Ch.34The Man’s Anguish (1)

# At Sixteen, That Autumn

In the autumn of my sixteenth year.

We stood in a vast field where weapons of all shapes were thrust upside down into the ground, gazing beyond the horizon.

Beside me was another young man.

A bothersome fellow who lectured me as I rested against a massive old tree.

“Sigh! You always make life difficult for yourself. No, you deliberately choose the harder path.”

“If you say so, then I suppose that’s true.”

I agreed without the slightest denial.

“Good grief.”

He sighed.

The man was too large to be called a boy. Despite being the same age as me, he was so robust that I had to crane my neck to look up at him.

I often spent time with him due to circumstances, though I frequently found his excessive meddling annoying.

He said, “You’re too honest. When talking with you, there’s never any barrier, and all your feelings are transparent. To put it nicely, you’re so straightforward there’s no room for conflict.”

“That’s fortunate.”

My dry response made him furrow his brow. He quickly relaxed his expression and continued his sermon calmly.

“But that also means you don’t respect us as equals. Honesty is a virtue, but too much of it means you have no attachment—to us or to yourself.”

“…”

As I remained silent, he gently advised me.

“Having secrets you can’t tell or things you want to hide isn’t bad. It’s natural behavior that comes from fear of being disliked or wanting to maintain friendly relationships. Everyone does it. But what about you?”

There was no reason to argue. Every word he spoke was undeniably true.

He continued, “You probably don’t expect anything from anyone. You think that unlike us, you’ll always remain a fundamentally inferior person. Regardless of our unbiased attitude, you’re convinced that because of your different origins, our relationship could change at any moment. Am I wrong?”

“You’re right.”

His piercing observations hit so accurately they stung a little.

“Even now, you’re a talent who would be welcomed anywhere. In a year, you might be standing at Astelnerca’s right side, looking down on us. Even if you don’t want it, Astelnerca is certainly capable of making that happen.”

“True. But that’s separate from my feelings.”

I gazed up at the sky with eyes that seemed to capture a dreamlike landscape. It was an exercise in constantly sifting through the past to recall the most brilliant memories.

That nostalgic, humbling moment of salvation.

“That day two years ago. I saw light in Astelnerca’s eyes. I received a name and clothes, becoming a guest of the Count’s family instead of remaining in that hellish earthen male brothel. That’s reason enough for me to be loyal for life. I have no reason to reject anything Astelnerca offers.”

“That’s not so different from what I pointed out.”

I firmly shook my head at his words.

“I would accept it even if Astelnerca denied all my achievements. I wouldn’t mind beatings or verbal abuse. Conversely, I have no right to refuse gifts of wealth and power.”

“You?”

“Simply being the best for Astelnerca in any situation—that’s my reason for living. My personal feelings or unnecessary comfort don’t matter.”

I added finally, “In the same sense, I won’t expect anything from Astelnerca. I absolutely shouldn’t.”

After hearing my final comment, the man reproached me with a voice tinged with sadness.

“Those words of yours—if Astelnerca heard them, he would be truly saddened.”

“I know that, Bartlant. That’s why I’m only telling you. Because I can rely on you. If Astelnerca asked me directly, it would be different.”

“Even my patience isn’t infinite. If pushed too far, I might spill everything to Lady Lorian and Astelnerca.”

“So you won’t tell Aselln and Rusheon?”

Bartlant sneered with a somewhat amused expression.

“What’s the point in telling those bookworms who only do research or play with money? They’d just call you an idiot and be done with it.”

Bartlant shrugged his shoulders, broad enough to fit a couple of heads. I narrowed my eyes and pressed him.

“Bartlant, you’re thinking the same thing, aren’t you?”

“Shut up, you idiot Netionpiece. Come on, break’s over. Pick up a sword, spear, whatever. I’ll fix that rotten attitude of yours!”

“Sigh.”

As Bartlant suggested, I pulled one of the many weapons stuck in the hill. Bartlant was somewhat taken aback by my unexpected choice.

“Huh? What? You’re picking ‘that’? Isn’t that too advanced even for you?”

“With my rotten attitude, it’s a manageable level.”

My rather arrogant declaration spontaneously triggered Bartlant’s laughter.

“Haha! We’ve really raised a monster. Ah, let’s make a bet, Netionpiece.”

“A bet?”

“Yes. If you use ‘that’ and land even one hit on me, you lose. If not, I win. Even so, you still have no chance with ‘that’… I’ll only use one hand. If you win, I’ll keep quiet about your mindset for the rest of my life.”

I brightened immediately, tempted by the offer. Bartlant’s meddling had always been annoying to me, so this was an appealing condition.

“…Fine. What if I lose?”

At my question, Bartlant let out a sinister metallic laugh.

“Heh. Hehehe. You’ll spend time with Lady Lorian from early morning until late night.”

Bartlant’s proposal was truly malicious. I retorted in disbelief.

“What about Lorian’s wishes?”

“Don’t worry about that. She won’t refuse. If necessary, I’ll even get on my knees and beg her. If she still refuses, we’ll forget my request.”

“Make sure you keep that promise, Bartlant.”

The statement that came in response to my confirmation had nothing to do with the bet.

With bulging eyes filled with an unusually overflowing vitality of greenery.

He pointed a strangely shaped greatsword at me and declared boldly:

“Exactly half a year from now! I’ll make you see us as equals within half a year. I’ll spread that flat self-esteem of yours like thick white clouds.”

I chuckled at his confident threat.

“You really are troublesome. Unlike Aselln or Rusheon.”

“I notice you deliberately excluded Lady Lorian? So Lady Lorian and I are in the same category? I’m deeply honored.”

“…”

No further dialogue was necessary. Bartlant was skilled at steering conversations to his pace.

Getting more involved would only have negative effects. I swung my weapon with all my might toward Bartlant’s front.

That was a story from some distant autumn.

…

《Bartlant Chester》

If Astelnerca was a religious figure to me back then, Bartlant was the only one who made me feel the emotion of true friendship.

I sometimes feel ashamed of my adolescent self who was busy denying those feelings and deceiving myself.

Without him, my relationship with Lorian would have been merely that of colleagues. Surely nothing more, nothing less.

I received a kindness from Bartlant second only to Astelnerca’s.

From my one and only equal friend, whom I thought I would never see again.

◇

Thump. Thump.

I had become like a statue staring intently out the window.

While constantly reflecting on and agonizing over the previous night’s events, I was busy fidgeting with my fingers.

There was one reason.

It was because of Irefi Justitia’s strange behavior.

‘I held… I held Irefi’s hand. In reality, not in a dream…’

That was the solemn truth. And that’s why it was more confusing.

‘But why? It’s just… a hand, right? And it wasn’t even under the blanket for fear of waking Miren. We were near the pillow and not just holding hands… but interlocking fingers!’

Irefi’s delicate, white, soft touch had been imprinted in my mind with unnecessarily sensitive tactile memory.

I still can’t forget how Irefi slightly pulled at the corners of her mouth and whispered, asking if she could hold my hand.

‘But why did Irefi do that in the first place? Just looking at Miren, it’s clear she has conservative tendencies.’

She was the type who wouldn’t allow unmarried couples to hold hands even if the world turned upside down, let alone engaged ones.

Although Miren was with us, sharing the same bedroom was itself an unthinkable major event.

I only realized this after spending the night.

“Does holding hands in the same bed with someone like Irefi possibly mean… a green light? No, no. It can’t be. There’s too little plausibility no matter how you look at it.”

This is close to character collapse.

Yes. I saved Miren and cleared up the Netionpiece misunderstanding, so I can deduce that her opinion of me is at least not negative.

That should be the extent of it…

Even that day, my relationship with Irefi felt more like bickering adversaries. There’s a limit to how suddenly romance can develop.

“Did someone possess Irefi… Well, I’m possessed too, so it would be arrogant to think I’m the only possessed person in the world.”

Even as I say this, I hit another contradiction.

“That makes even less sense. At what point would a complete stranger care so much for Miren and build rapport with me? That’s beyond plausible.”

Sigh…

I spoke with the desperation of a drowning man clutching at straws.

“Hey, old man. With your 500 years of experience, give me some advice. Unlike me, you’ve had romantic experiences. I really can’t understand Irefi’s psychology…”

……

Netionpiece’s mischievous consciousness remained silent.

When I actually need him, he doesn’t show his face—enough to make me want to do a rage dance.

“Does this woman just want to make me worry alone?”

I recalled her from this morning.

Irefi waking up nonchalantly, unlocking our fingers to wake Miren.

[Good morning, Nepy.]

She greeted me calmly.

‘I couldn’t sleep at all because of you.’

I couldn’t bring myself to retort like that, so I just mumbled something appropriate.

Afterward, she continued to act surprisingly normal and spoke to me as usual.

Until the moment we returned to Marquess Justitia’s manor by carriage…

“Argh, why am I worrying so much about Irefi? It’s not like I particularly like her. We’re just friends… no, acquaintances…”

How could romance blossom with someone who sliced my waist and limbs at our first meeting! Even now, the seams of my scattered parts ache like pieces of chopped chicken whenever I see a ceremonial sword.

“Besides, I don’t have any special feelings for Irefi?”

If I had to list them, I could think of a few things.

It’s an objective fact that she’s beautiful. Plus, she’s capable. She’s diligent in everything, and her sense of responsibility as the eldest daughter who cherishes her family is admirable. Also, her sensitivity and politeness…

…… Ha.

“Why does she only have good points?! Wait, aren’t these a lot of thoughts?!”

I desperately roar into the void, trying to find her flaws.

“She’s violent… oh, but not lately. She has a prickly personality… ah, I’m the same. Her cooking is at the level of alchemy… well, I don’t have to eat it.”

At this point, I thrash about violently.

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! HAVE I GONE CRAZY?!!!”

I’m going mad.

I’m really going to lose my mind!

Irefi Justitia… this woman is making my head feel like it’s about to explode.

“Let me organize my thoughts. Why am I doing this nonsense?”

1. I slept in the same bed with Irefi, holding hands with interlocked fingers.

2. Irefi and I are definitely not that kind of relationship.

3. I question Irefi’s intentions.

4. The reason I’m obsessing over this question is…?

5.

“I’m stuck at number 4!”

Hah… I’d rather die than suffer like this.

No. Since I’m immortal, I won’t die, so I’ll just keep suffering, damn it.

“Should I go consult with the Emperor…”

As always, I straighten my disheveled uniform, tidy up my appearance, and prepare to go out.

My destination: the Imperial Palace.

I won’t need any formal announcement for entry. The Emperor is probably secretly waiting for me, bored from being swamped with state affairs.

“Yes… it’s been a while, let’s go take a look.”

Unaware that he had chosen an absurd consultation partner, the footsteps of a man voluntarily walking into hellfire left the mansion.

That man. A burning torch, an undying moth to the flame.

It was the silhouette of a twenty-six-year-old (plus N) virgin man possessed in the body of a 500-year-old former male prostitute.