**Chapter 17**
—
A roar of rough cheers reached Arthur’s ears, and he tilted his head.
“Waaaah—!!”
“The crazy young master beat Jane Dormund!”
“And not just beat him—completely crushed him!!”
“When did he get that strong? Is he really our young master!?”
Knights, butlers, maids—
everyone bearing the name of Bayern was shouting his name in celebration.
Arthur couldn’t understand why.
The figure of Jane Dormund lying on the ground was, no matter how generously he looked at it, nothing to cheer for.
Not only was he covered in sword wounds, his right arm had been severed, and he had wet himself. To be honest, the sight was not merely terrible—it was downright pitiful.
In other words, it was not something one should be joyously cheering about.
*Even if he was the enemy, when you leave someone in that state… normally, wouldn’t people be more frightened than thrilled?*
So Arthur, with a bemused expression, glanced at the Bayern retainers—but didn’t dwell on it.
After all, laughing was better than crying, and cheers were better than screams.
Turning away from the cheering retainers, Arthur looked toward Cain.
*Oh…*
Cain’s expression was stripped of emotion, his brow deeply furrowed.
No emotions showed outwardly, but Arthur could tell—Cain was angrier now than he had been moments ago.
The corners of Arthur’s lips lifted naturally at that realization.
The cheering of the Bayern retainers grew even louder, thinking the victor had just shown a confident smile.
“Waaaaah—!!”
Arthur’s name was chanted so fiercely it felt like the whole Bayern manor was shaking. At last, Cain, who had been silent until now, spoke.
“Clear it away.”
At his order, the Dormund knights—who had been creeping forward—quickly carried Jane out of the training grounds.
Once they were gone, Cain slowly turned his gaze.
Meeting it, Arthur made a suggestion.
“Since it seems I’ve won, could I hear what you promised me?”
“….”
“If you mind the eyes around us, we can always go to a room and talk.”
Cain’s lip twitched.
But that was all—he did nothing more.
No matter how angry he was, his cold reason was still intact.
And that reason told him that nothing he did now could reverse the situation.
*A miscalculation. But it’s not as if I’ve gained nothing.*
With a mutter, Cain’s eyes glinted.
Replaying Arthur Bayern’s swordsmanship in his mind, he reached into his clothes and tossed over a book.
“Hm? What’s this?”
Arthur caught the book and asked, but Cain didn’t answer.
He turned and left the training ground, the silent Dormund retainers belatedly following him.
When all thirty Dormund retainers finally slunk away from the manor, Bayern’s cheers grew even louder.
“Waaaaah—!!”
Amid the deafening noise, Arthur opened the book Cain had given him—only to raise his eyebrows.
The first name written on the enchanted page was one he found very familiar.
*Denian Bayern. The man said to be the founder of House Bayern.*
Interest flickered in his gaze—when suddenly, the cheers striking his ears came to an abrupt stop.
Arthur looked up at the change. The gathered Bayern retainers had parted into two lines, bowing deeply to one person.
Arthur murmured softly.
“…Mother?”
—
—
Following behind Yonel, Arthur scratched his head.
The thrill of having just dealt Cain a blow, the satisfaction of cutting off Jane’s right arm—both feelings were gone.
Instead, watching Yonel’s rigid back, which seemed filled with quiet fury, he felt a heavy, indescribable weight.
*…Well, it’s my fault, so I’ve got nothing to say.*
He had provoked Cain and gone ahead to arrange a spar without permission.
That alone was bad enough, but in the process, he had mercilessly hacked Jane apart.
No normal parent could understand such behavior.
Arthur sighed.
*I’d better apologize. I really was in the wrong…*
By then, Yonel had entered an empty office.
Arthur hesitated a moment, then followed a step late.
“….”
Neither spoke once they were inside.
Yonel stared at him with tightly pressed lips, and Arthur bowed his head under the weight of that gaze.
The soundless silence stretched—until Yonel rose and beckoned him forward.
Arthur cautiously approached, only for Yonel to suddenly reach out and embrace him.
“…?”
Caught off guard, Arthur blinked blankly. Yonel spoke, her voice quiet.
“…Arthur, you didn’t do anything wrong, did you?”
Arthur regained his wits and replied.
“N-no, Mother.”
“What did you do wrong?”
“Um… ignoring your words and stubbornly doing as I pleased.”
Yonel shook her head in his arms.
Arthur felt the front of his shirt growing damp.
*She’s crying.*
The realization made him flinch without thinking. Yonel’s voice wavered.
“And why would that be your fault?”
“….”
“Creating a situation like this… if you think about it, the fault lies with me.”
Arthur blinked.
“…What do you mean, Mother?”
“I mean exactly that. How could this incident possibly be your fault?”
Sighing bitterly, Yonel continued.
“Last night… I stayed up thinking. Why would my sweet son be so stubborn? Stubborn enough to do something as absurd as arranging a duel. And then the answer came to me.”
“….”
“It was for me. Because of me, you did this. That Cain… he must have threatened you. Said he’d harm your mother unless you agreed to a duel… He must have lured you in that way.”
Arthur’s eyes widened.
*That’s not what happened, Mother… We both agreed to it quite willingly.*
But Yonel went on to apologize.
“I’m sorry, my son.”
“….”
“Not only did I hide behind you… I even tried to use you. Please, forgive this mother of yours.”
Arthur couldn’t answer.
Her misunderstanding had allowed him to sidestep the situation, but watching her cry made his heart ache instead.
As he was caught between those feelings—
“Oh?”
With a soft exclamation, something warm and salty slid down Arthur’s face.
It was a tear—something that hadn’t come out even in moments when his heart had stopped.
He was startled. Yonel was startled. Neither spoke.
Yonel recovered first.
“A-Arthur? Why are you crying?”
“…I don’t know. It just… started flowing?”
“Come here. What did you do wrong… what did you do wrong to cry… You faced something so hard and came out strong—what could you have done wrong…?”
Her voice broke into sobs.
Arthur let out a sigh.
*Ah…*
Seeing her cry hurt more than any relief at having gotten through the situation.
He hugged her back.
“I’m sorry, Mother. I won’t do it again.”
With her face buried in his chest, Yonel replied.
“…No. Just remember this one thing. In this world, Irene and you—you two are the most precious to me.”
“Yes. Of course. You’re the most precious to me too, Mother.”
Yonel said nothing more.
Arthur, smiling faintly without realizing it, noticed that at some point, his tears had stopped.
*I see… I must have cried because I’d come back to my senses.*
The corners of his lips lifted again.
His eyes still stung, but the tears—his first in years—weren’t so bad after all.
—
—
After putting the tear-weary Yonel to rest, Arthur returned to his room.
Undine, who had been playing with Gnome, greeted him.
*\[Arthur, you’re back!?]*
Arthur smiled and returned the greeting.
Seeing him in better spirits than usual, the two spirits tilted their heads.
*\[Arthur… did something happen? You look so cheerful.]*
“Oh? Do I?”
*\[Yes! You look much better than usual!]*
Arthur chuckled.
“I cried today.”
*\[…]*
“And it felt good. Maybe because it’s been so long since I last shed tears… I could feel I was alive.”
Undine’s expression grew uncertain.
*…Feeling good because you cried?*
Wasn’t it normal to be sad after crying?
While she tilted her head in confusion, Gnome shivered beside her.
*Cried and felt good…? Could it be he hit someone again?*
Maybe it made him so happy that he cried?
It didn’t make sense—but knowing his master, it was entirely possible.
Meanwhile, Arthur had sat down and taken out the book.
Undine snapped out of her thoughts and asked:
*\[You’re not going out to train tonight?]*
“No. I have something to do.”
He showed her the book Cain had given him.
Undine let out a small cry of wonder.
*\[It’s really old! And it’s enchanted!]*
Arthur nodded and carefully turned the pages.
*Cain Dormund… He’d never give me anything good, but since he did, I might as well read it.*
He focused.
The two spirits lit candles for him.
Flick—
In the flicker of the candlelight, Arthur turned page after page.
The only sounds in the room were the rustle of paper and the occasional breath.
In that low, heavy silence, his page-turning gradually quickened.
When he reached the final page, Arthur’s eyes widened.
“Hm… What’s this?”
He tilted his head.
“So… this is saying I’m a descendant of an \[Angel]?”
