The Baby Bear of the Black Fox Mansion - Chapter 45

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 45
* * *
Clink.
Valen Noctis set down his glass and slowly closed his eyes, then opened them again.
On one side of the room, a child exhausted from the day’s many activities was sleeping fitfully, and from the bathroom came the sound of water dripping before it suddenly ceased.
He poured more liquor into his empty glass and recalled the events from earlier that day.
“…What are you talking about, little one?”
“Grandfather’s dad and grandfather’s mom are here, but big brother isn’t.”
“…How did you…”
Watching the child point innocently at the tombstones, Valen Noctis found himself unable to speak further.
‘…He was never here to begin with.’
He blinked very slowly, drawing himself back from his thoughts.
Each year when he came for tomb visitation, he found slightly wilted flowers left at his mother’s grave.
Sometimes they were elaborate bouquets; sometimes a single wildflower, as if hastily picked; sometimes rotting cake or cookies.
The items varied, but they shared one thing in common—they were all things his mother had loved dearly.
His mother, who had spent her life cowed by his father, unable to speak a word properly, too fragile to shield her child from anything, yet who had never failed to remember his birthday.
Was it the sickness of her mind?
Though she had passed away early, worn down by that affliction, many people had visited her sickbed.
So he thought it possible that someone other than himself came to visit his mother’s tomb.
That person, who seemed to visit almost every year like him, appeared to come a few days before his own visits.
The reason he had never tried to discover their identity was because he had noticed the visitor deliberately avoided the anniversary date—a sign they wished to avoid meeting him.
There was no need to force it.
No. No.
Perhaps.
Just perhaps.
Yes, really just perhaps……
“……”
He cut off his thoughts and tilted the glass to his lips.
Burning liquor scraped down his throat.
Clink.
Hot steam rushed toward him.
“Sir, are you sure you’re alright?”
“If I’m not.”
He poured more liquor into his empty glass again, letting out a small laugh.
“What will you do about it?”
“…Since I’m not your child, I can’t say much of anything, can I.”
Zeros Nordic brought out a fresh glass and sat across from him, filling his own cup.
“I don’t know what happened to you, but if you don’t want to spend your final years alone, then at least be honest with Jerry about it now.”
“What’s the point of speaking now?”
“Anything. At the very least, you’ve spent nearly ten years running around outside trying to resolve the curse on Noctis, haven’t you?”
At Zeros Nordic’s words, delivered with his chin propped in his hand, he let out a harsh laugh and spoke.
“Even if I tell the truth now, does that erase the wounds he’s received, or undo what happened in the past? Isn’t that just trying to ease my own conscience? Better to leave it as is.”
“……”
“It’s better to be resented without reservation by a wounded child than to ask for half-hearted understanding. I’ve done nothing right anyway.”
It’s complicated and difficult.
Zeros Nordic muttered softly to himself and nodded.
Since he was being stubborn, it would overstep for him to press further. Needless meddling.
“Then I have nothing more to say.”
He lifted his shoulders in a shrug.
“Did you have a brother?”
“……Yes.”
“When did you tell him that?”
“I never did.”
Valen Noctis spoke with finality.
“Huh? Then how did he find out?”
“I don’t know.”
He was curious how much the child understood, and what exactly he knew.
The two men sat in silence, drinking, until dawn broke and sleep finally claimed them.
* * *
Flash.
Miel opened her eyes and darted them sideways.
On the right lay an older man snoring loudly; on the left sat Grandfather.
Covering her mouth, Miel rose and crawled quietly beneath the bed.
‘It’s fine.’
The child rubbed under her nose.
“Mm.”
She went on solo adventures all the time anyway.
‘Grandfather looked so sad yesterday.’
It seemed she really ought to go cheer up her prickly grandfather.
Even if someone was grown and a grandfather, there came a time they needed to learn that what they’d done was very, very wrong.
“People who do wrong usually don’t even know they’ve done it wrong. You have to tell them. That’s why it’s good if they apologize, but if they don’t—well, then there’s truly no hope for them.”
A maidservant had told her that once, long ago.
In Miel’s view, young Grandfather had heard far too many unkind words.
‘A potato needs to hear kind words to taste good.’
Potatoes that heard mean words grew ugly, she’d been told.
‘I’m ugly because I heard too many bad words, too.’
Her cousin had often said Miel was terribly ugly, after all.
Everyone said Miel was useless. It had to be that very thing making her ugly.
After changing her clothes, Miel slipped from the room—and then, poof! She became a bear cub.
The child climbed the mountain following yesterday’s memory.
Pit-pat-pit-pat.
A tiny bear cub scampered along.
Soon the cub found its way safely to the Cemetery by scent and memory.
‘Not here… not here either…’
The little cub waddled along, sniffing as she went, until she drew near the Cemetery where she’d come yesterday.
“……?”
Tilt.
The tiny bear cub cocked her head.
Someone was there.
A very tall person with very long hair, wearing a long Coat over his shoulders—a figure dressed entirely in black.
Each time the wind blew, his hair swayed this way and that.
“Squeak?”
Miel padded forward and stood before the gravestone.
At the rustling sound, the man lowered his gaze to look at her, then paused.
“A baby bear……?”
The man, whose long black hair was tied back in a single braid and who seemed to be only just entering his elder years, had scattered white streaks running through it.
He was a refined person, dressed in exceedingly neat clothes.
‘About the same age as Grandfather?’
But he looked somewhat older than Grandfather.
When the bear cub blinked, he crouched down in front of her.
‘……He has no arm.’
Miel’s eyes went wide. Hidden beneath the Coat, she hadn’t noticed—but the man was missing one arm.
“What’s a little bear cub doing wandering around this place?”
“……Squeak.”
Was this Cemetery not supposed to be where bear cubs went?
Miel glanced up at the gravestone. There they still were—prickly Grandfather and Grandfather’s mother.
When their eyes met again, Grandfather’s mother smiled faintly.
Miel blinked.
Suddenly, she felt as though she’d seen this man’s face somewhere before.
‘Hmm…’
The tiny bear cub sat down on the ground, then tried to fold her short arms across her chest and failed.
“Squeak…”
After pondering for a long while, Miel’s eyes suddenly widened.
‘I remember!’
Pop!
Miel transformed back into human form and lifted her head from where she sat on the ground.
“Are you Grandfather’s older brother?”
“Hmm?”
He blinked slowly.
“So you were a beast human all along.”
“Yes.”
Miel gave a small nod.
“Valen’s grandfather’s older brother?”
“Valen…?”
His eyes widened slightly, then slowly dimmed. He regarded Miel in silence.
“Did that fellow say so?”
“No, Miel just… um, saw it quietly.”
“Saw what?”
“Something from long ago.”
He tilted his head, not quite understanding, then furrowed his brow.
“It seems he hasn’t returned yet, unlike usual.”
After a moment of silence, he rose from his seat.
As though he wished to avoid meeting someone, even by accident.
Miel’s eyes fluttered, and Toto darted after him. Then she caught the man’s coat hem.
He stopped.
The man lowered his head to look at Miel.
“Are you still angry?”
“…What?”
“Are you still angry with Valen’s grandfather?”
At Miel’s artless question, tilting her head, the man drew in a long breath.
Silence settled between them.
“…I suppose.”
After a very long silence, he finally managed a single word, his voice raw as though something caught in his throat.
‘This man is sad too.’
Miel sharpened her round eyes and pouted her lips slightly.
Then she looked at the stone monument above, the angular grandfather, with a gaze almost stern.
“Why is that?”
Miel asked, still holding the man’s coat hem.
When Miel spoke, the old man who had been sitting motionless there like a grief-stricken monument slowly lowered his gaze.
As though he had no choice.
Yes, as though he could not turn away from Miel’s voice.

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