Media! Media! Media! (1)
The prince poured some brandy in a crystal glass.
“Would you like a drink?”
“Sorry, I must refuse.”
“You’re still too young to enjoy drinking, I suppose.”
It was the second most gorgeous room in the winter palace, prepared for the king’s successor. Sitting in the silk chair in front of the bedroom and in the private boudoir made Kleio feel uncomfortable. His stamina had been exhausted already, so he had to work hard to keep his head up. Regardless if he noticed it or not, the prince seated across from him took a sip of his brandy. The scent was pleasant, but his body wasn’t in a state that could stomach it.
‘If I drink now, I’ll faint.’
Melchior watched him.
‘I’m afraid to die.’
Kleio was the first to strike.
“Thank you, just now.”
“For what?”
“You took care of complicated things.”
“You don’t want the opportunity to raise your name?”
“I don’t… I’m not very comfortable with that…”
“You hate fame and standing out. You act rather contrary to others.”
Melchior put the barely touched glass of brandy on the table. Even in the middle of the night, the gloves on his hands were dazzlingly white.
“But you always stand out. How long do you think you’ll be able to hide all of your out of the box abilities?”
“If you overestimate my qualities like that, I don’t know what to say.”
“Master Zebedee’s research student, a wizard, expected to become an arch-mage. You are also the youngest knight in Albion, and even a pioneer in the field of magic science.”
“Such things… sounds heavy to me.”
“Right. It is too many titles for one person, so they won’t be easy to carry without determination. You’re still young.”
Melchior had a soft smile, but Kleio was alert. He gently touched the ring on his left hand, checking that Separation was still working.
“It will be understood when the verification results are in, but if the [Ether Activation] formula is correct, I will send a royal advisory attorney to apply for the patent and pay for the fees. I’ll take care of it so that word doesn’t leak out.”
“Thank you for taking care of it.”
“I didn’t do that for the lord.”
“I am still undeserving of that title.”
“I thought so too, but in rare cases, my judgment turns out to be wrong. The article I handed down to you isn’t much at all, rather.”
When the smile disappeared from the myth-like face of Melchior, all that remained was his intimidation. Kleio’s also noticed now that his tone had changed. That awkwardly soft and tender voice that treated him like a younger brother had disappeared.
‘Why is this child like this…’
He wondered if it would be better if he pretended to faint.
“Now, I won’t talk to you as a close friend of my youngest brother, but as the knight who was awarded the capital defense medal.”
Melchior reached beyond the table, and Kleio stiffened as he reflexively pulled back. Melchior, noticing it, tilted his head slightly to the side, like he was somewhat hurt. It was so natural; even he felt a bit bad.
“I have no memory of being rough with you, but you always avoid me. From the start until now.”
The gloved fingertips flicked Kleio’s collar before pulling back. What they touched was the green, white, and blue ribbon with a gold rim of the medal Kleio wore. Kleio, looking down at his collar before turning to Melchior, was curious.
‘It’s still scary, but what should I do…’
“Whether you want it or not, that bright light will attract people. It is the fate of those with power. After all these accomplishments, who would treat you as a mere student?”
Kleio nodded along as if he could see it.
“If the fame and glory given to you are a burden, how about entering my shadow? If you wish, you will never have an article written about you in any daily newspaper, and I will make sure that your name never appears in anyone’s mouth. That way, your peaceful life can last.”
Even though Separation was on, the suggestion slammed into him. Even though he couldn’t read his thoughts at all, Melchior knew at once what Kleio wanted most.
‘This isn’t a unique skill… but it’s like a superpower?’
Melchior wasn’t just suggesting it was possible; he was saying he can do that. He could break the journalist’s pens, blur the illustrator’s memories, and make sure no articles about him arise. If Kleio nodded and said, he didn’t want any more fame… if he just asked for his help, it would happen.
“Or a title? I am the king’s agent; I could give you anything you want. Putting your name on the first line of the list of nobles next year would be no effort for me to do.”
The negotiation was taking place at the worst time with the worst opponent in the worst conditions. Kleio gently bit his lip. Even so, he had to resist.
‘How can I look at Arthur’s face if I give in now… No. How could I face Arthur? If I make a mistake, it’s my job to fix it. Ugh!’
He already has enough trouble. Not wanting more, Kleio desperately grabbed hold of his desires.
“Why do you think I would want a title?”
“You made a bet with your father. With the title, you would take over that wonderful mansion.”
‘How did he find out about that?’
He couldn’t read Arthur’s thoughts, and Dione wasn’t in a position to encounter Melchior. If so…
“Don’t be too surprised. I was looking forward to a meeting with Viscount Grayer. He always brings me new and mysterious news.”
‘That man!’
Vasco Grayer must’ve been very excited about what happened at the Asel mansion that day that the prince probably didn’t even need to read his thoughts. He was fortunate Vasco wasn’t well-connected to the capital.
“He said you were a talented person with a prediction-based unique skill.”
‘No, that…!’
Indeed, it would be challenging to restore Beg’s sword in one day without that ability. Had he known Melchior would speak directly with Vasco, he would’ve been more careful that day.
‘Not that regret will help me now… Ugh!’
“If you know Viscount Grayer, then I’m sure you’re aware that he tends to exaggerate a bit. Whatever you expect from me, what I have is undoubtedly less than what you might expect.”
“It’s a cliché to use an excuse like that. It would be nice to have something fresh, no?”
Melchior laughed, and his eyelashes fluttered. It was a burst of dramatic laughter that sounded like it should be on a silver screen. It was so beautiful that it didn’t even feel real. At that moment, the cold autumn breeze from the window scattered his blonde hair. The bedroom door gently slid behind his back, and the heavy curtain of the four-post bed shook a little. He glimpsed something behind the veil before they were quickly hidden. It looked like… toes…
‘!!!’
With eyes wide open, Kleio had no choice but to turn on Perception. The bloody smell in the background was now vivid. The swaying of the veil slowed down, granting Perception a greater view of the details hidden behind it. Large boots with loose straps, the head of a man with a head wound… Fear vivid on his face. Kleio recognized the two bodies. They were the members of the Flag who attacked Fran. Without his skill, Kleio would’ve never recognized their bodies. Melchior turned back, noticing what Kleio saw. Without impatience, he turned around with grace, having no intent to hide the bodies or deny the murder.
“Oh, you must’ve seen it. You have good eyes.”
Kleio’s enhanced eyes caught the only flaw in the prince’s flawless outfit. A single drop of red blood splattered between his sharp sleeves. It still looked fresh.
‘Did the prince find them and kill them?’
Of course, he knew he was capable of it. That was described well in the last manuscript. However, it was different reading about it than it was confronting it. Kleio’s face was as pale as snow.
“They dared to offer me a deal, but they gave me a very inconsequential plan. Do they want to get Fran Wight’s hand? It makes sense.”
“I don’t know why you’re telling me this all of a sudden.”
“I’m trying to commend you. You’ve protected Francis from this… mob. If we had lost Francis there, I would’ve been deeply sorry. Thanks to you, my knight was able to secure the unruly mob wandering through the forest.”
Melchior had been the cause of that in the first place, however. Kleio recalled the blood staining the boy’s broken glass, and his head went cold.
“What do you know about Francis Gabriel Hyde-Wight?”
“It was strange that he was leaving in the middle of the night, so I tried to stop him, but he didn’t listen to me, so I followed. I felt like he was being threatened.”
What could he say to minimize the risk to Fran and himself? Recalling the contents of the manuscript, Melchior already knew Fran was a member of an underground organization. He couldn’t hide that. If so…
“I was worried because he seemed to be obsessed with some types of theories… Some of them sounded a bit radical.”
Kleio continued, hoping to be a concerned by-stander.
“It seems that you haven’t figured out what your friend really is. He is an ideological activity; he’ll never give up until he truly understands.”
‘No, it’s impossible to fool Melchior.’
“Of course, I can convince him if given enough time.”
“Why would you try that? He was stained by radical ideas, but he is still a young boy.”
“It is the natural duty of a ruler to obtain talent. But, Sir Kleio is behaving like an adult guardian over the young Hyde-Wight. Isn’t he older than you?”
Kleio had honestly never considered Francis as older than himself. The prince had keenly picked up on that.
‘To be honest, you’re younger than me… Though I’ve never thought of that. You seem like some ancient ghost.’
“I was asked by the dean to take care of him.”
“There is no need to be defensive. I don’t know what you imagined, but I’ve always been generous with Francis Hyde-Wight. How else would you treat such rare talent?”
“Ah, I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Lord Kleio, do you know what Francis’s unique skill is?”
‘Why don’t the brothers in this family blink when they drive in the knife?’
