The final battle was about to begin.

The challenger was Caudwell, the pitch-black knight. Rising to meet him was the golden knight, Walter.

As the sun like a ripe fruit sank on the distant horizon, these two whom the world called “heroes” quietly leveled their swords. They kept their eyes fixed on each other.

When Caudwell spoke, he was keenly aware that this would surely be their last conversation:

“Listen carefully. Hear the voice of the wind, Golden Knight. The people are calling for release from the old days.”

Walter spoke with eager anticipation for the bloody battle he was about to fight:

“The wind should content itself with daintily stirring the forest grasses. I stand here entrusted with this land.”

The battlefield on which the pair faced each other was littered with a host of corpses, and the flowing blood formed several rivers.

All were soldiers who had offered up their faith and their lives to Caudwell or to Walter, and had fallen.

The two bore countless souls on their shoulders. As a result, they could no longer lower the swords they’d taken up.

They hated each other more than anything, while at the same time, they understood each other better than anyone, and still there was no way for them to compromise.

One sought to set the age in motion. The other sought to prevent him. The only path that remained for either was to settle the matter with cold steel.

The sun sank. Night came.

Which of them was it who spoke the very last words?

“I thought we could be friends, you know.”

—RECOLLECTIONS OF BLACK AND GOLD, BY EVIL B.

1

In the wood owned by the Baskervilles, there stood a lone tower.

One afternoon, when the sunlight fell softly…

When the current head of the Baskervilles, Glen Baskerville—a man who’d been called Levi until he inherited his current name—visited the room, she was resting her elbows on the windowsill, looking out.

Both the walls and the floor of the tower room were bare, and the rough stonework lay exposed. It seemed a bit too bleak for a lady’s private room. A bed, a sofa, bookshelves, and minimal furnishings. There weren’t many things in the wide, round room, but their workmanship made it clear at a glance that they were all first-class articles.

From her place at the window, she must have registered the visitor’s footsteps, but she didn’t turn to look at Levi.

Beyond the window lay the vast forest that surrounded the tower, but she wasn’t looking at the forest. She was looking nearly straight down. When he saw her there, gazing down gloomily, Levi broke into a mischievous smile.

“…Lacie.”

He called to her back.

At that, in response to the voice, she—Lacie—turned, her long, black hair swaying. Her strong-willed red eyes found Levi. Those eyes marked Lacie as an accursed child of ill omen.

“What’s the matter? See something interesting down there?”

As she answered Levi’s question, Lacie’s tone was cold:

“Nii-sama and Jack are about to fight with swords. That’s your doing, isn’t it, Glen.”

“Those aren’t real swords. They’re just blunted toys for mock battles.”

Levi’s response earned him a caustic look from Lacie. That’s not what I was asking, her eyes seemed to say.

Lightly evading the look, Levi walked over to stand beside Lacie. He looked down, too.

Behind the tower, on a narrow, grassy lawn, two men stood facing each other, holding swords. One, a reticent man with black hair, was Levi’s valet, Oswald. The other was Jack Vessalius, a mild-looking man with long, golden hair bound into a single braid.

In addition to serving as Levi’s valet, Oswald was Lacie’s older brother. In the near future, he would become the next “Glen,” the head of the Baskervilles. By nature, he was taciturn and serious to a fault: the polar opposite of his carefree master.

Jack Vessalius was the third son of the House of Vessalius, a lower-ranking noble family. About two months earlier, he’d visited the Baskerville mansion as a musician for the House of Barma, and had been reunited with Lacie for the first time in eight years…apparently. Jack had told Levi that, for those eight years, he’d thought of nothing except seeing her again. Then Levi had told him about a secret way into the mansion, and had simultaneously given him permission—or rather, ordered him—to come and see Lacie. Ever since, he’d shown up once every two or three days.

Levi was amused by Jack’s devotion and his innocent—or, no, it was too strong for innocence—adoration for Lacie.

“Don’t give me that look.” As Levi responded to the girl, who’d fixed him with an accusing glare, he sounded entertained. “I told him it was all right for the two of you to go on an outing. You and Jack.”

At Levi’s casual words, Lacie’s eyes widened very slightly.

…As a child of ill omen, she was kept isolated in this tower.

Although she was allowed to stroll around the Baskerville mansion and the area surrounding the tower, she was forbidden to leave the grounds. Very rarely, Levi would invite her to go into town with him, but these were special cases, and she was never allowed to go out without a Baskerville chaperone.

Lacie looked suspicious, and Levi continued: But.

“I gave him one condition. He has to win a swordfight against Oswald.”

“Not possible,” Lacie said, flatly and with no hesitation. Levi’s amused expression didn’t flicker.

“You don’t think so?” he asked. “When I told him you were bored because you couldn’t leave the grounds, Jack was all for it. He does have some experience, apparently.”

“You’re well aware of Nii-sama’s skill with a sword.”

“True. None of my best people can match him. …Besides, I told Oswald not to lose.”

“Whatever for? Are you just killing time?”

Lacie’s question held a hint of displeasure. Levi told her that wasn’t it.

“If I wanted that, I’d have had them do something more interesting. —Ah, they’re starting.”

At Levi’s prompting, Lacie glanced down.

Until that point, Jack and Oswald had been talking, but they’d broken off their conversation, put a little distance between them, and were readying their swords. When Levi called to them from the window with an easygoing “Heeeey,” they both looked up in the direction of the voice.

Oswald bowed to his master silently. There was no change in his expression.

When Jack saw Lacie next to Levi, his face brightened. “Hallo, Lacie!” he called, waving a hand.

“…………”

However, Lacie didn’t respond. She only looked at Jack.

With a sidelong glance at Lacie, Levi gave a faint smile, then addressed the pair on the ground:

“All right, you two. Start on my mark. Understand?”

At Levi’s words, Jack and Oswald looked at each other, then formally touched the tips of their swords together. Jack’s smile vanished, and the eyes he turned on Oswald were serious. At Levi’s “Go!”, Jack made the first move. Oswald stood still, waiting for him.

Seeming impressed by Jack’s daring, Levi muttered:

“Well, if he lasts a minute, we’ll call it a good fight—”

Before he’d even finished his sentence, there was a metallic clannng, and Jack’s sword was knocked high into the air.

…By a single blow from Oswald.

Thrown off-balance by the casual attack, Jack sat down hard on the lawn. Oswald swung the blade back, pointing its tip at Jack’s nose. Astonished, Jack stared at the sword’s tip. The lightning-fast battle had winded him, and his shoulders were heaving.

“…Wow.” Levi covered his face with one hand.

Beside Levi, Lacie sighed. The sigh sounded disgusted, but there was something like relief in it, too.

Then she spoke:

“…He didn’t last ten seconds.”

“Nope. We’ll have to think of some conditions.”

And so Jack was given new conditions.

From this point on, he was allowed to attack Oswald at any time, whenever and as often as he pleased. In addition, if he managed to hit Oswald once, no matter how he did it, it would count as a win for Jack. No matter how many times he was beaten back, as long as he didn’t admit defeat, he wouldn’t lose his right to challenge him.

It was an unprecedented handicap.

Three days passed in the blink of an eye. During that time, Jack continued to be thwarted by his target.

2

“—Oswald’s weakness?”

Levi repeated the question Jack had asked him. There were three people in the room: Levi, Jack, and Lacie. Levi was leaning against the wall with a book he’d been reading in one hand. Lacie was seated on the sofa, holding a stuffed black rabbit on her lap.

Jack was hugging his knees on a chair, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Yes. I was hoping you’d tell me if you knew.”

His appearance was rather wretched. He had a gauze patch on his cheek; there was a poultice on the back of his right hand and a bandage wound around his left. There were probably lots of hidden bruises as well. These were the price Jack had paid for continuing to challenge Oswald over the past three days.

Levi eyed Jack frankly, up and down. Then he spoke, sounding impressed:

“You’re looking pretty torn up.”

At Levi’s words, Jack laughed wryly: “Ha-ha-ha…

“Thanks to that, though, I know: I can’t beat him by challenging him fairly.”

With a disgusted sigh, Lacie murmured, “Finally.”

Jack scratched at his cheek with his fingertip. His expression was apologetic, but, possibly because he’d sensed some consideration for himself in Lacie’s voice, he seemed a bit happy, too. Levi, still leaning against the wall, watched the two of them, amused. He put a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“And so you want to take advantage of Oswald’s weakness. It’s not a bad idea. But…”

“You’re right. Nii-sama’s weakness…”

Lacie also murmured; she put a hand to her shapely chin and seemed to brood.

Seeing both Levi and Lacie look stumped, Jack drew his eyebrows together in concern.

Quietly, he spoke:

“He…doesn’t have one, then? True, he leaves no openings—”

“Nope.”

“No.”

Levi and Lacie spoke at the same time. —Huh? Jack looked at them.

They both continued:

“He’s got too many.”

“He has too many.”

Jack looked blank. He blinked rapidly.

“Too many… You mean weaknesses? Oswald does?”

“That’s right,” Lacie agreed. “So many, I wasn’t sure which to tell you about first,” she said.

“Mm-hm.” Levi nodded gravely.

“First, Oswald’s a nap fiend. To put it bluntly, the guy sleeps anywhere. I bet he’s probably napping somewhere in the forest nearby right now. If you haven’t seen him like that yet, Jack, you’ve just had bad timing.”

Jack’s eyes were wide with surprise. “But…” He looked puzzled.

“But wouldn’t someone of Oswald’s caliber sense me and wake up if I simply came near him with a sword?”

Lacie shook her head, speaking with decisive self-confidence:

“He wouldn’t wake up. Not for something like that. Even if the forest was on fire, Nii-sama would have no trouble staying asleep. Then, when he woke after all the trees had burned to ash, he’d probably say…”

At that point, Lacie scowled in an imitation of Oswald and mimicked his speech:

“‘The landscape was different when I fell asleep. What’s the meaning of this?’”

She’d captured his mannerisms well, and Levi snorted with laughter. Jack never doubted anything Lacie told him, but even he said, “…I see,” as if he hadn’t expected that.

“And then—Let’s see.”

Lacie kept speaking, sounding entertained. She didn’t seem to feel any compunction about telling him Oswald’s weaknesses. On the contrary: Her voice was cheerful, as though she was telling him the things she thought were cute about her big brother.

She tapped her lips lightly with a finger.

“Cherry tomatoes. He doesn’t like eating those.”

“Cherry…tomatoes?”

Possibly he again hadn’t expected Lacie’s words; Jack repeated them, sounding bewildered:

“By ‘cherry tomatoes,’ you mean those? The little tomatoes?”

“That’s right.”

Lacie nodded decisively. Levi picked up her words and continued:

“He says the way the pulp spurts out when he bites into them is nauseating, and he can’t handle it. The last time he accidentally ate one, Oswald froze up and stayed that way for a while. Nothing changed, not even his expression, so the server didn’t notice.”

Levi snickered as if he’d remembered it.

Lacie also smiled merrily.

“The mansion was in an uproar over it.”

Jack murmured appreciatively, folding his arms and lowering his head, as if he was thinking:

“…He’s that bad with them. So bad he freezes up… That certainly is a weakness.”

“I like them. They’re delicious.”

Lacie laughed gaily. Then she went on:

“And then— The people Nii-sama likes are probably a weakness, too.”

“Ah, I think I understand that. Sort of.”

Jack nodded.

Levi said, “He’s the type who’ll get his head taken off while he’s sleeping by somebody he trusts. He’s sickeningly naive.” His tone was joking, but the words were caustic. Lacie glanced at Levi, correcting him: “Nii-sama is kind.” Jack nodded, agreeing with Lacie. Then his face grew cheerful:

“In that case, naturally the person Oswald likes would be—”

The three of them spoke at once:

“Jack,” said Lacie.

“Lacie,” said Jack.

“Me!” said Levi.

Wordlessly, with odd expressions on their faces, Jack and Lacie looked at Levi.

Levi seemed full of confidence; he’d jabbed a thumb at his own chest and spoken as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. As she looked at him, Lacie’s gaze was endlessly cold.

“Of course it’s me. I’m his master, after all!”

Levi firmly pointed at himself again, emphasizing this. Lacie let her gaze slip away from him, pretending she hadn’t seen or heard a thing. At that cold reaction, Levi’s expression softened happily.

Jack spoke, with a bewildered smile:

“Erm, Lacie? I’d believe it’s you or his master, but I can’t imagine it’s me.”

“—I wonder.”

Lacie only smiled coolly.

Jack began folding down the fingers of his right hand, counting Oswald’s weaknesses. They’d mentioned three: napping, cherry tomatoes, and “people he likes.” Jack exhaled, sounding impressed. “There are lots more,” Lacie said.

Jack shook his head.

“No, this is more than enough.”

“Well, give it your best. Lacie’s looking forward to going out, too. —Aren’t you?”

Levi spoke, putting an arm around Lacie’s shoulders and drawing her close.

Lacie pushed at Levi as if he was a nuisance and spoke bluntly:

“That’s right. I was supposed to get to go earlier, but it got canceled, you see. I’m looking forward to it, Jack.”

Two months earlier. The day Jack had visited the Baskerville mansion as a musician.

Originally, Lacie had been supposed to go into town with Levi. However, Levi had forgotten about the social affair with the House of Barma, and he’d had to break his promise. Lacie’s words held more sarcasm aimed at Levi than actual anticipation directed at Jack.

However, Jack’s expression was filled with delight.

“All right, Lacie. I’ll take you outside.”

His expression and words were far too direct; they were the complete opposite of the other pair’s exchange, which had been charged with unspoken meaning. As she looked at Jack, Lacie’s eyes widened very slightly. For his part, Levi narrowed his eyes at Jack, intrigued.

With a cruel smile, he muttered:

“You know, you really are—”

After leaving the room, Jack descended the stairs alone.

“I’m looking forward to it, Jack.”

His expression was filled with cheerful satisfaction at the words Lacie had spoken to him.

The feelings inside him were pure, unmarred by a single cloud.

Lacie, your delight is my delight. Your joy is my joy—

Ever since the day he’d met her, under a cold, gray sky.

The world had been hollow and meaningless, and so had he, but for the first time, everything had gained meaning.

…Himself, an illegitimate child. His father, who’d abandoned him and his mother. His mother, who’d continued to believe in his father until she’d broken. He’d hated the whole world, becoming completely empty in the end, and then she’d appeared, and meaning was born.

She’d been the one to shine a light on this being called “Jack,” when even he hadn’t been able to find meaning in him. The one woman whose direct gaze had picked “Jack” out from this vast world. Lacie.

I couldn’t care less about the fact that I was living and that I would eventually die.

Until I met you, Lacie—

“That’s right, Lacie. You are my light. This is all for your sake.”

He murmured as if singing, as if whispering. That alone had become the meaning of Jack’s life.

A pleasurable feeling almost like intoxication spread through his body.

I could never want anything else—

“…Jack.”

As Jack left the tower, Oswald called to him. He’d been standing beside the door.

Jack had been told that he was probably napping in the shade of the forest somewhere nearby, and he was startled; he straightened up and looked at him.

“It’s you, Oswald?”

Unless he was ordered to do so by his master or had a particular reason for being there, Oswald never visited his sister’s room. Levi didn’t seem to have forbidden them from meeting; apparently it was Oswald’s way of drawing a line.

Indifferently, Oswald asked, “What did you discuss with my master?”

“Well, we—”

On the verge of replying, Jack seemed to catch himself. He thrust out an open hand in a theatrical gesture, as if to repel Oswald.

“Ah, but I can’t tell you what we talked about.”

“I see. It doesn’t matter.”

Even though he’d been the one to ask, Oswald didn’t seem particularly interested. After saying it didn’t matter, he fell silent. He only watched Jack, steadily. Jack fidgeted, seeming vaguely uncomfortable.

“Well, um, Oswald… I’ll be going, then.”

With that, Jack began to move away from Oswald. Oswald spoke to his back:

“—Your sword is warped.”

“Huh?”

Jack stopped, turning around.

Oswald’s expression didn’t change. As he continued, he kept his eyes fixed on Jack:

“…Your basic form isn’t bad. However, the balance between your offense and defense is uneven. With your skills, even against me, you shouldn’t get so injured. Why do you use your sword purely for offense, without defending?”

Coming from Oswald, this was a long speech, and Jack looked startled. However, he soon gave a little smile and responded:

“Because getting wounded isn’t a condition for my defeat. Why would I need to defend?”

Jack said this as if it was only natural, and Oswald narrowed his eyes in a glare.

“Later, then,” Jack told him, raising a hand, and this time he did leave. Silently, Oswald watched his receding back.

3

Then Jack’s attempts began again.

It was the day after he’d spoken about weaknesses with Levi and Lacie.

That afternoon, Jack cut through the forest and came to the tower, but he didn’t go inside. Instead, walking stealthily, he searched the area.

Today, it was just as Levi had said.

It didn’t take him long to find Oswald. He was sitting under a Japanese zelkova, leaning back against the trunk, breathing quietly in his sleep. There was a songbird perched on his shoulder. It was pecking at his black hair, playing with it, but Oswald was as still as a statue. He was fast asleep.

He really isn’t waking up, Jack thought, silently impressed. Slowly, he crept toward Oswald. He clenched his right hand, the one closed around the hilt of his lowered sword.

Without making a sound, he drew closer to the zelkova where Oswald slept. Little by little, the distance between the two shrank.

Carried on the forest wind, the faint sound of Oswald’s breathing reached Jack’s ears.

“……He’s sleeping really well,” he murmured.

His voice was tense.

Just a little longer, just a few more steps, and he’d be able to reach him with his sword.

Oswald hadn’t moved. His breathing was quiet and regular.

I can do this, Jack thought, and just as he took the last step—

Snnnap!

His right foot came down on a dry branch that had been lurking under the fallen leaves, and a sharp sound rang out. At the same time, the songbird launched itself from Oswald’s shoulder, furiously flapping its wings and loudly crying cheep cheep! This flustered Jack, and:

“Agh, n-no, don’t!”

…Without thinking, he yelled.

In the next instant, he hastily clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. It was hopeless. If there was a racket this close by, anyone would wake up—

But.

“…………………………………………………………………Nn.”

Oswald gave a little groan, stirred slightly, and that was all. Nothing else changed. He was nowhere near waking up. His breathing remained peaceful.

On seeing this, Jack looked deeply moved. He really isn’t waking up!

Carefully, boldly, Jack stood right in front of Oswald, who slept at the foot of the zelkova. The sun was behind Jack, and his shadow fell across Oswald’s face, but it wasn’t enough to provoke the smallest reaction. Slowly, Jack raised his sword above his head.

Oswald kept right on sleeping.

“!”

With a sharp exhalation, Jack brought the sword down. Its steel blade reflected the sunlight, slicing through the wind, bearing down on Oswald.

To the very end, Oswald’s eyes remained quietly, peacefully closed.

But.

“………Huh?”

Having brought the sword down, Jack froze. A dazed murmur escaped him.

As it raced toward Oswald, the blade had been caught. Easily and firmly. By Oswald’s right hand.

Oswald’s eyes were still closed. It was as if he was still slumbering peacefully.

No:

“……Nnuh.”

With a little groan, he raised his head slightly. His eyelids opened, vacantly.

Jack gulped. A shiver ran down his spine.

“Uh, no, this was, um, you see, Oswald—”

Flustered, Jack hastily tried to explain himself, but there was no explaining this particular situation. However, Oswald only turned his half-open, unfocused eyes on Jack. He gave no other response.

He was in a daze.

“Um, Os…wald.”

“…………………”

“Oswald? Are you still…half-asleep?”

“…………………”

“Oh, there’s a caterpillar on your shoulder.”

“…………………”

“Ah! A boulder’s about to fall on you!”

“…………………”

“Aah, Oswald, your master is in trouble!!”

“………………………………………………………………………………………………”

Oswald’s daze was endless.

Th-that’s amazing, Jack marveled.

His shoulders shook and his breathing was rough.

He’d gotten worked up and spoken to him in spite of himself, but come to think of it, this was an opportunity. Gently, Jack pulled at the sword that Oswald’s right hand had caught. Oswald released it without a struggle.

“Phew.” Jack exhaled. He raised the sword again, his eyes grew sharp— A flash.

He swept in from the side, aiming for Oswald’s torso.

This time, he didn’t hold back. He struck with all his might.

His sword was caught again.

Oswald’s left hand had stopped it this time, in a beautifully spare motion.

“……………………” Dazed Oswald.

“Oswald?! You actually are awake, aren’t y—”

Something tugged at his sword. “Huh?” said Jack.

The pull had been stronger than he’d expected, and the sword left his hand.

And then.

Grasping the tip of the blade, Oswald swung the sword around, and the pommel connected solidly with the side of Jack’s face.

It was a brilliant, bewitching attack.

“Obwuh?!”

Jack fell unconscious. Having regained his peace and quiet, Oswald nodded off to sleep again.

A little while later, when Oswald slowly opened his eyes at the foot of the Japanese zelkova, he stood and spoke to Jack, who was lying in front of him. He didn’t seem to remember any of what had happened while he’d been half-asleep.

“Jack? You’ll catch a cold if you nap there.”

THE DAY AFTER THAT.

Jack stood in front of Oswald, a cherry tomato concealed in his hand. They were on the tower’s first floor, in the space that acted as an entry hall. Oswald had been just about to climb the stairs; maybe Levi had summoned him. Jack was blocking his way.

“Did you need something?” Oswald asked, dispassionately.

Jack held his sword in one hand, ready to slash at him at any moment, but Oswald didn’t seem to register it; he was relaxed. He made no move to reach for the sword hanging at his own hip.

“Hallo, Oswald. Beautiful weather today, isn’t it?”

Jack smiled brightly as he spoke.

At his words, Oswald glanced through the first-floor window at the sky. It was blanketed with thick clouds.

“………………”

After a short silence, Oswald responded:

“Indeed.”

To Jack, the answer seemed slightly pitying. However, his amiable smile didn’t flicker. That said, a closer look revealed that a trickle of cold sweat was making its way down his forehead. To put it bluntly, he was suspicious.

Oswald cocked his head, as if Jack puzzled him.

“If you don’t need anything, then move. My master has summoned me.”

In response, Jack nodded enthusiastically, showing that he understood. …But he didn’t budge one step from his place in front of Oswald. He wasn’t about to get out of the way. As if to say, In that case, Oswald tried to cut around him and go up the stairs.

As if mirroring him, Jack moved in the same direction, blocking Oswald’s path.

What is this? Oswald’s eyebrows drew together in irritation.

Jack still had that bright, ingratiating smile plastered across his face.

…Jack’s hand held a single cherry tomato.

If he tossed it into Oswald’s mouth, he’d freeze up, and he wouldn’t go back to normal for a while.

The problem was how to execute the plan…

It seemed easy, but it wasn’t.

If they’d had an opportunity to eat together, that would have been one thing, but suddenly saying “Let’s go eat!” would be unnatural.

Jack thought. All he really needed to do was get him to open his mouth. In that case, why not have him sing something? “Oswald, it’s such a beautiful day, I’d love to hear you sing!” …No, that would be far too suspicious. In that case, although this was a bit heavy-handed… He could watch for his chance, tickle Oswald’s sides, and the instant he laughed, toss it into his mouth—!

No, if that had been possible, he wouldn’t have been doing something as roundabout as trying to take advantage of his weaknesses in the first place.

As Jack worried and fretted, Oswald’s shoulders slumped slightly, and he spoke:

“If you need something, then tell me. I won’t know what it is if you don’t.”

“Uh, oh, that’s right! Oswald, could you open your mouth for a second?” Jack asked.

While he’d been worrying about how to broach the topic, he’d gone and used on impulse the least likely approach to work. It was too late for regrets. Naturally, Oswald looked suspicious. He shook his head slowly, as if in disgust, and turned a direct, piercing gaze on Jack.

“I have no idea what you’re saying.”

Well, of course you don’t! Inwardly, Jack agreed with him. It was impossible to explain this away. It was hopeless, but he couldn’t turn back now.

He managed to hang on to his insincere smile, so as not to make him wary.

“It’s easy. Just say ‘Aaaah’ for me. You see? All you have to do is open your mouth.”

“Why do you want me to do that?”

“Ah, no reason. Nothing special. Ah-ha-ha, it’s nothing important.”

It had been a perfectly natural question, and he hadn’t really answered it at all. There was no reason to expect a request like this one to work. Ordinarily, at any rate.

However, as if he saw no help for it, Oswald opened his mouth partway:

“Aaah…”

“Huh?! You’re doing it?!”

Even though he’d been the one to ask him to, Jack was astonished from the bottom of his heart. At his contradictory reaction, Oswald looked suspicious. …What a nice fellow you are! Jack thought, deeply moved. In the next moment, his eyes flashed, and he swung one hand.

“!”

The distance was point-blank. The open mouth was right there.

The cherry tomato left Jack’s hand, streaking through space like a bullet. Nobody would expect to get a cherry tomato thrown at them under these circumstances. That meant even Oswald wouldn’t be able to react— Or so he thought.

Shing.

Oswald had been completely defenseless, but at his hip, the sword leapt from its sheath with a cool, metallic sound, and in the next instant… The cherry tomato Jack had thrown stopped dead in midair. Then a line ran through its center, and the tomato slid apart, falling to the floor in two pieces.

The tomato squished with a light splut. Small droplets struck Oswald’s shoe.

Silently, Oswald wiped his sword and returned it to its sheath.

Jack was frozen, still posed as if he’d just thrown the tomato. The two of them stared each other right in the eye.

“………………”

“………………”

Wordlessly, Jack and Oswald looked at each other.

The sword Oswald had sheathed at his hip wasn’t the fine blade he generally used.

Jack was using a blunted sword meant for mock battles, and the sword Oswald wore was edgeless as well. How much skill would it take to split a thrown cherry tomato cleanly in two, without crushing it, with a sword like that?

“—Was that all you needed?”

At Oswald’s words, Jack nodded vigorously and stepped aside. Oswald passed him, heading up the stairs. Partway up, he glanced back, looking down at Jack. Jack found himself the target of a gaze that had an iron reticence about it.

It was possible that he was angry, but at the very least, Jack couldn’t read anger in his expression.

“One thing, Jack.”

“Y-yes?!”

Jack flinched, straightening up on reflex. Oswald spoke, briefly and simply:

“I’m not fond of those. In future, be careful.”

Oswald disappeared upstairs, leaving Jack behind.

“…My. He really is amazing, isn’t he.”

Voicing an honest compliment, Jack held one hand up in front of his face. Then he bent the fingers down, counting.

“Napping didn’t work, cherry tomatoes didn’t work. Hmm. All that’s left is…”

Lacie’s words rose in the back of Jack’s mind.

“The people Nii-sama likes are probably a weakness, too.”

“I see,” Jack murmured.

His expression was cheerful. He opened the hand he’d been using to count and held it against his chest, on the left side.

“I can just use that.”

4

“Jack seems to be working hard.”

In the room, Lacie spoke. She was lying on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling.

Levi turned from his place by the window; he’d been gazing outside.

“It doesn’t look like he’s getting results, though. After we told him those weaknesses, too…”

“…And? Why are you making him do it?”

Lacie’s question came abruptly, and her voice was cold. “……Huh?” Levi cocked his head, an extremely weird look on his face. Lacie glared at him; her eyes were stern.

“I asked if you were just killing time, and you said that wasn’t it. You still haven’t given me an answer.”

Levi looked pensive, as if he had no idea what she was talking about.

He didn’t seem to remember what Lacie had asked him on the day Jack and Oswald first crossed swords behind the tower, but Lacie didn’t help him. She only watched him coldly.

Before long, Levi clapped his hands together lightly.

“Oh, that question. Huh. You remember some really petty stuff.”

“If it isn’t to kill time, then why?”

Lacie repeated her question; she didn’t intend to go along with Levi’s bantering.

Hmm. Levi hemmed a bit, but maybe he didn’t feel like keeping it a secret at this late date. He answered plainly:

“For reference. For a novel.”

Lacie blinked several times. “A novel?” she echoed. Levi liked reading, and he also wrote novels himself. Occasionally, he took them to publishers, hiding his rank as the head of the Baskervilles behind a pseudonym.

“I was writing a tale of chivalry. I modeled the two protagonists on Oswald and Jack. In the final scene, the two of them duel; I brought this up with Jack because I thought I could use it as a reference, but… The stuff he’s giving me isn’t interesting at all.

“If Jack doesn’t put up a better fight than that…” Levi said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Have you finished that novel already?”

“No, I got bored and quit. I’m working on another one now.”

“Then there’s no point anymore in what you’re making Jack do, is there?”

“Well, no.” Levi laughed.

“The one I’m writing now is a detective novel. It’s a showdown between a great detective who lives in the old part of town and a mysterious killer.”

“…How clichéd.”

“Didn’t you know? They say authors who snub the classic approaches are the first to die.”

“And who said that, I wonder?”

“That’s obvious. Me.”

Lacie looked disgusted. “—I see,” she said, and that was all.

Levi looked mischievous.

“Did that make you want to read it?”

“Not in the least. Stuff written with a tasteless pen name like that…”

Lacie rejected him flatly, turning away.

Levi’s pen name, which Lacie had called “tasteless,” was Evil B. “B,” the last name, was the first letter of Baskerville, while the name “Evil” was an anagram. When the letters were rearranged, they spelled “Levi.”

“Well, art should be tasteless, you know.”

Levi sounded as if he was boasting about his faults, and Lacie ignored him. However, as if something had caught her attention, she sat up on the sofa.

Brushing back her hair with one hand, she asked a question:

“Are you using those two as models this time, too?”

“Who knows?”

Levi sounded evasive. He crossed to the sofa and sat down beside Lacie. He put his face close to Lacie’s profile.

“So, this detective and murderer. They don’t seem to be connected at all, but they’re actually linked. A long time ago, the detective gave a small present to the murderer. The detective’s completely forgotten about this present and the person he gave it to, but the murderer, the one who got the present, remembers…”

Lacie kept looking straight ahead. She didn’t turn toward Levi’s face, right next to hers. Then: “It’s a common story,” she said, shortly.

“Something the giver didn’t pay much attention to and has forgotten, but the recipient treasures.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Levi put up a hand and touched Lacie’s left earlobe with a fingertip. Lacie’s right ear was ornamented with an earring, but her left ear was bare. All that remained was the faint scar from a piercing.

Originally, Lacie’s left ear had worn an earring that matched the one on her right. However, at present, the earring that had graced Lacie’s left ear hung from Jack’s ear instead. Lacie had never said how this had come to be.

How, eight years ago, on the day she’d first met Jack, she’d given him the earring.

“—Yeah, it’s a common story.”

Levi laughed, amused, and stood up from the sofa. In the end, he hadn’t answered the question, “Are you using those two as models this time, too?”

He looked down at Lacie.

“All right. He couldn’t make the napping or the cherry tomato work for him. What do you think Jack’s going to do?”

“I have no idea,” Lacie answered.

5

The Baskerville mansion was on the outer edge of the forest. From the roof of the tower, it looked small.

“Is this where we’re going to fight today, then?”

Having been told by Jack to come to the roof, Oswald broached the subject, maintaining his habitual, unwavering reticence as he did so. There was absolutely nothing on the tower’s stone roof. It was a bleak, empty space.

Jack nodded. “Yes, that’s right. You don’t like it?” he asked.

As Oswald answered, his expression didn’t flicker:

“It doesn’t matter. Do as you please.”

The two of them stood at the center of the roof. They faced each other with just enough distance between them that the tips of their swords would touch, once they raised them. The situation was almost the same as it had been when Jack first challenged Oswald, a few days before.

Oswald had said he didn’t care where they fought, and Jack beamed at him:

“I like it. I’ve never been on the roof before. The view is terrific.”

Then his eyes left Oswald, turning toward the door to the tower stairs.

He called out, merrily:

“Do you come here often, Lacie?”

Lacie stood on the roof, right by the top of the stairs.

She wasn’t there because Jack had invited her.

Lacie had seen the two of them go up to the roof and had followed them, wordlessly. She stood beside the stairs, arms folded, watching them indifferently. At Jack’s question, Lacie shook her head slightly.

“No, only a handful of times. The wind is strong here.”

Even as Lacie spoke, a gust of wind whistled through, flaring her long hair and dress.

With his blond braid waving in the wind, Jack said, “You’re right,” and smiled.

“…Jack.”

At that point, Oswald spoke dispassionately.

He kept his eyes on Jack, as if he hadn’t noticed that his sister was there.

“My master has summoned me after this. This is a trivial task, and I’d like to finish up quickly.”

“‘Trivial task’? That’s rather unkind of you. I’m serious about this.”

Even as he answered, Jack turned back to face him, still wearing that soft smile.

“—All right, Oswald. Shall we?”

He spoke quietly. Oswald nodded, smoothly drawing the sword at his hip. Then, when he fixed his eyes on Jack, he abruptly frowned.

Jack’s hand only rested lightly on the hilt of the sword at his hip, and he made no move to draw.

However, as if he was completely prepared, Jack spoke:

“I’m ready when you are, Oswald.”

Lacie, who was watching the two of them, also looked puzzled. “Jack…?” she murmured.

Oswald didn’t seem to care whether his opponent had some sort of plan. “I see,” he murmured. Then he took a step straight toward Jack, as if to say he’d find out what it was once they began their fight. His blade bore down, slicing through the wind.

However, Jack dodged by taking a great leap backward, out of the way. He was still turned solidly toward Oswald. Naturally, Oswald’s sword didn’t stop after that single stroke: He unleashed a second, then a third. Jack concentrated on evading; his hand still rested on the hilt of his sword, but it was as if he’d given up on mounting an attack of his own.

Even so, he always escaped Oswald’s sword by the skin of his teeth.

“—Whoops.”

In no time at all, Jack had been driven to the edge of the roof.

From where he stood, if he took one more step back, his foot would leave the roof, and he’d fall. Oswald watched Jack, wordlessly. His eyes were cold: Although emotionless, they wouldn’t let the other man’s slightest move escape them.

In a voice as stern as iron, Oswald spoke:

“What are you playing at today? Do you intend to end this without drawing?”

At the question, Jack smiled faintly.

“Lacie told me, you see.”

“……?”

Jack hadn’t answered his question, and Oswald narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

Jack looked back at Oswald, and his gaze was oddly peaceful. If it had been a color, it would have been transparent. If it had been a sound, it would have been silence.

Jack spoke:

“I’ll draw, Oswald.”

Casually, Jack launched himself from where he stood. His body rose, gently.

He jumped…lightly…backward.

Then it was as if he’d been swallowed up.

He plummeted from the roof, toward the ground—

“………!!”

Oswald moved quickly. Even so, if he’d started a moment later, he probably wouldn’t have made it.

He threw his sword aside and ran, dropped to his knees at the edge of the roof, and caught Jack’s wrist as he fell. His body lurched forward as it took Jack’s weight, but Oswald managed to support it. Behind them, Lacie gave a small cry, but Oswald didn’t respond.

He only turned wide, shocked eyes on Jack, below him. Jack swung in midair, supported only by Oswald’s arm.

If he fell, there was absolutely no chance he’d survive. However, as Jack looked up at Oswald, he smiled quietly.

“Oswald, you’re strong. My sword would never reach you. But…

“Now is ‘the time’—”

Jack’s free hand went to the sword at his hip. He caught the hilt, drew it out.

Oswald’s hand was currently holding Jack’s wrist.

He was holding on tightly, so he wouldn’t let go. So Jack wouldn’t slip free. So he wouldn’t drop Jack.

He was completely defenseless.

“I win, Oswald.”

“……Jack!”

As he picked up on Jack’s intention, Oswald’s expression was tinged with shock. Whirr. Jack’s sword swung, slicing through the wind. Over his own head.

The blade bore down on Oswald’s neck. He really shouldn’t have been able to avoid the attack, but Oswald leaned back, still supporting Jack, and managed to dodge it. The sword cut through the sky. Jack’s expression tensed with surprise and admiration.

Jack’s words were honest, unadulterated praise:

“That’s incredible. You can actually dodge from a position like that…?”

However, evading from an impossible position had taken its toll, and the grip Oswald had on his wrist slackened. Jack’s body lurched, on the point of falling. Oswald’s hand had slipped off his wrist, but at the very last moment, Oswald managed to grab Jack’s hand. He squeezed hard.

Staring blankly, Jack simply let himself be caught. Then a sharp reprimand flew at him:

“What are you doing, Jack?!”

It was the first time Jack had heard Oswald lose his temper.

“Hold on tight! Grab my hand!”

“Oswald…?”

Jack sounded bewildered, but when Oswald yelled, “Hold on!” again, he timidly tightened his grip.

“Don’t let go,” Oswald ordered, and he hauled him up onto the roof with all his might. Having been practically thrown back onto the roof, Jack got up slowly, brushing the dust off his clothes. Beside him, Oswald exhaled once, deeply, and glared at Jack.

“Jack! You—!”

Interrupting him, Lacie stalked over to them, coming to stand between them.

She stood with her back to Oswald, facing Jack.

Finding himself the focus of a grim, cold gaze, Jack responded with a slight smile:

“Lacie, I’m sorry—”

Without warning, Lacie’s open hand flew at Jack’s cheek. It was a full-force attack.

There was a sharp smack.

Taken by surprise, Jack froze, his eyes wide. Lacie glared at him with unmistakable fury.

“You really are a fool… You make me sick.”

With that parting shot, Lacie turned briskly and walked off. It had been a merciless slap, and Jack’s cheek was flushed and smarting. He held a hand to it, watching Lacie go. Oswald had regained his reticence, as if his sister’s actions had taken the edge off his own anger.

For a while, left behind on the roof, the two of them were silent. Finally, quietly, Oswald asked:

“Just what were you trying to do, pulling a stunt like that?”

In response, Jack said, “…Huh?” He was straight-faced, and he sounded as if he hadn’t expected the question. Oswald gave a small sigh and elaborated:

“I’m asking you why you’ve turned your sword on me over and over again since the other day.”

Even that extra information wasn’t enough to erase the surprise from Jack’s face. He murmured, “Huh?” again. “Wait just a minute. You mean your master didn’t tell you anything?”

Oswald nodded. “All my master said was, ‘If Jack attacks you, be his opponent.’

“With a toy sword, not a real one,” he added, pointing to the sword he’d returned to its sheath. With very little enthusiasm, Jack asked, “…Then why did you think I kept challenging you over and over?”

“Hmm. Well…”

As Oswald thought about Jack’s question, his face was so serious it was strange. The question should have been simple, but he thought about it for a long, long time before he finally answered:

“I hadn’t given it much thought… I suppose I assumed you were bored.”

“……What kind of fellow do you think I am?” Jack’s shoulders slumped.

“There must be something behind it, though, for you to do a thing like that.”

“You’re right.”

Jack drooped, looking discouraged.

“I made Lacie angry. I didn’t mean to do that…”

Oswald frowned at this response, as if it didn’t match up somehow. Jack’s words hadn’t held the slightest consideration for the danger he himself had been in.

However, possibly because he didn’t feel like asking about it, Oswald only murmured, “True.” He turned toward the stairway Lacie had descended. In a voice that was as even as ever, he continued:

“It’s unusual to see my sister that way. She must have been very annoyed.”

“I want to take Lacie outside the grounds.”

The voice that had spoken behind him was earnest, and Oswald turned back.

He gazed at Jack, nodding gravely, as if he’d understood the situation at once from those few words.

“I see. So that’s what my master told you, is it? If you won against me, he’d allow you to take Lacie outside… It sounds like something he’d say. And so you did that in order to create a vulnerability for me?”

Jack nodded.

“Because you’re kind.”

Then, his expression changing, Jack spoke seriously, although there was a vague hesitation in his voice:

“I failed, though. Since that’s the case, this is all I can do now. …Lacie said what she said, but I just can’t seem to understand it… Still, this is the only move I have left. And so, erm, I, um…”

His words were vague and rambling. It was unusual to see him like this.

Jack blushed red and bowed his head vigorously.

“Please. Would you lose to me?”

Oswald’s eyes widened slightly.

He didn’t open his mouth right away. Instead, he thought silently for a while. When Jack raised his head, cautiously, Oswald was looking straight at him, mouth still closed. It felt as if he was being glared at, and Jack cringed slightly. The wind blew across the roof, brushing past them, tugging at their hair and clothes.

Finally, Oswald spoke:

“Before I answer, let me ask you one thing.”

Oswald’s voice was low, and Jack looked meek. “What might that be?” he responded.

The wind blew harder, tossing Jack’s blond braid.

As Oswald asked his question, dispassionately, he kept his expression nearly still:

“What if?”

Jack answered the question without hesitation, wearing a perfectly sincere smile:

“, of course.”

At his answer, Oswald said, “I see,” and sighed lightly.

Then his eyes went to Jack. His gaze was sharp, a warrior’s eyes, and it was impossible to tell what sort of personal feelings lay behind it. Slowly, Oswald raised his sword, pointing the tip at Jack and lowering his center of gravity slightly.

“Unfortunately, my master also instructed me not to lose. As his valet, I must not go against his orders.”

Fixing his eyes on Jack, he told him:

“You really are disgusting.”

Even as he spoke, he swung his sword at Jack. Jack’s eyes went round. It slowed his reaction by an instant, but he managed—just barely—to catch the sword with his blade before it came down on his shoulder. However, the heavy, fierce attack had thrown him far off-balance. This fact did not escape Oswald, and he unleashed another attack on the heels of the first.

Those two attacks were the only ones Jack managed to ward off.

When Oswald took the third attack, the sword Jack had in his hand was knocked high into the air, just as it had been during their first match.

He fell onto his back, defenseless.

Oswald stepped even closer to the fallen Jack.

Jack’s breathing was harsh. He stared up at Oswald with a dazed expression.

“Os…wald—”

“It’s over.”

Just then, they both heard a whistling sound as something sliced through the wind. Oswald stayed the hand that had been about to bring the sword down, leaning away to the side. Something glinted, reflecting the sunlight. It skimmed past Oswald’s head, grazed Jack’s right ear where he lay, and buried its tip in the stone flags.

It was Jack’s sword. It had been flung straight up in the air. Oswald was silent.

“Ah—”

Murmuring that single sound, Jack stretched his hand out into space.

The hand caught a single strand of hair that was drifting slowly down. A jet-black hair. It was Oswald’s. The sword had severed it when the blade skimmed past his head. Oswald glanced without much interest at the hair in Jack’s hand.

“It was only a scratch, but a scratch is an attack.”

“Huh? Wait, did you do that on—” Jack muttered.

Oswald spoke in a voice that betrayed no emotion:

“You win, Jack.”

With those brief words, Oswald left the roof. The atmosphere he wore seemed ready to repel any words that might be sent his way. Jack, left behind, was stunned.

His hand gripped the lone hair as if it were an amulet.

6

When did it begin? Lacie wondered.

The black haze that hung in her heart.

It had been barely noticeable at first, but every time she saw Jack, every time she spent more time with him, little by little, the haze grew inside her. It didn’t hurt or ache; it wasn’t painful. Even so, she couldn’t ignore it.

From time to time, it asserted itself, catching her unawares.

Every time it did, Lacie felt as if her heart were being squeezed.

She didn’t understand what it was.

When Jack had tried to jump off the roof, she hadn’t slapped him because she was worried about him.

It had been pure anger at having her emotions disturbed, an act rooted in intense irritation. Still, it didn’t feel as though the true form of the black haze was “anger” or “irritation.”

There was something inside her that she couldn’t understand. The fact made her restless. She’d accepted even her own destruction, which was scheduled for the not-so-distant future, without resistance, but this… This was unpleasant.

Every time she saw Jack— No, even thinking about Jack made the haze expand.

“……………”

While she was in her room, lost in thought and doing nothing in particular, Jack came, bringing one of Oswald’s hairs and a report of victory.

Lacie told him:

“I changed my mind. I don’t want to go out.”

Coldly, brusquely, with no compunction. In response to her refusal, Jack said:

“I see. Then we won’t.”

He spoke without hesitation. He wore an innocent, honest, charming smile.

…Just as he had when he’d answered Oswald.

“What if my sister says she doesn’t want to go? What will you do then?”

“Then this never happened, of course.”

The words hadn’t held the faintest flicker of regret.

For a moment, Lacie looked at Jack with an expression of pity. It soon disappeared, however, and she chased him away, saying, “I’m tired, and I’m going to rest.” Jack agreed meekly to this as well, and left the room.

As the door closed on the words “Take care,” Lacie got up from the sofa where she’d been sitting and fell facedown across the bed.

What is this, anyway? she thought.

Leave the grounds of the Baskerville mansion with Jack.

When Levi had said, “I told him it was all right for the two of you to go on an outing. You and Jack.” When Jack had told her, “I’ll take you outside.” Lacie had thought, That would be all right. When she imagined what it would be like if it happened, she thought it was a decent idea as far as ways to kill time went. She’d thought it sounded like fun.

At the same time, she’d felt the black haze inside her grow.

What is this? she thought, with her face buried in the soft coverlet.

Lacie moved her head restlessly, glancing at the door Jack had gone out through. No matter how long she looked at it, it didn’t open again. Lacie’s eyes stayed on the door, and her gaze betrayed no emotion.

She simply kept watching.

It had been decided that, in the near future, she would vanish from this world.

In a little while—not now, not yet—she would learn the identity of this feeling that had taken root inside her heart for the first time.

The feeling called “loneliness.”

…Honestly. If Nii-sama hadn’t gone and lost—

Lacie thought, venting her anger elsewhere for no good reason.

THE NEXT MORNING.

Having sat down to breakfast alone, Oswald glanced at the table and fell silent.

In front of him sat a large dish. There they were, in that dish, piled up majestically, like a mountain.

Bright-red, fresh…cherry tomatoes. And nothing else.

That was all the breakfast that had been prepared for him. A mountain of cherry tomatoes that brooked no argument. It was a type of monstrosity.

“……What is this?” Oswald asked the server, dispassionately.

The server explained desperately, with an air that seemed to insist he wasn’t to blame:

“G-Glen-sama ordered it. Lacie-sama asked him to, or so I’m told. He said to give you all the cherry tomatoes we had for breakfast today, and nothing else. We knew you didn’t like them, so we were disconcerted as well, but we couldn’t disobey the master’s orders—”

“Enough. I understand.”

Oswald raised a hand, silencing the server, and dismissed him. Alone, once again, he stared…

At the mountain of cherry tomatoes.

“…………………………”

He gazed at them for a while.

Then, with his usual reticence, at least superficially, he spoke.

“Have I done something to anger my sister?”

~ Fin ~