1

It was a night so quiet you could have heard the sound of a distant needle being dropped.

Eleven o’clock.

Xerxes Break was sitting on the bed in a guest room at Pandora Headquarters, relaxing.

He’d changed from the black Pandora uniform into his own rough clothes. He had a lollipop in his mouth, and occasionally he’d roll it around as though he’d just remembered it. Possibly because it was late, Emily, the doll that sat on his left shoulder, looked rather sleepy.

Break’s face was tipped up to the ceiling, and his expression was vague, as though his mind was wandering, lost in thought.

Finally:

“…Mm, no, I can’t remember.”

Upon reaching that conclusion, Break got up from the bed.

Maybe it had been summoned by the air of this all too quiet night: For a while now, a nostalgic melody and its lyrics had been circling in his mind. He was missing a piece of the lyrics, though, as if a moth had eaten a hole in them. He couldn’t remember that little bit, and he hadn’t been able to unearth it from his memories.

Well, never mind, Break thought, giving up easily.

Either way, it wasn’t the sort of song he normally thought about. It wasn’t likely to cause him any trouble.

He walked over to the wardrobe that stood in a corner of the room.

This was the room Break always used when he spent the night at Pandora Headquarters. He set his hands on the knobs of the wardrobe’s doors, opening them. Several suits of clothing hung inside.

As he opened the doors, he heard the sound of something hard rumbling down below, and several glass bottles rolled into view on the wardrobe’s floor. Break bent easily and picked them up. They were bottles of aged whiskey.

Still crouched down, Break gazed into the wardrobe. “…They’ve rather built up, haven’t they,” he murmured. More than a dozen bottles of all sorts of liquor—whiskey, brandy, bourbon—had been casually stuffed into the wardrobe.

Break hadn’t purchased a single one of them himself. Some had been given to him; others had been gifts to the House of Rainsworth. It wasn’t unusual for families with the four great dukedoms’ status to receive presents from other nobles, nor was it rare for these presents to be alcohol of some sort.

However, neither the lady who was the head of the House of Rainsworth nor her granddaughter was actively fond of alcohol. The bottles they received were passed from person to person and eventually ended up in Break’s hands.

“This may have been perfect timing, actually—”

Just as Break murmured to himself, there was a knock at the door.

A rather hushed, familiar voice spoke:

“Break? Are you still awake?”

The voice belonged to Sharon Rainsworth, granddaughter of Sheryl Rainsworth, the head of the Rainsworth family.

With a muttered “Whoops,” Break returned the whiskey bottle he’d been holding to the wardrobe and shut the doors. In a very casual voice, he directed an answer to the corridor—“Yes, yes, my lady, I’m awake…!”—and walked over to the door.

When he opened it, Sharon was standing right on the other side, still in her day dress.

“I’m just on my way to bed. It’s long past time.”

“You’re up very late—have you been working?”

“Yes, there was rather a lot of paperwork I had to finish up… I did finish, though.”

Sharon gave a small yawn. She was still quite young, but Sheryl, the head of the family, was getting on in years, and Sharon handled some of her duties for her, so her days were quite busy. This was something Sharon herself did voluntarily, and she never grumbled or complained.

“Break, what about you?”

Break answered Sharon’s question without hesitation:

“Mm, yes. I’ll be turning in soon myself.”

However, possibly because she’d known him for so many years, Sharon seemed to sense something fishy in his answer. Her eyes grew suspicious. “…Somehow I doubt that.” Her gaze was stern, but Break took no notice of it.

Sharon put up her index finger, sharply, holding it right in front of Break’s nose.

“You mustn’t stay up late when there’s no particular reason for it. You aren’t young anymore, you know.”

“I’m much obliged for your concern, my lady.”

Catching the index finger that was hovering in front of his nose, Break thanked her nonchalantly. “I wasn’t particular concerned,” Sharon muttered indistinctly, and drew her hand back. Break released the finger he’d so dutifully captured.

As if confirming the sensation of having been caught, Sharon curled her other hand around that finger and looked up at Break again. Her eyes held no reproach now. In a voice that was simply gentle, she said:

“Good night, Xerx-niisan. Sweet dreams.”

Sweet dreams.

Sharon often added those words to her bedtime greetings.

Fifteen years ago, after being taken in by the Rainsworths, waking or sleeping, Break had been tormented by memories of the crimes he’d committed as the knight Kevin Legnard. The first person to speak those words to him had been Sharon’s mother, Shelly.

Somewhere along the way, as if she’d inherited them from her mother, Sharon had begun to say them, too.

In a way, the words were like a prayer.

Even now, when Break no longer had nightmares every night.

She probably did it without being particularly conscious of it.

And so Break thanked her, and he didn’t tell her it wasn’t necessary. He just smiled, returning the greeting:

“Good night, Sharon.”

After he watched Sharon walk down the corridor, returning to her own room, Break closed the door. He put his hands on his hips and gazed at the room. “Sharon does have good instincts,” he murmured. It was already very late. However, for adults, the night was just beginning.

“…Now then, I suppose I’ll start getting ready,” Break muttered.

2

Late at night, so late the date was on the verge of changing.

“‘All it takes to make a drink delicious is a beautiful moon and a good friend’—”

Looking up at the night sky from beside the window, Break lifted a silver goblet to his lips. A bright full moon shone in the clear, perfectly cloudless sky.

Break had lost his left eye long ago, and by now most of the sight in his right eye was gone as well. Even with his unreliable vision, he could tell that tonight’s moon was a superb drinking companion.

“Who was it who said that, Reim-san?”

Break turned around, raising his goblet as if in a toast. In the center of the room was a small, round table with two chairs, one on either side. One of the chairs held Break’s friend, Reim Lunettes. As he tilted one of the same goblets, he gave the name of an old author.

On hearing the name from Reim, Break looked as if it all made sense.

“That’s right, that’s right. That’s just like you, Reim-san. What a good memory you’ve got. You’re so dependable.”

“You’re the one who told me, Xerx. What good is it if the teacher forgets?”

Reim spoke like a professor lecturing a poor student. In contrast to Break, who wore his rough, private clothes, he was in his Pandora uniform. Apparently his clerical work had dragged on, and he’d only just finished a short while ago.

Break was the one who’d invited Reim to come drinking tonight. Actually, for the most part, when the two of them drank together, Break was the one who’d suggested it. Reim, who attached too much importance to his daily work, seldom made such suggestions.

The goblets the two of them held were filled with a famous brandy. On the table sat the pastries Reim had brought: apricot pie and chocolate fondant. The brandy had been chosen, “for starters,” to complement the sweets.

“And let me tell you one thing.”

Reim set his goblet on the table as he spoke.

“The author who left those words was a contrary person, and I hear he died without ever managing to make a friend.”

“‘Asking the impossible,’ was he?”

“I heard that bit from you, too, Break. ‘What a pitiful soul…’ you said, laughing.”

“—My, my.” Break’s eyes widened slightly in pretended astonishment.

He hadn’t been able to remember that lyric earlier, either. He said, self-deprecatingly, that his head seemed to be on its last legs.

“By the way,” Reim added, in response.

“His cause of death was a whiskey milk punch.”

“Drank too much, did he? Was that mine, too?” Break asked, cocking his head to one side.

“I looked that up myself,” Reim answered.

Then Reim rattled off the author’s best-known works and similar things, one after another.

Apparently he’d gotten a bit curious and researched the author during breaks in his work. Break was quite impressed by his friend’s excessive diligence. That said, he didn’t plan to imitate him, and even if he had planned to, he never would have been able to actually do it.

As if taking a breather, Reim picked up a dessert fork and carried a slice of the apricot pie to his mouth. As he chewed, his cheeks softened into a smile.

Now there’s a contented-looking face.

Chuckling at Reim’s expression, Break walked over to the table. He dropped into a chair, picked up a slice of pie with his bare hand, and stuffed it into his mouth. The piecrust shell was crisp, and the moist apricot filling had an elegant sweet-and-sour taste. It certainly was a masterpiece that would soften any expression.

Break gave a sigh. It felt as if the day’s fatigue were melting away into that sweetness.

The room was filled with a sweet scent and the aura of bliss the two of them radiated. For a short while, they enjoyed the harmony spun by the brandy and pastries in near-silence.

It was Break who started the conversation up again.

“And? How has work been lately?”

At this question, delivered in a light tone, Reim gave a small “Hmm…,” hesitating with the goblet at his lips.

“Well,” he murmured, then answered coldly:

“No hitches.”

He tipped the brandy into his mouth and swallowed.

Then he continued:

“Only it feels as if the employees are becoming less accurate in their individual duties. Particularly the younger employees. Of course, I caution and instruct them every time, but unless each employee stays constantly vigilant, there can be no improvement. Today, too, I encountered the same mistake three times in a document, so I ended up doing it for him…even though I knew that wouldn’t do the man any good. And then, recently, supplies tend to stay unreplenished a bit too long. It would have been unthinkable for us to run out of cords for binding documents when I was in charge of supplies. There was an issue with the higher-ups’ schedule coordination, and the start time for one meeting was delayed as a result. Contact is slipshod; there was an employee who had a business memo for me but forgot to give it to me. When I cautioned him about it, he said it was because he was ‘still in his first year at Pandora.’ They don’t know how to listen properly. There was dust on the office windowsills… Well, that’s about the size of it. No problems.”

“I see,” Break responded. In what sounded like an intentionally bantering tone, he said:

“That last bit sounded like a mother-in-law who’s hard on her son’s wife, Reim-san.”

That earned him a “Don’t tease me” and a mild glare from behind Reim’s glasses. Calmly, Break said, “Go on, here,” and poured brandy into his friend’s goblet.

Reim raised his goblet to chest height, glancing at the amber liquid.

“Most of the employees are doing their jobs properly. If they weren’t, a special organization like Pandora wouldn’t function.”

“Yes, if we’re able to work smoothly, it’s all thanks to your support.”

Break’s genuine expression of gratitude was met with a reliable, “We’re simply doing our duty.”

This response was very like his friend, and Break gave an honest smile. Reim glanced back at Break.

“Xerx. What about you?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?”

“All sorts of things. We don’t get many opportunities to talk one-on-one like this.”

Reim was often at Pandora Headquarters, while Break moved around freely on everything from public maneuvers to clandestine ones, and they had very few regular points of contact.

I’m probably making him worry about me, he thought.

Break turned his gaze very slightly to empty space. For a little while, he hunted for words.

“Well…I’m getting by somehow.”

It was a vague answer for a vague question. Reim furrowed his brow slightly.

“Somehow, hmm?”

“Some things go well, and others don’t… But, yes, somehow.”

“I see. That’s true. You’re able to ask me to come drink with you, after all.”

The more troublesome the problem Break had, the less he discussed it with others. Reim knew this side of Break well, and he spoke as if from experience.

Those words also showed that, although Break issued most of the invitations to drink, it wasn’t because Reim wasn’t concerned about his friend most of the time. He was always concerned, and his concern took the form of “waiting to be invited.”

Break gave a wry smile; his friend was clever at his job, but quite clumsy when showing consideration.

When he moved to top up Reim’s goblet with brandy, Break noticed how light the bottle felt.

He shook it. There was only a little left. Even though they’d managed to drain a bottle of brandy in less than an hour, both Break and Reim were sober. Neither of them would get drunk on something like that. In fact, Break had never seen Reim get properly drunk, no matter how much he drank.

The heaviest drinker in Pandora, known only to a select few: That was Reim Lunettes.

“Now then, what should we have next?” Break peeked under the table. Several bottles he’d taken from the wardrobe were lined up there.

Considering who they’d been presents from, he knew anything he picked would be a good bet. Break stretched a hand out at random and took the first bottle his fingers touched. Break caused his friend worry on a daily basis, but it wasn’t as if he wasn’t grateful to him.

And so:

Tonight, he thought, I’ll reward Reim-san for all his hard work.

Thirty minutes later.

“…Xerx, the room is sort of rocking… What is…”

As he spoke, Reim’s face was slightly flushed.

Break laughed: “Huh-huh-huh.” His face was clearly redder than Reim’s. On his left shoulder, Emily cackled cheerfully, too.

“Well, well! What an odd situation this is. Reim-san, that’s known as ‘being drunk.’ Even unlikely things happen on occasion, it seems! You know, I feel sort of light and floaty myself~. Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

“You’re the one whosh… Nn, it’s you who’s drunk!”

Reim seemed to be having trouble enunciating; he tripped over his tongue in the middle of his comeback, which made Break laugh harder. At the same time, in a corner of his inebriated mind, he was astonished.

They’d only emptied about half of their second bottle. Ordinarily, even Break wouldn’t get seriously drunk on just a bottle and a half, and for Reim, it was absolutely unheard of. Break wondered if it was because he’d chosen the bottle at random. He’d selected it without much thought, and at first, Reim had said, “It tastes different, doesn’t it.” Still, they’d immediately declared, “…But not bad,” and gone right on drinking.

By now, Reim must also have felt that something was off. He stretched out a hand to Break, who was holding the bottle.

“Let me…take a look at that,” he said.

Since Break had been pouring the whole time, Reim hadn’t gotten a good look at the bottle.

“Go ahead.” Break held it out, but his hand slipped and he dropped it on the floor. Fortunately, the lid had been closed, so the contents didn’t spill. Reim looked disgusted. “It’s fine, I’ll get it.” He stood up. But…

“Oops—”

His feet were very slightly unsteady, and he staggered. From Break’s left shoulder, Emily promptly said, “Whoo, ‘weaving Reim’! I got me a super-rare one!”

“Don’t say ‘rare’! Honestly, you’re a bit too drunk, Xerx. You might pay for it tomorrow—”

Picking up the bottle as he spoke, Reim sat back down in his chair.

Then he looked at the label and fell silent. Break’s head flopped to one side in an exaggerated manner as he silently wondered what had happened. In a low voice, Reim murmured:

“Can’t read it.”

“My. If you’ve lost the ability to read, you’re too drunk.”

“No! I mean it’s written in letters I’ve never seen before.”

Break had no idea what he was talking about. Lowering his voice even further, Reim continued:

“…………Never mind that. Hey, Xerx.” His voice was shaking.

“Yes?” Break blinked.

Although it might have been his imagination, from Reim’s expression, he seemed to have sobered up all at once. His flushed face now looked pale. Reim wasn’t looking at the bottle’s label. He was holding the bottle up to the candles, letting the light shine through its contents.

“This liquor…has a pickled ‘lizard-like thing’ inside.”

“…Huh,” Break said in a parched voice.

“I’ve heard of that. Apparently lots of medicinal alcohol is like that. They’ll preserve snakes or lizards in it—”

“Listen to what I’m actually saying. I said ‘lizard-like thing.’ …It has horns.”

“A horned lizard…perhaps?”

“It has wings on its back. Bat wings.”

“…………………………”

“And two tails.”

“…………………………” Break felt himself sober up dramatically.

“And I can’t see that clearly through the glass, but…it’s got three eyes.”

In other words, it was…

“Mystery alcohol” with a mysterious lizard-like creature preserved in it!

It was if a cold wind had whistled through the room.

The window was shut properly, of course.

Reim’s entire body trembled, and he suddenly yelled, “Xerx, you—!” He closed in on Break.

“What have you been giving me to drink, you idiotic Xerx?! At least check to see what it is before you drink it! Don’t pour me dodgy liquids! What if that was poisonous?! I haven’t been moving very well for a while now; is that actually because I’m drunk?! What if I’m paralyzed, not drunk?! You drank it, too! What are we going to do if we both collapse—?!”

“Now, now, Reim-san. Calm down, please,” Break attempted to soothe Reim.

Break was also unsettled, but—maybe because his friend had overreacted before he could—he managed to remain calm. Considering that this had been a present given to the House of Rainsworth, he was sure it couldn’t be anything as dangerous as poison. However, possibly because his thoughts hadn’t taken him that far, Reim’s panic continued unabated:

“A-as if I could calm dow—”

“No, I mean, if you kick up a row like that…”

“Urp…” Reim was white as a sheet.

“…You’ll get queasy and throw up!”

The friendly warning came too late. Reim clapped a hand to his mouth and ran from Break’s room.

Is he going to be all right? Cocking his head, Break picked up the mystery alcohol Reim had flung away.

He thought it was probably some sort of medicinal liquor that had been given to Sheryl.

The alcohol hadn’t seemed that strong, so what had intoxicated—or paralyzed—even Reim had probably been some sort of essence extracted from the mysterious lizard-like creature that had been preserved in it, rather than the alcohol itself. He had heard that medicinal alcohol agreed with some and disagreed quite remarkably with others…

“I thought I was going to die…”

Reim, who’d returned, white-faced, shot a dirty look at Break. Reim had never gotten sick from drinking, and it seemed to have been a pretty harsh experience.

“My head is pounding. …You’re all right, Xerx?”

“Nn—.” At the question, Break looked up at the ceiling.

“I’m still drunk, but it’s calmed down quite a bit. This mystery liquor might not have suited you, Reim-san. It’s probably wholesome as a general rule, but I wouldn’t drink any more of it if I were you.”

“…Not for love or money,” Reim responded. He sounded disgusted.

When Break suggested that he lie down on the bed for a while, Reim hesitated for a bit, then said that he would. He crossed to Break’s bed and fell down onto it, back first. Already beginning to drift off, he spoke very quietly:

“—right, Xerx?”

“?? Come again, Reim-san?”

“Listen… If anything’s…wrong, talk to me.”

Break’s eyes widened, very slightly.

“I’ll help…for sure—”

Having said that much, Reim’s breathing went soft and light. He was asleep.

Break almost never saw his friend sleep, and for a little while, he gazed at his face. Finally, he murmured something in a voice so small no one could have heard it. Then he took a new bottle of red wine from under the table and picked up the corkscrew.

“All right, I think I’ll drink a bit more, with the moon and my friend’s sleeping face as complements.”

Break’s voice was cheerful.

…How long had he slept?

Suddenly finding it hard to breathe, Reim opened his eyes. What is it? he thought. Something was covering his face. It wasn’t that heavy. It was warm, as if it was alive. It had short, smooth hair, and the thing that was covering Reim’s face said:

“Mew.”

“—?!” Reim sat up sharply.

The sudden movement sent a dull pain through his head, but the full-body drunkenness…or rather, his paralysis, had cleared up. The thing that had been on his face, a cat with white fur, hopped down to the floor, looked up at Reim, and mewed again. Break called to him carelessly, a wine glass in one hand.

“Sorry! I did tell him ‘no,’ but…”

“Wh-why is there a cat in this room?”

“He’s been here the whole time, since before you got here. Under the bed,” Break said, nonchalantly.

“Huh?” Reim was startled. Break continued:

“The door isn’t hung very well; sometimes it comes open a little on its own. …He slipped in through the crack in the door at some point while I was getting ready for you. He got under the bed and wouldn’t come out, and he was behaving himself, so I left him alone, but—”

As he listened to Break’s explanation, Reim looked at the white cat. Then he realized that the ribbon tied around its neck was familiar.

“But that’s Ada-sama’s Snowdrop! What is he doing here…?”

“…Ada-sama’s…cat?”

In response to Break’s mystified question, Reim nodded. This time it was his turn to explain.

“I saw him once when I paid a visit to the Vessalius mansion. Ada-sama has two cats, Snowdrop and Kitty, and she seemed extremely fond of them. The cats were also quite attached to Ada-sama…”

“Hmm. In that case, she may be worried by now—”

Agreeing with Break, Reim turned his gaze back to the white cat.

The cat was just slipping through the slightly open door, disappearing into the corridor.

Uh-oh! Reim thought.

If he obediently returned to its mistress, fine, but if he didn’t— Reim hastily got up from the bed, glancing at Break.

“Xerx, I’m off. I have to catch that cat and return it to Ada-sama.”

“At this hour?”

“She may be too worried to sleep, you know.”

Reim crossed briskly to the door, not even taking the time to straighten his rumpled uniform.

When he opened the door and looked out, the white cat was sauntering down the edge of the hall, as if it were out for a stroll. Reim was relieved; it looked as if he’d be able to catch it quickly. He ducked back into the room once, excused himself to Break—“I’m sorry for all the commotion,”—then started to go out into the corridor.

At that point, as if in farewell, Break spoke.

“Ahh, then, Reim-san. One last thing.”

“What, Xerx?” Reim stopped, thinking he must have something he wanted to say.

“—Do you know this song?”

Song? Reim looked puzzled.

Reim left. Break was alone in the room.

“I see. No wonder I couldn’t remember it. My head’s really no good…”

He gave a wry, self-deprecating smile.

3

“…Well. Reim-san’s forgotten his notebook.”

As he was tidying up the room, Break noticed Reim’s well-used notebook, left behind on the bed. No doubt it had slipped out of his breast pocket while he was lying down.

Reim’s notebook was practically a part of Reim’s body, and the employees of Pandora considered it a symbol of his competence at work. Apparently some of the staff even believed that the hidden mysteries of clerical work were recorded in Reim’s notebook.

Although it was silly to deify it, Break thought Reim would probably be in a fix if he didn’t have his notebook.

Just as he was thinking he’d return it to him the next day, there was a knock at the door.

For a moment, he thought Reim had returned, but the knock didn’t have his conscientious regularity about it. It was a rough, loud knock. After the knock, he heard a rather deep voice through the door: “Heeeey, Xerxes.”

“Oscar-sama?” Break muttered.

He crossed to the door and opened it. Standing behind it was a big man in his prime with splendid whiskers: the head of the House of Vessalius, Oscar Vessalius.

Oscar raised a hand, greeting him with a frank “Hey.” Then he gave a long, long sigh tinged with fatigue. “Haaaaaaaaah…” It was so late at night that the date had changed. According to Oscar, his meetings and interviews had gone on and on, and they’d just now let him go.

“…Well, well. You’ve been working very hard indeed.”

“Ah, never mind that, the work’s over and done with. More importantly… Xerxes.”

Oscar called Break’s name in a stern voice. He fixed him with a sharp, level stare.

Although, as the head of the House of Vessalius, Oscar was in a position of power, his consideration for his subordinates and his friendly personality made him the idol of many. However, as you’d expect from one at the top, his glowers carried enough force to make any ordinary Pandora employee flee in tears.

That said, Oscar’s severe, imposing look didn’t seem to faze Break.

As if repaying him in kind, he stared right back with cold, sharp eyes.

When the head of the House of Vessalius came calling this late at night, it could only mean—

“—Oscar-sama.”

“…Xerxes.”

The air between the two of them sang with tension. It was as if they stood on a completely unpredictable battlefield.

In the midst of an atmosphere in which the first person to move seemed liable to get killed, Break…broke into a fearless smile.

“Want to go?”

He mimed tipping a glass to his lips.

At that, Oscar gave a cry of joy—“Oho!”—and grinned hugely.

He pulled Break into a hug and thumped him on the back.

“Do I! Do I ever! I tell ya, things’ve been so busy lately that I haven’t gotten a drink. I can’t take it!”

“I was drinking with Reim-san up until a little while ago,” Break told him, with no hesitation.

“Whaaat?!” Oscar cried.

He turned a reproachful glare on Break. “Call me when you do this stuff. That’s not very friendly of you two.” Oscar sulked. When all was said and done, he wasn’t dignified or anything like it. Just a middle-aged guy who liked his liquor.

Break gave a small, wry smile.

“Reim-san wouldn’t be able to relax and drink if the head of one of the four great dukedoms were in our midst, you see.”

Oscar met that explanation with a dissatisfied “Tch!”

“There, there.” Break soothed him, inviting him into the room. Fortunately, there was still plenty of liquor left. Break had already returned the bottles to the wardrobe, and as he took several out again, Oscar put his hands together in front of his chest and danced a little jig.

If he was this happy, Break thought it was probably true that he hadn’t had a drink in a while.

“I bet I’ll be able to shoot the works tonight, Xerxes!”

“You mean ‘tonight, too.’ Drinking with you is always an ordeal, isn’t it.”

Although it didn’t happen often, Break had drunk alone with Oscar a few times.

Drinking with Oscar was completely different from drinking with Reim. Summed up in a few words, the difference lay entirely in the phrase Oscar had used: “shoot the works.” There were still about ten bottles of liquor left, but Break wasn’t sure it would be enough.

…AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER.

As expected, it hadn’t been enough. Several emptied liquor bottles lay on the floor. Oscar seemed to have gotten hot; he’d stripped to the waist and pressed Break to do the same.

“I refuse. I won’t strip.”

“What’s this? Do I hear a lack of confidence? Your gut isn’t pooching out, is it?”

Oscar gave a snorting laugh, as if he’d just visualized his own words.

Break sighed.

“What are you talking about? I don’t have any extra flesh on me.”

“Ohhh, I dunno about that. Heh. In contrast, take a look at my stunning physique!”

Oscar struck a macho pose, flexing the muscles in his upper body. It was overwhelmingly oppressive.

Break looked deflated.

In the midst of this festive atmosphere, Oscar resettled himself heavily in his chair. He picked up a nearly empty bottle of red wine and poured himself a glass. He knocked back a swallow, then took a breath.

“…Say, Xerxes.”

“What is it, Oscar-sama? You’re going too fast, slow down a bit—”

“Look after Oz and Gil, all right? Please.”

“—Oscar-sama,” Break murmured. Oscar’s face was red all the way down his neck, but his eyes held, not only drunkenness, but intense concern for the two he’d just named.

“I’m looking out for them as much as I can, too, but…it doesn’t feel safe to send either of ’em out on their lonesomes yet—”

With an almost empty glass in his hand, Break answered quietly, “Yes, you’re right.”

As he spoke, Oscar’s expression was pained.

“Care about them, watch them… That’s about all I can do, though. It’s pitiful.”

“I think that’s fine. It’s enough.”

Break wasn’t saying it just to console him. He knew Oscar thought of Oz and Gilbert as his own sons, even though they weren’t linked by blood. He also knew the two of them looked up to Oscar like a father.

How reassuring must Oscar’s very existence seem to them?

Break drained his glass with a theatrical gesture, then continued: “…And so.”

“I’d say all you have to do now is give them advice once in a while, as someone who’s seen more of life.”

“……You think?” Oscar looked dubious. His expression could have belonged to a worrywart father who doted on his children.

“Heh-heh.” Break gave a small laugh.

“Yes, adults say it with their backs. Just stand tall and tough!”

He raised his glass, lightly.

“I see,” Oscar muttered, smiling a bit wryly. The two of them clinked their glasses together gently.

Tink. The clear, small sound echoed through the room.

…THIRTY MINUTES AFTER THAT.

“Oscar-sama. Look, the liquor’s all gone. It’s about time you went home.”

As Break spoke, he cast a mildly appalled look at the empty bottles scattered across the floor. From his left shoulder, Emily jeered, too: “Yeah, listen to the man!” Compared to Oscar, Break had sipped his drinks, but even so, he’d had quite a lot. He was close to his limit.

However, Oscar, who’d drunk twice as much as Break, said, “I know there’s more. Get it out here, c’mon,” and wouldn’t budge.

“I’m telling you there really isn’t, Oscar-sama. Just so you know, I won’t be escorting you home.”

Break’s warning didn’t seem to reach Oscar’s ears. He stalked over to the wardrobe, opened the doors, and began rummaging around inside. Finding the mystery liquor—which Break and Reim had drunk about half of before putting it away—he pulled it out happily.

“Hey, there was some. All right, let’s have a toast.”

“None for me, thank you. I wouldn’t drink that if I were you, Oscar-sama.”

As Break checked him, Oscar took a good look at the bottle of liquor, perplexed. Then he said, “Ho-hoh.

“You’ve got some pretty rare stuff here.”

Apparently Oscar knew what it was.

According to Oscar’s explanation, he’d bought some from a foreign merchant a while back, just once. The thing inside was a lizard found only on a distant southern island, and, according to the sales pitch, the liquor in which it was preserved had restorative properties and promoted perennial youth and long life.

Oscar said he hadn’t felt much effect from it, so he’d only bought it that one time.

Break wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or appalled.

Oscar also explained that the liquor was meant for the elderly, and it wasn’t supposed to be given to young people. On rare occasions, it didn’t agree with their constitutions, and then it caused vomiting and the paralysis of bodily functions. I knew it, Break thought, recalling how Reim had reacted.

In the end, Oscar emptied that bottle on his own and went home, looking satisfied.

After Break had seen him off in the corridor, he wondered whether he’d be all right to work tomorrow. Still, when he remembered his previous experiences of drinking with Oscar, he thought that, after a good night’s sleep, he’d be back at work as if nothing had happened, no matter how much he’d had to drink.

“I suppose you might even call that sort a ‘model drinker’… Well, I’ll take care not to emulate him.”

As he spoke, Break was conscious of a faint headache deep inside his skull.

“All right. Even I had a bit too much to drink. Let’s have some water, then—”

As he turned around…

“………………Break.”

Even though she should have been asleep long ago, Sharon was standing just behind him.

She wore a cardigan over her nightdress, and a dark, ominous aura over that. There was a tic at her temples, and as Sharon looked up at Break’s face, her eyes were steady and cold.

“Well, if it isn’t my lady. There’s a beautiful moon tonight, isn’t there.”

At Break’s cheerful greeting, Sharon said:

“…………………………”

Silently, she pointed into Break’s room: Get inside.

4

As soon as she’d followed Break into the room, Sharon grimaced. “…I smell liquor.”

Then she looked around the room, counting the bottles scattered over the floor.

“There are ten of them… What is the meaning of this, Break?”

“Oscar-sama is truly unmanageable. He just barged in and helped himself to—”

“Be quiet. There’s quite enough liquor on your breath, too.”

Break had half been telling the truth, but when Sharon checked him sharply, all he could do was hold his tongue.

Ordered to “Sit down for a moment,” Break lowered himself into a chair.

Sharon took the other chair, across the table from him. She seemed amazed and disgusted more than angry, although she was probably that as well. Looking around the room once more, Sharon gave a long sigh. “Haaaaaaaaaah…

“—Break.”

“Yes?”

“I won’t tell you not to drink. I won’t say that, but…”

“Ah, I’m sorry, my lady.”

When Break raised his hand, interrupting her lecture, Sharon asked, “What is it?” Even as she spoke, she was glaring. “I’m thirsty, so I’m going to get some water,” Break informed her, getting up from his chair.

Watching the discontented Sharon out of the corner of his eye, he walked to the bedside shelf and poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher that sat on top of it. Returning to his chair, he drained it without coming up for air. Inwardly, he marveled at how plain water seemed like such nectar after one had been drinking.

“…Listen to me, Break.”

After waiting for him to finish his water, Sharon once again turned her sharp gaze on him. Break, who was feeling more like himself now, thought it would be prudent to listen like a good boy, and obediently looked small.

“I’m well aware that adults enjoy their alcohol. However.”

Sharon raised a brisk index finger and began the sermon.

“Although there is no problem with consumption in moderation, if you drink enough that the effects linger into the next day, it causes various issues. In any case, I hear that heavy drinking isn’t good for you… If you ruin your health with alcohol, believe me, no one will have any sympathy for you. And besides—”

Break had intended to at least look as if he was listening seriously, but the sense of intoxication that enveloped him was beckoning him to the depths of slumber, and his concentration kept breaking up.

Every time his mind strayed, the sharp-eyed Sharon would scold him:

“Break!”

And every time, he’d defend himself:

“I’m listening, I’m listening.”

After awhile, possibly because Sharon realized it was pointless to lecture a drunk, she murmured, “You’re a terribly hopeless adult…” and fell silent. He knew Sharon wasn’t just angry with him. She was worried about him.

Break himself was grateful to her for caring enough to get mad at him.

“However, it would be very odd for me to say that…”

As he murmured the words silently to himself, Break chuckled faintly. At that, Sharon said:

“What are you laughing at, Break?! You do realize you’re being scolded, don’t you?!”

“I do, I know. I’m sorry.”

I’m just like a child being lectured by his mother, he thought.

The thought almost made him laugh again, but he managed to choke it back somehow. When he cast around for something else to think about, something suddenly struck him as odd. Sharon had been lecturing for quite some time, and she was just catching her breath. “By the way…” Break began.

“I thought you’d retired quite some time ago, my lady.”

It was already nearly three in the morning. Sharon had stopped by to tell him good night at about eleven that night, and she’d been yawning then. Sharon seemed at a loss as to how to answer Break’s question. She looked down, very slightly.

“Once I…got into bed, I found I couldn’t sleep.”

“Is something troubling you?”

Sharon shook her head, telling him that wasn’t it.

“I was thinking, but it wasn’t about anything important. This happens sometimes.”

…This sort of oddly sleepless night.

“Mm.” Break nodded.

True, at present, Sharon was frequently in the public eye as the next head of the House of Rainsworth, and it was likely that she sometimes fell captive to various concerns and was unable to sleep. Her earnest character made this seem all the more probable.

At such times, the thought that not resting would interfere with her work the next day would make it even harder to sleep.

“…I might be able to sleep if I drank a little myself—” Sharon murmured.

Hearing her, Break thought:

That would be a bit of a problem.

He didn’t say it, though. Instead, he said something else:

“Shall I sing you a lullaby?”

A lullaby? Sharon’s lips moved, very slightly. Break nodded.

“It’s a melody Shelly-sama used to sing to you, long ago. I just happened to remember it today.”

On hearing Shelly, her mother’s name, Sharon looked taken aback. She might have remembered those nights when she was small and had drifted off to sleep to the sound of her mother’s lullaby. Sharon lowered her eyes to her knees and murmured something, too softly for Break to hear.

He was sure it had been her mother’s name. Presently, Sharon shook her head slowly.

“I’m fine.”

Her voice was quiet. She didn’t sound angry or displeased.

Break gazed at Sharon. Sharon continued:

“A lullaby—I’m no longer such a child that I can’t sleep without relying on something like that.”

“I see. Shall we test it, then?” Break asked.

“Wha—?” Sharon was startled. If it didn’t make her the least bit sleepy, that would be that. If she did get sleepy, she could just go back to her room at that point, he told her, and he began to sing right away.

It was a slow, soft melody that flowed through a distant, nostalgic scene. A gentle song Shelly would hum to the young Sharon when she tucked her into bed. Lyrics that he’d managed to remember completely, thanks to Reim.

“Wha… Break!?”

Sharon started to rise, calling his name, but Break paid no attention. He kept singing.

Although she’d spoken, Sharon didn’t actually try to stop him. …She didn’t seem able to. She resettled herself in her chair, holding still, looking vaguely bewildered. She might have been embarrassed. She couldn’t look straight at Break as he sang, and her gaze wandered restlessly through space.

That said, after all, Break’s recollection was dim, and the song came out a bit unsteadily.

He also thought that lullabies were effective only when mothers sang them.

But, well—

Even if he couldn’t hope for an immediate effect.

It should at least serve to divert her…

Cradle of light

Cradle of light

Blown by the winds of time

Drift on waves of dappled sunlight

And, before you know it,

Reach the shores of “a happy tomorrow”

…“A happy tomorrow.”

I see, he’d thought, when Reim had told him the lyric. No wonder I couldn’t remember it. The words were practically foreign to him. How much time had passed since he’d stopped wishing for something like that? Since he’d begun to think he wasn’t qualified to wish for such a thing?

In an attempt to protect the people of the house he’d served as the knight Kevin Legnard, he’d tried to twist their deaths into another destiny. As a result, he’d lost everyone who was important to him.

They’d been lost because of what he’d done.

He’d thought it could never be all right for someone like him to wish for “tomorrow.”

But if it wasn’t for him… If it was for someone else…

If his wish were simply that she would be visited by a happy tomorrow…

He thought that might be permitted.

“…My.”

After he’d repeated the short lyrics and the leisurely melody a few times, Sharon was breathing peacefully, sound asleep, still seated in her chair. Break was startled that it had worked. Sharon must have been sleepy to begin with, but still.

That said, the plan had been for her to return to her room if she began to feel sleepy.

Her face looked so young as she slept that he was reminded of when he’d met her. He thought it might be nice to gaze at that face for a while, but then thought better of it.

For a short while, Break thought, but there was only one answer.

“…I suppose there’s no help for it,” he murmured.

He got up from his chair and went around to stand beside the sleeping Sharon. Then, with practiced hands, he lifted Sharon’s petite body, cradling her sideways in the position commonly known as a princess carry. Holding Sharon, he walked to the door, opened it dexterously, and went out into the deserted corridor.

As he made his way to Sharon’s room, he came across the white cat Reim had been chasing. Apparently it had managed to lose Reim and come back. “Mew,” the cat said, looking up at him, and Break cautioned it: “Shh.”

Then, in a hushed, mischievous voice, he said, “Listen.

“You mustn’t disturb my lady’s slumber.”

He walked along the silent corridor, climbed the stairs, and entered Sharon’s room.

He laid Sharon down on the bed and gently pulled the down comforter over her.

Sharon showed no signs of waking. This was only natural: The sun would be up in another two hours. Sharon sometimes stayed up late, either working or reading romance novels, but she was seldom up at this hour.

Walking silently so as not to wake her, Break began to move away from the bedside.

“…………No.”

The voice was so very small it might have been a sigh. At the same time, Break felt a slight pull on his coat. When he looked, he saw that Sharon had put her hand out from under the comforter and caught his coattail. For a moment, thinking she might have awakened, he almost spoke to her, but Sharon’s eyelids were closed.

She’d spoken in her sleep. Break admonished her in a hushed voice:

“…My lady, I’m tired, too. Let go, please, there’s a good girl.”

Gently, he tried to pry Sharon’s fingers away, but she had a surprisingly firm grip on his coattail, and she wouldn’t let go. Break scratched his cheek in perplexity, thought with his still-intoxicated brain, then leaned close to Sharon’s sleeping face. Putting his lips next to her ear, he whispered:

“…You mustn’t do that, Sharon. Ladies shouldn’t detain gentlemen in their bedrooms—”

“”

Sharon spoke, almost inaudibly. Murmuring in her sleep.

“No…… Xerx-niisan—”

The fingers curled around Break’s coat tightened, as if begging, Don’t go.

Her tone was something heard in a scene from a distant, nostalgic day.

“That’s torn it,” Break muttered silently.

He was on the verge of being pulled back as well. Young Sharon had been there, and Shelly, and Reim, and he’d been there, his heart growing more stable every day, little by little, thanks to them. Into the peaceful time spent in the shade of the trees in the garden of the Rainsworth mansion, under a clear blue sky.

Drift on waves of dappled sunlight and, before you know it, reach the shores of a happy tomorrow…

He hoped it would be so.

Break put a hand out to Sharon’s forehead, brushing her bangs aside with his finger, and spoke them:

“Good night, Sharon. Sweet dreams.”

The words of a prayer for rest.

~ Fin ~