Chapter 134

At Edgar's answer, Edwin grinned smugly, as if to say see, I told you.

They weren't competing, and yet somehow Edgar felt like he'd lost. His face pulled into a frown before he could stop it. He wasn't a small child; Edgar knew perfectly well what he was feeling.

Jealousy that Edwin held memories of the father Edgar himself could barely recall.

"……Edwin."

Not many memories were left. It was the same with his mother. That was why Edgar had thrown himself into Albrecht's research and the writings he'd left behind. Those were among the few of his parents' footsteps Edgar could follow.

He'd never talked with Edwin about it. But Edgar had vaguely assumed Edwin was the same. They'd been the same age when their mother had disappeared and when their father had died. Twins — of course.

Coming back to the past, and learning Edwin was the same, hadn't changed that assumption. He'd had no reason to think about it deeply, but wasn't it obvious? Eight years old. Even for the twenty-three-year-old Edgar, it was ancient history — for Edwin, who'd lived longer than that, it would only have faded further.

"How do you know that?"

"Hm?"

"You're so sure Dad was a mage."

"Mm……"

Edwin's eyes slid away from Edgar's, darting about.

"Dad was into history too, so he researched magic. But that's not what you mean, is it."

"Edgar, honestly……"

Edwin's face went slack as he laughed.

"You catch on in the weirdest places. When I was practically begging you to figure something out before, you had nothing."

"……"

"Look, Edgar. I've always liked magic. It's cool, right? So the fact that magic's declined in this age used to feel really… mm, yeah. Kind of disappointing."

"What I meant was—"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. But listen, Edgar. You wouldn't remember, but I've been into magic for a long time."

Edwin said it quietly. There was still something a little off about it, but that was just Edwin.

The measured tone, unsuited to a small child, made Edgar's cheeks flush for no good reason. Edwin had read what was in his head. Edgar was aware he was sulking.

"That, I do remember……"

"Right. I was always saying it."

Edwin snickered.

"I told Dad too, obviously. That's why he decided he needed to learn magic. Because of me. Because I said I wanted to try using it."

"……"

"He asked you too, but you said no."

He had no memory of that at all.

But he couldn't yell at Edwin for lying. Edgar knew himself well enough. Even after coming back to the past — an unheard-of thing to have gone through — magic wasn't a priority for him.

"I… wasn't interested in magic."

"You still aren't, honestly."

Edgar nodded, cautious.

Truthfully, even now, when Edwin went on about the blessing bestowed on the Alharn royal family, it didn't quite land. If it hadn't been Edwin telling him, and if Edgar himself hadn't come back to the past, he'd have dismissed it as nonsense and refused to believe.

Edwin saw Edgar's sulky face and laughed.

"That's why. That's why you don't remember. You were too little too."

"Mm……"

Unable to deny it, Edgar hunched his shoulders. Edwin pretended not to notice.

"But it was something I wanted, so of course I remember it."

Edgar had understood the explanation, and yet his face stayed dark. Edwin thought about tossing a joke his way and let it go.

Still, this was better than before. Compared to the days when they couldn't even bring up Albrecht's or Harold's names, he was grateful just to have Edgar grumbling like this. At least it meant Edgar could look the past in the face.

"And also."

Edwin drew the words out. In any case, this was what he'd meant to tell him from the start.

"I regretted it afterward. For a pretty long time?"

"……?"

"Actually, I still regret it a little."

"……Why?"

The sweet kid dropped it the moment Edwin let on that he didn't want to say more. He did feel a little bad about using that against him, but Edwin would have made the same call anyway.

The explanation he'd given Edgar was… well, basically not a lie. Obviously there was no way Dad had asked Edgar. That had been strictly between Albrecht and Edwin. Edwin hadn't been off his head enough to teach anything that complicated to a kid happily drooling through his afternoon nap.

"Dad gave me something, and I couldn't find it."

"The thing you mentioned earlier?"

"Yeah."

"You said Uncle… Grisha probably had it."

"Because that's the most likely."

Edgar eyed Edwin skeptically. Given all the talk of magic, he seemed to have guessed at least that it was something magic-related, even if he didn't know what.

"Look, even if Dad was a mage — I told you before, right? Right now there isn't much mana around, so real magic isn't possible."

"But there are still people who use magic. Master Benito uses it."

The magic instructor their uncle had found for them had come in useful. Edwin nodded, his face brightening.

"They use it at the theatre too."

"Yeah. They do."

Edgar's brow furrowed.

"So if what you say is true, then when magic gets used a lot——"

"It'll hold as long as Ryan Adler is king. His bloodline's diluted enough that he wouldn't normally count as royal anymore, but he just barely qualifies enough for the magic to recognize him."

Edwin shrugged.

"Using that so-called magic isn't going to end the world."

"……"

Edgar slowly turned Edwin's words over in his head.

Edwin didn't interrupt him. He'd deliberately thrown the information out scattered and disordered, so it would take Edgar time to absorb it all. Which was fine. He'd wanted it that way — so he could keep Edgar confused and hide the parts he didn't want to talk about.

Bright kid he was, he'd figure it out eventually. He already knew Edwin was hiding something. But as long as it was Edwin doing the hiding, Edgar wouldn't force the issue.

Edwin, in his place, would have grilled him somehow — this was why sweet kids always got the short end of it.

Before Edgar could dig any deeper, Edwin clapped his hands and cleared the air.

"Alright, let's wrap up. Don't get swept up just because I said 'mage.' Magic costs a lot, but if you've got the materials, you could use it too, Edgar. That's what magic is right now."

And yet Albrecht had made that magic. Edwin still didn't understand how the man had pulled it off.

"Then why'd you make it sound so serious?"

"Just because?"

Edgar glared at him.

"It's more fun that way."

"Edwin……"

"Fine, fine. Don't hit me."

"……"

"But even in this state of things, if you do it right, you can pass for pulling off some pretty decent magic."

To Edgar, magic was an all-or-nothing thing. Either the sparkle effect they used at the theatre, or turning time itself back.

Going on about what magic could do for a kid who hadn't been into magic to begin with — no matter how long you talked, none of it would land until he saw it himself. Edwin understood that.

Edwin thought back to the conversation he'd had with Albrecht before Albrecht died. Not that anyone else could read it if they saw it, but even so, he hadn't wanted to show it to anyone. So he'd hidden it. Albrecht had taught him how to open the place, so he could take it out and use it when the need came.

The family safe.

The safe in Albrecht's bedroom — the family head's bedroom — hidden by old magic.

In the chaos after Albrecht's death, Edwin never got the chance to open the safe. The book he'd made together with Albrecht had vanished somewhere out of Edwin's reach.

The book Grisha had handed him later, in the ruins of the royal castle, wasn't that one. But that one, he'd said, had originally been found by his uncle Harold, at the Bertholdt manor in the capital.

The grimoire that could turn back time — the one that had brought a whole world to ruin.

Even if things went wrong and it all played out again, that book would still come back to Edwin.

"A grimoire."

"A grimoire?"

"You could also call it a spellbook. Remember?"

"……The one Master Benito talked about?"

"Yeah. It helps you use magic. If you have a proper grimoire and know how to use it, even if it isn't anything grand……"

Still, he needed to find it as fast as he could. Really, really — if things went sideways enough that the book vanished somewhere, they'd be in trouble. Too much had changed for even Edwin to say anything for certain. Even if the book was lost, it had to be lost in front of Edwin's own eyes.

"You can pass for a mage."

"……With that?"

Edgar was still deeply skeptical. He wouldn't say anything sharp to his twin, but the doubt was written all over his face.

"Sure. I may not look it, but I was a pretty amazing mage, you know?"

"……You?"

"As of right now, you could even call me the world's greatest mage."

"I'm sure."

Edgar scoffed.

"You said magic doesn't even work properly right now. So being the strongest in this environment means what… you sparkle harder? That's the only magic I remember."

"That's exactly why we need the grimoire Dad made. That one really is something."

Beyond Albrecht's grimoire, he had to start by tracing where the one they'd made together had ended up. That it wasn't at the capital manor was certain.

It was an emergency measure — for whenever Edwin needed to protect Edgar. Albrecht wouldn't have hidden it somewhere Edwin couldn't reach.

Coming clean to Grisha was one option. It had the advantage of keeping the man from wasting his time on a cipher he couldn't crack.

"Something, huh……"

"Magic can do a lot more than you think, Edgar."

"Like what?"

"Well. A sound from far away — you could hear it as if someone were whispering right at your ear."

Edwin moved with theatrical flair, deliberately folding his fingers down one at a time.

"You could sense if someone was sneaking up on you……"

"……And?"

"You could make something like an invisible shield."

"……"

"So Uncle doesn't get hurt."

Would this be enough to bewitch Edgar? Edwin whispered it in a sweet voice.

He couldn't cut Edgar off from magic entirely, so he needed to redirect his attention. So Edgar wouldn't turn his curiosity toward more dangerous information. Edgar didn't need to know what Edwin had sacrificed to come back to the past.

---

Lambert manor, capital.

"Yeah. Turnout's going to be at its highest tonight."

"Just how much does everyone hate Carlisle?"

Grisha checked himself in the mirror as he spoke. He usually dressed neatly, but tonight was different. From head to toe he was decked in expensive things. Of course, the most valuable thing there was the man wrapped up in it all.

Grisha turned and took the cloak Harold held out. The weather was muggy even after sundown, but the old tradition held. On the black cloak, the crests of Lambert and Reichnek were embroidered side by side.

"That's part of it, but they want to see Gerald. Gerald without Carlisle, I mean."

"What do you think?"

"Me?"

Harold too was in finery unlike his usual dress. He couldn't rake a hand through his neatly done hair the way he usually did, and dropped it again with visible reluctance.

At his chest, alongside several medals, a snowflake-shaped brooch glinted.

"Gerald is Gerald."

Grisha answered as he climbed into the carriage.

"The same way Carlisle is Carlisle."

The Founding Day eve banquet.

Grisha Lambert and Harold Bertholdt in attendance.