Chapter 181

Julien stood in front of the bench, facing Mikhail.

Mikhail looked as unruffled as always. He'd moved his hand and was tapping lightly at the spot beside him.

"Sit."

A voice telling him what to do. It quickly blurred, as if it didn't belong to anything real, and buzzed in his ears.

"……"

Julien barely managed to pull the corners of his mouth up, and closed the hand at his side into a fist.

From leaving the dormitory until they'd reached the trail at the edge of the grounds.

Walking behind Mikhail, he'd steeled himself once more.

What he was doing now was a decision he'd made after agonizing over it. The course he had to take was already settled….

"……"

But the eyes fixed on Mikhail and the arm holding the basket were both trembling beyond his control.

"Julien."

The defenseless voice called his name. With his heart pounding louder and louder in his ears, Julien stared at Mikhail seated on the bench.

"……"

Mikhail's hair, longer than it had been the first time they met, drifted as soft as velvet, and the eyes meeting his were as still as pearls from the deep ocean.

[What am I going to do about it?]

[—I plan to help you.]

A brightness that could be aimed higher still — far higher than where it stood now.

[See you again soon. Julien.]

The truth was, at first he'd thought Mikhail's aura was just something he'd inherited from Joseph. But that wasn't it. He was a boy growing up with a light all his own….

And here I'm… doing this to you.

Julien tamped down the chest twisting with self-reproach and held on to his focus. He forced his composure and answered with his usual smile.

"Mm. Sorry."

Julien forced his unwilling steps forward and sat down a step or two away from Mikhail.

Then he drew bottles out of the basket and set them down one by one in the space between them.

What rested in his hand was clearly smooth glass.

But the skin touching that polished surface stung, as if he were gripping needles.

Clink.

Maybe that was why. Every time he set a bottle on the bench, it wobbled as if it might tip over.

Clink. Clack.

While Julien kept his head down and went on placing the bottles—

"……"

Sitting beside him, Mikhail quietly took stock of the situation, calling to mind the taste of the liquor laid out in front of him.

Cocktails, by nature, mix several different drinks together — so every kind of flavor gets blended into one. And that's actually a very good way to mask any taste or scent that doesn't belong.

Mikhail's eyes slid slowly across and came to rest on Julien's fingertips as he set the bottles down.

He was trembling like someone tense.

In truth, there was no reason to be that shaken over passing a few ordinary drinks back and forth.

At this point, it'd be hard not to figure out what Cassien told Julien to do.

A lethal drug. Or something close to one.

He meant to mix it into something to eat and get Mikhail to swallow it down.

Come to think of it, Julien asked for five days of help…. So he must be planning to feed it to me in several doses.

Mikhail wrapped up the line of reasoning with a small tilt of his head.

With that, the shape of the threat was complete.

What came chasing after the thought, link by link, was curiosity — about the person across from him and about the situation.

The truth was, Julien wasn't someone who would betray a friend he cherished or stray from what was right.

Under normal circumstances, the moment he heard a proposal like that, he'd have shouted that it was unthinkable and stormed off.

But that very same Julien Leventia….

Unable to hide what he was feeling, suffering badly enough that he couldn't even string his words together properly — was still going through with what he was doing now.

There was really only one possible reason for it.

Family.

Julien had been alone since he was five years old.

Born an unwanted guest in his own household, he had always longed for someone he could share honest affection with.

He had hoped to be recognized as a full member among the people he was bonded to.

[Ah… I'm fine! It's just — clothes I can change out of. Are you all right, sir?]

That was why he'd learned how to smile to keep people pleased before he'd ever learned to cry over his own discomfort.

[Ugh, this little kid. Where'd he go off to now to make me chase him down? It's enough to drive me crazy how he scurries around like a rat.]

And rather than fly into anger and snap back at rudeness, he'd learned faster how to let scorn and snide remarks slide.

But… it was an unfortunate thing.

By now, every one of those efforts Julien had made had become a convenient handle for Cassien to grab and twist.

Thirst and deprivation. Those are a person's weak spots.

Mikhail narrowed his eyes, just a little. Once his thinking reached this point, the full picture came into clear shape.

The condition Cassien would have used to steer Julien's behavior.

That part was painfully clear.

Bringing him into the family.

Cassien would have told Julien to secretly slip Mikhail a drug meant to harm him.

And along with that, he'd have promised that if Julien carried out the request, he would be welcomed as a full member of the family.

Julien must have wavered. Of course he did.

But even so… Julien wouldn't have caved to Cassien's offer easily.

His nature wasn't harsh or cruel to begin with, and on top of that, they had a whole history of moving through things together.

But Cassien would have anticipated that, too.

Cassien would have knocked at Julien's mind over and over, stirring the longing buried in his heart, coaxing and prodding at his insides — telling him, again and again, that he could finally give him the dream he'd been carrying for so long.

【When that day comes, we have to be one family. Don't we have to see them off together, comfort each other, and meet the new era as one?】

Because Cassien would have clearly understood the loneliness Julien had carried since birth.

【Let him see that his child is the one upholding the future — that we're together in this, as family.】

Because he would have known that even while Julien thrashed in his suffering, he wouldn't be able to fully turn his eyes away from what he lacked….

So, Julien.

Julien Leventia.

What… am I supposed to do with you.

Clink.

Mikhail had let his eyelids settle to half-mast.

At some point, the bottles moving across the bench under Julien's fingers had filled the space between them, packed in close.

Clink.

The last thing set down was a tumbler. Mikhail looked at the empty glass, then lifted his eyes.

Julien was staring blankly across at him.

In truth, he was the one trying to threaten Mikhail's safety, and yet he wore an expression like he was about to collapse on the spot.

"……"

Mikhail smiled, small. Then, to ease the tension hanging in the air, he spoke in a soft voice.

"Take your time. There's no rush."

"…Ah, yeah."

Julien barely managed to answer Mikhail. Then he dropped his head again.

"Hhh."

Julien crushed down the breath rising hot in his chest.

The self-reproach kept pricking up its head, twisting inside him, until he couldn't bring himself to look at Mikhail's face.

He knew he needed to carry the conversation naturally, but he couldn't open his mouth — afraid the tremor in his voice would give him away.

Hiss.

Eventually Julien picked up one of the bottles and poured its contents into the mixing tin used for cocktails.

Glug, glug….

A fruit wine, sweet as if honey had been added and yet sharp like sparkling water, settled at the bottom.

Next came the tonic, meant to soften the bitterness of the spirits.

After that, brightly colored chips of ice went in.

Clink.

The last to go in came from a brown bottle.

A particularly strong, bitter liquor. The taste was sharp enough that a single mouthful would set your throat tingling.

"……"

Only silence stretched across the air. Mikhail looked down at the liquids swirling together inside the mixing tin, then lifted his eyes to Julien and asked.

"Anything else still to go in?"

Julien didn't say yes or no. He just barely managed to move his hand and nod.

Click.

Once he saw Julien fit the lid onto the mixing tin and start shaking it, Mikhail dropped his gaze.

"……"

He'd guessed at every plot Julien held. But that didn't mean any anger was rising up in him.

He understood the suffering Julien was carrying.

He knew that the boy in front of him was going through a harder moment than anyone he could think of.

Mikhail blinked slowly.

In truth… he could have brought the whole scene in front of him to an end at any time.

Now that he had a full read on what was behind everything and on the situation itself — and as long as Julien didn't know that — the upper hand was effectively his.

[—What, the color and the smell of this cocktail say it's not anything I'd want to put to my lips. Let's drink this another time, Julien.]

He could even, right now, come up with some excuse and walk away from this bench.

[—Julien. Why don't you try this first? Go on.]

He could press Julien with what he already knew and declare the friendship over.

But none of that….

was what he actually wanted. Because.

[Well, see you. And next time again—]

[—Yeah, let's do something together! Where should we go? Anywhere works if I'm going with you!]

The feelings he'd had when he first met Julien — wanting to pull him out and keep him close — were still vivid.

[Yeah. Let's meet again soon, Mikhail.]

He'd save the character who had died inside the tragedy.

He'd resurrect a point of connection that had only faded into nothing, and they'd be together through it.

A long time had passed since he'd first set his mind on it, but every one of those resolutions still sat clearly in his head, as fresh as if he'd repeated them only yesterday.

Mikhail smiled, small, at last.

In fact, by now, Julien too had become someone he held genuinely precious….

So, Julien. I'll go all the way.

I'll make sure you get a chance to turn back.

Tap.

It was the moment Mikhail's resolve settled. Across from him, the clinking and shaking stopped too.

Julien stopped mixing the drink. Then he opened the lid of the mixing tin and poured what he'd made into the glass.

The cocktail swayed inside the glass in a deep pink.

"……"

Julien stared, unblinking, at the liquid he'd produced.

In that state, he pushed the glass across to where Mikhail sat. His mind wasn't working. The only thing he could do, at that moment, was move according to the goal that had been drilled into him.

A stretch of hard silence ran on.

Then, from where Mikhail sat, there was movement.

Julien's shoulders gave a small tremor as he caught the motion. At the same time, every sense he had sharpened beyond what it normally was, locking onto Mikhail's movements.

His downcast eyes caught Mikhail's hand pulling the glass toward him. His ears picked up the soft sound of the cocktail moving inside the glass.

Right now, in this very moment….

The lethal drug he had mixed with his own hands was drawing closer to Mikhail's mouth.

"The smell alone gets a pass. It's really nice."

The voice of his friend, who knew nothing of any of it, came through innocent and clear.

Julien let a low groan slip and squeezed his eyes shut. He pictured only the bright moment that would come now.

A few seconds left, at most.

Once that much passed, everything was going to be perfectly transformed.

He would be made part of the family. The father who had always been angry would welcome him with open arms, and the elder brother who had always kept him at a distance would smile and praise his younger brother's work.

"Thanks, Julien. I'll enjoy this."

What remained beside him would be an ideal family.

Every part of it the unquestionably perfect answer—

"I'm sorry. Mikhail. I'm so sorry…."

Julien's parched lips barely moved. Beneath his deeply bowed head, a murmur slipped out that no one could possibly hear.

Then. Mikhail tipped back the glass.