Chapter 104

His head was still foggy, as if he hadn't quite woken up.

Edgar rubbed his eyes. He'd slept deeply enough that he wasn't yawning-tired, but the floaty, half-there feeling wouldn't shake loose.

Not when Uncle had lifted him down from the bed. Not even when they'd sat down to a spread far too big for breakfast, with Uncle saying they had to eat well today because he'd been too worn out to eat dinner the night before. Not when Edwin had dragged him off to see Adelheid again, and somehow the three of them had ended up taking Nabi for a walk.

Edgar's head still wouldn't clear.

"Edgar."

"...Hm."

Belatedly registering his uncle's voice, Edgar lifted his head.

"What is it, Uncle?"

"Still tired? Want to go in and sleep?"

Edgar shook his head hard. He knew it was childish, but in his foggy state, even opening his mouth felt like too much.

His uncle didn't press further. Edgar's empty hand twitched. He'd been too busy being pulled along by Edwin to notice anything else, but his hand felt strangely empty. He should have brought the bear.

Strange. Why was he so tired?

Edgar couldn't understand it.

It didn't help that Edwin was off in the distance, laughing at something or other with Adelheid. Edwin had come down on the same train, but it was as if Edgar had absorbed his exhaustion for him.

"..."

Edgar closed his empty hand around nothing.

He remembered talking to Adelheid in the morning. Despite the explanation before they'd left the capital, Edwin had gone right on calling Adelheid "big sister" and cozying up to her, and Edgar had snorted at how ridiculous it was. He remembered that clearly.

But... before that, he didn't know. They'd gotten off the train at Arnmolt station and switched to a carriage. Looking out the window at a city he'd never been to before — that was vivid. So was crossing the meadow after leaving the city, when Adelheid had come galloping toward them alone on horseback.

Edgar's memory grew hazy after that. After they'd arrived at the Reichnek estate.

"...Uncle."

"Hm?"

Even at the small sound, his uncle answered right away. Edgar looked up at him and then closed his mouth.

Harold didn't press him to say what was wrong; he only looked back with warm eyes. It was the wordless assurance that whatever Edgar said, he'd listen, and that even if he said nothing at all, he'd still be right there.

Edgar's chest went uncomfortably warm, and he jerked his gaze away.

Even after that pointless call from his nephew, Harold's expression didn't change. Edgar started to grumble at his innocent uncle, then thought better of it.

"I'm thirsty."

"Want some water?"

"Yes."

Before Uncle could get water, Linda — who must have caught the exchange from somewhere — was already handing him a pitcher and a glass. The chilled water with lemon in it finally woke him up.

Once his head cleared, his memory sharpened too.

He remembered his impression of House Reichnek, that for such an old and prestigious family, they had a surprisingly homey feel. That impression still hadn't changed.

As lord of the largest city in the east, the Marquis Reichnek must have had plenty on his plate, and yet here he was, personally holding the reins of his granddaughter's horse. Presumably to keep Adelheid from suddenly bolting. The marchioness was listening to her granddaughter, and beside her, Edwin was drawing bursts of loud laughter with whatever he was saying.

"More?"

"Just half, please."

"Waking up a bit?"

Edgar gulped down the water without answering his uncle's question.

Even if they hadn't mixed much with noble houses, he had spent years at the Lambert estate. The moment he was old enough to enter the academy he'd dragged Edwin into the dorms, but every holiday it had been back to that huge, gloomy estate.

He knew etiquette well enough. Young as he was, he knew of houses that wouldn't overlook a child's slip, even one not of the family. He'd sensed it already on arriving at the estate, but really — just how close was Uncle with the Reichnek family?

No. Edgar corrected himself. Not the Reichnek family — Grisha Lambert. Lambert blood didn't seem to be running in Grisha, but he certainly carried the Reichnek line.

"...I'm still a little sleepy."

"Yeah? Adelheid said she wanted to go to the beach this afternoon. Think you're up for it?"

His uncle spoke gently.

"You don't have to go if you're tired."

"Edwin's going, isn't he?"

"He is, yeah."

"And you, Uncle?"

His uncle's eyes widened slightly in surprise before returning to normal.

"Want me to stay with you?"

"...No. I'll go too."

"You sure? You could take a nap with Uncle."

Edgar clutched the water glass tight and shook his head.

His memory kept breaking off after they'd gone up to the room yesterday. He remembered Uncle leaving the room to check on the luggage. And Edwin had definitely said he had something he wanted to ask...

"Edgar!"

Edwin waved from a distance. When Edgar only stared back, he made an exasperated face, thumped his chest, and came running over.

Edwin, cheeks fully flushed with excitement, plucked the glass out of Edgar's hand and passed it to their uncle. Harold took the glass in stride. Edwin, paying his uncle no mind, tugged Edgar along.

"Edgar, have you ever ridden a horse at the beach?"

"What?"

"I haven't either!"

"Obviously."

Edgar had learned to ride before — before, meaning before he'd come back to the past. It had been part of the education the Duke of Lambert had given him. Riding in a small child's body was a different story, but if anything, the awkwardness of it covered up the practiced skill.

But that was Edgar, not Edwin. He couldn't quite remember whether they'd started riding while their father was still alive...

At Edgar's flat reply, Edwin grinned.

"That big sister said riding on the beach is so much fun."

"Edwin. That's all well and good, but you can't ride alone yet. Understood?"

"I know that much, Uncle!"

His uncle looked at Edwin with an expression that said he wasn't especially convinced. Edgar felt the same. Edwin was always full of energy, but for some reason today he seemed to have even more of it than usual.

Edwin wasn't likely to just take off and do something dangerous, but he was still eight. With another go-getter kid the same age around, there was no telling what he might get up to.

"You said you were going to teach us to ride, right?"

"That's right."

"But I want to try going fast — Uncle, can you take me?"

"You want to try going fast?"

"Yes!"

"Later on. And if today doesn't work out, is another day all right?"

"Of course."

Edgar blinked. Warmth was coming through the hand Edwin was holding.

The warm, soft hand of a young child. Edgar slowly tilted his head to the side.

Edwin loved grabbing Edgar's hand and dragging him around, so Edwin's hand was familiar enough to Edgar. But hadn't they held hands yesterday?

Not just one hand like this, but both hands, gripped tight—

A soft whine.

"Nabi wants to come along too?"

Nabi, who was usually well-behaved, whined and pushed his way in between Edgar and Edwin.

Edwin gave the dog rough, two-handed strokes as Nabi tried to lick his face. The huge sheepdog, nearly the size of a child, wagged his tail hard at the attention. The brown, white, and black tail, sweeping side to side, kept thwacking Edgar's leg. Big as he was, the tail carried some weight.

"You want to come? Come on, then! How could I go anywhere and leave you behind?"

Edgar looked at his empty hand.

Something kept nagging at him. Like a sneeze that had almost come and then hadn't, some corner of him itched and stayed unsatisfied. There was something he was forgetting, and it felt like if he could just reach a little further, he'd have it.

"Edgar, you said you wanted to be friends with big sister."

"...Huh?"

"Want to go talk to her? She wants to be friends with you too. She said you don't have to lie about liking horses on her account. If you don't like horses, you can play with something else."

"That's not..."

Edgar fumbled. It wasn't Edwin's words that threw him off so much as that strange itch still clawing at the corner of his mind.

Looking into Edwin's eyes, the sensation grew stronger.

"...It's not that. I like riding too."

"So?"

Edwin's eyes went wide.

"Are you still tired? You slept plenty."

He'd thought Edwin was worried, but rarely for him, Edwin looked put out.

"Come play with us too, Edgar. Isn't it more fun if everyone plays together? We came all this way."

Edgar had expected the usual Edwin follow-up — that if he was tired, he should rest properly. Even through that nagging feeling, he looked at Edwin, taken aback.

And then he was embarrassed at his own surprise. It brought home how much he'd been leaning on his twin. When he hadn't been sure whether he could save Uncle, when he'd been anxious not knowing what was going to happen. Every time, Edwin had gripped Edgar's hand tight and helped him settle.

However grown-up he acted, Edwin was only eight. Looking after his twin wasn't a job for a kid his age. And Edgar wasn't really eight. He was an adult.

"Edwin. If Edgar says he doesn't want to, you can't force him."

"But, Uncle!"

Edwin whined, dragging out the word. Harold soothed him with a rueful look, but didn't forget to check on Edgar.

"Uncle got pretty tired sleeping on the train. Edgar probably did too. You're really okay, Edwin?"

"I was fine."

"That varies from person to person."

Edwin's lip stuck out further and further. It was funny and a little sad at the same time, and Edgar tugged at his uncle's sleeve.

"Uncle, I'm okay too."

His twin had believed him without hesitation when he'd told him he'd come back from the future. He'd blurted it out on impulse at the time, but looking back now, that had been wrong too. Edgar was really twenty-three, so he was fine, but it wasn't the kind of burden a young child should carry.

Talk about their uncle dying, and everything.

While they'd been staying at the small house in the King's Woods and then at the hotel, Edwin hadn't complained once. But had all of that been him accommodating Edgar too? Because Edgar had said he liked being with just his uncle, the three of them?

Was what he'd been holding back for Edgar's sake finally bursting out, now that he'd seen another child his age?

"It's just that I'm a little tired."

"Does your throat hurt or anything?"

"I'm fine."

Harold pressed a hand to Edgar's forehead.

"No fever... but do you want to see the doctor anyway?"

"I said I'm fine. If I just go to bed early tonight, I'll be all right."

Feeling bad about it, Edgar turned to Edwin.

"I'm too tired to ride today, but I want to see the beach too."

"Really?"

"Yeah. That's the beach over there? You said you could see the ocean from... the room..."

Edgar stopped mid-sentence.

Wait. He could see the ocean from the room? Right. When he'd gotten up in the morning and pulled the curtains back, he'd been able to see a stretch of white-sand beach in the distance.

Even then, he hadn't been able to get out of bed. But Edwin, plastered to the window, had clearly been making a fuss about being able to see the ocean.

"That's right. You can see the sea."

Edwin broke into a wide grin, as if he'd never been put out at all.

But the moment Edwin turned back toward Adelheid, who was waving from a distance, for an instant so short Edgar could have written it off as his imagination, every trace of a smile vanished from that innocent young face. The bright blue eyes glittered with a coldness that felt strangely unfamiliar, until he turned toward Adelheid again with a smile in full bloom.

How did you end up coming back to the past?

Edgar blinked.

Do you remember what happened?

Ah.

The pieces of memory that had kept breaking off snapped back together. Instead of catching Edwin, Edgar clenched his fist.

Now that yesterday's shock had faded, Edgar could think about it calmly. The reason Edwin's question had shaken him so much was that since coming back to the past, he'd never once thought about it.

Because he hadn't wanted to think about it.

Before he'd opened his eyes in that cold playroom he'd buried away in childhood — the last thing Edgar had seen was the blade driving into his own heart.