How to Survive as the Second Son of a Mage Family - Chapter 497

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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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Mecklenburg couldn’t understand what words were reaching his ears the more he listened. It wasn’t because Eugène Lamour was saying something that seemed strange somewhere, something that didn’t make sense, when viewed only through the story of Eugène Lamour or the painting. It wasn’t because it sounded like he was talking to the wall rather than to Mecklenburg for some reason.

He had asked to be told the reason why he shouldn’t die. Naturally, if life is born, it should live. That should be the case if that life doesn’t harm the interests of the majority by calculation or damage others in an unlawful way.

“It’s absurd that someone who doesn’t know how to live creates a story about living.”

Ascanien seemed like someone whose mind was elsewhere, as if he were alone in this place. Yet he spoke with clear eyes.

“The more I think about it, I don’t know how someone from a world where any foundation crumbles before prolonging life has constructed stories of overcoming the will for self-recovery and running toward survival. It’s nonsensical to depict people who love each other as young people who spend today where the will to live is rather seen as a step forward toward death, while expecting tomorrow.”

The will for self-recovery… Mecklenburg wondered if he had heard something wrong. Right now this person was calling death self-recovery. The desire to live soon leads to death? The idea that one dies because one wants to live reminds one of Eastern proverbs. But it wouldn’t be that kind of thing. Does he mean finding dignity in death? Ah, no. Earlier he said that was the only way to avoid irrational attacks from the masses. If survival is damage to oneself, then only death is true recovery? Is this about character defamation by others? It was only after that he realized that saying one “constructs” rather than “draws” or “creates” stories was a strange expression. Even realizing it changed nothing. Mecklenburg couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t rashly add words to what he didn’t understand.

Mecklenburg looked into Ascanien’s eyes. He was also looking at Mecklenburg. It gave him chills. Taboo and death, concepts he had learned sometime, flashed by. The two were before a taboo. No, Mecklenburg was in front of it and he was beyond it. Ascanien, like a new politician before a podium armed with clearer logic and vigor than established politicians soaked in the irresponsible and weak inertia of habitually resolving situations with snake-like experience and the entrance courtesies they themselves encourage, seemed able to argue point by point about reasons why one should not live longer without a moment’s hesitation and was prepared to do so. At the same time, his detached eyes would freely allow any rebuttal and perhaps truly hoped someone would rebut, but would soon present new logic to neutralize that rebuttal. However, that logic didn’t begin from the new politician’s vigor—that is, competitive spirit or blind and vigorous sense of duty to defeat opponents and lead the faction to victory or to draft policies he believes are right. The rebuttals that came from them weren’t for attacking opponents but arose from questions asked to themselves. And then they grab your hand and drag you into the swamp. They are quietly waiting for Mecklenburg beyond the taboo. While swallowing all images, truths, and traditional logic into irises and pupils deep as an abyss. Why should self-termination be taboo, why should we believe death cannot be more dignified than survival, why should someone who suffocated in absurdity beyond their own power continue to live, why should the sun rise tomorrow, why should the earth revolve around the sun? The thrown stone shakes the center of the world, creating ripples. Mecklenburg had never once recognized beyond the taboo. That he couldn’t even recognize it means he only learned today that they were standing on two legs in one place in the world, suffocating, and naturally it means he himself had never once experienced such a thing. Mecklenburg was far from absurdity, and admittedly had never left the sunny front yard of the manor. Like other people, he has no intention of leaving in the future. But this person demanded that he lift his head and look at the sunless forest behind the manor. Mecklenburg did so. Instead, he now didn’t know what to say.

“I was irresponsible.”

Perhaps because no answer came from Mecklenburg, or perhaps because it was what he had been thinking all along, Ascanien spoke.

“Please forgive my rudeness. It was inappropriate and lacked respect for you, Senior. I seem to have crossed the line because I’ve been considering you comfortable to be alone with.”

“I understand.”

Mecklenburg answered hastily, as if afraid of being late.

I know what you’re calling rude. It’s not as simple a meaning as I thought. Perhaps it means being rude to the relationship itself, so this is something I couldn’t possibly have said if I thought I could hear such words and inwardly worry about another person, and I knew that too. I answered with that meaning, but somehow it doesn’t feel like an appropriate answer for the current situation. Mecklenburg felt a slight sense of defeat at why he couldn’t answer properly even at moments like this. He answered without knowing if he was looking ahead properly.

“It’s not that you crossed the line, but I understand that because I’m this kind of person, you were able to speak all these considerations now.”

There might be times when such relationships and people are needed. Like now. Perhaps wanting to hear the answer of someone who doesn’t understand is because one believes that misunderstanding will have a kind of objectivity. Although he had to talk about Eugène Lamour, it’s undeniable that other things were heard as well.

“It’s not the kind of thing I’d call a slip of the tongue. I’m a senior in the association and… well, I’m older.”

Well, so I can listen a bit. Mecklenburg thought about what to say, irregularly squinting his eyes and turning his head. Annoyingly, he brings up age. Even though he didn’t fully understand what he was saying, as if he could somehow give an answer with this poor experience and narrow imagination that couldn’t even overcome the vast age difference of 7 years. But this wasn’t confidence that he could come up with an answer closer to the correct one because he had lived longer, but deliberately saying something trivial to ease his burden. Perhaps this was the greatest courtesy. Normally he wouldn’t do this with this annoying Ascanien, but now the feeling was strange, so at times like this it was safe to follow intuition.

Ascanien neither laughed nor responded playfully. Instead, as if grasping his intention, he seriously expressed gratitude with a nod and looked at the fields outside the window.

“We should arrive at Count Lamour’s lodging soon. Let’s prepare to get off.”

“I…”

Mecklenburg didn’t know what thought made him open his mouth, and answered while letting his gaze wander.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Then Ascanien turned his head and stared at Mecklenburg.

“I have knowledge but no wisdom. You might consider me quite an adult, but I’m also only 25, so, well, it might seem like a lot to high school students like you, but from our perspective… I don’t properly know anything in the world. Even when I think I know, it’s not really so.”

Perhaps I alone know nothing. No, perhaps countless young people my age, including me, are all like that. The moment Mecklenburg was pondering what to correct, Ascanien clasped his hands and added.

“You don’t need to answer, Senior. What I apologized for was never a topic that could yield answers no matter who you ask. I’ve put you in a difficult position.”

An unbearable weight clings to his tongue, sinking down below. You don’t expect an answer? That might certainly be true, but Mecklenburg intuited that if he didn’t do something now, he would miss the timing. Whether that intuition was true or not, he didn’t know. Probably it wasn’t true, so isn’t this about Eugène Lamour’s matter? Ascanien would be fine. But he couldn’t say just anything. False words, reciting superficial things he’d heard without knowing, all of that would be wrong. Why should Eugène Lamour live? Naturally, because he was born. Despairingly, or fortunately having lived a life too naive to understand, no matter how much he thought, this was his best.

“I’ve been mindlessly following predetermined steps and found myself here. I don’t think I had any self-reflection. So I… might not be much different from myself at 18. I didn’t have the talent to become wise earlier than my peers, so I know that honestly aging and learning through bumping into things as I age is the only way to elevate my wisdom.”

Mecklenburg just stared at the dusty window frame of the carriage before turning his gaze.

“And I know that right now I can’t give you an answer.”

Since Ascanien only looked at him silently, he turned his gaze again.

“As you just said. Whether that’s because I lack wisdom, or because this question is fundamentally the type that can’t seek answers from others, or because it’s a topic humanity has contemplated since ancient times but hasn’t reached one clear answer, I don’t know. Instead, I know the textbook answer. Count Eugène Lamour was born so he should live, and because suicide is sinful, he shouldn’t do that. He should live even just looking at the people who love him.”

Even though he said he couldn’t give an answer, Ascanien listened. Since he at least didn’t fidget and pass it off as a joke after putting someone in such confusion, and witnessing that he wouldn’t act that way made his shoulders feel even heavier, so Mecklenburg continued speaking.

“But this isn’t the kind of answer you want. Then how about this? Count Eugène Lamour can choose death, but we cannot be accomplices. Those who work for the state work for the people. Even if he’s a foreigner, Count Eugène Lamour has half German blood and is on German soil anyway. …This isn’t the kind of answer you want either. But this is my best. The manual said so. Because I’m someone who came to this position looking at manuals, I can frustratingly only say such things. But no matter how I’ve lived like that, I…”

Have other sentiments too. The psychology at the source of why he had always found Eugène Lamour’s handling frustrating came to Mecklenburg’s lips.

“If Eugène Lamour dies, I think I won’t be able to accept this society. Little by little, gradually.”

“…”

“Eugène Lamour must survive triumphantly, even for justice. To me, and to the few who suffered the same pain as Eugène Lamour, he has become both a symbol and a subject. He is a milestone for those who will come after. So I don’t yet believe Count Eugène Lamour has completely escaped responsibility. It’s just that there’s no direct responsibility, no primary responsibility.”

Ascanien, who had been listening quietly, nodded and answered.

“Be subordinated to a sense of duty.”

“…That’s not what I meant…!”

Mecklenburg was at a loss for words and slightly narrowed his brow.

“…It wasn’t. That’s not what I meant. But it does end up being that way too.”

“I’m sorry. I also didn’t mean to burden you, Senior. Perhaps it could be taken as ‘entrust life’s driving force to the duty you believe in’ by changing the perspective slightly.”

“…Yes. Count Eugène Lamour should live even to achieve what he believes is right. Whether he wants revenge, wants to advance commoners’ rights, wants to change public perception of celebrities, there must be something that can inspire will. Fighting for dignity and justice sometimes becomes the will to live.”

Wrong. Though he said this, metaphysical values cannot become the rope to save them now. They don’t have the will to grasp this. Instead, they can wrap it around their necks and run. Even so, a metaphysical approach seemed like the worst possible answer. Since it’s entirely a brain problem, taking medicine or receiving institutional help… Mecklenburg knew these words sounded more hollow than anything. Perhaps even if brain function problems were treated, the absurdity he experienced was a problem of reality, not functional abnormality, and functional abnormality followed the abnormal problems of reality, so treating it all as a functional problem might itself be abnormal. That is, if the damage he suffered from absurdity was already an occurred reality as progression, then not organizing the fact that he was damaged would rather be regression, essentially a temporary measure in a state where nothing was resolved, a stopgap until the next volcanic eruption, executed to drag out life…

It might be prolonging life. Mecklenburg squinted and closed his eyes. Then, to give Eugène Lamour the will to live, the cause of absurdity had to be treated, and the absurdity seemed to lie with the masses. Even if the masses no longer attack Eugène Lamour, Eugène Lamour, already sick of the absurdity he experienced, would find even being remembered in the minds of absurd subjects tiresome. To really tell him to live, there’s no choice but to turn back time. Since there’s no choice, make him perceive the situation positively, and combine it with drug therapy… would it be okay to say that? Actually, no matter how incomplete an answer it seems, isn’t this the correct answer? Marcus Aurelius, Boethius, ah, how many philosophers said that situations depend on one’s mindset? Especially in an era when medicine is advanced like now, it’s fully possible to develop the will to live with drugs, so it’s truly a blessed era.

But they had already declared that giving up was an affirmation of their dignity. Because the situation of not doing so was precisely an insult to them, and they suffered irreversible damage in that process. Mecklenburg couldn’t answer. His head felt like it would split because he was now worrying about something he would never have to do once in his entire life until he died.

Ascanien was already chewing over the negative statement Mecklenburg had denied.

“Perhaps that’s how it is. Perhaps there’s no choice but to become a moth and live by rushing toward the beliefs one has internalized. In this case, the expression ‘no choice’ feels insulting to me. However, doing right things because they’re right is different from making the achievement of right things one’s life goal.”

“…Yes. It would be different.”

It might look like moths rushing to die, but actually it’s not. They live to burn to death in fire. It would be acceptable to take it as saying that now. Mecklenburg felt things getting increasingly complex and held his head.

“I didn’t intend to tell them to live to burn to death in fire. Are they clinging to life because they have the goal of burning to death in fire?”

It wasn’t a question seeking an answer, and indeed there was no answer. Mecklenburg stroked his chin with increasingly clear thinking for some reason.

“I suppose there must be something different. They shouldn’t become a train rushing toward a cliff. There must be something that can overcome a sense of duty.”

After thinking briefly, Mecklenburg held his head and pondered, repeatedly putting countless words in his mouth and trying to spit them out. There are countless words that couldn’t come out. After choosing and choosing, he made a sound that likewise felt utterly trite.

“I believe there must be something in life that makes one expect tomorrow.”

Since Mecklenburg was only looking at the carpet, he doesn’t know what expression Ascanien made.

“Even if what he’s experienced so far has left irreversible damage. Long suffering doesn’t immediately mean eternity. Even if it seems eternal now, there are things that time eventually dilutes. If you argue that there are also things it ultimately can’t dilute, I have nothing to say… There are also days when other values arise beside it, making the wounds suffered so far unfelt. Of course, if you say it’s really so annoying you can’t stand it, I have nothing to say…”

Ascanien’s black shoes don’t move. Mecklenburg slowly raised his head.

“But just as Count Eugène Lamour’s tomorrows were made of paintings, I hope there will be something that makes him expect tomorrow. There might be nothing now. It might be that way for several years. But someday something new might arise that makes him wait for tomorrow himself, and I don’t want to let Count Lamour end his life without knowing that.”

Ascanien was still looking at Mecklenburg with his hands clasped.

“So I hope he lives longer. Even if you call it personal greed, this is my duty. So if he wants to quit, I must stop him. I don’t want to let him die without knowing the happiness he might have felt.”

Countless counterarguments swirled in his mind. Ascanien spoke of the case of someone who has no will to live because fatigue from everything covers everything. How could such people wait until values that make them expect tomorrow arise, how could that be easy. So Mecklenberg was essentially making childish sounds. ‘I want you to be alive because I want you to be alive’—what a tantrum-like statement, what a sound filled with irresponsible greed. However, Mecklenburg thought that besides personal greed, there were no words that could grasp life. Though he had been attaching economic reasons to the justification of life, such additional explanations couldn’t make one continue living. He only became conscious of that fact today.

Ascanien nodded with indifferent eyes. Mecklenburg wondered if he had spoken unnecessarily and quickly shot back.

“There must be values that make one do things one didn’t do before. …I don’t have any. Wouldn’t that become a value that makes one live tomorrow?”

“Things one didn’t do before.”

Ascanien said while stroking his chin. Mecklenburg, encouraged by that small reaction, spoke.

“The values one wants to protect shouldn’t be close to duty, or ethics and morals that one must uphold. They must be values that the heart fully reaches. Values that can keep pace rather than rushing forward are needed. Values that move your heart first—don’t you have such things? Aren’t you Nicolaus Ernst?”

You pursue justice. You’re a human who lives for justice. Mecklenburg didn’t know why he ended up speaking to Ascanien while talking about Eugène Lamour. However, while this could be his orientation, it might not be the driving force to lead today. Then what could support their today?

The moment he uttered those words, the carriage had already arrived at the manor. Ascanien got off the carriage and extended his hand. While smiling, he asked.

“Are you asking me if I don’t have such things?”

“…”

“I’ll think about it.”

Mecklenburg came down from the carriage with a somehow awkward feeling, avoiding Ascanien’s hand. Ascanien glanced at Eugène Lamour’s lodging and stood still in that spot.

“Since you answered so seriously, I can only say I’m truly grateful and sorry.”

“…”

Ascanien turned his head to the side. He briefly checked the scenery and looked at Mecklenburg again.

“Perhaps days like these are truly the values that make someone live today. You won’t know what thoughts I’m having now, Senior.”

Mecklenburg narrowed his eyes and watched Ascanien smile. So did we connect, or not? Ascanien didn’t seem to have basically realized new facts or been impressed by the content of the statement itself, but he also didn’t seem to accept it indifferently. Having nothing to say, Mecklenburg answered briefly.

“You also won’t know what thoughts I had while speaking.”

Ascanien tilted his head, thought deeply, then nodded. He gestured with his hand.

“Let’s go greet Count Eugène Lamour right away. We already informed him that we followed in a carriage, but it’s still the first time entering the temporary lodging.”

Meeting Eugène Lamour was easy. After all, they had openly followed him.

Even while sitting in Eugène Lamour’s room and conversing, Mecklenburg let everything flow past his ears. His gaze kept alternating between Count Lamour and Ascanien.

“…What are your plans?”

“I have none right now.”

At the words that briefly caught his ear, Mecklenburg’s heart seemed to sink. Even though this didn’t immediately mean disappearing from the world, the shock came unnecessarily because of the conversation they’d been having. Eugène Lamour looked at the ceiling with a face tired from using all his energy all day, and also with a relieved face having no more regrets, and muttered.

“I’ll rest. I need to rest until I get tired of it…”

Then his servant came beside him and whispered. Eugène Lamour sat up, looked at Mecklenburg and Ascanien in confusion, then tried to say something. He only moved his lips, then narrowed his brow and shook his head.

“Why is everyone coming here?”

“But we can’t turn them away…”

When the servant hesitated, Eugène Lamour waved his hand.

“What are you saying? I never said to turn them away. Please let them in.”

Who came that would cause such a reaction? Before asking directly, Mecklenburg reflexively turned his head to the person beside him, and then the sound of someone running up from downstairs like crazy without knowing manners came. Two people’s footsteps. No, three people. One person running and the other two aren’t. Of the other two, one has the gait of a combat mage. Mecklenburg reflexively stood up from his seat this time too. Eugène Lamour was already standing. The only one who didn’t stand was Ascanien. Mecklenburg saw Ascanien’s eyes change at that moment.

Wait. Was it because of the lighting? His eyes seemed to contain some unknowable light for equally unknowable reasons. When Mecklenburg tried to grab his shoulder, the sound of a door falling came. The rude junior—Hohenzollern was opening his mouth wide and laughing triumphantly. A servant who came after grabbed the other door swaying from the reaction.

“I’m here! I came quickly, right?!”

Hohenzollern made sounds unclear who they were directed at while trying to run toward Count Lamour. Wittelsbach, who appeared behind him, grabbed Hohenzollern with a troubled face.

“Be a little quiet…!”

Wittelsbach pushed Hohenzollern back as if throwing him and smiled at Ascanien with a nod. Then he extended his hand to Count Lamour.

“Good day, Count Lamour. I see you again so soon.”

Mecklenburg now looked back at Ascanien’s face as he rose from his seat. And he realized. The answer to the question he had asked earlier was that if he didn’t know, I might have found out first.

* * *

30 minutes earlier, Elias had rushed out from the hallway onto the stage. He was already shouting at the top of his lungs to his friend who had disappeared into the opposite hallway.

“Wait, I’ll go first!”

Lucas was momentarily flustered but nodded his head. Elias adjusted his hat and jumped down below the stage, grabbing hold of a Frenchman who was excitedly rushing out of the performance hall.

“Hey there.”

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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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