How to Survive as the Second Son of a Mage Family - Chapter 578

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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 (578)

Leonard’s lips curved upward. Boredom lingered in his dry eyes as he looked down at his friend standing at a distance. Make it clear. It wasn’t this person who was tiresome. People couldn’t be tiresome. This endless loop made him smile. Soon, a different emotion began to circle above the tedium. It was no longer weariness or boredom.

He didn’t particularly want to hold on. Leonard had already held on for quite some time. Narke Farnese knew this fact too. He had held on long enough for even a fool to notice. Keeping him tied to his side any longer would be bad for everyone. Narke had said he would stay at a distance rather than come close. Leaving him alone and letting him live as he wished was the way to respect Narke. The unknown danger that Lucas, Julia, and Elias silently watched over, he would cover up without asking further questions, just like them. Because he respected this person’s will.

But he speaks. Narke was telling Leonard to hold onto him.

“You know what you’re saying, don’t you?”

Leonard’s brow furrowed no further. Having let the momentary storm pass, he simply spoke calmly while looking into Narke’s eyes.

“You just asked me to hold onto you.”

No denial came. Leonard wasn’t surprised since he had already expected this. He naturally shifted his gaze from his friend to where his eyes could reach, looking at the city’s night sky. He opened his mouth.

“To keep frowning at you.”

Even though he had never done so before, to raise his voice in the future.

“To make you uncomfortable, to endlessly ask and ask and ask again what you won’t answer.”

Silence flows. Leonard looks into his friend’s eyes again. The most objective and therefore coldest gaze pierced into Narke’s pupils. Narke’s face still appeared the same. But both knew. Narke had opened the box, and Leonard had pointed out everything inside it, exposing it all under the sunlight. The face of the one being torn apart was in a strange distortion. Like a light bulb flickering on and off. Why are you like this? You showed it to me.

“I understood well what you said, Narke. You want to be punished by my hand right now.”

Even though I never asked you to show me such a thing. Something sticky like a raw egg breaking in one’s hand. Leonard continued in a quietly lowered, soft voice.

“I just heard you say please, I beg you, condemn me.”

Is this something to say to a friend? Though no one spoke, the echo heard by everyone was being pressed down by heavy air.

“Narke.”

It wasn’t heavy for Leonard. He was simply asking his friend, whose clear intention left no room for disagreement, whether he had any thoughts of retracting or correcting it. Leonard was giving Narke a chance to change his words, knowing that what he had grasped was a clear answer derived from simple words that required no inference beyond the facts. It wasn’t a demand to tell everything or a scolding asking why he couldn’t speak the unspeakable to them. He had already shown long ago that he had no desire to rush and hear secrets. He said he hoped Narke wouldn’t regret it, asking if he could do that for him. It was related to everyone’s well-being, and Narke wasn’t excluded from that. Could there be no concern for Narke in the question of whether he would find a path forward today for himself, his friends, and Narke himself, so that he wouldn’t regret it later? If there wasn’t, Leonard wouldn’t have said anything in the first place. If he didn’t care, what more should he say?

So this was more of a decision as a judge than anything else. Human Leonard should have felt disillusionment today, but the current Leonard was prepared to listen to his friend’s words once more. The metaphorical words about thinking carefully so as not to regret when looking back on your life weren’t meant for this kind of answer.

“I thought of you as a friend. I still do. I will tomorrow too. No matter what you think of me, no matter what you demand of me, I have no intention of abandoning my convictions.”

And that’s not what you want. Leonard said, flicking his thumb toward the direction of the Apostolic Palace.

“But you’re treating me like those priests of the Roman Curia.”

Wind swept through the willow by the fountain, making a sound like rain. Narke wants Leonard not to regard him as a friend. This is neither anyone’s subjective view nor arbitrary interpretation, but what Narke said. As much as he wished for this, Narke didn’t treat Leonard as a friend in that moment. He pushed him away first among the six teammates. This too was neither Leonard’s subjective view nor arbitrary judgment. Both knew there could be no other possibility here. Narke didn’t argue. There was no reason to argue.

Leonard said quietly.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t do that. I’m only saying that I’ve newly learned your intentions. Throughout the priest’s speech, I thought about how absurd his words were. I was puzzled by the priest and the Papal States who spoke as if you were directly involved in this Messiah declaration and bore responsibility, and while there were aspects I could understand to some degree, I wasn’t certain about it. I’m still not certain that you’re having such a bad deep influence on all our affairs. But now you’re telling me to believe what the priest said. That interrogating you before us is exactly what you want…”

He wasn’t making wrong judgments out of anger. Likewise, this was the truth that Narke had spoken with his own mouth. Leonard knew all too well that he wasn’t angry. Anyone who couldn’t understand this conversation and only skimmed the surface would naturally believe that Leonard was angry, thinking he was distorting and negatively believing Narke’s intentions because Narke couldn’t reveal his true feelings and spoke vaguely, but he was grateful that no one else was present right now. Narke had expressed his intentions clearly enough that no disagreement could arise. Both thought that this time he wasn’t vague at all.

So Leonard felt somewhat sorry rather than angry. Not quite enough to rashly sympathize, only a little. Leonard thinks. But according to your words, I should become one of the adversities that punish you. Not even a friend.

“Did you think about how the listener would feel?”

Leonard chided.

Did you have to say such words even knowing what you were saying? Words no one asked for? Those were rude words enough to make the listener feel devastated. If that was your own confession for my sake, wouldn’t today’s decision become a new burden on your heart? It wasn’t a confession for my sake in the first place, but Leonard still circles the area affected by the bomb Narke threw. Adding various assumptions for his sake.

Leonard looked at his opponent’s chest rising and falling slightly faster than usual, then turned his gaze back to Narke’s eyes. Even if someone came and saw, Narke Farnese’s expression appeared calm on the surface, but the past time had spoken. He was not calm. How could I blame you when you’re so anxious? The alien feeling like being covered with something thin and sticky like egg white exists not only for you but for me too, and you’re the one who handed me the broken raw egg, but I can say nothing about it. Fortunately, even if there was a chance to speak, he had no intention of blaming him.

Separately from that, was I hurt? Leonard could answer simply without needing to ask himself. He wasn’t. Leonard didn’t get hurt that easily. Though he had cultivated sensitivity in several areas through constant study, no matter how much he observed, it was the realm of learning, not nature. He was calm about many things, which meant that even when wrapped in various emotional exteriors, as one reached the source somewhere beneath the skin, it concealed the fact that he was cynical and indifferent. The sharpness of the eyes and the coldness of the heart often moved differently from each other. He didn’t deny it himself. If anyone left his side, he could regret and grieve without reservation, but there would be no lingering attachment. That’s why he deeply cherished his childhood friend but didn’t stop the friend from leaving abruptly and didn’t think about wanting to see him. Both he and his friends could acknowledge that being faithful to the present and not harboring lingering attachments had actually bound countless friends to him until this day.

Leonard learned what lingering attachment was only when facing his first mistake. Just because he learned it that day didn’t mean it became commonplace today. It was a path unlike himself, as Leonard thought, and without needing to try not to go down paths unlike himself, it usually didn’t function that way. The foundation that kept him calm remained the same. The fundamental philosophy remained the same too.

There is no eternity. Being faithful to the moment is the only way to imitate eternity. Leonard devoted his sincerity to people but still didn’t hold onto those who left, and because he devoted himself, he didn’t hold on. Now even the unpleasant feeling of grasping had to be replaced by emptiness until it disappeared.

Narke also knew that he had devoted his sincerity. He knew that Leonard had stepped back for his sake and from that stepped-back position had advised Narke for his sake. He would also know that Leonard wasn’t particularly hurt at this moment. Leonard wasn’t especially angry, hurt, or frustrated.

Leonard just quietly looked at Narke, who had told him not to even dream of becoming friends with him. The words he could offer now weren’t asking whether he could crush to death the larvae called regret that grew like corpse maggots feeding on them, but rather hoping that he would take pride in his decision to abandon Rome’s mausoleums, beloved homes, and the tempting Tiber River and leave. How would Narke react? Leonard knows the answer.

If there was something the teacher and students overlooked, Leonard was fortunately aligned between normative life and his own beliefs, but he wasn’t an exemplary student in the sense of following others’ words well.

“Did you know even this when you spoke?”

Narke said nothing until the end. According to what Narke’s eyes admitted, this was a kind of checkmate. But if there was something this friend felt but didn’t fully understand, Leonard was now accustomed to leaving ambivalence as ambivalence. Simple choices like ‘one of two’ didn’t exist in this place.

“I understood that you’re asking me to doubt you for your sake.”

Doubt you for your sake, don’t remain as a friend as you wish, become an adversary who will punish you. Abandon the expectation that by being adversaries we could remain friends. I don’t regard you as a friend, and shouldn’t.

This isn’t for a friend’s sake, at least. Leonard thinks. The confession that was thoroughly selfish and became half unselfish because it confessed to being selfish was still truly for Narke’s sake. At this point when he could synthesize everything – what he was saying, what the priest said, and this current atmosphere – he should have known even without stating the reasons, and he should have known that no other interpretation could arise from this conclusion. Whether fortunately or unfortunately, neither of them had the tediously thorough understanding to consider the possibility of different opinions. Did you know even this when you spoke? As those words suggested, Narke was acknowledging that he had spoken that way hoping Leonard would understand it this way. This was a different matter from closing one’s eyes to understand how much anguish Narke had gone through before making this difficult decision and what had led him to today. Such understanding was already being achieved by Leonard not willingly accepting the rude request as rudeness to a third party. Leonard looks with indifferent eyes at the master player who wants to believe he created a checkmate.

So what?

I understand. That’s all.

It took three steps to walk to Narke’s front with his usual larger stride than others. Leonard, standing right in front of the person, gently pulled Narke’s robe. Then he patted his shoulder twice. Only when his hand fell away did he smile faintly and speak.

“Your clothes are twisted, Narke. You should look good.”

* * *

“There’s some dirt here.”

“It’s a forest, so there would be.”

I said listlessly while looking at the night sky. Cheringen’s words about finding but not finding were a perfectly good goal. We shouldn’t find it quickly, if only to avoid sending Narke to the Apostolic Palace. Of course, whatever happened, we had no plan to return to the Apostolic Palace, and if Narke’s mind changed, we might go back. But it was better not to create an environment where others could forcibly take him.

“No, Lucas. Look at this.”

Ulrike, who had been slightly bent over, tapped my back with his finger and lifted dirt into the air. I frowned along with my eyes as his magic tingled on my skin. The dirt contained in a bowl made of magic swayed above my eyes as if it would spill.

“Luise. Please don’t let that dirt fall.”

“Of course. What are you asking for? But look at this… This dirt has a different texture from the forest dirt here. This is dirt scooped from somewhere else and clumped together.”

Cheringen turned his head to look our way. Ulrike’s expression was also serious, and naturally, with our knowledge, we could only make one assumption about this dirt. When it came to artificial dirt, we associated it with the red blood powder scattered in Berlin. Cheringen touched the dirt and shrugged. I also carefully examined it, but with the cool moisture remaining and small stones and wood pieces embedded throughout, it didn’t seem like the kind of thing that would explode soon. Though I was tense for a moment, I came to a clean conclusion.

“It’s real dirt. This isn’t the kind of dirt we saw in Berlin.”

“Right?! Then that’s a relief. Something made by dung beetle-like guys must have broken… Dung beetles?”

Thanks to Ulrike saying that, we all fell silent.

“Ah…”

Ulrike quietly cursed, then briefly lifted me with magic and shook his hands clean. When I wiped my hands on Ulrike’s robe, Ulrike let out a shriek in a bass tone that seemed like it would drill down to the underground and jumped around wildly. Other mages started looking at us, so I hurriedly soothed Ulrike.

“Who said it was dung? I said it was dirt.”

“Then why are you wiping it off?”

“Just because.”

At my answer, Ulrike swung his arms down as if to drop me, then let out a hollow laugh. He glared at me playfully, then burst into laughter. He lifted me back up and stretched.

“Leo and Narke are doing well, right?”

“Well, in their own way.”

I had to be evasive about this topic. I didn’t believe the two were fighting right now, but given the scene just before, there was a high possibility they were having a serious conversation. Because Leonard brought it up? That might be so, but what would trigger a full conversation wasn’t his suspicion. Not anymore. Now Narke was more concerning. Since entering the Apostolic Palace, Narke had been somewhat unstable, but it didn’t look like anxiety felt helplessly after failing to control, but rather like prepared anxiety. What we feel about the times, he feels toward people. When that happens, Leonard and all of us end up receiving all of his cracks intact. Because we’re friends. There’s no other reason. The Leonard we saw at the last crossroads wanted to close those cracks even a little, just as we did. Even if it wasn’t something he desperately wanted, he had thoughts of pouring primer water for him once. I only guessed from his face. Whether Leonard actually did that, whether Narke gave a positive answer to the result or not, we don’t know.

Cheringen, who was probably thinking similar thoughts, also glanced at Ulrike and didn’t answer. Since Ulrike hadn’t asked us seriously, he put his hand to his ear and asked.

“Should we contact them?”

“No.”

“Why? We need to tell them about the dung beetle artwork too. Leo would probably know what that is too. He seems to know a lot about nature-related things.”

I looked up at the sky. Beyond the pitch-black trees, a swallow was flying toward Germany. At the end of spring. Because it was late, there was only one. I became aware of a subtle sense of separation felt similarly around my heart. Feeling magic that was neither moving fast nor slow but floating, I shook my head.

“Not now, let’s talk when we meet.”

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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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