How to Survive as the Second Son of a Mage Family - Chapter 498

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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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The Frenchman was briefly surprised but immediately stopped.

“Ah, yes. Who are you?”

“I’m a police officer here.”

Elias spoke roughly in fluent French. The short Frenchman looked Elias’s uniform up and down and nodded.

“Yes, so what’s this about…?”

“Are you an artist?”

“What kind of question is this? I’ve never heard such a thing in my life…”

“Are you or not!”

When Elias got unnecessarily angry, the Frenchman looked at him with eyes asking why he was acting this way and spoke carefully.

“Do people who publish books count as artists? Then I suppose I am?”

“Then what kind of book did you write?”

“Pardon?”

Ah, why does he keep asking back? When Elias widened his eyes and wrinkled his nose bridge, the Frenchman stepped back and frowned.

“Do police ask about such things? I’ve written self-help books. Do you perhaps think I entered here illegally? I was originally in Bavaria, but I flew here because a big shot from our homeland was holding a press conference. Of course, I went through proper immigration procedures beforehand.”

“Ah! Not that. Something more artistic! Something like that… ah, you know what I mean? Don’t you have anything like that?”

“Self-help books are art too? Are you looking down on art?”

“Shouldn’t you be asking if I’m looking down on self-help books?”

“That’s right! Are you looking down on self-help books?”

Elias pondered for a moment. He looked up at the sky, thought, then extended his hand.

“I’m not really sure what it is. If you give me a copy, I won’t look down on it. I think I need to know what you’ve written.”

“I don’t carry any around. Most recently I wrote an investment guide – look for 【French Stock Investment 200% Success Method】 at bookstores. There’s also a sequel 【Overseas Stock Investment 200% Success Method】 but it hasn’t been published yet.”

“Get lost.”

“Listen here. I consider myself an artist. Stock investment that delves into human psychology to acquire funds and contribute to capital is clearly social art. When you think about the essence of investment, it’s an activity that helps companies produce added value, making it an even more valuable activity. Economics, psychology, administration, and management are all integrated – isn’t this truly the collective embodiment of this era’s spirit? Moreover, even if you know how to invest in stocks, writing a book about it is another matter entirely? And if I had only stayed in business fields, I wouldn’t have come here. I’m also preparing to debut as an art critic.”

“Your mental world certainly seems original, or maybe you’re just crazy – it’s hard to tell. But if you consider yourself an artist, why did you hesitate earlier?”

“Because people don’t usually ask the strange question of whether you’re an artist. But thinking about it carefully, I’m definitely certain I’m an artist.”

Elias was about to leave, but his opponent was so confident and he was curious what other nonsense he might spout, so he nodded. Elias checked his watch and got to the point.

“Then as an artist, what do you think about Eugene Lamour’s words – how much of it is correct? Please speak comfortably, as a personal opinion.”

“I don’t know. Art criticism might not be my path…”

“What a waste of time, damn XX, ah…”

“Hey! A police officer using profanity? I don’t know because it’s a different field. If you believe that being an artist means I can empathize with Eugene Lamour’s words, that’s as ridiculous as the rumors you people spread about French people eating frogs. Of course, there is such food, but anyway, paintings and books are different. Poetry and criticism are different, paintings and criticism are different, self-help books are different… Do all athletes play the same sport? Do all office workers do the same job? Can a bank employee get Berlin railway construction rights?”

The Frenchman shot back frantically in response to Elias’s menacing face, then looked up at Elias, gauged his mood, and quietly asked.

“Can I go now?”

“Bring another artist… please. Someone who does more art.”

“I told you I do art too.”

“Ah!”

Only after Elias shouted did the Frenchman flee. Thinking he had just run away, Elias wandered around outside the theater looking for other French people, but shortly after, the earlier Frenchman brought another Frenchman. This new Frenchman was tall and wore glasses. Elias pointed at the glasses-wearing Frenchman.

“What do you do?”

“I heard the story. I also write.”

“Why don’t you paint?”

“…Everyone here came to write criticism and articles, so asking why we don’t paint…”

“Fine. So you’re a critic?”

“Hmm. There’s one more thing, but what kind of work is this? Please tell me your position and name.”

“Just a random inspection. Germany is unsettled these days. I’m Karl Han from Munich Police Station.”

Elias took out a headquarters certificate from his inner pocket, showed it for 0.1 seconds, and put it back. When he answered smoothly, the new Frenchman crossed his arms and snorted. After staring with suspicious eyes for a while, he answered pretentiously.

“I write essays.”

Only then did Elias clap his hands. A thought flashed through his mind like lightning.

“That’s closer. You write about your own psychology and thoughts. Eugene Lamour expresses through paintings and you express through writing! You’re both doing the same thing, right?”

“That’s right. Eugene Lamour is essentially a poet and essayist who holds a brush. So why are you looking for an essayist?”

“No, I wasn’t looking for an essayist, but it happened to be a one-to-one correspondence. Then do you understand Count Eugene Lamour’s words?”

“Understand? I’m not famous so I don’t really know.”

“Earlier you said Eugene Lamour was a poet and essayist, so why don’t you, an essayist, understand?”

“I only sold 200,000 copies in France over 5 years. I can’t relate.”

“Isn’t that selling quite a lot?”

When Elias stroked his chin, the new Frenchman showed his displeasure.

“Officer. In terms of recognition, Eugene Lamour is equivalent to selling tens of millions of copies in France alone. It’s completely impossible. Everyone knows Eugene Lamour’s paintings and can recite them fluently. Eugene Lamour isn’t just ordinarily wealthy – who could empathize with such a person’s words? I’d have to sell that many of my essays to understand what he’s talking about, really…”

“You seem a bit obsessed with money…”

Elias thought this was another failure. He anxiously tapped the bulging glass face of his pocket watch. How far had Luca gotten by now? He should hurry and follow…

What story could he tell?

Elias recalled why he was here asking incomprehensible questions. Because his friend had become strange. While becoming strange, he tried to pretend he wasn’t strange, swaying and smiling in situations that weren’t even funny… No. He did that to suppress himself. Then what about before? Luca left his seat during the press conference. He didn’t leave to rest. Then for what purpose? He didn’t know. Why didn’t he follow then? It was such a difficult press conference that it was understandable for his friend to be exhausted. As friends, they should have looked after each other at such times. You know too that he truly wanted to be alone. At least that’s how it felt. If one doesn’t allow another’s solitude under the pretext of friendship, that name would be a hollow pretense. Pain is also part of his life – by what granted right could I block that time? However, things changed from when he voluntarily returned to us later. Crucially, when he returned, he had changed to seem completely fine, but even a senior who wasn’t really senior-like could sense something strange about it – it was that problematic.

Therefore, he wanted to find exactly what had stimulated him. What personal experience of Eugene Lamour had touched what part of Luca? A celebrity? Or an artist? Both? Certainly Luca is famous. Famous in many ways… His past experiences were sufficient to plunge him into today’s pain, but Elias somehow felt that wasn’t everything.

Elias knew that all three people there had shown different reactions. Luca, like Elias, often hardened his face bleakly, as if the press conference was painful for him too. However, he reacted differently from Elias, and how exactly it differed was that Elias felt the terrible intensity of death beside him. Elias didn’t feel that way. He himself was angry and felt powerless, but indescribable thousands of festering emotions didn’t sweep through him, nor did he feel helplessly collapsing in that wind.

Of course, Luca didn’t show such a face either. Elias’s own persistent and now most grateful intuition had caught Luca’s melting. Unshared knowledge is sometimes intrusion. Even if one reacts for all to see. Luca might not welcome others prying. Is it right to encourage what hasn’t been spoken? Yesterday, since we both knew ‘I had read something,’ we managed to bring up words from deep places, but not today. By Elias’s intuition, being similar to him, Luca generally didn’t want to talk to anyone about his problems. But when a friend who was in his right mind becomes strange, is it okay to leave him alone without knowing the cause? But then again, isn’t trying to dig up the cause also rude? He couldn’t know anything.

Nevertheless, Elias shook his head.

“Then isn’t there anyone famous around?”

Then the new Frenchman pursed his lips and nodded.

“That person from earlier is the most famous. Burnel Geret is a highly recognized artist known by all French people. His poetry collections sold 100,000 copies annually, which is quite remarkable. His African historical novels are less popular due to the subject matter… Hmm, but since he retired Eugene Lamour, the backlash will be tremendous. He’s almost the main culprit, the main culprit. Count Eugene Lamour was very kind-hearted and treated him well until the end, but because of that, all that’s left now is for Burnel Geret’s reputation to fall. Ah, how much better it would have been if they had reconciled nicely at the end.”

The neighboring Frenchman agreed with the new Frenchman’s pretentiously analytical and haughty words.

“The media will betray Burnel Geret, but not knowing that and refusing Count Eugene Lamour’s help – Burnel Geret brought destruction upon himself. He should have been more agreeable.”

Elias frowned and waved his hand.

“How tiresome. Then who’s the next most famous person here?”

The new Frenchman lifted his head and placed his hand on his chest.

“That would be me.”

“Didn’t you say you had no recognition because you only sold 200,000 copies?! You bastards, answer properly!”

“No, I meant relatively no recognition, but I am famous in France! And young man, how old are you?”

“First you say you’re not famous, now you say you are, XX… Then if you’re a famous artist, why can’t you empathize with that retired old man?”

“Are you really police? No matter how I look at it, you just seem like a thug…”

“You might not be able to return to your country.”

“Good grief…”

The French people suspected Elias once again. Elias half-pulled out the certificate from his chest, waved it, and put it back. The French people still answered suspiciously.

“He seemed to lament personally for too long. It felt bad, like he was cursing me when I did nothing wrong. On one hand, I’m happy we’re at a moment in history, but I don’t really understand why we had to listen to that lamentation. Honestly, I wondered if he was doing that to gain sympathy or empathy, but watching someone suffer wasn’t very pleasant to see. Being as kind as he is, he must be mentally weak… But there are countless people as famous as me, and Eugene Lamour is just the emperor of the art world. I can’t empathize with what a king says. Ah, whatever. Maybe I’ll try empathizing when my essay sales reach that level. Lamour is now retired and probably experiencing his golden age, because painters, unlike us people who write little book scraps, see their wealth expand to completely different dimensions when they retire…”

“Do people really pay money to buy and read the essays you wrote?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t know what those 200,000 people do for a living.”

“Listen here. Don’t you know this is an insult?”

As the atmosphere turned menacing, Elias whistled sharply.

Now he understood. Simply being famous wasn’t grounds for deeply empathizing with Eugene Lamour. Elias brought up another question.

“Then I understand you can’t empathize as a celebrity. As an artist, can you empathize with what Eugene Lamour said?”

“Ah, regarding that, I have much to say as a fellow artist.”

“Really? What emotions did you feel?”

“This isn’t a matter of who’s right. Count Burnel Geret writes poetry but is fundamentally a critic. He also writes historical novels. Historical novels – this field makes criticism worthwhile. There are several reasons, but to pick one, historical novel reconstruction must generally be based on facts and reality.”

“So what?”

“When writing about Napoleon’s emotions at the Battle of Waterloo, you can’t change the Battle of Waterloo into a completely different story from start to finish. Also, without special devices, Napoleon’s emotions shouldn’t be completely removed from everyone’s expectations. If you want to break expectations, Count Burnel Geret’s role is to devise appropriate devices within the range plausibility allows and create emotions that appear to correctly reproduce them. Therefore, historical novels are a field that can develop through criticism.”

“So can you empathize or not?”

“Wait! But this side has a slightly different position. If I went to the market, saw fish, and felt sadness, even if someone says feeling sadness is unreasonable, I can’t change it to say I felt joy instead. Because I felt sadness. Instead, it would be better to write an essay about reading criticism about the irrationality of feeling sadness. Count Eugene Lamour’s current paintings, in literary terms, aren’t historical novels but essays. Meanwhile, the academicism Count Geret advocates is quite realistic literature, though realism is too broad and doesn’t quite match in nature, so if I had to give an example, it closely aligns with historical novel tendencies. Anyway, their positions are very different, and Count Geret forced an essayist to rationally revise essays. In this regard, I too had to shake my head.”

“I’m sorry for asking why 200,000 copies sold. It was helpful.”

“Good that you understand.”

“I’m not sorry. Then you empathize as an artist. Would many artists be able to empathize?”

“As an artist, I think Count Geret acted frustratingly stubbornly. But that’s all. I also understand that Count Lamour has had difficulties until now, but that’s also all. As I said again, this press conference is hard to empathize with. But what’s the reason for interrogating like this?”

Elias squinted his eyes. It’s insufficient. This person is an artist like Eugene Lamour but still can’t empathize. Then what element made Luca react like that, and what made these people react this way? He was going around asking to find the answer to that question, but it still wasn’t an answer. He needed to know why someone in similar circumstances to Eugene Lamour couldn’t empathize. To say this Frenchman can’t empathize because he’s less famous than Eugene Lamour – this person is also quite a celebrity compared to the general public?

After pondering for a long time, Elias snapped his fingers.

“Have you ever received criticism?”

“Of course! I consider it an honor, so I’ve been keeping scrapbooks of them whenever they come out.”

“No one has read between the lines of your essays and called you an alcoholic?”

“There aren’t many reviews in magazines, so if something like that were written, it would stand out immediately. Would they say such things just because they want to meet with me at the police station?”

“No, critics aside, but people among themselves. Whether in taverns, newspapers, or the plaza.”

“I’ve never heard anything like that. It’s not like I’m Eugene Lamour or anything…”

“And no one has read between the lines and gossiped that you must have a mistress?”

“Why are you doing this to me? Do you hope for such vulgar slander to exist?”

The new Frenchman was truly upset, his cheeks and forehead twitching.

Elias looked up at the empty air above their heads. It wasn’t difficult to know again what he already knew. The surface of phenomena is illusion, and the true answer lies in the essence, yet to be distracted by the surface and forget this—that couldn’t be. Tens of millions of dukes are here.

He needed to establish the necessary and sufficient conditions again. Eugene Lamour spoke of celebrities, but in reality, it’s not fundamentally just a problem of celebrities. That’s merely a strategic choice Eugene Lamour put forward, fearing people wouldn’t understand his story. Does this person know what he’s talking about? Whether it’s “Rude speculation is an irrational attack, but since Eugene Lamour makes a lot of money, I don’t understand the mentality that can’t handle the attacks” or “You must have corrected your wrong thinking after being influenced by my criticism” or “Because the ability to know the language before Babel is inhuman, he must be killed”—all start from the same place. Sickeningly, all phenomena emerged through the ground in seemingly completely different forms, but were connected by a single root… Childhood and uncle and the painter’s interview and friend’s disillusionment and everything else were connected as one, so Elias burst into laughter. They were no different from Duke Orsini, who declared that strangers deserved to die! There are those who deserve to be insulted and those who don’t. There are those who deserve respect and those who shouldn’t. This arbitrary distinction was moving away from injustice through mob psychology and was even wearing the mask of justice. Everyone was Duke Orsini without knowing they were Duke Orsini, surrounded by such Duke Orsinis. These people think they’re not firing real bullets, so they shoot at others’ heads, and people who believe they’ve earned the right to point gun barrels at people’s heads this way can also fire guns loaded with real bullets. Also, because these people weigh themselves and others differently, they pull triggers without hesitation to play Russian roulette with others’ heads, but someday they’ll die that way themselves, not knowing this fact. His chest felt completely blocked, so he contorted his cheek, and everyone looked at him strangely. Elias calmly reopened his eyes and spoke to the new Frenchman.

“I’ll recommend names for you to change to. From today, change your name to Orsini.”

Wrong. This was avoidance that occurred without Elias himself knowing. It’s merely an attempt to minimize the phenomenon. Orsini was particularly dangerous because he was a powerful mage, but his way of thinking wasn’t special—Orsini seemed particularly problematic because he targeted only one person, but his fundamental psychology wasn’t special. Today he had confirmed the fact that Duke Orsini wasn’t special.

The entity that made Eugene Lamour hold today’s interview was none other than the critics, and the public who received the bait thrown by journalists like piranhas. Most people treat others this way, differing only in degree.

So that’s why you fled midway. Elias knew well because it was something he had already experienced through the world surrounding him. Duke Orsini is a bad person to us, but was he a complete and uniquely bad person? Probably not. He would have been a good cousin to young mages. This audience probably isn’t particularly bad people either. They would be ordinary people somewhere. Ordinary parents, teachers, siblings, colleagues, children, ordinary neighborhood people. Respected professors, doctors, critics, writers, journalists… They would think they’re ordinary, and actually other people would think they’re all ordinary. The world defines them as regular people. Have you ever seen folktales where ordinary people are condemned? I haven’t. Have you seen crowds being condemned? That’s the crowd’s hope and despair—Narke said that. This cluster of ordinary people tried to kill Eugene Lamour, and Luca saw that and left. I was certain he was acting. He was performing a role. What role? He pretended not to know anything. Seeing that, he might have truly wanted to become one of those ordinary people. Those ordinary people will run forward like an immortal chariot. I’ve never heard of complainants and judges who make chariots pay for their sins existing in the world…

Luca knew. Dozens of Duke Orsinis, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of Duke Orsinis made Eugene Lamour dance on the letters of death. The tens of thousands of Duke Orsinis seem like a different breed because they lack conviction compared to the real Duke Orsini and are full of interest, but anyway, while tearing at Eugene Lamour or other famous humans, they think they’re righteous. And crucially, they think there are people who deserve to die—deserve to be criticized. It’s not that Duke Orsini is unique, but that everyone is Duke Orsini. However, because they’re a crowd, they cannot become villains. Therefore, no one can condemn them. The flow of the crowd is the correct answer of the times. That is my only hope and life’s driving force, and sometimes despair. The crowd that was hope to me almost daily is always despair to my friend. What is powerfully good at times is most powerfully evil at other times. I feel like fainting at one group having good and evil simultaneously. If good and evil people existed separately in the world like in folktales, we could just pick out and punish only the evil ones, but since both exist in one person, we can’t cut out just half. Such thoughts flowed through Elias’s head.

The Frenchman approached as if to grab him by the collar.

“This young man is ridiculous. Are you really police? If you’re going to be like this, just go away…”

With his mind now clear, Elias felt the corners of his mouth dropping endlessly downward. Before the Frenchmen finished speaking, he tipped his hat brim in greeting and turned around.

* * *

Elias couldn’t just remain frustrated. On the day he saw humans overlapping with horses, he did nothing but drink and vomit repeatedly, but on the day he came to see all humans overlapping with Duke Orsini, he couldn’t do that. The cheerfulness his friend showed at the end held him back from running to a tavern. Because he never forgot his friend for a moment, he didn’t even think about wanting to drink.

Realizing the problem was one thing, but now he needed a realistic improvement plan. If Luca was truly feeling disillusionment and frustration beneath his well-hidden expression, though Elias didn’t yet know exactly the process by which he was drawn so deeply into terrible disillusionment and frustration, he knew well what his friend who resembled him needed now.

“Leooo.”

Elias, who entered the prince’s palace, opened the door without permission and lay down using Leo’s stomach as a pillow. Leo, who had been reading a book floating in the air, scolded indifferently.

“What’s wrong with you.”

“Just~”

“Disgusting.”

“Ahhh!”

Feeling wronged, Elias lifted his head and struck down to hit his stomach. Then Leo, startled, frowned slightly and said.

“Why are you doing this. I told you not to shake. Stay still.”

“I don’t want to. You can balance well enough.”

That’s true, Leo nodded and turned the page with magic. Elias asked quietly.

“Do you have something you don’t tell me? Like secrets.”

Leo unexpectedly pondered for a moment before answering.

“Yeah.”

“Huh?!”

Elias bolted upright, grabbed Leo’s chin and shook it. Leo knocked his hand away with a ‘what are you doing’ expression and sat up.

“You have them too.”

“That’s true.”

“Right, that’s it. Elias, how can a person tell everything? I try to refine myself enough that it would be okay to voice all my current thoughts, but that’s a different matter.”

Leo continued answering indifferently, but Elias was lost in deep thought alone before speaking.

“Even if there are things you don’t tell me, you’ll still be friends with me, right?”

“If I’m not friends with you, what am I supposed to do?”

“Even with secrets, you’re close to me, right?”

At that question, Leo closed his book and asked carefully.

“…What should I do when you ask such things? Did you forget everything from dawn today? Didn’t I give you assurance?”

“No! Very good.”

Elias jumped up from his seat and waved both hands in circles.

“Get up. Get dressed! You have to come too. At least show your face.”

“Huh? No, I’m not supposed to move as much as possible until tomorrow morning…”

“You balance well!”

Elias ran into Leo’s dressing room, grabbed appropriate formal wear, and returned. Before Leo could say anything to stop him, he threw the formal wear onto the sofa. Elias grabbed Leo’s buttons and shouted while tearing them.

“I really need you right now. What’s good about having friends.”

“Sigh… Right now it doesn’t seem good at all.”

Leo pushed Elias away and moved far back before his shirt got damaged. He looked pitifully at Elias, who was jumping and stomping his feet in a corner of the room, changed clothes, and left the room. Elias stuck close to Leo’s side. He grabbed Leo’s uninjured arm and ran as if flying downstairs.

“Now, we’re moving to the mansion. Watch how Luca’s expression changes.”

“Lucas’s expression? My heart already hurts…”

As soon as they stepped on the warp point, Elias snapped his fingers. Leo silently looked at Elias, who had moved before finishing his words. Elias, knowing he had been rude, squinted his eyes. Leo just laughed hollowly and looked around Bavaria’s mansion he was seeing for the first time. They were outside the mansion.

Just as Elias was leading him toward the main gate, a messenger bird circled overhead.

“Wait…!”

Leo stopped in place and reached out his hand. Then the messenger bird perched on Leo’s knuckles. The moment he untied the long note attached to its leg, his expression hardened.

“All the letters are written to be read vertically.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a scytale cipher. I need to wrap it around the cylinder I received before.”

“Cipher~?”

Elias asked half-heartedly while checking his pocket watch. Leo, who had cast a sound-blocking spell, swept back his hair that was blown by the wind and stinging his eyes, and said emphatically.

“Ainsiedel sent us a message. He definitely gave us a clue for the next step. He must have been watching us continuously—was he waiting for me to leave the palace?”

“Not important!”

“Not important?! It’s about Haike, you bastard!”

“Haike is important! The surveillance isn’t important. Come quickly now!”

Elias snatched the white string with the scytale cipher, put it in his pocket, grabbed Leo’s arm and ran. He only gave hand signals to the servant standing in front of the gate. He even widened his eyes. The servant who confirmed Leo’s face was startled and ran inside. When Elias turned his head to check, sure enough, Leo was looking down with some awkwardness. Before he could tease him, the servant ran back out and opened the door.

Elias, who stepped foot in the mansion’s entrance, began running recklessly. He didn’t know the house’s structure but wanted to do so. A servant followed urgently to guide the way, and Leo sighed from behind. Elias opened the door the servant pointed to as if he would tear it off and shouted.

“I’m here! I came quickly, right?!”

First, he saw the awkward senior sitting closest to the entrance. For some reason, the senior’s face had become complicated, but since it wasn’t his concern, Elias’s gaze turned to his friend. His friend’s coolly emotionless eyes approached the doorway, and at that moment, his rigid cheeks and mouth relaxed.

“….”

Elias let the scene of Leo pulling him back and extending his hand to Eugene Lamour first flow past the corner of his vision. Soon the vitality that rose to his friend’s cheeks spread across his entire face, and the terrible inflammation and exhaustion Elias had felt from the side of the stage no longer remained. He smiled without the aura of death. Elias, who similarly raised the corners of his mouth, quickly sat on the sofa as if diving. Luca leaned over and whispered.

“You said you’d go first, but were you late because you went to get Leo?”

“Yeah!”

Actually, I also tried to figure out why you acted that way. And since we also received some scytale cipher from Ainsiedel, after securing Eugene Lamour’s safety, we might have to move somewhere again—he didn’t want to mention that fact yet. Elias leaned his head on Luca’s shoulder with a face that said to praise him for doing well. Luca kept the corners of his mouth in place while pretending not to care and whispered.

“I didn’t expect you to come back. And how did you bring Leo? He’s supposed to be resting.”

“At times like this, we absolutely need him. Like yesterday.”

“What are you talking about.”

Leo, who had taken a seat, slightly narrowed his brow and whispered. It would have seemed nonsensical at first hearing, but Elias pushed away Leo who was clinging to him and looked at Luca.

“You know, right?”

Luca was quietly looking at empty air as if he had something to think about. Then he turned his head slightly toward where Elias and Leo were sitting and nodded.

“It’s not important what I know, but it seems like you’ve noticed.”

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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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