The Prelude (10)

Affairs can prove inscrutable even to the enlightened.

If life unfolded predictably for all, where would the intrigue lie? Yet even accounting for this variability, my circumstances seemed extreme.

“Professor.”

“Yes?”

“Why are you regarding me with such an expression…?”

“…It’s nothing.”

I instantly recognized that gaze.

The nuanced eye contact, the subtle facial cues – the look one receives after a minor transgression, a gentle admonition to exercise more prudence henceforth rather than overt reprimand.

While it seemed an overreach, after probing with a few leading questions over the subsequent days, the verdict materialized.

The professor was aware of the shadow cabal’s presence within the city.

No, he did not seem to discern Freugne’s specific identity, yet harbored certain suspicions nonetheless.

However, I refrained from offering clarifications to Professor Magnee, who had drawn remarkably accurate inferences.

Separate from confidentiality concerns, a candid explanation detailing the truth seemed more liable to strain credulity.

For who would believe it? That I had retrieved a child, nurtured her upbringing, only for her to graduate from schooling into a full-fledged shadow operative?

And that I had now become complicit in this endeavor – truly, human affairs could defy comprehension. Few, if any, likely led lives as dynamic as mine.

And since the professor feigned ignorance, I opted to play along in kind.

As the atmosphere grew slightly awkward, I attempted to steer the conversation:

“So, how fares your research progress?”

“I’ve obtained live operational data and conducted extensive experimentation. The sole remaining question involves real-world battlefield performance… Only time will reveal that.”

“I see.”

Another uncomfortable silence ensued.

I idled away the moments test-driving an automobile, firing a railgun at the walls.

I had meticulously accumulated all available intelligence on the Demonic Tribe through arduous fieldwork – their magic, the terrain of their occupied lands, their political and military structures.

Nor had I neglected weapons development, furnishing talented mercenary candidates selected by Royal Academy members with railguns.

The trucks provided at a relatively modest cost by Ceres Martop should be circulating along the Belfast borderlands.

The arduous nights spent ensuring their temperamental engines functioned properly had become mere unpleasant memories.

From my position, I had undertaken every viable endeavor. While further improvements remained theoretically possible, the time investment versus output proved unfavorable given our current magical and technological limitations.

Yet simply proclaiming I had done my utmost did not alleviate the weight.

This war’s outcome would serve as the report card for every action I had taken since inexplicably arriving in this world.

“Edan.”

“Yes?”

“What are your plans after the war?”

The professor, noticing my unfocused fiddling with components, inquired.

“You’ll be fine, won’t you? Typically, such lines precede a character’s demise in films.”

“Then should I presume defeat? The Demons may spare us, in that case.”

“Not quite. Let me ponder – what deeds could earn me accolades?”

It was a consideration I had never entertained.

Could I not chart my future once the Demonic threat was overcome? Yet, having raised the topic, I indulged in contemplation.

“For starters, I shall continue frequenting the Martop to accumulate wealth.”

“You lead a rather unexciting life.”

“Ah, wait. There may be other pursuits.”

“What about marriage?”

“Marriage…?”

Professor Magnee’s expression shifted subtly.

“It’s rather unusual for you to have remained unattached thus far. Could your preferences perhaps lie…?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then?”

“I simply lacked a suitable partner.”

“Or you drove them all away, more likely.”

“……”

I could not refute that assertion. It was factual.

My original plan had entailed pursuing such matters once Freugne reached adulthood.

Not to sever ties or expunge her from the family register, but for the fledgling to naturally depart the nest, as is the way of things.

‘Huaaah……’

‘No, why this again today?’

‘Eryne has grown up….’

‘Yes, she has matured, indeed. But I did not anticipate it occurring so swiftly……’

‘To be fair, I’ve been having similar thoughts lately as well.’

‘Gwaaaaaah……’

Freigha’s laments, culminating in beer-chugging rampages and hangovers rendering her catatonic the following day, had conveyed similar sentiments.

Of course, her words held merit, even if her subsequent conduct did not.

The key distinction between Freigha and myself lay in Eryne’s choice to depart the nest of her own volition, while Freugne seemed adamant about clinging indefinitely.

“Professor.”

“Yes?”

“Might I seek your counsel on a matter?”

Neither Freugne nor I had conventional parental figures. Examining our life trajectories revealed considerable parallels –

primarily our childhood hardships and adversities, followed by eventual success, albeit measured by vastly divergent standards. Yet that discrepancy seemed inconsequential.

Professor Magnee had essentially served as a guardian of sorts during my formative years. Surely he could provide insights.

I had frequently sought his parenting advice, even if the outcomes sometimes undermined his credibility. Yet I opted to place my trust in him once more.

The professor nodded.

“What does one do when a child becomes disobedient?”

“You were precisely that way yourself.”

“……”

“There were many instances where even corporal punishment proved ineffective. Yet here you stand, a respectable figure.”

Even so.

“Does any parent truly wish to be surpassed by their child? You must comprehend that now, surely.”

“…I suppose you’re correct.”

It was an inescapable truth.

No matter how frequently I remonstrated, certain aspects remained unalterable, anguishing me with clandestine machinations.

Yet the underlying affection never wavered – an inevitable, unwinnable dynamic.

Several hours before the first gunshots rang out,

Edan’s residence in central Londinium remained tranquil.

The pitter-patter of rain resonated beyond the windows.

Freugne had forgone sleep, awaiting this moment.

The nature of this vigil required no explicit mention between her and Edan, who had also taken leave – not yet a paid vacation – to witness the unfolding events firsthand.

He refrained from grandiose proclamations about turbulent storms or the like. Such ominous overtones seemed unwarranted.

Under ordinary circumstances, he might have attempted to lighten the heavy atmosphere with his trademark dad jokes. Yet the prevailing mood precluded levity.

After a prolonged, wordless interval observing the rainfall, Freugne finally spoke:

“…Could you perhaps provide some reassurance?”

In the past, he would have readily embraced or gently stroked her hair without hesitation.

Edan raised his hand momentarily before faltering, uncertain how to proceed. His adrift limb hovered aimlessly.

Ordinarily, he might have savored such delicate emotional nuances.

Yet at this juncture, he harbored no desire to indulge in such subtleties. He yearned for unambiguous solace, by whatever means.

“Uncle is already aware, isn’t he?”

“No, I–”

“I’ll be fine.”

“……”

“Even if not me, there are surely countless superior candidates–”

“It’s because Uncle possesses such comprehensive knowledge. Surely you do not intend to suggest I wed someone oblivious to these matters?”

Freugne waved her hand dismissively.

“Maintaining such a double life would render marital bliss immensely arduous. And I cannot fathom Uncle consigning me to a solitary, lonely decline in my twilight years.”

“Is that the sole rationale? That they are privy to your secrets?”

“Perhaps not the entirety.”

And after a contemplative pause:

“For I have only disclosed them to you, Uncle.”

Freugne leaned forward slightly.

Her intentions were unmistakable, and Edan recognized them intimately.

For all her cavalier straddling of legal boundaries, Freugne adhered to self-imposed ethical principles, however minimalistic.

Romance constituted one such tenet.

Her flirtations – the occasional breast grazes, the folded arms – had remained within the realm of enticement thus far.

Was this not the extent to which most ventured? Certainly, she had intimated that adoption paperwork would pose no impediment. Yet she had never employed her wealth or influence to exert undue pressures upon Edan.

‘For I am no Demon.’

Freugne considered this the distinguishing criterion separating humans from the Demonic Tribe.

Mind control magic could readily compel professions of love. The Dark Lord – or rather, their subordinate Demons – had once proposed exploiting such abilities.

Of course, she had rebuffed that offer, culminating in the present war preparations. A decision she did not regret.

Freugne’s affections centered on Edan’s more mundane aspects – his capacity to derive joy from trivial occurrences like rising stock prices, his peculiar combination of foresight yet bourgeois sensibilities in certain regards, the warmth of his concern when she fell ill, offering a soothing glass of milk.

For these were not artificially manufactured, emotionally devoid attractions.

“If you find it disagreeable, simply holding my hand momentarily would suffice.”

“……,”

“That alone would satisfy me.”

Perhaps not wholly sufficient, yet enough to temporarily assuage her disquiet.

Of course, she would harbor lingering wistfulness. Yet she could persevere. Wars did not conclude overnight, affording ample opportunity for his sentiments to evolve.

With semi-resigned acceptance, Freugne closed her eyes in anticipation.

And then.

-Smck-

“……!”

After momentarily tracing her lips, Freugne registered the occurrence, beaming with an uncharacteristically radiant smile –

an expression one could scarcely fathom her capable of exhibiting.