they have to stick to such an irrational method with high losses? If making legislators explode to death was a more rational choice even with memory-erasing techniques available, they would need to answer whether the cost of newly hiring spies with equivalent utility is really less than the utility gained from not using memory-erasing techniques.

 

Just because the culprit isn’t Pleroma doesn’t mean the logic so far collapses. Perhaps I was too focused on Pleroma. I had firmly believed this would be their doing too, since so many incidents until now were Pleroma’s work.

 

Regardless of the truth, Abraham is using this incident very profitably, just as I initially thought.

 

[Is There ‘Pleroma’ in France’s Orleans Royal Family]

 

[‘Penthalon Compensation’ Claiming French Royal Charles Orleans, Suspected of Pleroma]

 

[Osterreicheste Peruer Theft Culprit Revealed to be French Royal]

 

Though there are articles like the last one, most are frantically attacking by linking France and Pleroma. While there’s no evidence for Pleroma, strictly speaking there’s no clear evidence that Penthalon was Pleroma’s doing either, and even if it really was Pleroma’s work, the Empire is also a victim—this is the Empire’s media outlets’ claim.

 

‘This bastard and that bastard….’

 

There’s a limit to playing ostrich.

 

In any incident, whether it’s true or false doesn’t matter, and the public always only seeks stimulation. These are words Abraham spoke with his own mouth. He’s faithfully following his own words.

 

“Stop reading the newspaper.”

 

As I fixed my eyes on the newspaper and continued various thoughts, Elias snatched my newspaper away.

 

“It’s time to go now. Go in.”

 

“….”

 

“I told you everything yesterday~ Why are you acting like this now.”

 

I hesitated while looking at Elias, and only left the waiting room after Elias hit my back. Hohenzollern’s guards followed beside me.

 

Following the guards down the corridor, the familiar ballroom of Berlin Stadtschloss soon spread before me.

 

[His Excellency Lucas von Anhalt has arrived.]

 

Surely at first even the process of going to the ballroom like this was new, but after experiencing it three or four times, it’s familiar now. On both sides of the ballroom sat Hohenzollern and Prussian officials. I exchanged eye greetings with Adelbert, who wanted to acknowledge me, and stood in front of the podium.

 

As I stood listening to Prussia’s national anthem, I soon heard words I’d heard many times before.

 

[Her Highness Elisabeth von Preussen has arrived.]

 

Why is this bastard appearing here again?

 

That’s right. I came here to receive the Empire’s highest decoration.

 

* * *

 

Yesterday at this time, I had finished my interview and returned to be at Wittelsbach’s Berlin mansion. This isn’t my room but the reception room, and in front of me sits Elias with a chess board spread out.

 

“Why are we doing this here today?”

 

“Treat me as a guest.”

 

“….”

 

We could just play normally in the bedroom, but Elias keeps wanting to move locations to play games with me. A few days ago it was the study, and before that we played with a small table set up in the gallery where Wittelsbach portraits hang in a row. Even though it was just the two of us, it felt like we had about ten spectators. At this rate, he might suggest taking a table to the stable to play poker. This happens every time because I use the large mansion alone.

 

“Where will we play games next time?”

 

“Should we go to the stable?”

 

“….”

 

I looked at him in disbelief and shook my head.

 

“There’s a piano room Leo used to use at the end of the corridor. Go there instead.”

 

“Ah~ I hate music rooms. I hate them most in the world.”

 

Most in the world is a bit much….

 

But thinking about it, Elias never did anything related to music in the novel either.

 

“Why do you hate it?”

 

I asked casually, but Elias didn’t answer and concentrated on playing chess. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, fine. I had another topic I needed to tell him about anyway.

 

“Eli.”

 

After a while, I said while idly tapping my glove tips. Elias, who had been moving chess pieces after careful consideration, answered soullessly.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“About your cousin.”

 

Only then did Elias’s bright blue eyes turn toward me. I didn’t delay further and spoke immediately.

 

“He’s planning to give me the Order of the Black Eagle.”

 

Clang—

 

The porcelain piece rolled across the desk and fell to the floor. I observed Elias’s expression and picked up the pawn he had dropped, handing it to him.

 

Elias opened his mouth. He slowly shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it, then suddenly said.

 

“Accept it.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“You should accept it. If I told you not to accept it, would you not accept it?”

 

Strength entered Elias’s eyes. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him frown at me. I’m not sure yet what he means by that. Regardless of his reaction, I brought out the answer I was going to give.

 

“Yeah.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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