Episode 003. Letting It Out (2)
Alright, let's summarize the situation.
I was definitely standing on the Empire's final battlefield, and I got caught up in the prince's fight and died there.
When I opened my eyes again, I was inside a dream—at a point in time before I was thrown into prison.
Since the prince just so happened to be right in front of me, I got excited at the thought of finally letting out everything I'd been bottling up, and I cussed him out with gusto.
After that, for some reason, I got carried away, drank myself silly, and fell asleep on the street.
And now, it's the next day.
The morning sunlight is warm, and the ground is cool.
Whenever my eyes meet those of passersby, their stares stab into me like they're looking at a drunk.
"Uh."
…At this point, isn't it obvious?
'This isn't a dream?'
In other words, this is reality.
I didn't wake up in some after-death dream—I returned to some point in the past.
The moment I realized that, a certain phrase popped into my head.
–I beg you.
That thing he said before I died is suspicious.
Those eyes that gleamed an unusually vivid gold turned suspicion into certainty.
'For real? You really sent me back?'
Separate from the emptiness, accepting it became easy.
It's hard to imagine a mere prince having the power to defy time itself, but thinking again… if it's that guy, it starts to feel possible.
Just looking at one thing made it so.
A Grand Master—the first to appear in a thousand years since the founding Emperor.
The prince was the kind of man who crossed that legendary realm as if it were nothing.
Truly, as naturally as breathing.
–Hm, you'll break through soon.
一Huh?
–Easier than I thought. A legend.
–What nonsense are you spouting now. Just lie down and sleep. Don't mutter to yourself at dawn like some senile old man.
–Don't be surprised tomorrow.
Don't be surprised my ass.
That day, I was so shocked my jaw nearly fell off.
On the battlefield, bundles of golden sword aura were pouring down from the sky like rain—and the man who pulled it off was cackling in rags like a homeless vagrant. How could anyone not be stunned?
Because of that, for a while I couldn't even look at the prince like he was human.
I only started treating him normally again after he screamed loud enough to shake the whole barracks about how he'd run out of toilet paper mid-shit.
Anyway, that's the kind of man he is.
If he can hop over the wall called "legend" like it's nothing, why wouldn't he be able to send one person across space and time?
"Ha, haha ..."
At the end of my hollow laughter, a mutter slipped out.
"…This insane bastard?"
I wasn't curious about his intention.
Because the one who caused all this already told me.
–You go to the past and beat me to a pulp. To knock some sense into me, that's what I'm asking.
What a joke.
Sending me to the past? Okay. Real or not, he's the kind of man who could do it.
And I'm alive instead of dead, so I should be grateful.
But
If you look at reality, that request is completely absurd.
Under the Empire's strict law, even hitting a royal is a capital crime.
And that man isn't just any royal—he's the Crown Prince.
Picking a fight with the Crown Prince?
Beating the Crown Prince with your fists until he's half-crippled?
That's immediate execution.
You'll hang from the gallows, and with a deng-gong~ your head will declare a tender farewell to your body.
I was grinning as I followed that thought to the end.
'If I were sober, I wouldn't dare—'
Stop—
'…would I?'
My body froze.
Because something suddenly occurred to me.
'Wait, this isn't a dream.'
Then…
'…What about what happened yesterday?'
The things I'd said started replaying one by one.
–Your Highness, please get a grip. For the love of all that's holy, detach your lower body from your thought process. Or should I detach it for you?
First, sexual harassment.
–You're doing sooo well~ Not attending banquets, slacking on your studies, no intention of going out to train, and the only thing you do is "incognito patrols." Truly the very image of a sage king, deeply concerned with the lives of his people.
Next, sarcasm.
–My farts won't stop. Please excuse me. Or what—does that hit a nerve? Honestly, if it doesn't, that just means you're shameless.
Humiliation.
And then, to top it all off.
–Untie this. If you do, I'll erase today from my memory.
…Ordering a royal around.
It was right after I realized it.
Shiver—
Goosebumps erupted all over my body.
Tremors rose from my fingertips and spread through me.
In my head, it felt like something went KWA-KWANG, like my soul was leaving my body.
My mouth fell open, blank.
"Uh...…"
…Yeah. I'm fucked.
***
On the matter of being on the verge of execution the moment I regressed.
That proposition needed deep contemplation, but first, it felt freshly unfair that even if I lived again, I was still stuck with that criminal brand.
'Was I really that wrong?'
Even if I asked the heavens, there was no way an answer would come back.
If the heavens were the kind that gave answers, it wouldn't have let the Empire fall like that in the first place.
No—did it fall because there was no answer?
Anyway.
Gurgle—
My stomach hurts.
I wanted to sober up with some food.
But if I tried to eat at a restaurant, I realized how drunk I must've been last night—when I woke up, every bit of jewelry I'd been wearing was gone.
Begging? My situation is my situation.
Yuren Paros of the great house Paros—
No matter how much I'd lived like a scoundrel, rummaging through my memories, there wasn't a single instance of scoundrel Yuren going around begging, so it felt impossible to start now.
It was while my thoughts were drifting here and there.
'…Oh.'
The idea suddenly surged up.
'Why don't I just go home?'
Right now, at this point in time—twenty years ago.
Right now, when House Paros is still standing strong.
Amazingly, I, Yuren Paros, was a homeowner.
No, I was a mansion-owner ..!
'Right. I had a house. How did I not think of that?'
…Why indeed? After coming of age, I'd lived behind iron bars in prison, and after leaving prison, I'd lived in the barracks.
Twenty years was plenty of time to erase the concept of "home" from my head.
Anyway, that reflection was as far as it went.
I sprang to my feet.
'Which way was home...…'
I turned my head this way and that.
If you head toward the center of the main road, there's the imperial palace.
To the right are the nobles' boutiques.
To the left are the noble estates.
Downward lies the land of the Empire's citizens.
Once I recalled that much, I finally remembered where my own home was.
'Ah.'
The Paros mansion isn't nearby.
I set my gaze farther out.
The mansion sits on a hill at the outermost edge of the capital.
A place where you can watch over the imperial palace.
***
As I walked, memories came bubbling back.
'I used to walk this street at dawn a lot.'
On nights when I drank through the dark, I'd pass through the citizens' neighborhoods and head home while looking at the eastern wall.
Because you could see the sun rising beyond that wall.
When you witness nature's grandeur, you get sentimental, don't you.
I was the same, and in those moments I'd buy cheap rum from a nearby tavern and drink as I walked.
This was that alley.
And after moving a bit farther, I saw a flower field.
'From here on, this was the family's land.'
Even though it was noble land, there was no fence here.
What was it again—some ancestor's teaching about not building walls between yourself and the people.
And yet they'd put up a careful fence all around the mansion itself, which was kind of funny.
Anyway, since it wasn't a managed private garden but a place outsiders could freely enter, the flowers bloomed wherever they pleased.
It wasn't the season yet, but after a while, young lovers and children from the capital would come here in droves to see the flowers in full bloom.
I remembered those things one by one.
And at the end of those memories, I could see it.
'…Home.'
It's been almost twenty years.
When I searched for it after getting out of prison, it had burned so completely it didn't leave even ash behind.
It was ruined so badly you could only vaguely tell something had ever existed there.
Looking at it now, unfamiliar emotions swelled up.
'Was it always this small?'
In my memory, the mansion was bigger.
More suffocating.
More stifling.
But look.
On the hill, with no other buildings around, there was only a three-story stone mansion sitting demurely.
The fence looked low enough to hop over without trouble.
And the garden, decorated just enough, gave off a cozy, gentle vibe.
Suddenly, a question rose up inside me.
'What was so stifling about this place?'
What the hell kind of person was I back then?
How twisted was I, that even this felt suffocating, so I ran out of the house every time?
Thinking about it, a hollow laugh escaped me.
And as I kept walking, a familiar face greeted me.
"Young Lord…!"
"…Venter."
Baron Venter Elliot, a retainer of the family.
He'd been pacing the garden anxiously, and when he spotted me, his eyes flew wide open.
His thick white hair and wrinkled face were a welcome sight.
His straight posture and proper stride made me feel, all over again across time, just how stubborn and prickly a man he was.
Venter hurried over.
I muttered,
"Long time no see."
Venter answered.
An answer full of anger.
"Yes, yes! It certainly has been a long time! Why are you out gallivanting until morning again today, too?!"
That nostalgic nagging made me realize something before anything else.
'Ah. So that's it.'
To them, I must look like nothing more than the delinquent young lord who got drunk last night and crawled back in at dawn.
I considered it for a moment.
If I told them I'd suffered every kind of hardship, became a Sword Master, died, and regressed, would they believe me?
'…No way.'
I ended up shaking my head.
Telling a story like that would only get me treated like a madman.
That longing was mine alone.
'Let's see…'
What kind of person was I in the past?
Yeah—something like this, probably.
"I felt like getting drunk."
"Is there ever a time you don't?"
"......."
"Young Lord, please …!"
A tearful look crept over Venter's face.
It pricked at my conscience for no reason.
When I averted my eyes, Venter let out a heavy sigh.
"Young Lord."
"Venter, my stomach feels awful. I want to eat something and sleep a bit."
"You can't. Young Lord."
"Do I have to collapse with my guts turning inside out for you to let me?"
"Even so, you can't, Young Lord!"
Venter raised his voice—rarely.
That was strange.
In my memories, Venter had almost never been this firm.
"Why?"
Had my memories been softened into nostalgia?
That thought was rising when—
"Young lady waited for you all night, Young Lord. She didn't sleep a wink!"
At those words, my thinking stopped.
***
I entered the mansion for the first time in twenty years.
But my mind was anything but calm.
I couldn't even summon memories of the mansion's decorations, belongings, or layout.
Because whenever I thought of the person who would be in the third-floor office right now, everything else blurred away.
And in the middle of that, Venter said,
"The young lady was truly very worried."
"…I imagine."
"She sat at the dining table for over an hour, thinking perhaps you'd lost track of time."
"…I imagine. Because that's the kind of person she is."
"In the end, she couldn't even lift her utensils. The servants ate the food once it went cold, and the young lady couldn't even go to her bedroom—thinking something might have happened to you. Even after hearing that you were enjoying yourself in the streets, it was the same. Truly… truly, she looked so relieved, and yet somehow so sad at the same time."
It was behavior so very like my older sister.
And that made me remember something I'd forgotten.
'Right...…..'
The day I was imprisoned, it was one of the rare times I'd accepted my sister's request to have dinner together.
I remember I did it because her persistent pleading annoyed me.
And after that, what happened......?
'His Highness did me in.'
Right after that, I was thrown into prison.
My sister only learned the truth two days later, and she came to see me at once, saying this—
–Young Lord, are you hurt anywhere?
With her cheeks hollowed, smiling so foolishly.
Back then, I didn't understand.
I only realized my sin much later.
It was a memory that stabbed my heart over and over, a guilt that never disappeared no matter how many times I replayed it.
Of course, it would've been fine if it ended as a recollection of the past.
But today wasn't the past.
I saw a wooden door that smelled of old timber.
My sister is behind it.
Venter knocked—knock, knock.
"The Young Lord has arrived."
And from inside, a voice answered.
–Let him in.
My eyes trembled.
Only now did it feel real that I'd hear that faint, fragile tone sink into my ears again.
The door opened.
Now I could see her.
Long ash-gray hair, like mine.
Deep blue eyes, like mine.
But unlike me, a man like an enraged colt, my sister's impression was so delicate and pure.
That was the world's assessment—rather than mine.
Then my eyes took in her arms, so thin they looked like they'd snap if you tapped them.
And her haggard face, shadows dug deep beneath her eyes.
Cecilia Paros.
The woman who protected this house in my stead, while I lived like a delinquent.
The woman who waited her whole life for a worthless younger brother who would never leave prison—only to finally burn away with the family in the end.
I crushed down the emotions surging up.
I tried to bow my head.
But before I could, I heard footsteps, and she was already right in front of me.
My sister placed a hand on my cheek.
Then, quietly, her lips moved.
"Young Lord."
And then she—
"Are you hurt anywhere?"
Smiled.
Foolish and haggard, yet relieved.
Just like the day I was imprisoned.
"I heard you slept on the street. Is your stomach alright?"
Words caught in my throat.
Even breathing felt choked off.
It was like a massive stone lodged inside me was crushing my lungs.
Because my sister was so pitiful—and because I was the one who made her that pitiful.
And because I could see this face again, and disgustingly enough, I was grateful.
At the end of those overflowing emotions, I lowered my head and answered.
"…Yes. I'm alright."
That was all.
My sister was the only woman in the world who could make me feel like a sinner.