How to Survive as the Second Son of a Mage Family - Chapter 539

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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 Noble Family (539)

17th, 10 AM, a tavern in front of the Spree River in Berlin.

An old man dressed as if it were the dead of winter entered the shop, leaning on his cane. Despite it being morning, the shop was already packed with people and had fallen dead silent, and despite the silence that seemed to suppress all vitality in the world, no one paid attention to the sound of the door opening. Even the shop owner didn’t notice a new customer had arrived, absorbed as he was in reading his newspaper.

“Excuse me.”

“Ah, yes.”

The old man tapped the counter to call the owner. He ordered schnapps instead of grain liquor, and the owner served him the cherry schnapps the old man usually enjoyed without a word. The owner, who normally would strike up conversation with the old man, quickly returned his gaze to the newspaper instead of opening his mouth today.

Still only silence. Occasionally, only the sound of drinking could be heard.

“Oh!”

After waiting a bit, people began shouting from various places. Looking at the front page of the Imperial newspaper he had brought, someone with an impressive build was now walking onto the plaza stage. It was Lucas Ascanien. Even though his face hadn’t been exposed very frequently in the media, he either bore a striking resemblance to his brother’s features or carried the same atmosphere his father had shown in his youth, so anyone could tell he was an Ascanien. His somewhat student-like groomed hair was noticeable.

The solemnly well-arranged scene behind him revealed how much effort the Imperial Court and government were putting into this clarification. And rightly so, as the Prussian government had been given two choices from the start.

First, to execute Lucas Ascanien in accordance with the seemingly easy and clear public desire, demonstrating vigilance and responsibility regarding the continent-wide crisis of Pleroma terrorism.

Second, to reveal that the person they had originally employed was not Pleroma and that the Prussian government had been actively opposing Pleroma, though it would be somewhat complicated.

At this point, it was important that Adrian Ascanien, the core of the government who was never uninvolved in Prussia’s policy decisions, had already expressed his intentions through local Italian newspapers. He offered deep apologies to the countries damaged by Pleroma—Austria-Hungary and Italy—and promised to do his best to suppress German criminals for the safety of the Italian peninsula where he was staying under German government orders. He also showed favor to Britain and revealed France’s rashness. Those slow to understand didn’t know what intentions this actually expressed, but most clearly understood. It was an argument firmly establishing that Prussia was not wrong—that is, saying Prussia had not employed Pleroma.

However, since Adrian Ascanien didn’t directly appeal based on sentiment that “my brother is not Pleroma,” few considered his argument biased or emotional. In the old man’s judgment, that brother was first and foremost a politician who knew how to win thoroughly, as he had been recognized for years. Even in matters concerning his brother, he hadn’t fallen, and his position was so solid that some even wished Adrian Ascanien would personally kill that wayward brother.

Then what about the brother?

Had the brother inherited the same talent from their parents? Was he as strategic a person as his brother? It was time to see how he would handle the executioner’s gun barrel thrust before him. The entire nation was waiting expectantly to verify this. The old man drank his liquor while thinking of the Professor from the Imperial Second Education Institute who had sat beside him a few days ago.

[Greetings, fellow subjects. I am Lucas Ascanien. As Deputy Captain of the 101st Royal Mage Association, I greet you subjects once again.]

A voice flowed from the filtered newspaper.

This second Ascanien stood with a somewhat haggard face but still looked robust, and that robustness probably came from his physique like many royal mages, but more than that, it emanated from the incomparable vividness of his eyes. When many considered him connected to Pleroma in some way and demanded punishment, he was not intimidated. Unlike his slightly sunken cheeks and eyelids, only his eyes shone brightly—but these were neither the eyes of one ready to fight nor of one who had positively sublimated resentment into indignation. They were the eyes of an innocent man.

The tavern became briefly noisy. As soon as his name was mentioned, some shouted “Bah!” and others clinked their glasses unnecessarily. But fundamentally, everyone was in a state of excited tension. Indeed, what new entertainment would this Ascanien bring us? They thought this without realizing it. Gleaming curiosity like children filled their eyes. Also solemnly mixed in was the ethical consciousness they prided themselves on being sincere about.

Ascanien raised his slightly bowed head without once looking at the podium where there should have been a script—come to think of it, he hadn’t appeared with a script. His neck showed slight veins as he shouted.

[…And next, I was outraged.]

“Outraged? How dare this bastard be outraged? Who caused all this!”

Someone shouted angrily. The causes of the international situation and Germany’s position were countless, and Ascanien actually seemed far from the source, but those who hadn’t adapted to the atmosphere that had softened since Easter and only reinforced their bias still placed the cause of international division on Ascanien. Before others could speak, the Ascanien on screen roared back.

[Why was I outraged! It was because our main enemy Pleroma so clearly tried to divide you subjects.]

Ascanien finished speaking while looking around at the audience with blazing eyes, spreading his hands. Questioning voices could be heard from the people in the tavern. This wasn’t what everyone had expected. “I was outraged” alone was unexpected, but naturally they thought he would say “I was outraged at being falsely accused.” But what they actually heard was not “I” but “you subjects.” The one who had been insulted had changed. The person who had just shouted in the tavern opened his mouth with the same angry expression as before, then closed it. He waited to hear what Ascanien was saying and then get angry again.

In the silence, Ascanien decided to speak again. He pulled his head slightly inward and looked straight ahead in a way that could be seen as glaring, or just coldly staring.

[So how did their operation turn out?]

The tavern was amazingly quiet. The initial commotion was nowhere to be found. The old man thought of the Professor from the Imperial Second Education Institute.

[The operation was a great success.]

“Hmm.”

The old man pursed his lips inward and closed his eyes.

It would be difficult for someone in his position to openly say Pleroma had succeeded. Yet the one mistaken for Pleroma was now pointing out to the citizens that Pleroma had succeeded because of them.

The atmosphere in the tavern changed slightly. Looking at Ascanien’s rhetoric, the Professor didn’t need to worry about his student. Ascanien had succeeded in drawing everyone’s attention and was also skilled at keeping them focused.

[Until now, our government, which had devoted all its efforts to eliminating Pleroma, became a group that employed Pleroma Christ. I, who had never communicated with or collaborated with Pleroma, was truly transformed by everyone in an instant into their Christ! The peaceful daily lives of subjects and the German Empire that had been advancing triumphantly without knowing defeat were halted by Pleroma’s lies!]

The old man thought Ascanien’s speech was similar to the speeches of General Garibaldi, who had led the Italian unification movement. Despite the different situation and content, receiving such an impression meant he was successfully drawing people in. It was remarkable that the words of an inexperienced young man reminded one of a veteran’s speech. It was rare—it was in the realm of talent. Now he was certain. His talent for captivating people was no different from his brother’s.

Unlike the old man who felt interest, people were in a state of excitement rather than interest as Ascanien recounted the nation’s damages. This was tension, close to escalation in a crisis situation. The sound of drinking was repeated. Tension intensified. Because the content was shocking? No, everyone had vaguely known the country was declining. The reason Ascanien’s words didn’t provoke any particular rebellion was because he had successfully created the atmosphere. We were all immersed in the play, accepting it as reality. The audience responded as intended accordingly.

[…So they succeeded. This is exactly the collapse of the Empire that Pleroma wanted.]

Then the old man thought of a different politician than Garibaldi. Gladstone, that politician who had been Britain’s Prime Minister—Britain’s only conscience who opposed the Opium War. Ah, but the old man momentarily grasped what he was missing. Just as the old man’s lips were about to rise, Ascanien awakened the old man’s mind from his thoughts. Ascanien shouted powerfully with a voice that cracked at the end.

[…Is that the answer? I ask! Is that truly all—!]

What appeared on screen was a container of blood. People who doubted their eyes for a moment shouted.

“Oh!”

The shop owner, who exhaled “Huh,” covered his mouth and tilted his head. All the people sitting in the tavern had the same reaction. What was about to happen was obvious, so they opened their mouths and looked at each other. The old man widened his eyes and stroked his chin.

[This is blood I received this morning at 9 AM from the blood bank in exchange for my blood. It is human blood and still contains human magic power as it hasn’t been processed yet. Doctor, is this blood with magic power? To ensure our Empire no longer wavers from Pleroma’s schemes, please confirm this clearly today.]

Anyone could see it was blood, but Ascanien called for a doctor, and when the doctor officially confirmed it was blood, he nodded and poured the blood into a cup. He made the sign of the cross with a resolute face. People newly realized he was Catholic. Surprisingly. The fact that Pleroma also claimed to be Christian faded from this public’s mind. It disappeared, unable to stand against the visual holiness and intensity.

Ascanien held up the glass cup filled with bright red blood and said.

[Let’s settle this once and for all.]

Gulp—

At the sound of swallowing blood, the old man felt the liquor he had drunk coming back up and chuckled bitterly, turning his head. Ascanien emptied the cup in one go with a resolute face and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. Then he extended his hands to the mages standing on either side.

[Look. Take my hands. Everyone, look! If any abnormality in magic power is detected in me after drinking blood, I will be arrested at this moment! These mages are here to immediately separate me from you subjects and arrest me if there’s a problem with me. But if there’s no problem, you will have no choice but to believe in my innocence.]

He went down from the stage and extended his hands to high-ranking government politicians, and though they all seemed reluctant, they shook hands and then widened their eyes in surprise as if discovering an unexpected fact. The more this happened, the more composure rose in Ascanien’s face.

Despite his best composure, he soon dry-heaved, and only then did shocked sighs flow from the people sitting in the tavern who had been holding their breath and watching. Everyone empathized with Ascanien’s contorted face and his bowing his head and pausing briefly. Seeing his cold sweat and pale complexion, no one could believe he was a Pleroma werewolf who drank blood. The old man silently watched the audiovisual strategy Ascanien was employing.

When the old man had sat in this place persuading the surrounding tables, no one had listened to his words attentively. Even when they listened, they criticized. But the moment he presented visual and auditory evidence of innocence, he briefly became an object of sympathy. Great confusion settled among the citizens. They felt a disconnect between what they had believed and the reaction Ascanien was showing.

But unlike those who sighed while drinking good liquor, Ascanien remained resolute even after drinking something inedible. Ascanien spoke as if piercing through the camera.

[…There is no change in me whatsoever. Only, only currently, extreme anger rises at having to drink a living person’s blood to thwart Pleroma’s strategy. Only anger rises at the Empire shaking because of Pleroma’s schemes! Everyone, I am…]

Ascanien’s mouth hastily closed and his brow furrowed. He covered his mouth and bent his body to the side. Simultaneously, shocked voices poured out from the tavern in unison.

It was the most certain evidence of all. After vomiting the blood he had drunk and dry-heaving for a while, Ascanien took out a handkerchief with a resolute face and wiped his mouth. Blood was on his gloves. Ascanien gripped both sides of the podium with trembling hands and quickly closed and opened his eyes. Despite the unsanitary and filthy scene, everyone thought of something else before such topics. Shock invaded the viewers’ brains. Going this far to prove innocence?—The fact that he could go this far instantly collapsed all the speculation everyone had built up.

The old man recognized a similar but different fact. Lucas Ascanien was not revealing his emotions at all. Despite being only 18 years old, he thoroughly put the great cause before himself. If we think about what feelings we would have and what emotions we would speak with in that position, the answer becomes clear—that strong tone and word choice could only be something not from his heart. Above all, it was a choice calculated with cold reason. In short, the old man realized that Lucas Ascanien was not visible in Lucas Ascanien. The Lucas Ascanien everyone was seeing now was not the human Lucas Ascanien but the politician Lucas Ascanien—a different being with the same name. But no one knew. Everyone believed they had discovered a new aspect of Lucas Ascanien. Thus they realized their beliefs had been misunderstandings and wrong. So this had to be theater. In an era when politics became a kind of theater, he was executing the best strategy.

In the slightly noisy confusion, people waited for the human in the newspaper to speak. Ascanien, who had been supporting himself on the podium and catching his breath in silence, maintained his firmness despite his poor condition and spoke.

[I am not Pleroma.]

The game was over.

It had been over for a while and now it was perfectly over again. The old man drank his liquor. Sounds of exhaling could be heard from various places. The death penalty debate with the public was concluded with this. The public might be swayed by Pleroma’s claims again and grab Lucas Ascanien’s ankles anytime, but as long as Ascanien kept his wits about him, he wouldn’t easily be dragged to the execution ground. At least not on the same topic. Lucas Ascanien was no less capable than his brother. Rather, he would become a powerful rival who could seriously threaten his brother’s position.

And the old man knew this was just the beginning.

What kind of beginning? It was a new start because from today the Empire would have to accept this politician. Because they had to accept the powerful orator who appeared like a comet as a member of Imperial politics and entrust the Empire’s future to this person. When the public could no longer doubt this person, the image of overcoming adversity would become the most powerful weapon, and Ascanien would surely utilize it. The Imperial government also couldn’t let go of him who had become innocence itself, rising from adversity when Pleroma responsibility theory was emerging.

While the old man was lost in thought, Ascanien underwent one more verification based on divine power, thereby winning over Christians to some extent. The old man looked down at the video of Ascanien, who had risen from the sofa with a powerful attitude drawing in the audience, as if he had never shown any defenseless appearance.

[…In that sense, please reconsider!]

The old man felt those words particularly stuck in his ears.

[Pleroma threw the Empire into chaos, causing innocent subjects to die and our economy to contract rapidly, no different from wartime conditions. Our homeland that had been racing toward greatness came to turn the continent into enemies due to the schemes of a cult organization! Believing their words and mistaking me for Pleroma’s Christ based on their words is giving power to the tongue and pen that Pleroma falsely wields! To those who slaughter innocent lives on the continent and now try to grab our homeland and the continent’s throat with such inhumanity and drag them into the mire—]

Lucas Ascanien raised his fist toward his face, to a position high enough not to look frivolous, and shouted with weight. Then he stopped speaking as if time had frozen. Ascanien, who looked around at everyone, spoke calmly with a confident face.

[Please do not give them the opportunity to shake the Empire. I pray that blessings be upon our homeland and you subjects.]

Silence flowed.

Along with the sound of applause from the newspaper, people clapping appeared throughout the tavern. The sound gradually amplified. Outside the tavern was quiet, but it might have sounded that way because such applause overlapped. There were no usual sounds of carriages rolling and children playing. The old man recognized that there was a turning point for the Empire at this moment. An indelible change in German history had begun this morning.

Quiet discussions began in various places. Not a single person cursed and stormed out. This was enough to see everything. Just as the old man was about to get up from his seat, a middle-aged man sitting alone at a table behind quietly said.

“Truly a young man like Gladstone.”

The old man glanced at him and his table. Now that he looked, some tabloids were already calling Ascanien the second Gladstone.

Indeed, Ascanien had spoken somewhat like Gladstone. As the old man had briefly recalled. That politician who shocked everyone in the House of Commons before the Opium War—he spoke like that British politician who argued that he feared God’s judgment on the national crime Britain had committed against China, that waging such an unjust war would insult our homeland and our flag.

Lucas Ascanien pierced the citizens’ hearts by saying that you citizens are being swayed by Pleroma, giving them power and helping them continue committing crimes, that Germany is in crisis of collapse because of this, that the cause lies with you—continuously, with words slightly more direct than Gladstone’s.

But this cannot be called the same as Gladstone. Such an evaluation would be an insult to both sides.

The old man muttered.

“I think differently.”

“Is that so? I’m curious why.”

The middle-aged man at the back seat asked, raising his eyebrows without any sign of displeasure.

“This student shocked the citizens like Gladstone, but that shock is not a fundamental shock. So he is, after all, surviving. If he must be Gladstone, he is now Gladstone from his early political career, not Gladstone from the period when he opposed the Opium War.”

“What do you mean?”

“This student didn’t scold all of us.”

The old man answered briefly. Not knowing that he hadn’t yet scolded the public entirely was an insult to both Gladstone and Ascanien.

Gladstone pointed out Britain’s wrongs regarding the Opium War as they were. This student could have done so but only told us half of it. If he had said everything truthfully, we would certainly have been enraged and run wild, so he strategized. The reason “please reconsider” particularly stuck was probably because that was what Ascanien truly wanted to say.

The middle-aged man thought for a moment and nodded.

“That’s true too.”

The most surprising thing was that more people than expected already believed Ascanien’s speech was sufficiently groundbreaking and had enlightened the public’s ignorance. Right now, Ascanien had just set foot in the House of Commons but had already become Gladstone at the time of the Opium War speech to the people. Many people were beginning to regard Ascanien as some kind of icon. If not now, the foundation for it had been laid. Because Ascanien didn’t lose to those trying to bring him down and kill him, but sharply admonished and embraced them. Because instead of bowing his head, being frightened, or accepting, he pointed out that they had been swayed by Pleroma’s schemes.

No one recognized that the admonishment was strategically edited. In fact, it would be fortunate if they even knew that Ascanien had criticized them indirectly; some would selectively hear and accept only what suited them, like “I was swayed not because of my lack of thinking ability but only because Pleroma was wrong.”

At least, to the old man’s ears, there were those who remained ashamed. There were those who understood the meaning “if Pleroma disturbs the world, it is certainly because of your assistance.” The middle-aged man before him was also such a person. Such people would permeate everywhere and lead discourse in the future.

In a society where discourse doesn’t occur, criticism is not criticism but condemnation. Discourse among those with similar opinions is not discourse but a continuation of identity reinforcement. The discourse that had been blocked until now was finally occurring, opened by Ascanien’s priming water. Some of those who firmly believed they were criticizing while condemning believe their misunderstanding was solely Pleroma’s fault, while others realize they were also at fault. In that sense, Ascanien successfully embraced everyone. Therefore, this is now the beginning.

The middle-aged man, who had been thinking briefly, said.

“Then how can we judge this? If he really only said half, I hope that student doesn’t pander excessively to the public.”

Pandering to the public. Saying this showed this middle-aged man was someone who could think. He knew what discussion was and what the problem was. This person probably wouldn’t have been among those condemning Ascanien even without his speech.

The old man paused briefly and answered.

“In his early political career, young Gladstone showed a moderate stance on slavery abolition.”

“That’s right. His father was one of Britain’s leading slave owners.”

“And after his father’s influence diminished, he gradually began to argue more strongly for slavery abolition.”

He was able to actively push through his own assertions. The higher one climbs, the more those who had been holding their breath underwater gradually reveal their true colors. Therefore, what matters is how the human Ascanien leaves his mark on the politician Ascanien. What kind of person the human Ascanien we have yet to see truly is. In that regard, the Old Man somehow felt no concern. Because that Student surely knows that today the masses tried to drive a person to death, and he will never forget it until his old age. Because today’s tribulation will change his life and German history. On this day when he first met the politician Ascanien, the Old Man held his own sense of anticipation. He spoke with worry-free eyes while faintly raising the corners of his mouth.

“What we can expect from that Student is what kind of speech he can bring us when he breaks free from today’s constraints and becomes increasingly liberated from death.”

* * *

What is an ethical human being?

If being inflexible makes one ethical, then I am not ethical.

I looked around at the audience amid the endless applause. I came down from the podium, recognizing the silent cheers and the great upheaval that must be taking place where I cannot see. The sound of countless people’s applause does not cease, wetting the world like rain. Mecklenburg, who had been following behind, saw my smile and said nothing. He was deeply contemplating something alone, changing from deep within. I felt human joy and slight anxiety at being present during this moment of transformation. However, since he neither told me what he had realized nor held me back, I had to close my eyes and not try to see the personal transformation that had occurred in him.

I said to Mecklenburg, who was following me into the palace.

“There are truly many places we must visit from now on.”

“I know. I will take you there.”

Mecklenburg answered thus and then hesitated, seeming to want to say something more. Just as I was about to turn my head toward him, a familiar figure caught the edge of my vision.

“Luise.”

I widened my eyes at the welcome face I met at the end of the hallway. The person who had been waiting in the lobby quickly turned their head at my words. Those green eyes were trembling slightly differently than usual.

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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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