Dear Mother,
I stopped my pen after writing that much.
The candlelight flickered.
It was already dark outside, and the Boreas Greyrat family's mansion was quieter than it had been during the day. It was not completely silent, however. From time to time, I heard servants walking through the halls, guards changing shifts in the distance, and someone roughly slamming a door somewhere.
The last one was probably Eris.
Or perhaps Sauros.
In this household, it would probably be harder to find someone who closed doors quietly.
I looked at the ink gathered on the tip of my pen.
What should I write first?
That Father had struck me on the back of the head and knocked me unconscious?
That by the time I opened my eyes, we had already traveled far from Buena Village?
That on my very first day in Roa, I had been beaten by the student I was supposed to teach?
Or that the staged kidnapping I had planned to earn recognition as a tutor had turned into a real abduction, and that people had truly died in the process?
All of it was true, but it was not easy to write it just as it was.
I considered taking out a fresh sheet of paper, then decided against it.
Starting over from the first sentence would not change anything.
I arrived safely.
That had to come first.
Mother would probably check whether I was alive before anything else the moment she received the letter.
I wrote another line.
I arrived safely in Roa.
It was not a lie.
I simply decided not to think about how much the word safely included.
The bruise on my cheek had almost faded.
The pain in my side had lessened as well.
After washing several times, even the smell of blood lingering on my hands had disappeared.
So it should be fine to say I was safe.
Probably.
---
Eris began accepting my lessons after the kidnapping incident ended.
Before that, whenever I opened a book, Eris threw it. Whenever I wrote down numbers, she tore up the paper. Whenever I explained magic, she insisted on trying it first and sent her mana into a complete mess.
Saying that she did not listen was not nearly enough.
Whenever I opened my mouth, it seemed she opposed me on principle.
But after the kidnapping, she changed.
That did not mean she became gentle.
Even today, she snapped her pencil after getting an arithmetic problem wrong.
When I told her she had read a word incorrectly, she struck the desk, and after class, she knocked me down twice during swordsmanship training.
But she did not run away anymore.
Even while angry, she stayed in her seat.
If there was something she did not understand, she asked.
And every now and then, very rarely, she waited until I had finished explaining.
That alone was tremendous progress.
Compared to the Eris I had met on the first day, one could have called her a different person.
Of course, she was not a different person.
"Rudeus!"
That evening, too, the door flew open and my name rang out.
I instinctively hunched my shoulders.
Eris entered the room and looked at the letter paper on my desk.
"What are you doing?"
"Writing a letter."
"To who?"
"My family."
Eris leaned toward the letter.
I turned the paper over.
"Please do not read it."
"Why not?!"
"I have not even finished it yet, and reading someone else's letter without permission is rude."
"I wasn't going to read it without permission. I was going to read it right in front of you."
That was not wrong.
Eris dropped into the chair opposite me.
Rather than sitting down, it was closer to say that she threw herself into it. The chair scraped across the floor as it slid backward.
"Are you writing to that Eugene guy too?"
My hand stopped.
"Who told you about that?"
"You did."
"Me?"
"And Ghislaine did too."
Eris said it as though it were obvious.
Only then did I remember what had happened earlier that day.
More precisely, it was not that I had forgotten. I had simply avoided thinking about it for a while.
---
The day after the kidnapping incident ended, Ghislaine and I were summoned to Philip's room.
Not only Philip, but Sauros, Hilda, and Eris were there as well.
At first, naturally, we discussed the kidnapping.
Who had planned it, where the real kidnappers had inserted themselves, how many people had died, and what they should announce publicly.
Philip had already grasped most of it.
He knew how badly the staged act I had conceived had gone awry.
He knew that some of the kidnappers had been familiar with the Boreas family's internal affairs.
He knew Ghislaine had tracked us down after the fact.
He knew that I had used magic to escape with Eris.
But officially, he said they would declare that Ghislaine had resolved everything.
"I know you may be dissatisfied," Philip said.
"No, sir."
I shook my head.
To be honest, I was somewhat dissatisfied.
I had risked my life, only for all the credit to go to Ghislaine.
In my previous life, I might have called it an unjust theft of credit.
But once I heard the reason, I could not help accepting it.
A rumor that the Sword King Ghislaine was protecting a Boreas child could prevent another kidnapping. A rumor that a seven-year-old tutor had killed people and saved a noble's daughter, however, would only draw strange attention.
Besides, I was Paul's son, descended from the Notos branch.
Nothing good would come of the other branches of the Greyrat family learning about me.
"I understand."
When I said that, Sauros laughed loudly.
"It is good that you do not covet credit! But next time, take Ghislaine with you from the beginning!"
Since it had been a staged act, I naturally could not have taken Ghislaine along.
I kept quiet, fearing I would only be shouted at again if I said so.
Then Philip asked Ghislaine, "When Paul entrusted Rudeus to us, did he make any separate requests?"
Ghislaine thought for a moment before answering.
"It was not Paul. Eugene set conditions."
Everyone in the room turned toward Ghislaine at once.
"Eugene?" Sauros asked.
"Rudeus's younger twin brother," Philip explained. "Paul mentioned his name in the letter."
"A twin?"
Sauros looked back and forth between me and Ghislaine.
"That little brat set conditions for a Sword King?"
"Yes."
Ghislaine answered calmly.
Sauros's eyebrow twitched.
I hoped Ghislaine would explain it a little more tactfully.
For instance, that Eugene had asked as a member of the family, or that he had made a few requests because he worried about Rudeus.
But Ghislaine was not that sort of person.
"That child tested me."
"Tested you?"
"He verified whether I could protect Rudeus."
Sauros's voice lowered.
"And?"
"We fought."
"With whom?"
Ghislaine answered as though it meant nothing.
"Eugene."
A brief silence passed.
Sauros stared at Ghislaine, then looked at me.
Then he looked back at Ghislaine.
"Wait."
This time, his voice was quieter.
"The Eugene you are speaking of is really this boy's younger twin brother?"
"Yes."
"A seven-year-old child?"
"Yes."
"And you fought that seven-year-old?"
"Yes."
Sauros's eyebrow twitched again.
"Not merely clashing wooden swords like children playing?"
"No."
Ghislaine cut him off shortly.
"I used a real sword from the beginning."
"A real sword?"
This time, Hilda turned to look at Ghislaine as well.
Philip quietly asked, "And the boy?"
"A wooden sword."
"What were the conditions?"
"No magic. Neither of us would kill the other. No harm would come to Paul or Rudeus."
"Who set those conditions?"
"Eugene."
An incredulous expression passed over Sauros's face.
A seven-year-old child had tested a Sword King.
With a wooden sword in hand.
While setting conditions for Ghislaine, who had drawn a real blade.
Anyone would have thought it nonsense.
But Ghislaine did not tell such lies.
Philip asked, "What was the result?"
Ghislaine did not hesitate in the slightest.
"I was not even a worthy opponent."
The room fell silent.
At first, Sauros looked at Ghislaine as though she might be joking.
But Ghislaine did not joke.
Especially not about swords.
"Say that again."
"It was not even a contest."
The amusement vanished from Sauros's face.
For the first time, Hilda looked directly at Ghislaine.
Philip displayed almost no surprise. Only the faint smile on his lips stiffened slightly.
Eris alone had eyes that shone.
"He's stronger than Ghislaine?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Really."
Eris immediately turned to me.
There was something dangerous in her gaze.
"You said he's the same age as you?"
"Yes."
"And he's stronger than Ghislaine?"
"Even if you ask me..."
I trailed off.
I no longer doubted that Eugene was stronger than Ghislaine.
But I did not know the extent of the gap between them.
I could only make rough guesses based on what I had heard in the carriage.
Sauros slammed his palm down on the table.
"Absurd! A seven-year-old beat a Sword King?"
"It is not a matter of winning or losing," Ghislaine said. "It was never a contest to begin with."
This time, Sauros did not strike the table.
He simply stared at Ghislaine in silence.
Ghislaine was not ashamed of her defeat.
Nor was she exaggerating Eugene.
She was merely explaining what had happened.
That fact made the atmosphere in the room even heavier.
"Rudeus," Philip called.
"Do you believe it is true as well?"
"I did not see the fight between Eugene and Ghislaine myself."
"I mean, do you believe that child possesses such skill?"
I considered it for a moment.
How strong was Eugene?
It sounded like a simple question, but it was difficult to answer.
Father had never once properly struck Eugene with a wooden sword.
Ghislaine said she had not even been a worthy opponent.
That should mean at least the level of a Sword King.
It seemed I ought to be able to leave it at that, but somehow, it was not enough to explain Eugene.
"Eugene is strong," I said cautiously. "That much is certain."
"How strong?"
"I do not know."
Sauros's expression grew grim.
"You grew up together, and you do not know?"
"Because he never shows it."
I added, almost as though making an excuse, "Even when he trained with Father, he always held back. He did so even more when fighting me. I believe it was the same when he fought Ghislaine."
Ghislaine nodded.
"He was holding back the entire time."
"Holding back?" Sauros asked.
"So he would not kill me."
"..."
"He did not want to hurt me."
Ghislaine looked down at her arm.
"Yet even so, I could not touch him."
Philip tapped the table with a finger.
"You mean he had enough leeway to overwhelm a Sword King without harming her."
"Yes."
Unable to restrain herself, Eris cut in.
"How does he fight?"
"It is difficult to explain with words."
"Is he fast?"
"Fast."
"Is he strong?"
"Strong."
"What about his technique?"
"Superior to mine."
Eris's eyes sparkled more and more brightly.
Seeing that expression, I had a bad feeling.
"But Eugene is not a swordsman," I said.
Everyone's eyes returned to me.
"What?"
Eris reacted first.
"But you said he's stronger than Ghislaine!"
"He is strong, but I do not believe the sword is his main specialty."
"Then what is?"
"Magic."
This time, the room truly became silent.
Sauros asked in a low voice, "Someone stronger than a Sword King is a magician?"
"Probably."
"Probably?"
"Eugene has never told me what his main specialty is."
I chose my words carefully as I explained.
"But when it comes to magic... at least within the limits of what I know, I cannot see where it ends."
That was not an exaggeration.
The Beginner through Saint-tier magic I had learned from Master Roxy.
Fire, water, wind, earth.
I could understand that kind of magic.
When Eugene used magic of the same attributes, its power and precision were abnormal, but at least I could understand what he had done.
The problem was that he sometimes used something entirely different.
There was no chant.
At times, he did say something, but it was utterly different from any magic chant I knew.
I could not discern a change in attributes.
Even the way the surrounding mana moved was unlike what Master Roxy had taught me.
Yet the result simply appeared.
Sometimes his very presence disappeared completely.
He would be standing right in front of me, yet if I looked away for only a moment, I felt as though I might forget that he had ever been there.
At times objects appeared from nothing. At other times, I only realized after magic had activated that there had been a spell formation at all.
I did not even know whether those things could be categorized by this world's magic ranks.
"If we speak only of offensive magic, I believe he is at least Saint-tier," I said.
Philip's eyes narrowed.
"At least?"
"Yes."
"And the upper limit?"
"I do not know."
"What attributes can he use?"
"Even among the ones I have personally confirmed, there are several."
"Silent casting?"
"Yes."
"At seven years old, he is stronger than a Sword King and can silently cast Saint-tier or higher offensive magic in multiple attributes."
Philip repeated it slowly.
Once it had been arranged aloud, it sounded even more impossible.
Sauros rose from his seat.
"Then why is such a child being left to rot in a village like Buena?!"
His voice rang through the entire room.
"Should he not be brought to the Royal Capital or Roa and raised properly? What in the world is that fool Paul thinking—"
"He is not being left to rot."
At Ghislaine's single remark, Sauros stopped speaking.
"What?"
"That child is the one who remains there."
Ghislaine did not avoid Sauros's eyes.
"No one imprisoned him. It is not that he cannot leave. He chose to stay in Buena."
Those words surprised me a little.
Now that I thought about it, it was true.
Eugene had not stayed because he was unable to leave Buena Village.
If he truly wanted to, even reaching Roa would not be a problem.
Perhaps not even the Royal Capital.
Perhaps places farther away than we could imagine.
Eugene could leave whenever he wished.
Yet he always came back.
Even if he vanished during the night, he would be sitting at the table by morning.
He ate the meals Mother prepared, helped Lilia with her work, looked after Norn and Aisha, and put food out whenever Sylphiette came by.
I had taken that for granted.
But it was not something to take for granted.
"Why?" Philip asked. "Why would such a child remain in Buena?"
I could not answer.
There was little Eugene could gain in Buena.
Not money.
Not honor.
Not status.
Not knowledge of advanced magic.
Not powerful opponents.
If Eugene wanted something, going elsewhere would have been more reasonable.
Yet he remained.
"What does that child want?" Philip continued.
I was silent longer this time.
What did he want?
Had I ever seen Eugene say that he wanted to possess something?
A fine sword?
No.
Money?
He had never shown more than necessary interest in it.
A title or power?
He would probably find those burdensome instead.
Magical knowledge?
He investigated it alone, but never demanded it from anyone.
Food?
He could make it himself.
"I do not know," I finally said.
Philip did not seem pleased by my answer, but he did not force the question further.
"Family," Ghislaine said.
Everyone looked at her.
"That child protects his family."
"Do you mean that is what he wants?"
Ghislaine shook her head at Philip's question.
"I do not know that much."
"Then what do you know?"
"It is the only thing I have seen for certain."
Ghislaine turned her eyes toward me.
"Even when he sent Rudeus away, he did not have the eyes of someone abandoning him."
I pressed my lips together.
I had not wanted to hear that story here as well.
"He had the eyes of someone who did not know why he protected them. But he still tried to protect them."
Hilda spoke for the first time then.
"He protects his family, yet does not know why he does so?"
Her tone was cold.
But beneath it lay faint displeasure and confusion.
"What a strange child."
Hilda looked at me for a moment.
"And yet, he does not leave his family..."
Philip gave a quiet laugh.
"That may make him even more dangerous."
"Dear."
"If someone has desires, you can make a deal with them," Philip said evenly. "If they want money, give them money. If they want a title, give them a title. If they want honor, elevate their name. If they want a powerful opponent, you can arrange an appropriate position for them."
His gaze went to Ghislaine.
"But with someone whose desires you do not know, you cannot even offer a deal."
Philip's smile faded a little.
"Being unable to know someone's desires is more dangerous than their strength."
"Please do not try to make Eugene move."
The words escaped before I could think.
Philip's eyes narrowed.
He had probably already recorded even my reaction as one of the conditions that might move Eugene.
"Why not?"
"He will not like that sort of thing."
"Not even if we ask him?"
"He may listen to a request."
"Then what about an order?"
Instead of answering, I looked at Philip.
Ordering Eugene around.
For some reason, I could not even imagine such a scene.
Even Paul spoke to Eugene in words closer to requests than commands.
Zenith treated Eugene like a child, but she never forced him to do anything.
Lilia was the same.
Sylphiette occasionally became angry with him.
But that was not an order.
"He is not someone who will obey simply because he is ordered to," I said.
Philip instead smiled with interest.
"Then what about inviting him to Roa?"
Sauros jumped in as though he had been waiting.
"Yes! Summon him! We will know once we see him ourselves!"
"If Eugene has a reason to come, he will come."
"And if he does not?"
I thought for a moment.
"Then no matter who calls him, he will not come."
"What an arrogant brat!" Sauros roared.
But strangely, he did not look angry.
Rather, he looked even more eager to see Eugene.
Eris suddenly rose from her seat.
"Then I'll go!"
"Where?"
"Buena!"
"Why?"
"I'll find out whether he's really stronger than Ghislaine!"
I pressed my temple.
"I think it would be better not to find out."
"Why?!"
"...Because you really will find out."
Eris's eyes widened.
"What does that mean?!"
"Exactly what I said."
"I might win!"
Ghislaine spoke firmly.
"No."
Eris's face froze.
"Ghislaine!"
"The current you would not be a worthy opponent."
"Then I'll become stronger!"
"Yes."
Ghislaine did not object to that.
Eris sat back down, fuming.
But judging by her expression, she had not given up.
Rather, she looked as though she had found a goal.
Inwardly, I apologized to Eugene.
One day, Eris might truly make her way all the way to Buena.
I hoped he would handle it himself when that happened.
He probably would not kill her.
Although I could not say the same for her pride.
---
"So?" Eris asked, returning me to the present. "Are you going to write to him too?"
I looked at the paper on the desk.
"It is a letter for my family."
"Then you are writing to him."
"Not separately."
"Why?"
It was difficult to answer when she asked why.
There were many things I wanted to say to Eugene.
I wanted to ask why he had not stopped me.
Whether he truly believed sending me away was right.
Why he had said nothing even though he knew Sylphiette would cry.
And I wanted to ask how much he had held back against Ghislaine.
But when I tried to put them in a letter, they would not become sentences.
I wanted to be angry.
But when the staged abduction turned into a real kidnapping, I learned that Eugene's words had not been wrong.
I often forgot how weak I was.
When Eris was in danger, Eugene was not there.
Neither was Ghislaine.
I had to act.
I could not say that I had not needed that experience.
That was the part that made me angriest.
"I have not organized what I want to say yet," I answered.
Eris snorted.
"Idiot."
"Who are you calling an idiot?"
"Just write whatever you want to write."
"Then we will fight."
"How do you fight through a letter?"
"That is not what I mean."
Eris looked as though she did not understand.
Perhaps Eris's way was better.
If she was angry, she said she was angry.
If she wanted to fight, she picked a fight.
If she liked someone, she said so.
Maybe that was better than thinking so much that one could not say anything at all.
Eris stood up.
"Show it to me tomorrow when you're done."
"I will not."
"Why?!"
"I told you, it is a letter to my family."
"Then show me just the part about Eugene."
"Even less chance of that."
With a dissatisfied expression, Eris opened the door.
Then, just before leaving, she looked back.
"Tell him something for me."
"What?"
"That one day, I'll beat him."
"Tell him yourself."
"Then I'll go meet him myself."
Having declared that, Eris shut the door.
She did not shut it quietly this time, either.
Bang.
I stared at the door for a while, then turned my gaze back to the letter.
Dear Mother,
I arrived safely in Roa.
That much was written.
I began the next sentence.
At first, there was a slight conflict between Miss Eris and me.
A slight conflict.
I read the sentence and gave a quiet laugh.
She had hit me from the very first day.
She had rejected every lesson.
I had devised a fake kidnapping to earn recognition as a tutor, and the plan had been ruined by real kidnappers.
People had died.
Both Eris and I had nearly died.
Could all that truly be called a slight conflict?
But I could not write it all just as it was to Mother.
Father might read between the lines and realize something.
Lilia would be the same.
Eugene would certainly notice.
He would probably guess what I was hiding merely from the length of my sentences, my word choice, and the traces of what I had erased.
Still, I did not write it.
She is accepting my lessons now.
After thinking for a while, I added another line.
She is a better child than I expected.
That was not a lie, either.
She was violent, selfish, loud, and lacking in patience.
But Eris did not abandon the people she acknowledged.
Even in danger, she listened to me.
When I was hurt, she did not know what to do.
She had too many problems for me to call her a good child without reservation, yet she was strangely honest for someone I might call a bad child.
I asked after Mother, Norn, and Aisha.
I wrote greetings for Lilia as well.
I considered writing something separately to Sylphiette, then stopped.
Sorry was not enough.
To Father, I wrote that I hoped he was well.
And finally.
To Eugene.
As soon as I wrote his name, my pen stopped.
I am still angry with Eugene.
I wrote that, then crossed it out.
If Eugene had stopped me, I would not have had to go through this.
I erased that sentence too.
If I had not gone through it, I might never have earned Eris's recognition.
I might never have realized that I took danger too lightly.
That did not mean I wanted to write thank you.
It would feel as though I were admitting Eugene's judgment had been right.
After agonizing over it for a long while, I wrote only a short message.
Please tell Eugene this.
I will make it here by my own strength.
That was all.
It was not a declaration of forgiveness.
It was not a declaration that my anger had faded.
It did not mean I would not return, nor did it mean I did not want to return.
It was simply the most honest sentence I could write as I was now.
I reread the letter from the beginning.
There were no lies.
But many truths had been left out.
The kidnappers' blades.
The sound of people falling.
The sensation that my magic might kill someone.
The look in Ghislaine's eyes when she spoke of Eugene.
The expressions Sauros and Philip wore as they calculated Eugene's power.
Eris declaring that one day she would defeat Eugene.
And the fact that even as I envied Eugene, I still thought of the home where he remained.
I wrote none of those things.
I folded the letter.
I melted wax and pressed down the seal I had borrowed from the Boreas family.
When I looked out the window, faint lights stretched beyond the dark streets of Roa.
Buena Village could not be seen.
I could not even tell exactly which direction it lay.
Yet strangely, I could vividly picture the table in that house.
Mother.
Father.
Lilia.
Norn and Aisha.
Sylphiette.
And Eugene, who would probably leave my empty chair untouched.
I placed my hand over the sealed letter.
"What an infuriating bastard."
There was no answer.
Of course there was not.
Eugene was not here.
So this time, I had to do it.
Send the letter.
Teach Eris.
One day apologize to Sylphiette in person.
And when I met Eugene, properly say what I wanted to say this time.
The next morning, the first letter I had written left Roa.
It traveled along the roads of the Fittoa Region.
Toward Buena Village.
---
The letter did not arrive in Buena Village until around noon.
Paul was repairing the fence behind the house.
The damage was not extensive. One post leaned slightly, and an old crossbeam had cracked. There would have been no real problem if he had not repaired it immediately.
Yet Paul had been there since morning.
If he went inside, he would see the table.
When he saw the table, he would see the empty seat.
Then he would think again about what he had done.
So he repaired the fence.
He made another patrol, polished his sword, and organized the storeroom. He deliberately found things that did not need doing and filled his day with them.
That was when he heard hoofbeats in the distance.
Paul raised his head.
A single horse was entering the village.
The man riding it was unfamiliar. Dust clung to his traveling cloak, and a small leather pouch stamped with the Boreas family's crest hung at his waist.
The hammer slipped from Paul's hand.
The man stopped his horse before the house.
"Is this the home of Paul Greyrat?"
Paul could not answer immediately.
Instead, the door opened first.
"Is it a letter?"
It was Zenith.
Her voice trembled as she ran outside with Norn in her arms. Lilia stood behind her, holding Aisha.
Eugene came out last.
No.
It only looked as though he had come out last.
Perhaps he had known from the moment the horse entered the village. Eugene's eyes were fixed not on the man, but on the leather pouch at his waist.
"I have come from Roa," the messenger said. "This is a letter sent by Rudeus Greyrat."
The strength drained from Zenith's face.
She did not collapse.
But if Lilia had not supported her arm from beside her, she might have swayed for a moment.
"He's alive..." Zenith murmured before she had even opened the letter.
He had written a letter.
Then he was alive.
That one obvious fact was the answer no one had been certain of for days.
Paul gave the messenger a reward. Normally, he would have thought it far too much, but now he simply handed over whatever his hands found.
After the messenger left, everyone went inside.
No one said anything, but they naturally gathered around the table.
Rudeus's place was still empty.
Zenith sat beside it and broke the seal.
Her hand trembled, tearing the edge of the paper slightly.
"Slowly," Lilia said.
"I know."
Zenith took a breath and unfolded the letter.
She read the first line.
Then she closed her eyes.
"He says he arrived safely."
With those words, the tension in the room loosened.
Lilia relaxed the arm holding Aisha slightly.
Norn looked back and forth at the adults' faces, then smiled without knowing why.
Paul leaned back against his chair and released a long breath.
Eugene did not move.
He simply did not take his eyes off the paper Zenith held.
"I'll read it aloud," Zenith said.
She began to read the letter.
That he had arrived safely in Roa.
That the Boreas mansion was incomparably larger than their house in Buena.
That Sauros's voice was excessively loud.
That Philip seemed like someone one had to be more careful around the more he smiled.
That Hilda was beautiful, but frightening.
That he and Eris had experienced a slight conflict at first, but that she had begun accepting his lessons now.
And that she was a better child than he had expected.
Zenith gave a small laugh at that part.
"It sounds as though he made a friend."
Paul could not laugh.
A slight conflict.
If Rudeus had truly gone through a trivial quarrel, he would not have used that expression.
Children usually made what happened sound larger.
They said they had almost died from a small scratch, or that they had been hit ten times after being struck once.
But Rudeus was the opposite.
When he did not want people to worry, he made events sound small.
Paul knew that way of speaking well.
He had written letters like that himself when he was young.
I was hurt a little.
There was a problem.
I was delayed longer than expected.
Paul knew how much blood and how many mistakes could hide behind such words.
Zenith paused briefly at the same part.
"A slight conflict..." she repeated quietly.
"Perhaps this girl named Eris has a somewhat rough temperament."
"It seems so," Paul answered.
His own voice sounded so natural that it made him uncomfortable.
Zenith resumed reading.
He asked whether Norn and Aisha were doing well.
He sent his regards to Lilia.
And for Paul, there was a short sentence wishing him good health.
Zenith's voice grew a little quieter at that line.
Paul lowered his head.
I hope Father is well.
That was all.
There was no curse.
No resentment.
No word of forgiveness.
Perhaps it would have been better if Rudeus had cursed him.
That he hated having a father like him.
That he would definitely return and hit him.
If he had written that, Paul might have been able to answer with a laugh.
But wishing him good health felt distant.
A courteous sentence that did not permit him to come any closer.
From that single line, Paul could understand how much distance now lay between himself and his son.
Zenith stopped again near the end.
Her gaze went to Eugene.
"He asked me to tell Eugene something."
Eugene raised his head.
Zenith read slowly.
"I will make it here by my own strength."
It was a short sentence.
There was nothing after it.
Zenith tried to continue reading, only to confirm that the letter had already ended.
Silence passed through the room.
Paul looked at Eugene.
Eugene's expression did not change.
He was neither angry nor relieved.
He merely sat still, like someone breaking the sentence down inside himself over and over.
"What do you think that means?" Paul asked.
Eugene did not answer immediately.
"He said he will make it there by his own strength," Paul repeated. "He was speaking to you."
"Yes."
"Then what does it mean?"
Eugene looked at the letter for a moment.
"At the very least, it is not a sentence asking for help."
"I know that."
Paul's voice grew a little rougher.
Zenith looked at him, but he did not stop.
"Does it mean he's angry?"
"That is highly likely."
"And that he resents you?"
"That may be part of it as well."
"But it does not mean he intends to cut ties with you."
This time, Eugene looked at Paul.
"No."
"How do you know?"
"Because he left a message specifically to be delivered to me."
Eugene spoke evenly.
"If he intended to end the relationship, he would not need to name me specifically."
It was logical.
As always, it was not wrong.
But to Paul, it also looked as though Eugene was clinging to that one sentence.
Evidence that Rudeus had not completely pushed him away.
As though he were returning to those same words again and again to confirm it.
Paul held out his hand.
"Let me see the letter."
Zenith hesitated briefly, then handed him the paper.
Paul read it again from the beginning.
The handwriting looked slightly more hurried than usual.
Some letters had strokes drawn too long, and the spacing between sentences was uneven.
I arrived safely in Roa.
At first, there was a slight conflict between Miss Eris and me.
She is accepting my lessons now.
She is a better child than I expected.
None of it appeared to be a lie.
But neither did it seem like he had written every truth.
"This boy is hiding something," Paul said.
Zenith's face stiffened.
"What?"
"I don't know."
"Then why would you say that?"
"Because I've written letters like this too."
Zenith's eyes went cold.
Paul realized he had said the wrong thing, but it was too late.
"You have?"
"A long time ago."
"What did you hide?"
"That isn't what's important right now."
"Tell me later."
After saying that, Zenith looked at Eugene.
"What do you think, Eugene?"
Eugene held out his hand.
Paul passed him the letter.
Eugene read the paper from beginning to end once.
It did not take long.
Once seemed sufficient.
But he did not set it down right away.
His finger stopped near the phrase slight conflict.
"There is a high likelihood that the incident has been understated."
Zenith's lips stiffened.
"Was something dangerous involved?"
"I cannot confirm that."
"Then why do you think so?"
"There is too little explanation between the report that he arrived in Roa and his current circumstances."
Eugene indicated the sentences with a fingertip.
"He says he clashed with Eris Boreas Greyrat, and that she subsequently began accepting his lessons. But there is no cause given for the change in their relationship."
"They could have simply become friends."
"If so, it is highly likely he would have included an ordinary explanation of the process."
Eugene paused briefly.
"Rudeus does not dislike explaining things he has resolved himself."
Paul snorted before he could stop himself.
"That's true."
Rudeus was a child who pretended to be humble, yet subtly explained the things he had done well.
When he succeeded at magic, he spoke about its principles. When he taught Sylphiette something new, he always made sure the family heard about the result.
Yet that child had omitted the entire central process by which he became close to Eris.
Then it was something he had not wanted to write, or could not write.
"Could he be hurt?" Zenith asked.
Eugene could not answer.
More precisely, he did not answer.
That silence alone darkened Zenith's expression further.
"He is alive," Eugene said. "He was able to write the letter himself, and he is in a condition to continue teaching."
"I know that."
Zenith's voice trembled.
"But he still could have been hurt."
"Yes."
Eugene did not lie.
Zenith closed her eyes.
For a moment, Paul resented Eugene.
Why could he not offer his mother even one reassuring word?
That Rudeus would be fine.
That nothing serious had likely happened.
Why could he not tell even that small lie?
But the thought soon turned back on himself.
Paul was the one who had sent Rudeus away unconscious.
Did he have any right to demand that Eugene comfort their mother?
"Do you think your judgment was right?" Paul asked.
Zenith opened her eyes.
Lilia also looked at Paul.
Eugene's gaze moved from the letter to Paul.
"What do you mean?"
"Sending Rudeus away."
Paul leaned forward in his chair.
"You not stopping it. You testing Ghislaine, and saying that he needed to learn something by his own strength."
"..."
"In the end, it seems he accomplished something by himself and earned the recognition of this girl named Eris."
Paul tapped the letter with his finger.
"So were you right?"
Eugene did not answer for a long time.
In the past, perhaps he would have answered immediately.
The result aligned with the objective.
Rudeus had begun making independent judgments.
Therefore, the choice had been valid.
Something like that.
But now Eugene looked at the pressed handwriting in the letter.
The event Rudeus could not write to Mother about.
The brief distance he had left for Paul.
The sentence sent to Eugene, which seemed to refuse help.
"I cannot judge that yet," Eugene said.
Paul narrowed his eyes.
"What?"
"The fact that Rudeus grew through an experience does not prove that the process was right."
"..."
"Surviving danger does not justify the choice that placed him in danger."
Paul could not say anything.
Those words were directed at him as well.
At the same time, they sounded as though they were directed at Eugene himself.
"Then do you regret it?" Paul asked.
Eugene's lips moved ever so slightly.
"I still do not know precisely what state the emotion called regret is."
It was an answer worthy of Eugene.
Paul almost laughed quietly.
But the words that followed stopped the laugh from coming.
"However, if the same situation occurred again, I would change the conditions."
"How?"
"I would secure more information than I did this time, and leave Rudeus the authority to refuse."
Zenith quietly looked at Eugene.
Eugene did not avoid her gaze.
"And sending him away itself?" Paul asked again.
"It was highly likely to be necessary."
"You still think so?"
"Yes."
"But the method was wrong?"
"Yes."
Paul leaned back against his chair.
It did not make him feel any better.
If Eugene had placed all the blame on him, Paul could have become angry.
But Eugene did not do that.
---
Sylphiette arrived after the sun had begun to dip.
Someone must have told her that a letter had come.
She was breathing hard, perhaps because she had run faster than usual.
She forgot even to greet Lilia, who opened the door, and asked at once, "Did a letter come from Rudy?"
Zenith rose from her seat.
"Yes. It came."
"Is he alive?"
"He is alive."
Sylphiette's shoulders lowered.
She did not cry, but she released a long breath and closed her eyes.
As though she were letting out everything she had held in for days.
"Is he doing well?"
Zenith hesitated briefly.
"He says he arrived safely in Roa, and that he has started teaching."
"What about the person named Eris?"
"They argued a little at first, but it sounds as though they are getting along now."
Zenith made the slight conflict into argued a little, making it smaller once more.
Perhaps that was what mothers were.
People who first made things small enough to bear themselves, then made them smaller still until their child could bear them too.
Sylphiette looked at the letter in Zenith's hands.
"What about me?"
The room became quiet at that question.
Paul instinctively tried to say something.
That Rudeus had asked after her.
That he had said he was sorry.
That he had said he would write separately next time.
Wouldn't that kind of lie be all right?
It would only be to reassure Sylphiette.
But before he could open his mouth, Eugene answered.
"There is nothing."
Paul glared at Eugene.
He was too honest.
Sylphiette lowered her head a little.
"I see."
It was a short response.
Eugene looked at Sylphiette.
Then, after a moment, he added, "It is his first letter."
Sylphiette raised her head.
"..."
"There is a high likelihood that another letter will come."
It was too dry to call comfort.
But it was not a lie.
Sylphiette looked at Eugene for a moment, then nodded faintly.
"Okay."
Zenith seated Sylphiette beside her.
"Would you like to see Rudy's handwriting?"
Sylphiette took the letter.
She did not begin reading from the start.
She stared at the paper for a long time, then touched the final part bearing Rudeus's name with her fingertips.
As though she were trying to confirm he was truly alive through the handwriting alone.
"His handwriting is a little different," Sylphiette said.
"Is it?"
"It looks like he wrote more hurriedly than before."
Paul and Eugene's gazes went to the letter at the same time.
Unaware of that, Sylphiette continued looking at the paper.
"But it is still Rudy's handwriting."
She carefully returned the letter to Zenith.
"Are you going to write back?"
"Of course," Zenith said.
"Do you want to write too, Sylphiette?"
Sylphiette thought for a moment.
Then she shook her head.
"I'll write when Rudy writes to me first."
It was impossible to tell whether it was stubbornness or hurt.
Probably both.
Eugene seemed to commit those words to memory as well.
---
That evening, the letter and several blank sheets of paper lay on the table.
Zenith began writing a reply first.
That she was glad he was safe.
Whether he was eating well.
Whether he was sleeping properly.
That if he had any injuries, he must not hide them.
That he should get along with Eris, but not simply let her hit him.
That Norn and Aisha were doing well.
Zenith's letter quickly filled the page.
Lilia wrote a short greeting beside her.
Aisha was still too young to write, and Norn drew several unrecognizable lines on the paper. Zenith said she would send those along as well.
For a long time, Paul only stared at a blank sheet.
He picked up the pen, then put it down.
He picked it up again, then put it down once more.
He did not know how to begin the first sentence.
To my son.
To Rudeus.
Are you well?
I am sorry.
Neither felt right.
"What should I write?"
Paul muttered without knowing who he was asking.
Eugene answered from across the table.
"Apologize."
Paul raised his head.
"I know that."
"Then write it."
"It isn't as easy as you make it sound."
"The shorter the sentence, the less possibility there is of distortion."
Paul gave a hollow laugh.
"You think about efficiency even in an apology?"
"It would be better to remove unnecessary excuses."
He had hit the mark.
Paul picked up the pen.
Then he wrote.
To Rudeus.
I am sorry.
After writing that much, he stopped again.
Eugene looked down at the paper.
"What next?" Paul asked.
"Write the excuses afterward."
"So I can write them after all?"
"An explanation is necessary. But if it comes before the apology, it is highly likely to read as a sentence meant to evade responsibility."
Paul stared at Eugene for a long time.
"Are you really seven years old?"
Eugene did not answer.
Paul turned back to the paper.
I am sorry.
That one line was more difficult than swinging a sword.
Even so, he did not erase it.
---
Even after Zenith and Lilia went to their rooms, Eugene remained at the table.
A small sheet of paper lay before him.
Pretending to write his own reply, Paul watched Eugene.
Eugene did not lift his pen for a long time.
It could not be because he had nothing to say to Rudeus.
Perhaps he had too much to say.
Or perhaps he did not know what name to give those words.
"Are you writing too?" Paul asked.
"Yes."
"What will you write?"
"I am still organizing it."
"Just write whatever you want to write."
Paul did not know that Eris had said the same thing to Rudeus earlier that day.
Eugene looked at Paul for a moment.
Then he looked back down at the paper.
After a while, his pen moved.
It was not long.
Only two lines.
Rudeus.
I understand. Make it there by your own strength.
Eugene's pen stopped.
But after a long while, he added one final sentence.
However, do not die.
Was that a request?
Paul wanted to ask.
Was it an order?
A condition?
Or something else whose name Eugene did not yet know?
But he did not ask.
Eugene folded the paper.
He placed his short message beside Paul's reply and Zenith's letter.
Rudeus's empty chair remained as it was.
But that night, it did not look entirely empty.
A letter had crossed the road once.
And now, several sentences were prepared to travel back along that road.
The next morning, the Greyrat family's reply left Buena Village.
Toward Roa.
Toward the child who had declared he would make it there by his own strength.
And from his younger twin brother, who still could not call the words telling him to return alive love.
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