Chapter 151
The recently opened theater wasn’t a high-end establishment frequented by the upper classes. It was more of a popular theater aimed at the middle class.
Still, it was quite tidy for a popular theater, and it even had special seats partitioned off from the rest.
Monica wasn’t used to this sort of theater, so she was at a loss even about how to buy tickets. And it wasn’t just her. Cyril and Raul didn’t seem familiar with places like this, either.
“Um, wh-what kind of seats should we... get...?”
“The front row has to be the best seats, right?”
“No, wouldn’t we get a better view of the whole stage from a little farther back...?”
While Monica, Raul, and Cyril pressed their heads together and agonized over it, Isaac efficiently bought four tickets. They were for special seats in the center, toward the back.
“Cyril’s right. You can see the whole stage better from a little farther back. And a partitioned seat should help you feel more at ease, too, Monica.”
Looking at the seating chart displayed on the wall, Isaac said, “Our seats are over here,” and set off without hesitation.
“As expected of Your Highness...”
Cyril murmured in admiration, but Monica knew the truth: Isaac was a master of nightlife.
He’d probably sneaked out of Serendia Academy to visit popular theaters like this one, too.
The special seats were a long bench with a backrest. It was covered with soft cushions, making it quite comfortable.
Monica sank into the cushions and idly swung her feet. When Cyril glared at her, she quickly put her feet together and sat up straight.
Just then, a bell rang to announce the start of the show. The play was about to begin.
Ture and Pike, hidden in the bag in their weasel forms, poked their heads out.
‘Bion, Bion, I’m home. Goodness, today was another hard day. Taxes just keep going up every year. And there’s talk that a war might break out soon. If it does, we’ll have to move to another town.’
A thin, middle-aged man spoke to a young man sitting in a chair.
The young man called Bion sat up straight and said nothing. He stared forward without even blinking.
Why wasn’t Bion moving? As Monica wondered, the man continued talking to him.
‘Oh, that’s right, Bion. I bought you a new coat today. I’m sorry I’ve let you be cold all this time.’
The man took out a warm-looking fur coat and spread it open.
Then he lifted Bion’s completely motionless arms, put them through the sleeves, and dressed him in the coat.
The man’s own clothes were worn through, yet he dressed Bion in a fine coat and smiled with satisfaction.
Villagers watching from outside the window pointed at him and laughed.
‘Hey, look. Simeon’s doing something ridiculous again.’
‘Simeon’s gone mad.’
‘Does he want a son that badly?’
The villagers snickered.
Even so, Simeon didn’t stop talking to Bion.
‘—Bion was a young man dressed in fine clothes by his father. He cannot speak, because Bion is nothing more than a doll. Simeon, a man with no son of his own, dressed the doll and treated him like a son...’
Monica’s eyes widened in surprise.
She glanced at the seats beside her, but Isaac and the others didn’t look especially surprised. They probably already knew the story.
Even though the play had only just begun, Cyril was the only one watching the stage with such intense focus.
(Does Lord Cyril like this story?)
Monica turned her gaze back to the stage.
Perhaps it was improper to focus on the play for this reason, but Monica wanted to know what Cyril liked.
The story unfolded onstage.
One day, a god who had witnessed Simeon’s devotion gave Bion a soul.
Now human, Bion stood up from his chair and said to his father,
‘Good morning, Father.’
‘Ah, Bion, Bion, you...’
Bion smiled gently at Simeon, who was overcome with emotion.
‘Thank you for the wonderful coat. I’ve wanted to thank you for it for so, so long.’
Someone sniffled.
Glancing sideways, Monica saw Cyril pressing a hand to the corner of his eye.
＊ ＊ ＊
Listening to the cheers and applause filling the theater, Monica let out a long, deep breath.
Isaac, seated beside her, gave a quiet laugh at the sight of her.
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes! I’ve always had trouble reading novels, and I thought maybe I just couldn’t understand stories... but the play was really interesting.”
That was how Monica honestly felt.
Monica wasn’t good at reading novels. She didn’t quite understand figurative language, and she wasn’t very good at imagining what was left between the lines. To put it simply, she had little imagination.
Plays, on the other hand, were easy to follow. The show they’d seen today was relatively straightforward, of course, but hearing the actors deliver the lines made their emotions come across much more clearly than reading them in a novel.
“Wow, that was great! I was on the edge of my seat every time Bion got into trouble, and the part where he teamed up with his friends to overcome the trials was the best! Right, Cyril? ...Ah.”
Raul stopped short with a start, then turned to Monica.
“Monica! Let’s go buy something to drink!”
“Huh? Oh... y-yes!”
Cyril had covered his face with a handkerchief and gone completely still. Apparently, he was overcome with emotion and sobbing uncontrollably.
Isaac smiled wryly and said, “I’ll watch the luggage,” so Monica nodded repeatedly and left her seat with Raul.
The theater was crowded now that the show had just ended, but Monica could manage to walk through it as long as she was with someone she knew.
Raul kept to the less crowded edge of the walkway as he looked for a stall selling drinks and asked,
“The Seven Sages’ meeting is coming up soon. Are you staying in the capital until then, Monica?”
“No, I’m planning to go back to Southdoll first.”
This trip had been sudden, and more than anything, she was worried about Nero, who was away from home.
There was also the aftermath of the Water Dragon’s defeat to deal with, and she wanted to return to Southdoll at least once if she could.
Monica fidgeted as she answered. Raul glanced around, then lowered his voice a little as he said,
“I see. That might be for the best.”
“...Huh?”
“The next Seven Sages’ meeting is probably going to drag on. It seems like my grandmothers and Ray’s grandmother have been visiting Mary-san. I think Mary-san must have made some kind of prophecy.”
Mary Harvey, the 〈Star-Reading Witch〉, was the kingdom’s greatest prophet and a current member of the Seven Sages. Ray’s grandmother was the previous 〈Abyssal Warlock〉 and a former Sage, while Raul’s grandmothers were also influential figures in the magical community of the Kingdom of Ridill.
If such powerful witches were gathering for a meeting, it was likely Mary had prophesied some major incident.
Monica’s face stiffened with tension, and Raul casually added, “There’s something else, too.”
“Mr. Luis says he’s found a new candidate for the Seven Sages.”
“I-is that true?”
“Yeah. His first choice, the 〈Flying Mage〉, apparently spent ages running away from Mr. Luis before fleeing the country. Mr. Luis was furious, but then Old Man Thunders, the 〈Thunderclap Mage〉...”
“Aaaaah! Monica-chan!”
Before Raul could finish, an energetic voice rang out behind them.
Monica turned to see a petite girl weaving through the crowd and rushing toward them. She had black hair tied into a large bun and charming catlike eyes—the self-proclaimed pretend maid Carina Bar, one of the envoys from the Empire.
“Carina!”
“Waaah! It really is Monica-chan! I was worried I might have mistaken you for someone else! Oh, and it’s the gardener big brother! Good evening!”
Raul, whom she’d called the gardener big brother, didn’t bother correcting her. He simply raised one hand in a friendly greeting. “Hey.”
Smiling brightly, Carina said to Monica,
“I’m always getting lost in the castle. The gardener big brother always shows me the way!”
When Monica looked at Raul, he gave her a thumbs-up and winked.
“Yup, I’ve shown her the way about ten times!”
“Thanks for all your help!”
“My pleasure! By the way, are you and Monica friends, Carina?”
“Yeah, we are!”
Carina nodded without the slightest hesitation, and Monica felt a little embarrassed.
(But still... yeah, I’m happy.)
As Monica fidgeted with her fingers and her lips started to twitch, Carina leaned in to peer at her face and asked,
“Monica-chan, are you staying in the capital for a while?”
“Um, I’m going back soon this time, but I might come back for work after a little while...”
“I see! Then say hi if you see me at the castle or somewhere! ...Oh, no, I have to get back. Bye, Monica-chan! Bye, gardener big brother!”
Carina dashed off with the same liveliness and suddenness with which she’d appeared.
“She’s so energetic,” Raul murmured with feeling.
(The next time I go to the castle... I hope I can have a nice, leisurely chat with Carina and Lady Cecelia.)
Not long ago, Monica couldn’t have imagined looking forward to visiting the castle.
Gazing at the carved wooden cat hanging from her bag, Monica smiled softly.
＊ ＊ ＊
As he watched the audience leave the theater, Isaac remembered visiting one several years ago.
Back then, Isaac had snuck out of the Serendia Academy dormitory and visited all sorts of theaters, from those for the upper classes to popular theaters with standing-room-only sections.
He’d gone to see all kinds of plays, searching for something he could enjoy, something he could lose himself in, all for the sake of a promise to his late friend. But he’d never found anything that truly brought him joy.
He could objectively analyze the playwright’s and director’s intentions and the actors’ skill, but that was all.
Deep down, he’d known the truth himself.
Isaac had no interest in the stars, but he enjoyed looking up at the night sky with Arc.
Sneaking out of his room with biscuits and tea after slipping past the adults had been a treasure.
It had to be the same thing.
—Nothing’s fun anymore now that you’re gone, Arc.
He knew that, and yet he kept searching. For something he could lose himself in.
He searched and searched and kept on searching—and then, as if by a miracle, he met the 〈Silent Witch〉.
Isaac closed his eyes and replayed the play they’d seen today—“Bion, Bringer of Happiness”—in his mind.
This play had made major changes to the original story, and even included Basileos, the bringer of ruin. But the events unfolded differently from the original.
In the original, Basileos killed his adoptive father after being kicked by him. But in this play, Bion rescued Basileos from his abusive adoptive father.
Basileos then ran away from his adoptive father and became friends with Bion.
(What a cheap, contrived plot, pandering to the masses.)
Even as he inwardly sneered, Isaac felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his heart.
Before he knew it, he’d been watching the play like a fool, completely engrossed. He’d found himself wishing for a happy ending, hoping they would all be saved.
At this rate, he couldn’t laugh at the person beside him who’d been sobbing his eyes out.
“It was a wonderful play... I enjoyed it.”
He’d enjoyed it. Yes, he truly had. It was surely because Monica and Cyril had been there with him.
When Isaac murmured this, Cyril slowly raised his head. His eyes and nose were still red.
“It’s my favorite story.”
“Because you’re Marquis Hione’s ‘Bion, Bringer of Happiness.’”
As Isaac recalled the words he’d once said to Cyril, Cyril smiled proudly through his tear-streaked face.
“I am who I am now because you said that to me.”
It wasn’t the real 〈Your Highness〉 who said those words to you.
The thought came to mind, but Isaac didn’t say it aloud. He simply replied, “I see,” in a gentle voice.
Cyril knew Isaac was an impostor, and still, he’d gone to great lengths to save him when he was about to be executed.
Even now, he said Isaac was someone he respected. That was precisely why Isaac didn’t want to slight the sincere affection Cyril showed him.
(...Well, still.)
That was one thing, and this was another.
There was something Isaac simply, simply, simply had to say.
He’d decided he would say it once this whole incident had settled down.
“By the way, Cyril, when you’re in private, you call Monica, Elliot, and Neil by their names, don’t you?”
“Y-yes. We’ve graduated, after all...”
“Then don’t you think there’s an appropriate way for you to address me, too?”
Cyril looked as if he’d suddenly realized something.
“I-I’m terribly sorry...!”
Then, with the particular embarrassment that came from using an unfamiliar form of address, Cyril murmured,
“Your Excellency.”
At that moment, Isaac honestly thought, You bastard. He reached out with his right hand and pinched Cyril’s left cheek as hard as he could.
Cyril’s tear-stained face turned pale, and he floundered.
“I-I’m sorry, um, Duke Eirin? ...Um, i-it hurts. Your High... Excellency.”
—Your High-Excellency.
It was about as good as Monica’s old “Your High-Highness.”
“Um, I-is that not right? ...Then, um, um... M-Mysterious Person?”
Without a word, Isaac pinched Cyril’s right cheek, too.
The weasels protested from inside the bag, saying, “Cyril’s getting bullied!” and “Cyril’s cheeks are going to stretch out!” but Isaac didn’t care.
“Aike?! What are you doing to Lord Cyril?!”
Monica’s scream rang out behind him.
Monica came hurrying over with a wooden cup in each hand. She set them on the seat, then tugged hard on Isaac’s coat.
His master was terribly cute like this, but unfortunately, Isaac couldn’t just obey her this time.
“Aike! Aike, I said! Waaah!”
“Huh? What? What’s going on?”
As Monica wailed and tugged on Isaac’s coat, Raul looked confused as he peered at the weasels in the bag.
But the weasels didn’t really understand what was going on, either.
“Cyril got scolded by His Excellency.”
“Don’t bully Cyril, Mysterious Person.”
Isaac smiled faintly at the weasels’ words and let go of Cyril’s cheeks.
Then he firmly grasped Cyril’s right hand, while Cyril looked on in confusion with tears in his eyes.
“Isaac Walker, twenty-two years old. The person I respect is the 〈Silent Witch〉, Monica Everett. My hobbies are magical research and collecting the 〈Silent Witch〉’s research papers. My favorite reading is anything written by the 〈Silent Witch〉. Pleased to meet you, Cyril Ashley.”
“Twenty-two? ...Wait, you’re older than me...?”
“Y-you’re three years older than I am?!”
“Oh, he’s a year older than me,” Raul murmured casually.
Cyril’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly, Monica cried out in shock, and Raul made his easygoing remark.
Honestly, Isaac didn’t care about their ages. He wanted them to start giving serious thought to what they were going to call him.
(Because if I’m still ‘Your Highness,’ I can’t be his rival.)
Basileos wanted to stand on the same stage as Bion.