Chapter 19

It was the night Harold and Tasuku forged their secret alliance.

Under a thick shroud of clouds that barred the moonlight from the earth, one room remained bathed in brilliant light, as if trying to drive back the oppressive darkness.

Inside sat five people in uniform silence: Tasuku in the seat of honor, his wife Koyomi, their daughter Erika, Tasuku’s attendant Kiryu, and Yuno—whose signature look was a pristine white apron.

Seeking to ease the heavy tension, Tasuku, the master of the house, was the first to speak.

"Well then. I understand you have a report for us, Yuno?"

"Yes. Master, Lady Erika, there is something I must share with you both."

Though her voice remained soft, the usual airy lilt was gone. Yuno sounded uncharacteristically grave.

"To Erika as well?" Tasuku asked.

"Indeed. I was acting on Lady Erika’s direct request."

At those words, every eye in the room shifted to Erika. She bowed her head deeply in response.

"I apologize for dispatching them without your permission, Father. However, there was something I simply had to confirm, so I asked for Yuno’s assistance."

"And this thing you had to confirm... was it about Harold-kun?"

"It was. Father, are you aware of the rumors that Lord Harold murdered a servant and her daughter?"

"Yes. Reports have reached me that such stories are circulating among the common folk in the Stokes territory."

Tasuku had heard of the double homicide through internal investigators who had infiltrated the Stokes lands disguised as merchants or travelers. Given the general public’s pre-existing loathing for House Stokes, the news seemed to have spread through the citizenry like wildfire.

"...There is now reason to believe those rumors are false," Erika stated.

"False? Are you saying the pair rumored to be dead are actually alive?"

"I asked Yuno and her team to investigate that very possibility."

Now, all eyes were on Yuno. They waited for her to speak. Without any unnecessary preamble, she delivered her findings.

"Regarding this matter, the rumors currently in circulation are incorrect. The servant Clara and her daughter Colette, though reported dead, are both alive and well."

Tasuku narrowed his eyes at the news. Erika looked down, her fists clenching so tightly atop her knees that her knuckles turned white. A wave of crushing guilt washed over her.

Yuno cast a concerned glance at the young lady, but she continued her report nonetheless.

"They are currently residing in Brosche Village, a small settlement under the jurisdiction of Viscount Barack. It took some doing, but I managed to secure a firsthand account from the mother herself."

"What do you mean by 'some doing'?" Tasuku asked.

"They hadn't changed their names, so finding them by questioning the locals was easy enough. However, Clara was deathly stubborn about refusing to discuss the events of that day."

After receiving the initial report from her scouts, Yuno had traveled to the village herself. When she met her, Clara hadn't exactly slammed the door in her face, but she had made it clear she had no intention of revealing the truth.

However, Yuno wasn't the type to simply give up. While speaking with the woman, she had noticed something crucial: Clara felt a profound, overwhelming sense of gratitude toward Harold.

Harold had hidden their survival while claiming to the world that he had killed them. Even knowing the rumors were destroying his reputation, he did nothing to suppress them. Why would a woman he supposedly murdered feel so indebted to him?

As Yuno pondered this, a hypothesis began to take shape. If she was right, she had a way to sway Clara. It was a plan that would, in a sense, trample upon the secret feelings of both Harold and Clara.

Even so, Yuno felt she had no choice. Swallowing her own bitterness, she had spoken these words:

“Lord Harold has willfully accepted the brand of a murderer. Because of that, he is now hated by his own people. Though he hides it behind a mask, he is utterly exhausted.

I have no intention of dragging the hidden truth into the light of day. However, if you tell me what happened, we can secretly find people who actually understand Lord Harold. Please, help me... if only to save him.”

The plea, embellished with just enough drama, was remarkably effective. Clara had turned pale, her hands flying to her mouth.

With tears welling in her eyes and after a few minutes of painful silence, she finally revealed the entirety of what had happened that day.

And Yuno had felt a pang of regret—that she could only reach the truth by forcing such a confession.

"...And? What did she say?" Tasuku prompted.

"The incident began about five months ago, when Clara accidentally nearly injured Lord Harold."

From there, Yuno recounted the story with meticulous precision.

She told them how Harold’s parents had flown into a rage and nearly executed the woman on the spot.

How Harold had lied, claiming he wanted to use Clara as a magical experiment, and locked her in the underground dungeon.

How he had used that time to devise a plan for her escape.

How he had reunited her with her daughter so the child wouldn't be left alone in the world.

How he had provided horses, household goods, and a massive sum of money for their new lives—all for nothing in return.

And how he bore the stigma of a murderer now solely to ensure their continued safety.

"...She told me the story through her tears," Yuno concluded.

Silence fell over the room. No one could find the words.

They finally understood the sheer depth of strength and kindness hidden beneath Harold’s insolent mask—and the weight of the suffering he carried. They also understood that for Clara, revealing the truth to save him was a heart-wrenching betrayal of his noble sacrifice.

Suddenly, Erika stood up and reached for the sliding door.

"Erika, where are you going?" Tasuku called out.

"...I must apologize to Lord Harold. Knowing nothing, making no effort to understand, I insulted him purely out of emotion. I even raised my hand to him. It is likely unforgivable, but at the very least..."

She felt she had to offer him a sincere apology from the bottom of her heart.

But Tasuku blocked her path. "I cannot allow that."

"Why, Father?"

"He has put his life and reputation on the line to protect this secret. Now that we know, our duty is not to share that secret with him, but to guard it with our lives. Knowing Harold, if he realizes his secret has leaked to people he doesn't fully trust yet, he will only isolate himself further out of caution."

To do so would be to drive a boy who had been fighting a solitary war into even deeper loneliness. Harold might manage to survive it, but it would be a path of thorns. Beneath that thick mask, he was likely constantly wounded, perhaps even weeping in private.

"It’s natural to want to apologize, Erika. But is that desire born of genuine guilt for him? Or are you just looking for a way to ease your own conscience for how you treated him?"

"っ!"

Tasuku stopped her firmly, even if it meant being harsh with his beloved daughter.

Erika understood his logic. Her mind accepted it. But her heart and her emotions were not so easily managed.

"...Then what am I supposed to do? I cannot correct my mistake, I cannot even bow my head... so what am I to do!?"

As she cried out, Erika finally looked like a child of her age. Seeing his daughter, who usually acted far too mature, show such a raw, childish display of emotion, Tasuku found it endearing—even if the timing was poor.

He stood up, walked over, and gently stroked the head of the girl who barely reached his waist.

"Become a person who can support him. He is brilliant, but he is too brilliant. That power will inevitably make him lonely."

Tasuku had felt it intuitively when speaking with Harold. The boy likely saw the world through a lens far different from any ordinary person.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have said things like, 'It’s something beyond the understanding of anyone but myself.'

The way Harold had spoken, almost with a hint of lament, suggested he was fully aware of the lonely future Tasuku feared for him. Yet, for better or worse, Harold possessed the strength to endure that solitude. Tasuku saw a terrifyingly strong will in him—one that would keep him walking no matter how steep the climb.

"If you truly wish to atone, do not beg for his forgiveness. Instead, watch over what he is trying to achieve. Support him. Stay by his side. Strive to be the one person who truly understands him."

"Stay by his side... and truly understand him..."

"It will be incredibly difficult. Because of his talent, Harold-kun might seek collaborators, but he likely feels he has no need for friends. Can you follow a man who acts entirely on his own, believing in him even when he keeps you at arm's length?"

It was obvious that Harold was trying to push Erika away. Tasuku didn't think Harold was doing it out of spite; he likely had a reason.

Which meant that no matter how much heart Erika put into it, he might never look back at her. That, too, was a grueling path.

"..."

Erika was not so shallow a child as to offer an easy "I can!" She knew all too well how self-centered her actions had been thus far, and how far she was from the ideal her father described.

Tasuku knelt to meet her eyes, speaking with fatherly tenderness.

"You don't need an answer right now. Just watch him, learn from him, and then decide what you want to do. Though, as for hitting him... you really should apologize for that part. You overdid it."

Tasuku sent the dejected Erika back to her room, sensing she wouldn't be able to process anything else today. Once she and Yuno had left, he let out a wry chuckle.

"She was quite a handful when the engagement was first decided, but she seems even more distraught this time around."

"Though the reasons are the exact opposite," Koyomi added, her laughter sounding like silver bells.

Only two months ago, Erika had been putting on a brave face while secretly mourning an unwanted engagement. Now, she was filled with regret for hurting that same partner and yearned to be recognized by him—even if she hadn't quite realized the nature of those feelings yet.

"Children grow up so fast, don't they?"

"Why so solemn, dear? This isn't the first time you've watched your children grow."

"It’s different when it’s my daughter. Anyway, Kiryu—what was Itsuki’s response?"

"He said he would return by tomorrow morning," Kiryu replied.

Tasuku gave another wry smile. "Typical. I figured that’s what he’d say."

"He does dote on Erika, after all," Koyomi said. "I hope he doesn't go overboard if he spars with Harold-kun."

"He'll be fine. According to Yuno, Harold-kun is quite the swordsman. It won't be a one-sided affair."

Still, Tasuku didn't truly believe Itsuki would lose. Regardless, a boyish spark of mischief lit up his eyes at the thought of the two of them clashing.

"You have a very wicked look on your face, husband."

"Nonsense. I am merely excited for the future of these talented children."

"The Master is still young at heart, it seems," Kiryu noted.

"Haha, quite right!"

"Good heavens. Men really are just children, no matter their age." Koyomi sighed, watching Tasuku and Kiryu grin at one another.

Harold, oblivious to the fact that the adults were plotting his entertainment, was fast asleep, savoring the long-awaited sensation of a proper futon. He was perfectly satisfied with how smoothly things were progressing.

---

The following morning.

Harold sat at breakfast with Tasuku, Koyomi, and Erika, his face a mask of cold indifference that betrayed none of his good mood. As the meal wound down, Tasuku spoke up.

"By the way, Harold-kun. Regarding our talk yesterday—I’ve found a suitable sparring partner for you."

Harold narrowed his eyes as he sipped his tea. "That was fast. You’ve been busy."

"A very skilled individual happened to be nearby. When I asked him to spar with you, he agreed instantly."

"Who is he?"

"That’s a surprise. He just got back this morning, but would you like to have a match right away?"

"Of course. I assume you have a place ready?"

Harold bit the bait immediately, unable to hide his eagerness. Tasuku’s smile deepened.

"Naturally. We’ll go by carriage. Why don't you go get ready?"

Harold stood up at once and headed back to his room. Fighting in a yukata would be impossible; he needed to change.

"He certainly seemed comfortable in seiza yesterday, didn't he?" Koyomi mused.

"And I heard he put on those Japanese clothes without any help from the maids," Tasuku added. "His use of chopsticks and indoor etiquette... his knowledge of Sumeragi culture is surprisingly deep."

"...He even seemed to know about the Sakura," Erika added softly.

The Sumeragi family stared at Harold’s empty seat, puzzled.

---

Several minutes later, Harold—now in his usual gear—was in a carriage with Tasuku, Kiryu, and for some reason, Erika.

Sitting next to Harold, Erika looked painfully awkward. Harold could relate. It was obvious she didn't want to be here; Tasuku likely had some ulterior motive for dragging her along. Deciding it wasn't worth the effort to speak, Harold simply watched the scenery go by.

They soon arrived at a massive martial arts complex.

The first thing Harold saw was a gate at least ten meters high. It was a domineering structure, and once they passed through, the sheer scale of the grounds became apparent. Buildings lined the vast property, and the sounds of kiai shouts and the thud of bodies hitting the floor echoed from every direction.

Harold was led to a two-story dojo that possessed a particularly solemn air. They climbed the wooden exterior stairs and entered the second floor.

The sunlight streaming through the lattice windows kept the space bright. This floor seemed to be a waiting area, with a large section covered in tatami mats where several adults could easily lounge. The lively chatter in the room died instantly as Tasuku and Erika entered, and every person present immediately bowed in a show of deep respect.

"Sorry to drop in unannounced. We'll be using the lower dojo for a bit. Is Itsuki here?"

"Yes, he arrived at dawn."

Tasuku spoke easily with the men, and they responded with genuine warmth and loyalty. It was a clear display of the trust the clan head commanded.

Following Kiryu’s lead, Harold and the others descended to the first floor.

It was a kendo dojo. Two regulation-sized courts stretched across the floor, and the ceiling was open, looking up toward the second-floor gallery. People from upstairs began to gather at the railing to see what the commotion was about.

Harold ignored the spectators. His eyes were locked on a single point.

A boy was swinging a shinai in the center of the dojo. He looked to be about twelve or thirteen—a few years older than Harold—and was focused entirely on his practice swings. Even from a distance, the boy had a presence that demanded attention.

"Itsuki."

At the sound of Tasuku’s voice, the boy stopped and turned toward them.

He had black hair and black eyes, the classic look of someone from the East. He was at least ten centimeters taller than Harold, and he was strikingly handsome—the kind of boy who could have easily been an idol in Harold’s old world.

The beautiful boy opened his mouth and immediately shouted:

"Oh, Erika! You’ve grown even more beautiful since I last saw you!"

Completely ignoring Tasuku, he dashed straight for Erika, seized her hands, and began pouring out a stream of breathless praise. Erika looked at him with the weary expression of someone dealing with a massive headache.

"...Wait. Don't tell me this is my opponent?"

"I know what you're thinking, but his skill is the real deal," Tasuku assured him. "Don't worry."

"I told you to find someone strong. This is just a kid."

"Pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?"

Itsuki, who had seemed to have eyes for no one but Erika, had clearly been keeping track of Harold. He turned toward him with a smile that was fundamentally different from the one he had given his sister—a smile that held a distinct touch of malice.

"Let me introduce myself. I am Itsuki Sumeragi. Erika’s older brother."

"...Harold Stokes."

"Is that all? No, no. You're leaving out the most important part."

Itsuki clapped a hand onto Harold’s left shoulder.

"You're Erika’s fiancé, aren't you? My! Precious!! Little sister’s!!!"

Harold felt the grip on his shoulder tighten with bone-crushing force. In that moment, he realized the truth.

This guy was a hopeless, high-level sister-con.