[118] An Unexpected Guest (3)
Having become a pupil of Marchen, the pianist of melodies, Reina's skill improved by leaps and bounds.
She had become sensitive enough to detect the faintest fluctuation of air pressure in a schema, and her fingers leapt across the keys so fast they were almost invisible.
Reina's performance—praised even by the nobles—was spectacular.
But to Rian, who'd been kept awake by that sound since childhood, it was murderous noise.
"Damn it, the witch's gotten stronger. But humans don't die from a little noise."
Reina seemed to hear nothing beyond the music.
Her lower lip was stuck out just so—clearly she was highly focused.
She looked like she'd stayed up all night; her hair was limp and her eyes hollow.
Wearing only her panties, her thighs were exposed.
She had actually been at the piano for seventeen hours straight.
It was a funeral piece notorious across the continent for its difficulty, and lately she'd hit a wall with it.
To an artist, a barrier is both curse and blessing—because it appears right before a leap in skill.
When that happened, Reina would stay up for days and nights until she broke through.
Rian saw a sliver of hope.
If he could sneak into his sister's room and grab his things, he could jump out the window or break through a wall—anything—to escape.
Stay calm. Go home.
He moved slowly along the blind spot created by the grand piano.
If he could just reach the stairs, the plan would be a complete success.
Of course, Reina was sitting on top of her little brother's head.
The moment hope lit Rian's eyes, she cut the music off at once.
"Ah, damn it."
Without even looking away, Reina said, "What've you been doing? Has the sword school started teaching how to make people laugh now?"
"Tch. If you saw me, at least pretend to acknowledge me. And what's with that look? A grown woman playing piano in her underwear—don't insult art."
"You're back to being mouthy. Somebody ought to teach you a lesson."
Contrary to her threatening tone, Reina reached for her skirt and put it back on.
Only the family knew that whenever practice stressed her out, she'd strip off a layer.
"Heh heh, still embarrassed in front of your little brother, huh? Aww!"
The instant Rian burst out laughing, Reina's bare sole struck his face.
Rian trained hard too, but the speed left him no time to react.
"Damn. What the hell was that? Spit, spit!"
As Rian wiped his mouth, Reina held out a hand.
"Hand it over—your report card."
Rian's face hardened.
Of course this was coming.
"W-Why are you so obsessed with my grades? I'm grown now. Ow ow ow!"
Reina grabbed his ear and shouted, "Not giving it? You want to die today?"
"Okay, okay! Here, here!"
Rian pulled the report card from his inner pocket and tossed it on the floor.
Then he bolted for his room without looking back.
"Sigh… She really ought to be taught a lesson. When will she ever grow up?"
Reina picked up the report and opened it.
The scores for the training subjects were listed one by one, and at the bottom was the total number of students and the overall rank.
Reina's hand trembled as she checked the rank.
Dead last.
Not second-to-last—truly last.
"This can't be. Even if he's hopeless, he at least tries."
Reina flipped the report and read the homeroom teacher's comment.
Her eyes widened in shock.
We regret to inform you that your child has finished the term with the lowest grades.
Currently, Rian believes he has opened a schema, but the faculty judges it to be merely a placebo effect caused by increased muscle strength.
This is a phenomenon called an imaginary schema; it is extremely rare but can sometimes occur. This is a time when your family's warm attention is needed.
"Gods, I can't live with this!"
Reina crumpled the report and stomped up the stairs in a huff.
When she burst into the room, she saw Rian sitting like a bear, packing his things.
"Hey! You're dead last!"
"Ah, whatever. So it goes."
"And that bit about an imaginary schema? What the hell does that mean? Like… a false pregnancy or something?"
"Maybe something like that."
Rian answered as if it had happened to someone else and kept packing.
From the moment he'd revealed the report card, he'd been free of every worry.
Reina glared at him, boiling inside, then couldn't help herself and thwacked his back without mercy.
"You little brat! Die, die!"
"Ow! That hurts!"
"Is it that hard? You just have to open the schema!"
"I don't know! How am I supposed to if it won't work? I did my best. Anyway, I'm going—get out of the way. I might miss the carriage."
"Where are you going? You're staying right here! As soon as this work's done we'll go down with Grandfather and you'll come with us!"
"No! I've got plans!"
"Plans? After grades like this? You still want to go play?"
Rian almost used the Shirone card in a burst of feeling.
But he held back. This was something he must never tell Reina.
It was a paired trip with Shirone.
If Reina heard Shirone was going with a woman, she'd stop it by any means.
"Jealous even though she's ugly," Rian thought.
At first he'd wanted Shirone and his sister to get along. Now he felt like tearing Reina apart.
A modest, composed woman would suit Shirone far better than that witch.
"What kind of plans? Tell me right now."
"A date with a girl. We're going out to have fun."
"A girl? A guy from sword school meeting a girl?"
"There are girls there. Tess Eljain—you know the Eljain family, right? She's their daughter."
Reina knew the Eljain family; they'd long excelled in diplomatic affairs.
If she was the daughter of such an elite house, she'd be proud. Reina couldn't imagine him going traveling with a sister who'd come home last in her class.
"Where are you making this up from? Be honest. You've got another motive, don't you?"
"I don't know, mind your own business! I'm going!"
Ignoring Reina's nagging, Rian focused on stuffing his backpack. The moment the chance came he sprang up and bolted.
"Hey! Don't just stand there!"
By the time Reina reached the doorway, Rian had already leapt down the stairs and was running for the front gate.
If Reina activated her schema, catching him wouldn't be impossible, but she wore a bored expression and let him go.
She'd treated Rian like a child since he was little; she was confident she could control him from ten thousand ri away if she wanted.
"Heh heh. Go take your carriage. Let's see who arrives first."
Reina waved the report card at his receding back.
* * *
After seeing his friends off, Shirone walked toward the carriage sent by the Ozent family.
Temuran, the head steward of the main house, was there to meet him.
The man who'd hassled Shirone while organizing the great library still wore the same stern expression after half a year.
But his manner had changed.
He bowed politely, and a gentle smile lingered at the corners of his mouth.
"Long time no see, young master. You performed admirably."
"Long time no see, head steward."
At first being called "young master" had felt strange, but after half a year it no longer grated on his ears—though it still made him a little shy.
The two in the carriage chatted until they reached Shirone's home.
Shirone was glad to learn how the Ozent family had been these past months.
"Wow, he's already passed the official certification?"
Rian's elder brother, Ozent Rai, had passed his certification exam.
As with most tenth-rank swordsmen, he couldn't expect to take it easy; he was busy on the front lines, his days filled with chaos.
"Yes. And Miss Reina was promoted to leader of the palace's Seventh Music Corps. Things are going well. The family head is still busy with official duties, and the elder will retire to his hometown soon."
"Ah. I heard Rian's eldest brother is around too? What does he do?"
"That's not for me to say. Just know he's a rank-6 certified inspector. If I may be blunt—you'd be better off not bringing him up at the main house."
"Oh, I see."
Thinking of the Ozent family's temperament, it didn't sound like the kind of household to breed discord.
If it was something they couldn't speak of, Shirone suspected it might be political.
"Rian doing all right? I'll see him soon enough."
Temuran's answer was the briefest so far.
"He hasn't contacted us in half a year."
"Hahaha! That's Rian for you."
While they chatted pleasantly, the carriage wound into the mountains.
Shirone opened the window and drank in the sight of his homeland.
The colorful forest seemed to welcome his return.
The carriage pulled into the courtyard of Shirone's house—the same spot Temuran had brought him to before.
"Thank you for the ride. I'll visit again soon."
"I'm merely doing my duty. Have a good time."
Shirone walked toward the house, his heart fluttering.
The humble log house felt comforting, and memories washed over him.
"Thank you. I'll be a dutiful son during vacation."
The closer he got, the more he thought of his parents.
His mother who'd worked hard, and his father who'd knelt without hesitation to send him to the School of Magic.
Shouting with the emotion welling up, Shirone flung the door open.
"Mother! Father!"
"Ho ho ho! Right, right! Beer goes best with pork, after all!"
"Father, really? I also find beer doesn't go well with mutton!"
"That's right. Mutton's got that gamey taste that ruins the drink. Come on, have another!"
Shirone stared blankly at the living room.
He'd expected a festive mood, but what really shocked him was the burly youth sharing a cup with Vincent.
He'd grown taller and cut his hair short since the last time—yet that strong impression was unmistakably Rian.
"Shirone! You're back!"
Rian leapt up.
But the fastest to rush forward was Vincent.
The moment he hugged Shirone the smell of alcohol hit—he'd clearly been drinking a lot.
"Well, well! My son's come home! Any wounds?"
"Ugh, that smell. What's going on all of a sudden? Why is Rian here at our house?"
"I stayed two whole days to see you. Helped with chopping wood and went hunting. Wasn't it fun, Rian?"
"Haha! Of course, Father! A real man knows how to hunt!"
Shirone was dumbfounded.
The Vincent he knew would never presume to speak to a noble son rudely, even if he was his son's friend.
What could they have agreed on for two days straight that they were already holding a drinking party before lunch?
Shirone wriggled out of Vincent's embrace and called to Rian as he stepped into the room.
"You were out of contact? Did you stop by the main house?"
"No, why would I go to the main house? This is my liege's house, isn't it, Father?"
"Ridiculous. What mess did you get into this time?"
"What, I got into trouble?"
Rian tried to play innocent, but his face told the truth.
It wasn't that he wouldn't go home—he couldn't go home.
Shirone sighed and entered the living room.
This wasn't what he'd expected.
A reunion with his father reduced to a drinking session.
Yet seeing his father thinner than before, Shirone felt a bittersweet relief that at least he was alive.
"Oh, Shirone's here. Come here, my child."
Olina pulled Shirone into a warm embrace.
There's nothing in the world you can trust more than your mother, he thought, and finally exchanged greetings that suited him.
"Mother, you've worked hard while I was gone. I'm sorry."
"Nonsense. The Ozent family helped a lot."
Olina patted Shirone's back and shot a look at Vincent.
She didn't like that her son had come home after half a year to find his father drunk.