[17] Alpheas School of Magic (3)
"Of course not. That's impossible. I am my father's son. I will never become someone else's adopted child."
"Shi—Shirone."
Vincent's voice trembled with emotion. There was no hesitation in his son's tone. If anything, Shirone sounded offended at even being asked.
The household was taken aback by Shirone's resolute stance.
It was, of course, a difficult matter. But to answer so plainly meant there wasn't a shred of conflict in his heart.
Clump fixed Shirone with an unusually cold stare.
"Are you really sure? This is a golden chance to become nobility. Fortune like this doesn't come to everyone."
"If it means changing my father, I'd rather live as a commoner."
"A commoner can't enter the School of Magic."
"Then I won't enter the School of Magic."
"If you don't enter the School of Magic, you can't become a mage."
"Then I won't become a mage."
"Shirone!"
Clump sprang to his feet, eyes blazing. He was frustrated by Shirone's stubborn integrity. Usually this boy's head turned so quickly—why be obstinate over something so simple now?
"Is it guilt that makes you say that? The world isn't that kind. There are things you have to give up for success. Or was your dream that trivial?"
The huge Clump was intimidating even to look at. Still, Shirone answered calmly, as always.
"Perhaps that could be true."
"What did you say?"
"No matter how grand my dream is, it was also inherited from my parents. My parents are the roots that nourished this fruit called me and allowed me to dream. That I had a chance with the Ozent family, that I came to work as a servant for them, that I learned to read—those things were all possible because of the root that is my parents. The one opportunity offered to me now is nothing compared to the countless chances my parents handed down. To deny that root now and take nourishment from another would be no different from telling me to wither and die."
The parlor fell silent. Yet every heart in the room was roiling. Rena wiped her eyes, and Rian smiled with pride for his friend.
Clump's gaze faltered as he looked down at Shirone.
"How could there be a child like this...?"
He realized he'd been mistaken. Had he been thinking wrongly from the start? Even without anyone's help, wouldn't this boy become a mage in the end?
He was great. No—he was limitless. Even the prestige of the Ozent family was only a passing opportunity to this child.
No one could claim him—at least not until he allowed it.
Only after convincing everyone did Shirone allow himself a smile.
"I'm grateful for the offer, but I can't accept. My parents are only the two people sitting here."
Vincent clenched his fists. He felt ashamed. He wanted to crawl under the sofa. What right had he to feel hurt over a scrap of paperwork? His son trusted him like this. For a parent who had done so little to feel slighted was absurd.
"Please—accept Shirone as an adopted son of the Ozent family."
"Father."
Vincent shut his eyes tight.
"Please accept Shirone as your adopted son! I beg you!"
No one thought Vincent a bad man. They would have done the same in his place.
"I understand how you feel, but we can't turn our backs on such a declaration from a son."
"Shirone is... Shirone is actually not our child."
"My dear!"
Everyone's eyes went wide at Vincent's words. But the most surprised was Shirone himself.
It wasn't only the secret of his birth. Anyone here could have guessed something—by looks and build, Shirone and his parents were completely different.
But what Vincent was saying now went further than any document. For his son's dream, Vincent really was prepared to renounce being his father.
"My wife and I cannot have children. Shirone came to us by chance. As you've seen living with us, he must surely be a noble's child. He is more than I deserve. If he becomes a noble's adopted son, he'll be returning to his rightful place; it wouldn't be denying his roots."
There was logic to his words, and the room mulled it over.
But Shirone, hurt, cried out.
"Dad!"
"Shi—Shirone?"
"What are you doing? How can you talk about this without discussing it with me? You never once mentioned this until now!"
"I'm sorry, Shirone. The reason I didn't tell you was..."
"Do you know why I didn't ask? Because everyone has only one father. And only one mother. How many parents are you trying to give me? Because of you there would already be six people!"
Vincent was stunned. Two who would adopt him, the two of them, and the two who abandoned him—six in total. Seeing it like that, he felt foolish for what he'd been about to do to his child.
"I—I was just sad thinking you might give up your dream because of me..."
"Who said I was giving up my dream? Opportunities come and go! Do you know what it's like to feel abandoned by your parents twice?"
Tears brimmed in Shirone's eyes.
Only then did Vincent realize. He had been so proud of his son's intelligence and thoughtfulness that he hadn't noticed Shirone was only seventeen.
"Shirone, I'm sorry! What kind of thing have I done? I will never leave you to someone else. I will make sure you achieve your dream!"
"Dad!"
When Vincent hugged him, Shirone finally wiped his eyes and burrowed into his father's arms. How frightened he must have been. How deeply hurt such a reserved, considerate child had been.
The Ozent family watched the reunion with warmth. The one most moved was the head of the family, Bishof. He too had lost his wife early and raised four children alone.
Bishof quietly told Clump, "We'll have to have the father put his influence to use."
"Are you asking an old man to pull strings? How do you expect him to help? Even the clever scholar families are tongue-tied by Alpheas's stubbornness."
Clump shook his head with a groan. Yet there seemed to be some corner they could rely on—his expression wasn't completely bleak.
"Then as family head, I should issue an order. Try pushing for a special admission. I hear there's an old debt, after all."
"Hah! That old man's owed debts by more than just me. The problem is he's a stickler for principle."
"Is there really no way?"
"Heh. Who knows? Forceful tactics are often the cure for those who cling to principle, aren't they?"
Bishof smiled without a word. The memory of being forced into the family head's role by that same uncompromising attitude came to mind.
* * *
Shirone stayed with the Ozent family until the day Rian left. Whether he'd pass the special admission was uncertain, but even if accepted he wouldn't enroll until early next year, leaving six months to spend with his parents.
A stately carriage waited at the Ozent mansion's gate, ready to take the family back to the manor.
Rai was already aboard, and Clump would join them en route after meeting Headmaster Alpheas of the School of Magic.
Rian, reluctant to part from Shirone, had tears in his eyes. The School of Magic and the Sword School had no fixed terms—if you failed the graduation exam you could be stuck for years—so there was no telling when they might meet again.
"Shirone, you must become a mage! I'll write to you!"
"All right. It's not like we'll never see each other. You can come back now and then. Stop crying."
"You'll graduate for sure! I guarantee it!"
Rena gave her naive brother a tap on the head.
"You're the one I worry about—please promise at least to think about graduating!"
"Hey! I'll do my best too! I'll become the strongest knight and be Shirone's sword."
Shirone believed that without doubt. Rian would do well. He lacked Rai's genius, but he had countless other strengths Rai didn't.
Rena smoothed Shirone's hair. "Don't worry. Spend time with family for a while. Grandfather will see to your admission. He doesn't fool around."
"Yes. And... thank you for everything."
Shirone said it sincerely. Even though he'd become friends with Rian, without Rena's help things wouldn't have gone so well.
Rena suddenly realized she didn't want to part from Shirone. He was four years younger, but he didn't seem young—perhaps because he was such a fine person.
"Shirone, when you graduate from the School of Magic..."
Rena started to say something, then just laughed. He was seventeen with his whole life ahead. At the School he would meet countless talented people beyond anything he'd known.
"No. Let's both do our best. You'll become a mage."
"Yes. Please take care of Rian."
"Heh, don't worry. He's sworn the knight's vow; he'll work hard without my nagging."
Rena looked back at Shirone one last time and climbed into the carriage. The four horses pawed, the window slid open, and Rian stuck his head out.
"Shirone, you're the best! Once you get into the School of Magic, crush them all!"
"You too! You must graduate!"
Thus ended a year and six months of butler life.
When it was truly over, a sadness like leaving home washed over him.
That imposing crested emblem of the Ozent family, which had intimidated him when he first arrived, now felt like a symbol wishing him well.
"Master, shall we go? I will escort you home."
A carriage to take Shirone had been prepared. Seeing it, he finally felt the reality of going home.
Shirone bowed his head toward the Ozent residence.
"Thank you very much."
* * *
Alpheas School of Magic.
Around noon, while classes were in full swing, two old men sat facing each other in the headmaster's office, drinking tea.
A broad-shouldered blue-haired man and another who sat a bit stooped with a gentle smile, looking out the window.
They were longtime friends: Mirhi Alpheas and Ozent Clump.
Their conversation had been suspended for thirty minutes. To be precise, Clump had been waiting for Alpheas's answer.
No matter how long it took, Clump said nothing—because it was Alpheas's turn to speak.
"No matter how much you press, I can't grant that request."
For taking thirty minutes to answer, it was a disappointing reply. Clump only smiled.
As if he'd been weighing a difficult decision, he'd stalled—but in truth he hadn't been thinking at all. He knew Alpheas well enough to expect the prankster.
"Can't grant it? Do you know how much trouble you caused me when I was young?"
"Ha! Flattery from you—someone must be desperate. Look, we didn't set up special admissions as a backdoor for the nobility. Every year countless requests come in, but the special admission has its conditions."
"Heh heh, that's a funny image—being the nobility's backdoor. But this time it's different."
Alpheas grew slightly uneasy. Clump's eyes were full of mischief again; trouble was clearly not done with them.
"I'm not asking you to accept some worthless brat. Quite the opposite. There's a friend of my youngest grandson who's exceptionally talented. He reminds me of you when you were a child."
At mention of something from fifty years ago, Alpheas's gaze grew misty. Time had indeed flown.
"If you mean the youngest grandson, you mean that impulsive Rai, right? He was just like you as a child."
"Ha ha! He had no talent, so I shoved him off to the Sword School. Anyway, leave that brat to his fate—what I want to talk about is Rian's friend."
"If he's that talented, there's no harm in him entering officially, is there? Unless there's some problem."
"There's a very big problem. He isn't a noble."
Alpheas's eyes widened. It wasn't that he couldn't accept someone who wasn't noble—rather, a fleeting memory from five years ago flashed through his mind.
"Don't tell me... the blond, blue-eyed boy?"