Chapter 04
Elric had a dream.
A dream in which he cut down soldiers upon a muddy battlefield soaked with blood.
The stench of blood and rotting corpses mixed together until his sense of smell went numb. The soldiers’ screams deafened his ears. The world before his eyes was painted in black and white.
He swung his sword like a madman, barely forcing his way forward. Then the bombardment came.
Fire from mages, volleys from archers, and salvos from musket units darkened the sky all at once.
It looked like a gigantic monster opening its jaws wide to swallow everything.
Elric stared blankly at the sight.
Only at the very end did he finally—
“Gah…!”
Wake up.
Bolting upright in bed, Elric looked around.
A desk.
A bed.
A knight’s suit of armor.
Decorative swords hanging on the wall.
Everything painted a picture of peace.
This was not a battlefield.
It was a quiet room untouched by the chaos of the western front.
It was his childhood room, preserved exactly as he remembered it.
…Right. I came home.
Slowly, Elric reached out with trembling fingers.
Even though he knew there were no enemies here, the tension refused to leave his body.
His clothes were drenched in cold sweat.
His heart pounded wildly.
His sharpened senses were so alert that he could hear every bird chirping outside the window.
My sword… where’s my sword…?
It was an illness of the mind.
Having grown up amid war and soaked himself in its madness, Elric had developed a condition where he could not endure even a moment without a blade within reach.
Clatter.
He found the dagger resting atop the bedside cabinet.
Pulling it into his arms, he took several deep breaths.
Only then did his heartbeat begin to settle.
Just then—
“Young Master, did you call out?”
Aldio’s voice came from outside the door.
The familiar voice pulled Elric completely back to reality.
“…Yes. I just woke up.”
The cheerful chirping of birds drifted through the window.
* * *
It was luxury beyond what he deserved.
Having arrived late the previous night and gone straight to bed, Elric found the mansion’s morning routine strangely unfamiliar.
When he mentioned wanting to wash with cold water, servants immediately brought him a basin filled with it.
Afterward, clean clothes were already prepared.
The fabric was so soft that it barely felt like he was wearing anything at all.
On the battlefield, clothes were constantly torn apart and replaced with rough, rag-like garments.
The contrast was staggering.
Elric buttoned his shirt and tightened his necktie.
Looking into the mirror, there was no trace of the Sword Demon Kasha.
For some reason, it felt unnatural.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
It doesn’t suit me.
He vaguely remembered people saying his smile had been charming when he was young.
Now it felt forced.
Then again, there had been little reason to smile on the battlefield.
His facial muscles had long since forgotten how.
Turning away from the mirror, he picked up his cane.
When he stepped outside, Aldio was already waiting.
“Let us have breakfast first.”
“Lead the way.”
Smiling warmly, Aldio began walking.
A question came soon afterward.
“How did your leg end up like that?”
He had been glancing at Elric’s knee since yesterday and had apparently decided to ask at last.
Elric brushed it off.
“I rolled down a steep hill and slammed it against a rock. Careless of me.”
How could he possibly explain that a bullet had torn through his knee during a battle?
It would heal eventually.
There was no reason to make anyone worry.
“Oh dear… You’re still as reckless as ever.”
“Please stop calling me reckless. It makes me feel like a child.”
The two exchanged jokes and laughter as they walked.
Before long, they arrived at the dining room.
Click.
The moment the door opened, Elric froze.
“Did you sleep well?”
Someone was already there.
Golden hair reminiscent of ripened wheat.
Drooping eyes.
Pale skin.
And vivid red lips that stood out against it.
Only then did Elric remember that Tiria lived here.
He had seen her yesterday and still managed to forget.
His mind was more scattered than he thought.
“Good morning.”
Offering an awkward greeting, he walked toward the table.
Perhaps because he had just woken up, his knee hurt more than usual.
No matter how much he tried to compose himself, his expression would not cooperate.
By the time he painfully lowered himself into a chair, he noticed something.
Tiria’s gaze was fixed on his knee.
“Ah, don’t worry about it. It’s not a serious injury.”
Returning home as an invalid was bad enough.
The last thing he wanted was to whine about it like a child.
Covering his knee with one hand, he diverted her attention.
“…I see.”
Tiria took her seat.
Breakfast soon arrived.
Eggs.
Soft bread.
And three strips of bacon.
A nostalgic meal.
Simple, light, and perfectly suited to his father’s tastes.
The irony was that the man who had always demanded such meals was no longer here.
Clink.
Elric picked up his fork and knife.
Only then did Tiria do the same.
As he ate, he found himself observing her.
She was astonishingly quiet.
Despite using glass dishes and metal utensils, she made almost no sound.
Every movement—cutting food, lifting it, bringing it to her lips—was graceful.
Even her chewing was nearly silent.
Once again, she stood in stark contrast to him.
Years of shoveling dirt-covered rations into his mouth on the battlefield had erased every bit of table etiquette he had once learned.
Then their eyes met.
Startled, Elric quickly looked back down at his plate.
A moment later, he thought:
Why am I the one avoiding eye contact?
Clearing his throat awkwardly, he raised his head again.
Tiria was still staring at him.
Elric produced the same stiff smile he had practiced earlier.
“What is it?”
“…Nothing. It’s nothing.”
Her gaze lowered once more.
The meal was unbearably uncomfortable.
Still, sitting at the same table in silence felt too cold.
Carefully, Elric tried to start a conversation.
“Are you going to inspect the wheat fields again today?”
“…Yes.”
“I see.”
Tiria’s index finger curled slightly.
Was she annoyed?
Elric immediately regretted opening his mouth.
You fool.
There you go again, making the same mistake.
His stomach felt heavy.
If he stayed much longer, he was sure he would lose his appetite completely.
Without hesitation, Elric speared half a loaf of bread, a strip of bacon, and a fried egg all at once and stuffed them into his mouth.
After roughly wiping his lips with a napkin, he stood.
“I’m off. Enjoy your meal.”
At least, that was what he intended to say.
With his mouth still full of food, the words came out hopelessly garbled.
Whether she understood him or not, he didn’t know.
Nor did he have the composure to care.
Leaning on his cane, Elric hurried out of the room.
Click.
Only after the door closed did Tiria finally speak.
“…Yes. Have a good day.”
Her voice was very soft.
A faint smile appeared on her lips—so faint that most people would never have noticed it.
Then it vanished without a trace.
* * *
The mansion was bustling after breakfast.
Guided by Aldio, Elric greeted the servants.
Some were people he remembered from ten years ago.
Others had been replaced by new faces.
Everyone welcomed him warmly.
To Elric, it felt like far more kindness than he deserved.
He had disappeared without a word.
He had not even returned for his father’s funeral.
Yet these people still greeted him as though he belonged here.
How generous were their hearts?
Whenever he embraced one of them, they inevitably asked about his knee.
Each time, Elric reassured them.
“It’ll heal soon.”
Not a single person believed him.
Was I really that untrustworthy as a child…?
After reflecting on the matter, Elric had to admit the truth.
If someone in Wibin were asked to name the town’s greatest troublemaker, one hundred out of one hundred people would answer:
Elric Portman.
That much, he could not deny.
The head maid giggled when he failed to respond.
“Goodness… Then, Young Master! You’ve returned for good this time, haven’t you?”
“Ha ha…”
Elric laughed awkwardly.
He still had not decided.
His injured knee meant he would stay here for a while.
But after that…?
Could he really return and act as though he belonged here?
He had come back to Wibin largely because of nostalgia and a series of coincidences.
After all, who would believe that he learned of his father’s death by chance in a tavern on the very day he was forced to leave the battlefield because of his injury?
The estate had functioned perfectly well without him.
He had no desire to force his way back in and create trouble.
Most likely, he would leave again.
“Young Master?”
“Hmm. Let’s discuss that another time. There’s somewhere I need to go.”
“Oh, of course. What’s important is that you’ve come back. Hoho! We must prepare a grand dinner tonight.”
Leaving the head maid’s hearty laughter behind, Elric turned to Aldio.
“Then let’s be off.”
“Yes, sir. The carriage is ready.”
A carriage sized for a single passenger stood waiting.
Elric absentmindedly rubbed the dagger hidden inside his coat.
It was a habit he had developed whenever he felt uneasy.
Tap.
Supporting himself with his cane, he limped toward the carriage.
His destination was his father’s grave.
