How to Survive as the Second Son of a Mage Family - Chapter 532

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How to Survive as the Second Son of a Magic Noble Family (532)

“Atropos?”

Pleroma’s new covenant was used in assassination attempts and murders of leaders and nobles across European nations, therefore the German Empire, which failed to control criminal organizations for the past decade, should bear compensation responsibility to each nation. The French Imperial Family announced this through pro-imperial media. The old man frowned with displeasure and pursed his lips.

“Well, this is something.”

He entered the large tavern in front of the station and ordered drinks and food. The tavern was bustling with talk about Pleroma’s breaking news. If newspapers were the medium that threw topics into the public square, taverns like this were venues for public opinion formation no less important than the media. There had never been a single moment in human history when squares and taverns weren’t important, and today was no different. Lucas Ascanien, and Ascanien again, the Imperial Court, Pleroma. The prayers of those hoping only for Adrian Ascanien’s swift return home could be heard. The Imperial Newspaper’s second page strategically featured a photo of Adrian Ascanien with determination and strength in his sharp eyes, raising his hand high to the sky. It was taken about a year before Adrian Ascanien departed overseas, when Pleroma’s influence wasn’t strong, during his national address when he had lifted the German economy to higher places in one stroke with his characteristic shrewdness, strategic nature, and aggressive methods. No negative external effects of his policies had yet appeared and Germany’s wealth had increased, so the photo taken that day was a record of a moment filled with nothing but victory. To the German people he was gentle but never hesitant, delivering merciless iron hammers to those who interfered with his goals, and by repeating such conciliation and hardline approaches at the right times, he was the main figure who lifted Germany to higher places, so people firmly believed he could do the same regarding Pleroma’s problems. Even if the problematic person was his very own younger brother.

“Chancellor Ascanien must return to our country. Hohenzollern failed from that point.”

People tearing at meat pointed and shouted fervently. They didn’t seem afraid of the secret police either. Many people called Ascanien to that position instead of the current Prime Minister of the German Empire. The old man drank his beer while dipping bread in cheese. Then he stopped eating because it became difficult to swallow. Facing another period of chaos for his homeland before death, solid food wouldn’t go down easily.

There was another reason the old man put down his bread. The majority of citizens who blindly supported Adrian Ascanien had overlapped the politician bearing the same surname with his younger brother Lucas Ascanien. Lucas Ascanien was as hardline as his brother, and though he didn’t show particularly gentle external behavior, he succeeded in his assigned tasks enough to be called the second Adrian Ascanien. When they saw that success, they chattered that of course they knew it would be so since he was Adrian Ascanien’s younger brother, but now they were changing their attitude as easily as flipping their palms. It wasn’t surprising, but it certainly spoiled one’s appetite. The old man opened his ears and began catching each sound to synthesize public opinion.

“What choice is there before His Majesty the Emperor? So for us, there’s only Count Ernst. Only Count Ernst is the hope of the German people.”

“That Bavarian!”

“Didn’t they say he was a foreigner? How can a foreigner regard Germany as his homeland and show such loyalty? Even if he weren’t a foreigner, we couldn’t disregard such grace.”

Also, part of this tavern was strongly arguing that since the Imperial Court worried about Adrian Ascanien’s growing influence, they should now place their hopes on Nicolaus Ernst, who was Bavarian. The old man sighed deeply, drank his alcohol, and read the news bulletin once more. International affairs moved complexly and dynamically in the old man’s mind. The person next to him showed interest in the single-page supplement, the news bulletin, that the old man held.

“What is it? What else has been published?”

“The French Imperial Family issued a breaking news report in response to Pleroma’s major announcement.”

Then the person next to him widened his eyes. Even his companions craned their necks to show interest.

“France? Is there suddenly a reason for them to interfere?”

France had always been on bad terms with Germany since their defeat by Germany, but why would those bastards need to interfere in Pleroma’s affairs? If they had to, it would surely be shocking news as well. The old man shrugged. The person next to him pressed him.

“What does it say?”

“It says Pleroma created killing drugs that only kill Espers and is spreading them across the European continent. There are already dead in each nation.”

At those words, the people sitting near the old man became quiet. While most seats in the tavern remained noisy, the three or four people around him sat with wide rabbit eyes. They couldn’t help but understand what those words meant. The old man spoke to those who sat frozen, waiting for his explanation.

“It says the recent tragic incident of Austria-Hungary’s Prime Minister’s death was Pleroma’s doing. Not satisfied with that, they tried to kill Austria-Hungary’s Emperor and did the same thing to nobles in Italy. So France is telling all of Europe that the German Empire should take responsibility.”

“May I take a look?”

At someone’s words, the old man nodded and held out the news bulletin. Those sitting around gathered there to read the newspaper. Everyone vaguely knew, by recognizing the chill in the air if only through their skin, that this was a precursor to continental division. The person next to him muttered.

“This is serious. For France to announce such news following that Pleroma Christ incident? There’s clear malice.”

“The timing of the announcement is certainly like that, but if this is true, the German Empire won’t be able to avoid turmoil.”

At the old man’s words, someone asked.

“If problems arise, couldn’t we just wage war with this drug called Atropos? Why fear anything when we have such amazing technology?”

“Are you telling the nation to join hands with Pleroma now? Pleroma already failed in trying to devour Austria-Hungary’s imperial palace. Would such ambitious people cooperate well with the German Empire? Only Prussia’s back would be broken.”

The old man shook his head.

When they heard the previous words, that seemed right, and when they heard these words, this seemed right, so the people who had been drinking with clouded judgment began to think through the fact that no further rebuttals were heard that this old man had great learning or would provide useful perspectives for them. When speakers like those often seen in squares visited taverns, dilettantes in that field or those who wanted to make polished arguments that seemed impressive their own rather than think for themselves readily showed interest. Or those who always rushed straight to taverns to hear everyone’s words whenever any topic arose always did so. Among these, there were also those who showed crooked smiles and sharpened their claws to find points of rebuttal because the old man was a white-haired, liver-spotted grandmother about to die. The old man knew this but spoke out of frustration with reality.

“If Nicolaus Ernst achieved merit in nationwide Pleroma eradication and prevention based in Bavaria, this person called Lucas Ascanien had been stationed in Prussia and achieved remarkable merit in Pleroma destruction, but it’s become unfortunate. Whether Pleroma’s claims are true or not, if the people don’t want this Student, the nation will no longer be able to use the second Ascanien. Despite the strength that this young Christ had always done his best in Pleroma eradication, because the people followed others blindly, our Germany loses even the justification to present externally. No matter how much His Majesty the Emperor, he absolutely cannot ignore the people’s voice, so if we act rashly now, we’ll be cutting our own flesh.”

Ah, now familiar topics were finally beginning to emerge. As familiar words came out, people subtly brightened their eyes and, pretending to worry, asked the old man.

“What do you think about the claim that Lucas Ascanien is the Christ of our era?”

Hearing those words, the old man realized that people hadn’t understood a single word. He hadn’t expected them to. Without images drawn through superficial impressions, even hearing was no different from not hearing.

While worrying about the nation’s future, they hoped to hear pleasant words about Lucas Ascanien. The old man knew that the emotion melted in their eyes was not so much despair as excitement, and what kind of excitement it was could be called anticipation – a mixture of fear and terror about the unknown, and also excitement about the unknown. The adrenaline before destruction made them lively. Unbelievably, they also shallowly believed that pointing out Lucas Ascanien’s faults, that is, his existential faults, was the way to serve the future. Even those who inwardly realized that it truly had no effect, the act of cursing someone cheaply provided a sense of belonging and efficacy with just a word, and thinking that gossip contributed to human civilization and united the German people, they half-secretly joined in the criticism. But most decisively, this tradition continued because there were those who truly believed they could pursue justice by slandering someone, and in equal numbers to such people, there were those who did so simply because pointing out others was primitively enjoyable.

Because doing so made them seem like much better beings than the criticized target.

The old man calmly opened his mouth.

“Verification would be needed, but there must be a clear reason for Pleroma’s Christ claim.”

“What kind?”

“Pleroma believes that if they put Lucas Ascanien on the continental stage, people will voluntarily nail him to a cross and kill him. That’s what must happen. It’s clear that the situation they want will unfold only when Lucas Ascanien is driven into a corner where it’s difficult to preserve his life.”

People began to raise their guard again, which they had relaxed, and started to put slight force into their brows. To them, the old man began to speak as if he were neither this nor that. This wasn’t the answer people wanted. ‘Believing that people will voluntarily nail him to a cross and kill him’? Rather than criticizing Pleroma or Lucas Ascanien, wasn’t this pointing fingers at ‘people’ as if they would commit the same wrong as the citizens who urged Jesus to be nailed to death? So whose side was the old man on? People wondered about that. They wanted to clarify whether he was on that side or this side, someone else’s side or our side, evil’s side or good’s side, a dangerous element or a safe person.

The old man closed his eyes and continued speaking.

“Then what situation do they want? First, only by being nailed to such a cross might Lucas Ascanien gain unknown abilities and act as Pleroma pleases. Aren’t they Mages? Second, there’s no such magical occurrence, and they simply succeed in having the people kill Lucas Ascanien, who causes them great damage, by announcing him as if he were the people’s enemy.”

As the old man’s position became firm in thinking more critically about Pleroma’s actions than about Lucas Ascanien, a middle-aged drunkard clicked his tongue and shouted.

“You’re thinking too complicatedly! No matter what anyone says, that person is a human on Pleroma’s side that Pleroma acknowledged. Why can this lady be so lenient even after seeing France’s aggressive and malicious article?”

“Tell me what reason you have for calling me lenient.”

“If France comes out like that trying to create discord between Europe and Germany, naturally we should execute that red-eyed representative of Pleroma right now to avoid stimulating Europe. We must unconditionally cut off Pleroma’s head for our Germany to survive! First, show Prussia’s sincerity.”

As soon as that outburst ended, cheers were heard from around.

“That’s right. We must think realistically!”

“To kill first to show sincerity, how superficial, short-term, and short-sighted…”

The old man began to speak, but the emboldened drunkard lectured with a confident face, deliberately frowning.

“Really, you still can’t understand what I’m saying! You acted wise but you’re just frustrating. If age has dulled your mind, don’t think of interfering in political talk and go look for a burial site instead.”

At the immoderate insult, some giggled and some were embarrassed. The old man looked at the middle-aged drunkard with the same expressionless face as before. The person who had been sitting next to the old man waved his hand at the drunkard from another table, whom he’d never met, telling him not to do that, and persuaded the old man.

“Madam, that Student is just Pleroma. He’s Pleroma, yet he’s been pretending not to be Pleroma and killing his own kind all this time. That’s all there is to it, so why must you be so verbose?”

The old man immediately interrupted.

“Just because they’re colleagues doesn’t mean they would unconditionally revere him as Christ. This is part of a grand plan to kill Lucas Ascanien. Why try to kill him? As I said before, it must be one of two things: either they truly hope Lucas Ascanien’s abilities will unfold, or Lucas Ascanien obstructs their path, so we cannot help but consider the possibility that this is a false accusation. Defining Lucas Ascanien as an enemy now is no different from moving according to Pleroma’s plan.”

The old man’s eyes still retained vigorous energy, actually clearer than the energy of the middle-aged men whose eyes were unfocused from drink. Ugh, a sigh was heard from somewhere. Despite the old man’s paradox, actually because the old man’s paradox was too rational contrary to everyone’s expectations and spoiled the taste of alcohol, everyone began turning their heads and concentrating on drinking their own drinks. If the old man had shouted that Lucas Ascanien should be nailed to a cross and killed, whistles and applause would have poured out. The old man could foresee the flush that would rise on the faces of young people and middle-aged people giggling at provocative claims. That vitality would soon move to billiard halls or bowling alleys, as well. Before their light and light tongues, he pictured a future where the living would no longer be living. The middle-aged drunkard who had been staggering drunk snorted and pointed, saying.

“Go ahead and say that, you foolish old woman. Anyway, no matter which tavern you go to, they’ll talk like me.”

That middle-aged man walked a few steps unsteadily, then with a proud face, curling one corner of his mouth, said.

“Madam’s complacent theory is difficult for us common people’s brains to understand. It’s also not an appetizing story.”

Then, at that drunkard’s sarcasm and honest utterance, some of those in front of the old man who had been reading the mood explained instead, ‘It’s not like that, we’re reacting negatively to madam’s words because Lucas Ascanien is truly a wrongdoer.’ They constantly tried to show that they weren’t rejecting the old man’s words for such trivial reasons, but were pointing out that the old man was doing something wrong based on clear and rational grounds. The old man had no choice but to nod and drink his alcohol.

He just drank like that for a long while. All those who had been debating with him disappeared, and the establishment was filled with new customers. They wondered if Lucas Ascanien had been Christ all along, that there must have been spies in the Imperial Court seeing Lucas Ascanien’s employment there, or what that Pleroma had been trying to do to the Empire while holding their breath all this time. Whether they pitied Lucas Ascanien or thought ill of him, the mainstream view was basically seeing him as Pleroma. The more the old man listened, the more his expectations for these people disappeared. However, it wasn’t particularly surprising, since whenever something happened to anyone, this was ordinary public opinion – not trying to know the facts at all, only secondary words being copied and spread, eventually leaving only criticism distant from the original, so it was difficult to say Lucas Ascanien’s case was getting particularly worse, and he was following the exact same steps as those who went before.

“Listen! The Kingdom of Bavaria and His Excellency Nicolaus Ernst joined forces to eliminate 18 Pleroma dioceses—!”

Someone waved a newspaper and shouted loudly. The tavern froze for a moment. People whose eyes became as big as lanterns realized that the title of the newspaper they held had changed and hurriedly searched through the newspaper, then screamed in surprise and gradually cheered. A bewildered voice was heard from afar.

“I can’t believe His Excellency Ernst alone annihilated 11 dioceses…”

“Would they have reported lies! If this is true, it’s really good news. Even if those French bastards make a fuss about some bastards dying and demand compensation, haven’t we done what we could!”

With a slight time lag, cheers were also heard from the square. Everyone in Berlin was rejoicing at the Bavarian Mage’s victory. It was truly a strange sight.

Then someone approached and sat in an empty seat. The old man turned his head and looked at the face of the young man who sat next to him. Though called a young man, he appeared to have just entered the beginning of middle age. The young man spoke with a deeply worried face.

“Teacher, you are right. There must have been false accusations.”

“Excuse me, but?”

“I’m a teacher at the school in front of here.”

The old man realized again that the school in front meant the Imperial Education Institute 1 and 2. If he was an Esper, he would be older than his apparent age despite looking young. However, to an old man who still needed to use a cane, he was a young man. The old man said.

“If it’s in front of here… you must be a Nobleman. If you came wanting some learned conversation, I’m sorry to disappoint you, sir, but I’m just a commoner whose only learning is reading newspapers when life gets tiring. Unlike you who studied long, I didn’t even finish basic school.”

“That’s fine. If my presence makes you uncomfortable, I’ll leave.”

“No. If you have something to say, speak.”

Then the young man lowered his eyes and, with his mouth open, sighed deeply, then drank his alcohol in one gulp. He ordered another drink and opened his mouth.

“Everyone says the same thing, but only you, Teacher, didn’t point out that Student’s faults first. For what reason did you do so?”

“You seem to have been in this tavern for a long time. It’s not that I have great grounds. There just needs to be someone who maintains balance.”

Feeling the young man looking at him with sad eyes while tilting his eyebrows, the old man answered again.

“Truly no special reason. Just by setting aside the ridiculous bias of human nature that decides palatable answers in advance and then seeks grounds to match them, and thinking carefully, one can know that the responsibility for this incident lies more with Pleroma than with Ascanien, and closer to strategic choice than coincidence.”

“Deciding answers in advance. That might be so. Bias often creates falsehoods.”

“To call it falsehoods is a noble and easy expression. It’s essentially close to a child’s tantrum of wanting what they hope for to be the truth. Seeing it in a child, it’s nothing but purity and brilliance, but seeing it in an adult, it only gives off a stench, and the problem is that everyone has it, so unless one constantly keeps one’s consciousness in check, both I and you will end up in that state.”

“Heh.”

Saying ‘that state’ while pointing toward the door, the young man laughed weakly. The old man savored the grain alcohol, which was hard to call good quality, in his mouth for a while, then spoke roughly.

“Then why can one hope for evil to exist? Because it’s stimulating and enjoyable and easy, and above all, one can feel expensive effects most cheaply.”

The young man didn’t refute the old man’s theory. The old man didn’t particularly seek anyone’s agreement either, but the young man seemed to empathize keenly now. The young man nodded with a face darkened by worry.

“Then, Teacher, where is the solution? The incident has already passed into the public’s hands, and they won’t hesitate to write Ascanien’s name on pottery shards.”

The young man continued speaking in a hazy voice, sighing deeply.

“Moreover, as Count Nicolaus Ernst has perfectly emerged as Pleroma’s punisher, that Student is becoming more troubled… If there’s a hero to revere in one period, there must be a villain on the opposite side. He’s being regarded as such a villain, and some want Count Nicolaus Ernst to punish that Student. There’s truly no solution. The world isn’t a comedy performed on a theater stage…”

The old man stared at him intently, then gestured with his chin and asked.

“How is the reaction to this matter among you Nobles?”

“No different from this tavern. Strangely, that’s how it is.”

“Nothing strange about it, young man. Because we’re all human. Tell me, do those Espers in that New World republic always do only wise things?”

“Heh… I don’t believe Americans would accept this situation differently either. So it’s even more hopeless.”

The young man reluctantly answered and smiled bitterly. The old man stared at him intently and asked.

“You believe Ascanien is innocent and worry that an innocent life will soon be lost. Is that right?”

“Exactly that, Teacher. That Student is…”

The young man hesitated for a moment, then stopped mid-sentence and said the next sentence.

“I may be within bias, but that Student has no reason to receive such imprudent treatment. Of course, what I’ve seen might only be the surface… So I won’t say that Student is entirely right, but at least there’s no reason for him to suffer today’s hardships. I don’t understand why no one waits prudently and earnestly hopes for the fire to grow. Watching quietly, they seem to enjoy claiming that someone did wrong.”

“By rationally releasing the desire to criticize someone, they become wise and conscious German citizens. Those people think their claims are truly logical, so they have even less opportunity to realize something is wrong. If they had thought about what the source of that criticism is, they would know, but they fully display humanity’s nature close to the primitive while not believing they were swayed by such primitive motivations. Instead, they convert it into criticism of injustice. Humans don’t hesitate to deceive themselves. Being able to act believing they’re right while knowing they’re wrong is exactly what makes them human…”

The old man realized that he had wanted to believe that. They could criticize anyone, encourage war, throw stones at Jews to drive them out, and advocate expansionist policies, all while believing they were absolutely right. From a distance, the world operates according to the voices of such people. Both good and bad things happen that way. He paused briefly before continuing.

“Life is rather closer to tragedy. In that nothing operates justly when you look closely, in that nothing goes according to your will. And because the perpetrators of evil deeds don’t know they’re committing wrongs themselves. Because they believe they’re right, they think Lucas Ascanien’s disappearance would be the most righteous justice and a satisfying outcome. Then what comes next? They have no such questions. If Lucas Ascanien doesn’t disappear, this matter would be injustice itself and symbolize the decline of the era. So people like me and noble lords are truly the villains of the age.”

The young man nodded with a face tinged with sadness.

“You’re right, Teacher. But as I see it, they’re committing injustice, so what should we do now? If there are five hundred people criticizing, there’s one person like you, Teacher. But that one person alone cannot overturn public opinion.”

“That’s right. Wake up from your dream if you think it’s possible.”

“You think we can only stand by and watch helplessly.”

“The books I’ve read and a lifetime of memories tell me so.”

The young man nods with a troubled face. The old man looked at him and thought about the relationship between the young man and Lucas Ascanien before speaking.

“Listen here, Professor.”

“Yes?”

The young man answered with some confusion, noticing that the way he was being addressed had changed.

“We can only pray that the masses make the right choice. Though we are part of those masses ourselves, we have no authority to enlighten them, nor would it work. We can try to do something similar—for instance, sitting in a tavern like this and clarifying our opinions to each person who comes asking questions, thereby making each of them reflect. This is the fundamental effort possible. However, this would seem insignificant to someone like you.”

“No, it certainly has meaning… but it doesn’t seem sufficient to change reality.”

The old man only blinked at that answer and continued speaking.

“Next, we must hope that Lucas Ascanien and his defense team strategically utilize the nature of the masses. You said there’s one person like us among every 500. That number is sufficient to attempt. So above all else, we must not be emotional now. To preserve life and achieve victory among the masses, only thorough calculation and public opinion strategy devoid of emotion is the answer. Only by using any means necessary to temporarily draw the masses to one’s side is possible—making the masses fundamentally just is impossible. Everything has two sides, and without a back, there can be no front either. From my lifetime of memories, this is certainly true. What do you think of that student you taught? Come now, does he seem capable of cunning, swift, and long-flowing strategic warfare?”

At those words, light flashed across the young man’s face. Which words were key—500 people, calculation, or strategic warfare? The young man looked as if he’d been struck, as if the old man had helped him connect something he hadn’t thought of, and gradually began to fill his features with determination. The old man didn’t hear an answer, but he knew what this young man was saying with his face. He gestured toward the door and said.

“Then now you should go do something that can help your student, even from afar.”

* * *

“Our Prussian Protestant Union cannot overlook this matter!”

As the sun was setting, pastors who had closed their church doors gathered and shouted. Countless crowds were entering Berlin, starting from Brandenburg. Chanting slogans like ‘Punish him.’ The one at the very front spoke.

“Execution is the answer! Your Majesty, please issue a death sentence! God is watching this matter. And He is wrathful! While the Papal States, always slow to act, remain silent, we Protestants speak clearly today. At this rate, our Prussia will be the first to become a sea of fire when the Lord returns. What is this about Atropos! What is this about compensation responsibility! Certainly the deaths of politicians from various countries are regrettable. But France demanding compensation for such matters is ridiculous. However, if there’s anyone more ridiculous, it’s our Germany for failing to eliminate this heretic!”

The pastor removed the funnel he’d been using as a megaphone from his mouth, caught his breath, and shouted again.

“Please give us trust quickly. Since you employed Lucas Ascanien, take direct responsibility for it! We cannot live on the same land as pink-eyed monsters—!”

Marian Baum, who had been watching this scene, sighed. He was in Berlin because he had been assigned the role of observing Prussia’s movements and reporting them to Bavaria. The newspapers had reported Pleroma’s declaration, the French Imperial Family’s claims, and news of Bavaria and Nicolaus Ernst’s victory in sequence. The debates and discussions that had intensified with each development were now continuing fervently. As if that weren’t enough, now there were even demonstrations. Then someone broke away from the Prussian Protestant Union’s protest march and approached Marian Baum and the people beside him under the arcade, requesting signatures.

“Greetings, sir. Please help for the future of our homeland.”

“What is this?”

“This is a petition for execution to be delivered to His Majesty. Blood-drinkers are those who should not exist in this world. Let’s help legislate for zero-tolerance execution of all Pleroma.”

Marian Baum felt anger surge at those words. These people know nothing. Right now, that student is the number one contributor to making 18 Pleroma dioceses in Bavaria disappear. And now they want to execute whom?

“I refuse.”

At those words, the protester’s face changed completely. He grimaced sternly as if seeing Satan and took a step back.

“Why do you refuse?”

“Pleroma’s wrongs are clear, but that student has done nothing wrong.”

“This wicked person is defending a demon!”

At those words, Marian Baum closed his mouth and strode forward, blocking the protest march from the middle. He shouted loudly at the confused people.

“Even if there’s a constitutional problem that makes him drink blood, so what? Has he wronged us by doing so?”

A pastor who had requested signatures shouted.

“Society becomes corrupt! Moreover, Pleroma directly declared that student to be their messiah. No, they said he was everyone’s messiah! But he’s only Pleroma’s messiah!”

“Society becomes corrupt! Did that student make any public announcement asking for blood? That student is a noble and part of the establishment, so he could have shamelessly advertised himself sitting on his castle terrace drinking blood. If he had been someone who cared less about ethics, instead of hiding his nature and living like he was dead, he would have tried to change society’s perception by saying what’s wrong with drinking blood. Did he open a salon in Berlin and hold blood-drinking parties? If you truly believe that student corrupts society, first criticize the obscene salons held daily among today’s bourgeoisie! Those cause actual harm because they’re so closely related to our lives! Have you forgotten what that student accomplished after being appointed as Royal Mage?”

People’s faces gradually became menacing. Then someone shouted.

“Wasn’t he lying low to help Pleroma? How do we know what he’ll do to the German Empire after today!”

“You’re afraid that student will betray us and go to Pleroma! Then what more must that student do to prove himself?”

“Like that Nicolaus Ernst, he must clearly prove he doesn’t belong to Pleroma for us to believe him.”

“Then what comes next?”

Marian Baum shouted loudly at the people trying to pass him.

“Then will you ask him to walk on water? Will you believe he’s flawless, innocent, and honest only then? After walking on water, what will you say? What other proof will you want? Life, living, and society don’t operate as simply or ideally as if stamped from a mold. We’ve never been absolutely evil nor absolutely good! Yet why do you believe we’re always righteous? Because we believe we’re always right, we’re casting one person we point fingers at as an absolute villain. Perhaps thereby elevating ourselves. We’re in the midst of injustice right now. Each word we speak is a path straight to death.”

Another protester shouted angrily.

“You’re wrong! Why don’t you realize you’re allowing too much freedom to someone with murderous tendencies!”

“You’ll find my words uncomfortable. You’ll find it uncomfortable to hear that we’re doing wrong! But if we try to turn away instead of seeing things as they are, that would be reproducing violence and disloyalty to fellow citizens. How is today’s behavior different from masses who killed countless people swayed by yellow journalism like Dasrote, then threw responsibility onto the yellow press without acknowledging their own responsibility? How is today’s incident different from yesterday’s retirement of France’s national painter? Is critic Burnel Geret the only one who forced his retirement? No! The one who forced painter Eugene Lamour into retirement and has driven countless theater actors, opera singers, and politicians to death until now is none other than us!”

“Shut up!”

Countless protesters threateningly pushed Marian Baum while shouting. Marian Baum shouted until his throat bled.

“Yet you’re trying to kill a boy today who may not even know what wrong he’s done. Having learned nothing from yesterday’s retirement ceremony…”

“Still, execution is deserved.”

Someone grabbed Marian Baum by the collar with reddened eyes and growled.

“Above all, all these people think that student is wrong. So what exactly are you saying all by yourself?”

“If many people say something is wrong, is it truly wrong? Don’t you think those many people could be mistaken? If you truly believe the target is objectively wrong just because many people criticize them, I dare say this: How abundant are talents in this world that the era recognized too late!”

Then the lead pastor, having learned of the commotion in the middle, mediated between the two with an intellectual voice.

“Stop for a moment. I understand why you’re being tested. I too wouldn’t stop him if that pink-eyed Pleroma truly saved us from tribulation like Jesus Christ. But there’s no such thing to do! Then we will believe nothing but what we’ve seen. Is that enough now?”

Believe nothing but what they’ve seen? Marian Baum widened his eyes, wondering if these were truly words from a religious person’s mouth. Another pastor nearby agreed.

“Right! To save us from tribulation, either uproot Pleroma completely, or know the answer and die yourself. We’ve never welcomed or considered that student right since over ten years ago. We won’t change our minds until we see his innocence proven with our own eyes.”

Marian Baum asked with bulging eyes.

“Don’t you know how much that student has worked in the imperial court until now to eliminate Pleroma and secure Prussia? Haven’t you heard?”

“There’s one more person who achieved such accomplishments.”

The lead pastor shook his head firmly and said.

“Only Nicolaus Ernst is our hope. The self-sacrifice, bloody perseverance, and independent effort that His Excellency Nicolaus Ernst shows—that blood-drinking student civil servant lacks these!”

The lead pastor put the megaphone to his mouth and walked forward again, shouting.

“Prussian government, listen—! Our Nicolaus Ernst, who must surely be Christian if not Protestant, has processed 18 out of all Pleroma dioceses, nearly half, in cooperation with the Kingdom of Bavaria—! Our Prussia cannot lose. Following the blessed Christian spirit of His Excellency Nicolaus Ernst—”

Marian Baum’s shoulders drooped. Lucas Ascanien and Nicolaus Ernst are clearly the same person, yet these people say to execute one and emulate the other. Without knowing anything.

“Now get lost, you Satan-like bastard!”

He fell to the ground from someone’s pushing hands and stared blankly at the procession of people. Children and adults began gathering one by one with determined faces, holding flags of the German Empire and Bibles. He couldn’t even imagine how delighted Pleroma would be to see this scene.

Marian Baum looked at the countless people, then closed his mouth and kicked off the ground to stand up. He couldn’t stay like this.

* * *

Ten minutes before that, in Berlin Charlottenburg.

Here, an emergency meeting of the Imperial Court was taking place. In the dim conference room, the only light came from rays seeping under curtains and faint candlelight. The Interior Minister reported the current situation to the Emperor with a trembling voice.

“Your Majesty, the Kingdom of Bavaria has succeeded in liquidating 18 Pleroma dioceses.”

The Emperor was holding his forehead with bloodshot eyes. He’d been in the same state for five minutes.

Crash—!

The Emperor slammed the table and shot up from his seat, swallowing saliva. With eyes red from congestion, he panted and licked his lips with his tongue. The Empire was turning upside down. There was no way to respond to this bewildering upheaval.

Except for several ministers and chancellors who had gone to the front lines to command, everyone remaining in this place bowed their heads before such an Emperor. Even his second child, a prince, did so. Only the Crown Prince, facing such an Emperor, leaned back in his chair and calmly smoked a cigarette.

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