Never Mind the Heir, I’ll Focus on Healing - Chapter 59

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

The Successor Doesn’t Know, But I’d Love to Relax — Episode 59

My brother’s talents are not limited to one field.
If we handed him over to the author, my brother would spend his entire life with his nose buried in Spirit Arts.
And perhaps…….
Ricshel glanced sideways at Lion.
Though he shows no sign of it, my brother knows as well.
And yet he brought me all the way here.
Because we need to buy time until the patriarch arrives.

‘In that case.’

Perhaps this approach would be better.
Ricshel spoke with a friendly smile.

“This place is my brother’s favorite sanctuary. He comes here whenever he studies or rests.”
“Ah, truly one who understands the love of nature…….”
“However, Freyanya intruded upon this place.”
“That is——”
“Haha. Of course, it was the impudent behavior of a young one, and mistakes are mistakes regardless, yet my brother graciously received her as a guest here.”

So don’t cause trouble, keep your mouth shut, do some communing with nature, and when the patriarch arrives, leave quietly.
That was what he meant.

‘This young one…….’

For an elf, he was barely past infancy, yet his tone was quite sharp.
Embrog maintained his smiling face and strolled with his hands clasped behind his back.

“I shall take your words as gratitude due to Lion’s pleasant nature. Or more precisely, the delicacy that only a first-rate Spirit Arts master possesses.”
“My brother’s temperament has always been good, even before he learned to see spirits.”
“One might wonder whether, given the absence of spirits in the human world, he never saw them rather than couldn’t see them.”

Spear against spear.
The saying that you cannot spit in the face of a smile is utter nonsense.
See how many daggers they’re hurling at each other with those smiling faces.
Just as both began to bare their teeth, unguarded, seeking to wound——

“Um…….”

Freyanya, who had followed them, spoke to Lion.

“Oh? You came too?”

In truth, she seemed to be getting quite beaten down, so he wanted to give her some reprieve.
She must have taken a proper scolding from the family as well.

“Since you’re here, rest for a while.”
“That is…….”

Sure enough, her eyes were swollen from the thorough scolding.
The moment Freyanya’s gaze met his, she mumbled softly.

“I’m sorry. I was trying to do something bad.”
“…….”

He hadn’t expected her to apologize.
And it wasn’t the sort of apology meant to smooth things over casually.
It was a genuine acknowledgment of her wrongdoing, sincerely expressed.

“The truth is, I wanted so badly to understand your wisdom. So even though I knew it was wrong, I….”

She explained that elves kept their distance from Alchemy, and the Alchemy she pursued differed fundamentally from what the tower’s alchemists practiced.
They must have differed, certainly.
A matter of moral grain, you might say.

‘But that wouldn’t have been the same as mine, either.’

In any case.
Through this opportunity, she’d come to realize that everything she’d been pursuing was fundamentally mistaken, and she’d come to apologize for it.
Though she was saying he didn’t even have to accept the apology.

‘What in the world….’

Now I understood from the circumstances that something serious had nearly happened.
But if it didn’t happen, then nothing happened, didn’t it?

‘In fact, it couldn’t have happened at all.’

From the moment I entered the Mimir Forest, Elvia had me under watch.
Even if a kidnapping had somehow succeeded, I would have been safely back at the estate in less than an hour.
That was precisely why, in this life unlike my past one, I did as I pleased.
So I had every intention of accepting her apology.
But.

‘If I simply accepted the apology here and now.’

It would become difficult publicly.
Especially Embrog’s gaze was cutting.
His eyes said he’d remove Freyanya from the negotiating table entirely if I accepted her apology.
Though Freyanya seemed oblivious to it.
Ugh. Human or elf.
I was sick of schemers.

‘…There’s no need for that now, though.’

Glance—

I looked toward the forest’s edge.

Whoooosh.

A cold wind blew from the direction of the Asteri Estate, which meant….

“Ah, Grandfather’s arrived, it seems.”
“Mm.”

The timing had worked out perfectly.
Ricshel’s face broke into a smile of triumph.

“We’ll talk again later.”

Rather than accept Freyanya’s apology, I ruffled her hair gently and turned to leave.

“……?”

Confused about what this gesture meant, Freyanya stood there for a moment, absently touching her now-disheveled hair.

* * *

“You’ve made good time.”
“I understood the matter was urgent, so I hastened here. I hope you’ll forgive my elder’s companion for any impatience on his part.”

Embrog’s demeanor had shifted markedly from how he’d carried himself with Lion and Ricshel moments before.
Behind his serene smile, his eyes gleamed with fierce intensity.
The Elven King. A companion of Elder Elf.
One of the humans who had defeated every threat that existed across the continent.
Patrick Asteri.
He could afford to trade jokes and banter with his children at leisure, but with this man—that was another matter entirely.
Especially so.

A glance.

Embrog’s eyes flickered toward Lion for a moment, then returned.

‘For Lion’s sake, if nothing else.’

Lion Asteri.
He had scarcely ever contracted with spirits, barely even encountered them—yet possessed a remarkable talent capable of achieving communion even with high-tier spirits.
It was a development that could not fail to astonish.
A talent for Alchemy, no less?
Spirit Arts stood in an entirely different realm compared to mere potion-making.
How could the talent to commune with spirits beyond dimensions and borrow their power be spoken of in the same breath as simple potions?
In theory, Spirit Arts could even enable dimensional travel itself!

‘The problem is that such talent is hardly common.’

Elves were naturally sparse in number.
They had no instinctive drive to reproduce, and there was a social stigma that denied those of mixed blood with other races the status of being Elven at all.
Moreover, while most Elves could employ Spirit Arts, mastery was another matter entirely.
Because of this, the very lineage of Spirit Arts itself was slowly fading in the present age.
The Race-Agnostic Doctrine—a philosophy gaining traction in recent times—was an acceptance of this dire reality.
Spirit Arts were primarily a talent Elves possessed from birth, yet occasionally beings emerged who fell outside those bounds.
From Dwarves capable of sensing fire spirits, to the rare human or beastfolk who could summon mid-tier spirits—such talents did surface from time to time.
The Elves, and Embrog himself as a High Elf, had spared no effort in nurturing such talents, regardless of race.
Freyanya was living proof of this.
Though the Elven Nation had all but cast her aside as a half-elf.
She was fortunate enough that Spirit Arts talent awakened within her, and the Elder had affixed Protective Magic to her to ensure her basic safety.

‘So then, I shall take Lion Asteri with me.’

Had Lion Asteri been the formal heir of House Asteri, Embrog would have relinquished his hopes cleanly, however reluctantly, and moved on.
He harbored no desire whatsoever to entangle himself in human politics.
But according to what he’d heard, the heir to this household was Lion’s younger brother, Ricshel Asteri.
Young as he was, the boy had a sharp tongue.
Then perhaps… this was acceptable after all?
For both parties—the boy would broaden his range of learning.
Meanwhile, they could pass down Spirit Arts, the eternal truth handed down through generations of their line.
To accomplish this, he would need to persuade this man.

‘Formidable.’

Embrog’s first impression of Patrick Asteri had been one of piercing cold—like a winter gale’s bitter edge and razor sharpness.

‘Truly, a companion of the Elder.’

For all his experience navigating exchanges with foreign races, Embrog had not felt so thoroughly overwhelmed in a long while.
It showed in his Mana, and in the very character that emanated from him.

Gulp.

A dry swallow came unbidden.

‘This actually works out better.’

People of this sort were generally shrewd about profit and loss.
They could instinctively calculate what gained and what cost them.
If Embrog offered something of appropriate value in exchange with Lion Asteri, the negotiation could end surprisingly smoothly.
Or so Embrog judged.
But then.

“Grandfather, the journey wasn’t tiring, was it?”
“It was fine.”
“Where were you this time that it took so long?”
“I visited a renowned sword family as a guest.”
……

Something felt wrong.
Embrog surveyed his surroundings slowly.
The auras of the elf and spirit guarding his rear were roiling fiercely against Patrick Asteri’s Mana.
Patrick was hardly the only one—Ricshel Asteri beside him burned with equally fierce presence.
This turbulent energy had kept ordinary servants away from the guest room entirely.
Even Freyanya seemed uncomfortable with the situation, huddled in a corner and absently braiding her own hair in loops.

‘But why…….’

Why was their future, their light, the peerless genius Lion Asteri sitting beside Patrick without so much as a blink?
Since he didn’t directly wield Mana, he couldn’t sense the precise currents—but the implications were clear.

Sip.

Embrog took a measured sip of tea to maintain his composure.
There was always a gap to exploit, though.

“You and your grandfather seem quite close.”
“He’s always been very fond of me.”
“Mm. Indeed.”

Patrick Asteri didn’t deny it.
Which meant that display was genuine.

“Heh. A grandfather and grandson with such bonds—it’s heartening to see. In our society, most adults live quite separate lives once they reach maturity, so we rarely witness such affection.”
“If you had something to discuss, why not simply say so instead of wasting both our time in a place with such poor air?”

Patrick cut straight to the point.

“……Fortunately, the heir of this house has graciously resolved our minor misunderstanding, so there is nothing of great consequence to discuss. Rather, we owe you an apology.”

As he finished speaking, Embrog rose from his seat and offered a formal bow of apology.
The elves behind him followed suit, bowing their heads respectfully.

“Though she is a Half-Elf, the child we have been protecting nearly committed a grave discourtesy, so I formally apologize to you, Lion Asteri.”

And he continued without pause.

“We also apologize for entering House Asteri armed, without incident though it was. Thanks to your elder’s magnanimous understanding, no harm came of it.”

Two apologies, but the recipients were precisely distinguished.
The one regarding Freyanya was directed to Lion.
And to brazenly insert herself into House Asteri was another matter entirely.

…….

Patrick’s eyebrow twitched.
Genuinely submissive, yet she’d managed to slip through quite deftly, hadn’t she.
This was precisely what he disliked about elves.
Behind that youthful face, who could say what ancient mind dwelt—centuries old, yet inscrutable.

“So then, what use is an apology that’s merely words?”
“Before you arrived, Patrick Asteri, word reached the Elder. An elf bearing gifts of atonement departed from our homeland and should arrive before long.”
“You mean to impose upon us for several more days?”
“Shameless though it may be, I fear I must. And…….”

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————