How to Survive as the Second Son of a Mage Family - Chapter 591

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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 (591)

Mathilde moved her eyes in a dazed state as if entranced by a dream. Could this Saint really be an Esper? A Human couldn’t possibly take on such a bizarre appearance. However, an Esper wouldn’t come to a bourgeois salon, and they certainly wouldn’t claim to be a vessel for souls. This was common sense.

The Bible Holder was the first to cautiously speak up.

“Are you Human?”

At the unexpected question, everyone’s gaze turned toward him. The Saint asked back in a gentle voice.

“Why do you ask that?”

“Yahweh has no gender.”

The Bible Holder swallowed and answered. To speak that name aloud – everyone’s eyes widened as they looked at him. Unlike Mathilde who thought of angels, the one who had been holding the Bible all along thought of Yahweh.

“Though we commonly call Yahweh God the Father, using the masculine form is actually not important. He is a transcendent being that cannot be judged by Human understanding. He is neither female nor male, but only ‘God.’ It is fundamentally impossible to apply Human constraints to God and make judgments about this or that.”

Mathilde swallowed. People nodded their heads.

“Because Humans, unlike God, do not have the ability to create life through will alone, and are earthly beings who must endure all sorts of physical troubles and pain before they can finally continue their lineage.”

Mathilde wondered what kind of nonsense this was, but she didn’t interrupt the serious atmosphere. In fact, Mathilde couldn’t do so because she was feeling the exact same single doubt that this person was trying to express.

“You appear to transcend the flesh. Please forgive our rudeness and tell us what kind of being you are.”

“It is only an appearance.”

The Saint answered with his eyes closed as if in contemplation.

“It only appears so, but I am Human. Just a mere Human no different from all of you. I only host within me one who lived in the days before Humans flourished on earth, but I am not a heavenly being myself. That would be dangerous words.”

“Then how can you prove that you can summon Abel?”

Another person asked. Unlike the others who were in awe, he had slightly raised his eyebrow and created lines on his forehead. He concentrated everyone’s attention with a polite gesture as he spoke.

“I am a Christian, so I cannot easily accept these words. Especially since you are so taciturn that I cannot guess how this came to be.”

“That is a reasonable doubt.”

The Saint unusually readily acknowledged it.

“Couldn’t you deliberately say mysterious things and pretend to be Abel?”

Then Madam scolded him with a stern face.

“Your words go too far. I saw it myself – this person has not a trace of falsehood.”

“Thank you, but this is natural. Please do not scold him.”

Madam, who had been nodding while breathing heavily in frustration, asked the Saint.

“Would you remove your magnifying glass?”

To Mathilde’s ears, that was a rude request. However, the Saint humbly removed the monocle from his eye. The moment the velvet cloth pressed against the inside separated from his skin, white eyelashes lifted upward. Mathilde was surprised and covered her mouth with her hand upon seeing the eye inside the glasses.

Madam was looking at the Saint’s eyes with a proud face. His eye color was one that could occur in Humans, but the two sides were different. Mathilde recalled the Odin legend of trading wisdom for one eye. One of his eyes was blue and the other was a brown-tinged yellow eye. Like the pupils of wolves living in polar regions, his pupils had clearly distinguishable irises and pupils that looked eerie. When seeing people with both blue eyes, unless the color was very bright, such thoughts didn’t easily arise, but when one eye was dark creating a peaceful impression, the eye beside it had wolf-like pupils that were frightening enough that one dared not meet his gaze.

Someone whispered in a shrill voice.

“A changeling?”

“How dare you be so rude? Do not say such things.”

It was said that children left behind by witches and demons who were enchanted by the appearance of Human children and exchanged them had such unusual appearances – Wechselbalg. It was a widely known tradition. Madam scolded him sternly and spoke to the audience with conviction.

“Since ancient times in our southern Germany, in Bavaria and Swabia, it was said that those with different colored pupils in each eye could communicate with spirits.”

Mathilde had heard that too. In medieval times in our country, people with different colored eyes were considered priest-like beings who had eyes that could peer into the spiritual world. Then it would be natural for this Saint to be more capable than anyone at necromancy. Sofia, the medium of this gathering, had eyes of the same color but was praised for being excellent at necromancy. At least to Mathilde’s eyes, she couldn’t believe whether necromancy actually worked.

But what about this Saint with such different colored eyes?

Theoretically, he would be skilled at necromancy. Mathilde took a deep breath the moment her gaze met the Saint’s. She felt like she would be sucked into those strange pupils that seemed to contain two worlds. The Saint faintly raised the corners of his mouth and smiled at her. That smile felt like the smile of a religious statue. He was looking at a living religious statue. Mathilde felt as if her consciousness was separating from her body. Madam gently requested.

“If it’s not rude, please show us the scar on your neck as well.”

Then the Saint, with the same calm attitude, loosened his cravat a little and turned down his standing collar. There was some irregular wound mark. As if he had read our curiosity, he spoke calmly.

“It appeared after I first communicated with Abel.”

“It must be the place torn by the weapon wielded by evil Cain. Abel was saying that I had visited. Like stigmata.”

Madam chimed in. Those who are religiously devout and have received special missions suddenly receive stigmata one day. The black dots that penetrate the palms and backs of hands are Christ’s stigmata. Like that, the Saint had received a mark of having communicated with Abel.

Mathilde became increasingly confused. All the traditions and stories and rumors he knew began to take on a consistent form and become like a scholarly work that made sense, perhaps forming a single book, maybe even scripture. When his bewildered mind returned, it was when the one who had objected earlier was raising his hand again and opening his mouth.

“I cannot accept with this that you can summon Abel. I understand well that this Young Man is beautiful and good, and therefore mysterious. I also understand that this composure is as upright as Christ’s spirit, who did not become angry before Peter’s disbelief. It is indeed faithful. But couldn’t that be something one could do to pose as Abel?”

“But look at that appearance.”

“No! What if, precisely because the appearance is unusual, he is using his own appearance? Moreover, if it were Abel, he should have the face of a Middle Easterner, not look like a Lyosalf or Papal States Priest.”

Now Madam seemed truly angry. Madam’s wrinkled face contorted with displeasure. Mathilde only rolled her eyes in the icy atmosphere. The Saint remained silent, so his intentions were unclear.

“It seems this happened because I speak little and have not shown you convincing evidence. However, summoning Abel is not something that happens by my will.”

Then the one who had been objecting looked disappointed, but in that gap, the Bible Holder quickly spoke.

“What does Abel want to tell us? We know that Abel’s words continue even after his death.”

Then before the Saint could open his mouth, Madam spoke.

“That his words ‘continue though he is dead’ is made possible by firm faith toward God. He must have come to teach the faithless ways of the world.”

“But didn’t Abel believe yet still get killed? That the result of loyalty to God was being killed by his brother. No matter how good Abel was, many people won’t think they should believe in God after seeing Abel’s case. Though they might build faith in God after hearing stories of those who escaped suffering.”

Madam couldn’t give a proper answer to that and shook her head. Then, Mathilde saw something like a flame pass through Madam’s eyes. Mathilde’s gaze followed the end of Madam’s gaze.

Tears were welling up in the Saint’s eyes. Everyone was flustered and frozen with their mouths agape. When the Saint closed his eyes, tears flowed down. Strangely, the Saint’s eyes and nose did not redden and remained pale like marble. His expression also did not contain sadness. It was amazingly eerie, like watching a stone statue shed tears. It seemed as if someone was sending their tears to flow there! This was surely not the Saint’s will but someone else’s will – the scene Mathilde was witnessing said so.

“I have come because today Cain’s followers seek to gain power.”

What flowed from the Saint’s mouth was another person’s voice. The thin, calm voice that had been clear like a boys’ choir had become heavy like someone approaching forty. It was still holy, but the sadness added fear for the listeners. How could this be? It was as if he had aged instantly like Abel on the day he died.

“Not knowing God’s will is not the only problem. Humans cannot know His will completely, so they must be humble. They do not know this fact.”

In Abel’s pupils, still no blood vessels stood out. It was magical. He slowly shed tears while closing his eyes.

“Cain’s followers are gaining power?”

“Taking life – what does that mean? Are they trying to kill us?”

Then his softly curled hair swayed above his forehead as he took a deep breath.

“They are targeting those who have my spirit. Even in this place, there are my spiritual descendants. They think that by doing so, their sacrifice will finally be accepted by God, and they think that God has given them the legitimate right to steal other lives, indulging in the same licentiousness as Cain. They will proudly bear the mark and create new power.

Not believing in me cannot be helped. Even these present days are God’s will. However, I could not overlook the immediate problem and leave you to face judgment. They seek to accomplish their task by taking the lives of my brothers’ descendants who wish to be loyal to life.”

“Being loyal to life – not being loyal to God?”

“That is the same thing, blessed descendant. When I was killed by Cain, I lamented with a heart torn to pieces. But even if I had known I would be the first to die in this world, I would have farmed diligently. That is why I can speak even today.”

Mathilde, though not religiously zealous enough to understand all his words, at least understood this much. Abel offered sacrifices sincere enough for God to accept, yet was killed by his brother, but he did not rage at God or feel wronged about it. An ordinary person could have protested to God, asking how death could be the return for offering so much to God. Instead, Abel would have done his best today regardless of fate, and such vast faith toward God made it possible for Abel to speak until today, as the Book of Hebrews says. Mathilde couldn’t close her mouth at Abel’s perfectly unified words. The Bible was truth. Of course, people say it’s truth, but seeing this, she felt it. How could Abel know the Bible? The Bible wasn’t written in Abel’s time. Yet Abel spoke something very unified and consistent, indirectly revealing that the Bible was truthful.

Others were thinking the same thing. They looked at each other anxiously in confusion that pierced deeper places. Madam’s face now also contained worry.

“How can we stop that?”

Abel finally showed a sad face. The moment he was about to open his mouth to say something, his pupils remained fixed in place and only his head sank down deeply. Madam was startled and pushed his chest back toward the chair’s backrest.

“Oh!”

“Oh.”

The people nearby hurriedly stood up and went to Abel’s side. He had fallen into sleep and bent his head as people moved him. The strength that had dwelt powerfully in him was nowhere to be found. Madam hurriedly gestured for people to stand up.

“We must move him.”

“What is this? To suddenly lose consciousness.”

Then Madam explained with cool eyes.

“Mediums also often lose consciousness while conducting séances. Summoning Abel is like receiving a being that spans the heavens. Just as Priests fighting the powerful being Satan sweat coldly and collapse without even letting Satan enter their bodies, this person also becomes exhausted because he cannot bear Abel with a Human body. Let’s quickly go to the fireplace and moisten his mouth with cognac.”

Mathilde stood up from her seat and watched that pale-faced gentleman being carried away. The Friend who brought Mathilde was still sitting, pale with shock.

Really.

Was that really Abel just now?

Mathilde felt her reason gradually becoming paralyzed. There was a heart trembling with excitement in that place.

* * *

What are these people really saying…

That’s what I kept thinking.

I smiled like a sage while replenishing the moisture lost from shedding tears with cognac. Everyone had already left. The Landlord called Madam Kruger was an Old Man with a face overflowing with learning as if he had studied quite a bit, and he was now remaining alone to observe me. I spoke gently with the desire to throw away the monocle that stuck to my eye area like swimming goggles.

“Thank you for looking after me. Your kindness is very deep.”

“It’s only natural.”

I closed my eyes, avoiding Mr. Kruger’s gaze. Most of the audience were middle-aged, but among them was a young Friend who could have been a High School Student or college student. I didn’t feel good about deceiving a Student. Though that didn’t mean it was okay to deceive adults either, but well…

Mr. Kruger opened his mouth.

“The people’s reaction was very definite. We will work to bring more people to our salon. We should be able to drive out Cain’s followers from here.”

I smiled again, acting the sage’s face.

After recruiting Mr. Kruger, things weren’t too difficult. Actually, even recruiting Mr. Kruger wasn’t difficult. Because.

There are limits to what they know. I said earlier that they have naive aspects.

People see as much as they know, so if someone is saying something about some subject, those words are more likely subjective than the truth about the subject, and are likely to be the responsibility of that person’s knowledge. Whether positively or negatively. People accept everything in ways that make them confident in their beliefs.

Look. Right now, to my eyes, I’m just a stranger. A Human with white hair and white eyebrows like Papal States Clergymen do, and excessively tall. Moreover, I have black glasses with a magnifying glass on only one eye. If I had encountered such a person on the street in the 21st century, I would have pretended not to see them because of these glasses alone. But they synthesized all these elements and thought I was a being belonging to some mysterious realm.

The biggest element conflicting with modern sensibilities – the powerful element that surprised them was heterochromia, but if I had encountered someone with different colored pupils on the street, to me that would have just looked like Human pupils, but if I had to trace the cause, it would have seemed like a rare developmental variation.

However, they perceive different colored pupils as being because one is a being with spiritual abilities. “Changeling” – try calling someone’s eyes odd-eyed and see what happens. Unfortunately, there’s no great malice in their word choice. The term heterochromia isn’t widely known yet, and as such, they don’t know that such heterochromia occurs due to biological reasons rather than the spiritual world. How many modern people would think someone with heterochromia would have medium abilities? But in 1851, there are many.

They are naive simply because their knowledge remains there. Height and hair color, and even the androgynous clothing that doesn’t cause me much aversion as a 21st century person but would be earth-shattering to them – all of this reminds them of legends passed down through generations. For me, who has to play a massive bluff – some nonsense Abel necromancy – this is favorable. For this reason, my attempt was bound to be easy from the start.

One more thing.

Who knew that this guy not exercising would be so helpful. Laplace’s skin color is a sign that he cannot be said to be living a healthy, active, and balanced life. But they believe I’m pale as paper because I’m a mysterious being. Before this, I lose all will while simultaneously smiling at the ease. What’s so mysterious. I’m just sadly untanned from being stuck in my room… Laplace would have wanted to have nice bronze skin if possible. That was a sign of health that became the object of envy among Human male students.

However, thanks to this guy only studying, he’s even treated as a soul, which works out well for me. Laplace might have a different opinion, but what can I do? I need to use him. As soon as I closed my eyes and meditated, Mr. Kruger asked.

“Is there something wrong?”

I slowly opened my eyes and tried to smile like Buddha while answering in a clear voice.

“I should head in for today.”

“Of course. I’ll escort you.”

When I silently smiled broadly, Mr. Kruger was startled and shook his head.

“You can go back alone. I’ll open the salon again tomorrow…”

Mr. Kruger trailed off. I firmly grasped his hand, caressed it, and turned around. Mr. Kruger hurriedly said to prepare at this time tomorrow.

Maintaining this concept is really difficult. I left the building and gradually cast concealment magic as I headed to the room I had secured in advance, then extracted all the divine power wrapped around my body. Once in the room, I adjusted my outfit. The gloves… from a 21st-century person’s perspective, I could just wear them, but with this era’s old-fashioned sensibilities, it would be a bit difficult. I changed to the thin cotton gloves I had kept as spares in my pocket. I could just warp in front of the castle, but this kind of thing…

I looked out the window and let out a hollow laugh. Honestly, I can’t show this. What kind of ridiculous state am I in… My current body is a mishmash cobbled together to evoke all sorts of legends and symbols. Ordinary people might not know, but Prince Hildegard who knows me or their servants would immediately understand what I intended upon seeing me. European fairy legends, German spirit folklore, medieval mages rather than modern ones, and even modern clergy all mixed together.

Therefore, I returned to Munich Residenz with black hair and blue eyes. Even though my eyesight wasn’t bad, the world felt pleasant without the monocle I had worn simply to look strange.

I sank deep into the sofa.

Now there was something I had to do. Rumors without legs run faster than anything else.

Gradually, I needed to make a list so I could go out and ask Leonard in Bavaria, Ulrike in Italy, and Cheringen for information.

* * *

I don’t know how many days I did that. I mingled broadly with many people at the salon, and among them became close with students around my age—though they didn’t attend school, for convenience’s sake.

Actually, I couldn’t say we became close. They revered me. I couldn’t do anything more than that for the sake of my concept either. It was a continuation of such peaceful days.

And…

On the day that marked the end of one week, I kicked with my shoe at the pile of letters that had arrived in the room I had secured as a midway point between the salon and Munich Residenz before stopping by the salon. It was a letter stamped with Mr. Kruger’s seal.

[Father. Today’s gathering has been canceled. I must immediately go to Miss Mathilde’s house. Miss Mathilde has been possessed by an evil spirit, so an exorcist priest has gone there. Please understand that I cannot tell you where Miss Mathilde’s house is, as you would easily stand out if you wandered around outside. Instead, I will contact you again.]

I silently looked down at the letter, then nodded and picked up another letter with the same seal. A short letter in the same handwriting had arrived.

[Fortunately, it was resolved well. Miss Mathilde went through quite an ordeal.]

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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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