A Rotten Lifeline

"…You're telling me Leoneld is searching for me?"

The color drained from Cesare's face in an instant, leaving it a dull gray. What Lysian said next could only be called despair itself — to think that after ending a throne war drenched in blood, the very first thing the man had done upon taking his seat was hunt for his whereabouts. A cold shiver swept roughly down his spine.

"Yes. Seated on the throne, before the blood had even dried, the first command out of his mouth was said to be this: find Duke Valois, even if you have to comb through the entire empire."

Lysian, who had gone out to dig up the information, toyed with his reddened cheek as he recited the news in a murmur so sweetly mild it was infuriating.

"I can't fathom why that mad beast is so obsessed with you, Duke… but one thing is certain — there was no time. This duchy is the heart of House Valois, so within a week… no, less than three days, the Emperor's hounds will come crashing down on this place."

Cesare ground his lips together and clenched his fists. His heart pounded with a sickening thud.

No way….

His white-knuckled fists grew paler still, and his mind began to stain rapidly with the worst possible assumptions.

Had he realized everything — every atrocity the real Cesare of the original story committed?Is that why he's hunting me? To collect for those dreadful poisoned goblets? To kill me and drag me to my knees at his feet? Fear surged in like a tidal wave and swallowed him whole.

Barely holding down the tremors, Cesare rose from the bed and, as if in a trance, drifted over to look down at the small infant cradle set beside it. There lay his small, precious child, sound asleep and knowing nothing at all.

If I'm caught and killed now….

That innocent child's life would be forfeit as well. Leoneld, who now knew everything, would never let his own blood live — and the moment Cesare heard the child's even breathing, the survival instinct to run struck deep into his skull.

"…Damn it."

His face twisted as despair welled up in him, and he clutched his head.

However out of my mind I was, I should have at least tied up the loose ends of everything that was done before I possessed this body.

He hadn't had the luxury — and he knew full well that if he had, Leoneld would have learned of the child's existence long ago. And still, he regretted it.

Not that I regret giving birth to the child, of course….

Slumping powerlessly to the floor, Cesare wrung at his bursting head and agonized without end. How was he to slip out of this airtight net the Emperor had cast? Where could he possibly go to keep both the child and himself alive?

The endless spiral of thought was shattered by a low voice from above his head.

"Shall I help you, Duke?"

Lysian let the corner of his mouth curl as he lowered himself to eye level with Cesare, crouched on the floor. His sleek eyes, curved in a graceful arc, fastened firmly onto Cesare's wavering gaze. Cesare lowered the hand braced against his head and asked urgently.

"How…? What way could there possibly be?"

"Not far from the duchy, tucked away somewhere discreet, I keep a private villa. Even the imperial intelligence network can't easily reach it. Will you flee there with me?"

It was a proposal like manna from heaven — but the man offering it was the last person Cesare could bring himself to trust. He fixed him with a dubious glare.

"…Yours is not exactly a face that inspires trust."

"How cruel."

Lysian smiled brightly and stepped back a single pace.

"But you haven't any other option, do you? And above all… Duke Valois."

His eyes sank, cold and still.

"You can't use magic anymore, can you?"

Cesare clenched his fists tight.

…Damn it.

He wasn't wrong. The Cesare of the original had been a towering archmage — but that had only ever been the original Cesare's story.

…Damn it. Normally you keep the abilities even after transmigrating, don't you?

Unfortunately, the novel and reality were two very different things. Every magic circle the body's original owner had built still remained; the problem was that to him — a modern man — the very sense of how to wield mana was hopelessly foreign.

Absurd as it sounded, an analogy made it clear enough. If an ordinary person who had lived their whole life with two arms suddenly sprouted a third and was told to move it as they pleased, what chance would they have of moving it properly?

…And then there was the most decisive problem of all — the plain fact that he simply had no talent for magic. None whatsoever.

He had stumbled onto that humiliating truth a few months back. Sick to death of Lysian descending on him without warning every month to turn his life inside out, Cesare had once rummaged through his memories of the original and tried to threaten the man with Firestorm. But far from a raging storm of flame, he hadn't managed to summon so much as a single spark the size of a cigarette ember.

Lysian, who had witnessed the whole pathetic display, gave a derisive little laugh.

"I did warn you, didn't I, that digging too deep into black magic would end badly? It seems your mana circuits are quite ruined."

"…Ye-es. Quite."

Cesare answered airily while dying of existential dread inside. Fuck, black magic my ass — I just have zero talent, all right…?

Damn it all. Anyway — enough of this sordid little tale.

What mattered now was getting away, and swiftly, from Leoneld, who was hunting him.

Cesare looked up at Lysian and forced his voice into calm.

"As for your proposal that we flee to the villa together — it isn't a bad one. But I cannot place my full trust in you alone, Your Highness the Fourth Prince. So I'll have one promise from you first."

"And what promise would that be?"

Lysian's eyes curved, clearly entertained.

"Swear it on your circle. That for as long as I remain at your villa, you will take no action to harm me — and that you will do everything in your power to help keep my whereabouts from being discovered by the imperial family."

Lysian, like Cesare, was a mage — and a high-ranked one at that, born of imperial blood. For a mage to swear upon his own 'circle' was, in practice, no different from staking his life. The moment a circle collapsed, the heart, unable to endure the ruin, would burst.

"…Hmm. Demanding an oath from the very man offering you shelter. How bold of you."

Lysian tilted his head lightly, feigned a moment's consideration, and then broke easily into a smiling gaze.

"Well — very well. If that is what Duke Valois desires."

As though it were nothing worth mentioning, he laid a hand over his chest and spoke.

The instant the solemn declaration ended, dazzling light erupted from around Lysian's heart. The ribbon of light twisted into a ring — a circle — wound once around his chest, and then seeped down into his heart.

"There. That should settle it, yes?"

Lysian held out his hand to Cesare.

"…Fine."

Cesare, given exactly who he was dealing with, wanted nothing to do with it — but he took the man's hand all the same. Rotten rope though it was, only by clinging to it now could he keep both the child and himself alive.

The villa they reached after following Lysian through the严密 tracking net boasted an exterior so exquisite and lavish it was hard to believe it was hidden in a remote forest. True to its purpose as a private estate built to dodge imperial eyes, it was ringed on every side by dense coniferous forest — a natural fortress — while inside, as if to flaunt Lysian's outlandish tastes, plush marble and soft silk wallpaper made the rooms feel almost cozy.

But Cesare had no leisure to admire any of the dazzling décor. The first thing he did upon entering the room was lay the child he had carried so carefully against his chest into the new cradle waiting beside the bed. Miraculously undisturbed by the swaying of the carriage, the child slept on soundly, wiggling tiny fingers and breathing in slow, even rhythm, entirely unaware that the world around had changed.

"…Haa."

Only once he had confirmed the child was safely settled did a long sigh finally burst out of Cesare. The tension drained from his whole body at once, and a headache came rolling in behind it.

His mind was still brimming with the image of Leoneld, seated upon that bloodstained throne, commanding the empire to hunt down his whereabouts. Since when had his atrocities from the original been discovered? Would he die if he were caught? A shapeless dread that the Emperor's hounds might shatter this door at any moment pressed coldly against his chest.

Just then, he heard the soft whisper of fabric brushing the floor behind him.

"Standing there staring into space rather defeats the point of my bringing you all this way, doesn't it?"

Lysian, somehow already beside him, draped a soft blanket over Cesare's shoulders and murmured with tender concern. Cesare flinched and stumbled back a step, but Lysian only smiled faintly and studied his face.

"You look dreadful, Duke. You came down in such a hurry, and then traveled again without so much as proper rest — of course your body is giving out. You really ought to lie down first…."

"…No. I'm quite all right."

Cesare refused, pressing a hand to his temple. But his body was far too heavy for the claim to hold — the breakneck journey had piled the fatigue up high.

"You are the very picture of not-all-right."

Lysian clicked his tongue lightly and came a step closer. Before Cesare could react, a large, firm hand pressed down squarely on his shoulder. Gripping that faintly trembling shoulder, Lysian guided him along with unbearable gentleness.

"Lie down first. If you collapse here and now, who else is left to look after that child but His Majesty the Emperor, fresh back from hell?"

At that glimpse of a future that must never come to pass, Cesare's strength finally drained away — if he couldn't keep even his own body upright, he couldn't protect the child.

With a satisfied smile, Lysian led him to the bed and laid him down with care. Only when the cool touch of fine silk sheets met his skin did the knots of muscle throughout his body finally begin to loosen. Lysian solicitously drew a thick blanket up over him, then quietly settled himself to perch at the head of the bed.

"The child…."

Even lying down, Cesare's gaze stayed fixed on the cradle. Watching him force his heavy eyelids up and reach a hand toward the baby, Lysian leaned in a little further, cutting off his line of sight; those delicately curved eyes gently caged Cesare's faintly trembling ones.

"I will watch the child. So close your eyes and rest easy, Duke."

"…And how, exactly, am I to trust you with that?"

"At this very moment, in this entire empire — who else is there for you to trust but me?"

Lysian's silky voice slid a cold blade between his ribs. It was a fact beyond argument — with the Emperor's hounds swarming on every side, this bizarre man who had volunteered to help him was, absurdly enough, the only lifeline left.

…Right. I did get his oath, after all.

Pressed down by the cascading fatigue and a strange heat smoldering deep within his body, Cesare slowly closed his eyes.