Chapter 112
"So, you know, when we were parting, the girl at the inn told me, 'I'll wait for you forever, Michelle.' But I had circumstances that forced me to leave the city, so I told her, 'I'm sorry. Forget about me,' and left the city."
Seated beside Isaac, Michelle regaled him with an emotional account of his past romances, occasionally punctuating his tale with dramatic gestures.
As Isaac responded with appropriate murmurs and continued eating, Michelle said, "By the way~" and glanced up at him.
"What kind of girl does Ike-kun like~?"
"..."
"Big Brother wants to know~"
By bringing up the subject after sharing his own story, Michelle was implicitly suggesting that Isaac ought to tell him as well.
Unfortunately, they had nearly finished their meal.
Isaac took a single sip of his drink and murmured.
"...She's an incredible person. I respect her."
"Ahaaa, I see. If she doesn't even realize she's being pursued by a handsome guy like Ike-kun... then she must be a battle-hardened older beauty with a hundred romances under her belt."
The truth was that she was a small, younger girl who was a complete novice at romance. Technically, she had turned nineteen this year.
Even so, it was more convenient for Michelle to remain mistaken, so Isaac deliberately did not correct him.
(She really is an incredible person.)
Isaac recalled the scene he had witnessed in the skies above Kelbeck with his eyes closed.
The beautiful, serene, majestic grand magic. The great witch who had wrought a miracle. It was a sight that seized Isaac's heart and would not let go.
But...
"...Because of me, she lost someone important to her. To her, I'm the one who harmed her. Even so, she allowed me to remain by her side."
Because Isaac had aided Duke Crockford's scheme, Monica had lost her father.
To Monica, Isaac was indirectly responsible for harming her.
Even so, Monica had saved Isaac, who was supposed to be executed. She had reached out her hand to him.
...All while taking so much upon herself in the process.
"That's why I decided to swear her my loyalty for the rest of my life."
Monica was the one who had opened the way to Isaac's future.
He would gladly devote everything he could to her. He wanted to do anything for her.
As Isaac stared down at the glass in his hand and slowly revealed his true feelings, Clifford, who had been quietly eating beside him, wiped the fog from his glasses with the hem of his clothes and spoke.
"Walker's loyalty is disgustingly close to dependence."
It was an insult right out of the gate.
Isaac was rendered speechless, and even when Michelle's cheek twitched as he cried, "Oh my, this boy is way too sharp-tongued!" Clifford merely looked as though it had nothing to do with him.
"You feel secure because you swear loyalty and devote yourself to her. If that's not dependence, then what is it?"
"..."
"Every drug addict insists they're not dependent."
At this point, Clifford was treating him like a drug addict.
Had anyone ever hurled such utterly merciless insults at him before? Even Elliott and Bridget, who were caustic toward Isaac, chose their words with a little more care.
Even so, it was also true that Isaac could not strongly deny Clifford's words.
(...So I'm dependent, am I?)
This was simply part of Isaac Walker's nature.
Having lost his family as a child, whenever he found someone important to him, he instinctively felt that he had to protect them at all costs, and found his reason for existing in serving that person. Just as he once had with His Highness Felix.
While he was serving someone like that, he could feel at peace.
...He could believe that this was the reason he had survived.
Having his bad habit pointed out by such an unexpected person, Isaac fell silent.
Clifford helped himself to a bite from Antony's plate and spoke in a disinterested tone.
"Come to think of it, if you're the person your beloved regards as someone who harmed them, Walker must have behaved terribly in everyday life."
"..."
"Walker's feelings are practically a punishment handed down by God."
Just as Clifford said, his feelings were like a punishment devised by God.
To the person Isaac loved, he was someone who had harmed her, and she already loved someone else.
And yet Isaac could not let go of these feelings.
(...Even so.)
Forgetting the din of the restaurant, Isaac quietly confronted his own feelings.
This love had not begun with guilt or pity toward Monica.
It was a love accompanied by admiration, respect, gratitude, and guilt toward the Silent Witch, but once those heavy emotions were stripped away, its root was remarkably simple.
The person Isaac had fallen for was a small girl who was shy and timid, yet had summoned every last ounce of courage to save him.
"You don't need a reason to help a friend, Ike!"
That was the moment Isaac fell in love.
Not with the great witch, but with an ordinary little girl.
(The fact that the Silent Witch is my revered master hasn't changed, though.)
Perhaps his perspective had grown a little narrow.
Clifford's words had struck him a little... quite a lot... incredibly hard, but thanks to them, Isaac felt that he had managed to sort out his feelings just a little.
More than anything, he had remembered the most important reason he had fallen in love with Monica.
Just as Isaac began to open his mouth to thank Clifford, Clifford spoke first.
"It must be because Walker has such a nasty personality that God gave him divine punishment. For the crime of having a nasty personality."
"..."
Isaac's blue eyes gleamed ominously behind his glasses as he looked at Clifford with a perfect smile on his face.
"...Did I kill your parents or something?"
"What is Walker talking about? My parents are a tough old geezer who keeps a mistress despite being nearly seventy and a tough old battle-axe who goes to parties every night while pretending to be young. Killing them wouldn't do a thing."
"..."
It was a glimpse into the darkness of the Anderson Trading Company.
As Isaac looked taken aback, Clifford muttered with a solemn expression.
"In my experience, nasty people generally live a long time. Walker probably will too."
"...I see. Looks like we'll know each other for a long time."
"Why would I have to have a long relationship with Walker?"
Apparently, the indirect insult that he, too, would live a long life had gone over Clifford's head.
At this heartwarming exchange, Michelle looked at Clifford with an awkward smile.
"...Cliff-kun, you're being a little too sharp, aren't you? Can't you read the room a bit?"
"I was eating alone to begin with. Then all of you came along one after another and started a drinking party on your own. Why should I be the one to read the room?"
That explained it. Isaac had thought it was an unusual combination, but apparently there was a reason for it.
As Isaac felt the slightest bit of sympathy for Clifford, Clifford shook his head as though fed up and spoke.
"Even so, Walker is an idiot. The moment you're pining after someone who's already in love with another person, your loyalty isn't one hundred percent pure."
The air in the room froze. The din of the surrounding drunks suddenly sounded very far away.
Isaac stared at Clifford with an utterly serious expression.
"...How much do you know...?"
"Cyril-sama."
Isaac Walker was rendered speechless for the second time that day.
Michelle looked at Isaac, unable to conceal his curiosity.
"Huh? What's going on? Is the girl Ike-kun likes already in love with someone else? Whoa... That's rough."
Had Isaac ever before found himself at the center of such an excruciatingly awkward atmosphere?
It was painful in a different way from standing before the High Council. Extremely painful.
As Isaac stood frozen, someone began smacking him repeatedly on the shoulder. It was red-faced Antony.
"Walker! Don't give up! If the woman you've fallen for is in love with another man, there's only one thing to do... Never hate or resent your rival; hone yourself until you make her look your way!!"
Antony proclaimed this through alcohol-scented breath, then pointed sharply at Isaac's biceps.
"A man's biceps are everything! Your biceps have infinite potential! Believe in the power of your biceps! Yes, all right. I shall test just how powerful your biceps are! Come on!"
Antony stood in front of an empty table and planted his right elbow near its center. Apparently, he intended to have an arm-wrestling match.
The surrounding drunks were fired up by Antony's move.
"What's going on? Is this a fight, young fella?"
Burning with a sense of mission, Antony answered the drunk.
"No! This is encouragement for a friend who's about to be rejected by the woman he loves!"
At once, the surrounding gazes shifted from Antony to Isaac, the man who was about to be rejected.
When the drunks realized that the supposedly doomed man was a handsome young fellow, they immediately began heckling him.
"What the heck, he's a handsome one! Good, I hope she dumps you!"
"Get dumped, get dumped! A man becomes more attractive with every rejection!"
"Idiot! If that's true, with all the times I've been rejected, I'd be a prince!"
"Gahahahaha! You got that right!"
Isaac silently gripped his mug. Then he drained the beer filling it to the brim in one gulp.
After slamming the empty mug onto the table, Isaac stood opposite Antony with a smile that did not reach his eyes at all.
"...Go easy on me."
"Indeed! Come at me with everything you've got!"
Isaac and Antony faced each other, clasping right hands with their elbows planted on the table.
Antony's arm was thick with muscle, nearly twice the size of Isaac's.
Michelle addressed Antony in a subdued voice.
"Big Brother Antony, take it easy, okay? Don't break Ike-kun's arm."
Anyone could see that Isaac had no chance of winning.
At a nearby table, the drunks were betting on how many seconds Isaac would last.
They put copper coins on the table and freely called out wagers such as, "He'll lose the instant it starts," "He'll hold out for three seconds," and, "No, I'm rooting for that young fellow. Five seconds."
Amid all this, Clifford, having finished his meal, placed a copper coin on the table. He took a pocket watch from his pocket and announced calmly:
"'Walker will last for more than a minute.'"
＊ ＊ ＊
"Here I go!!"
The match began the instant Antony shouted.
Antony's arm, revealed by his rolled-up sleeve, bulged enormously, placing a strain on Isaac's hand.
But Isaac stepped forward a fraction before Antony could put his strength into the push and withstood the pressure.
As Isaac held out while taking care not to let Antony catch and twist his wrist, the men cheered, "He lasted five seconds!"
"Nnngh... Not bad, Walker!"
Antony gritted his teeth and gave a feral grin.
Isaac returned a similarly savage smile.
The silent struggle continued. Isaac endured Antony's attempts to twist his wrist while waiting for an opening. But Antony's strength did not let up in the slightest.
"One minute."
Almost at the same moment Clifford spoke, Isaac's hand was forced down, the back of it slamming onto the table.
Antony was the winner, but the spectators, who had expected Isaac to lose in less than ten seconds, erupted in astonished cheers.
Michelle's eyes went wide as he cried, "No way!" while Theodore said placidly, "You're pretty amazing to last against Big Brother."
At the center of the cheers, Isaac was limply shaking his aching right hand when Antony opened his large mouth and laughed.
"Ha ha! Walker! To last a minute against me is quite something!"
Antony was stronger than Isaac had expected.
If it had been a simple difference in arm strength, Isaac was confident he could have deflected it and struck back through an opening, but Antony was exceptionally skilled at using his strength.
(He's not an ordinary man. Is he a soldier?)
As Isaac rubbed his right hand and pondered this, one of the drunks who had been betting shouted angrily, "That was rigged!"
Apparently, because Clifford had won everything, they suspected that Antony's companion had deliberately held back.
Isaac turned his gaze toward the shouting man. He was deeply tanned and powerfully built—the typical sailor.
Isaac smiled beautifully and placed his elbow on the table again.
"By all means, try it yourself."
"If I lose, you're buying my drinks."
The man stood opposite Isaac, planted his elbow on the table, and clasped hands with him.
Antony's eyes lit up as he leaned forward and cried, "I'll be the referee!"
"Ready... begin!"
At Antony's shout, Isaac slammed the man's arm onto the table. The match ended almost the instant it began, and the surrounding people erupted in cheers.
Isaac quietly exhaled, wondering whether that had satisfied them, when another man stepped in front of him.
"I'm next!"
"Wait, wait, me!"
"Hey, hey, wait your turn!"
Isaac had succeeded in dispelling suspicions that the match was rigged, but apparently he had only ignited the sailors' competitive spirit.
The man Isaac had defeated placed a mug of beer in front of him.
"It's on me for losing."
"..."
Isaac gulped down the contents of the mug, then planted his elbow on the table again.
The arm-wrestling matches against the drunks continued for some time after that.
The men Isaac defeated tossed copper coins to the server, who swiftly placed a mug beside Isaac.
He emptied the mug, then arm-wrestled the next opponent. After winning, he emptied another mug.
Among the drunks who joined the arm-wrestling matches was Mr. Pollock the embroidery artisan, but Isaac defeated even him without mercy.
The drunks grew more and more excited each time Isaac won.
The men who had heckled him at first now slapped him familiarly on the shoulder while laughing uproariously.
"You're something else!"
"I've changed my opinion of you, pretty boy!"
"Well, if she dumps you, I'll buy you a drink, kid."
Isaac drained the beer handed to him, raised the empty mug, and declared:
"Thank you. In that case, if my love comes true, I promise to treat everyone here to as much liquor as they like."
The drunks—including Antony—laughed loudly, ruffled Isaac's hair, threw their arms around his shoulders, and started singing. They did whatever they pleased.
Watching Isaac being jostled around, Theodore, who had continued drinking at his own pace, murmured.
"I wonder if Walker-kun is all right after drinking that much?"
He wasn't.
＊ ＊ ＊
"Hey, Sparkles. Why are you dead? Hey, Sparkly-Sparkly! Gimme some food!"
The next day, Nero, in the form of a black cat, tilted his head in puzzlement while perched on Isaac, who was sprawled face-down on a bench like a corpse.