Chapter 44

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 44
Chapter Title: A Bottle of Odelnos
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Not wanting to seem weak, he roughly wiped his eyes with his sleeve and focused on repairing the broom again.

But the phantom voices rang in his ears relentlessly, and unable to stay still, he shot up from his seat.

“Father!”

At the face and voice that suddenly appeared at the window, Kill gasped for breath, clutching his chest.

“Gasp…! Father! Are you all right?”

“Y-You startled me… Oof…!”

Not having considered his father's advanced age, Atlind quickly steadied Kill, worried he might collapse.

After his breathing steadied and he confirmed this wasn't a dream, the father and son shared a passionate embrace, their faces filled with emotion.

“What are you doing here? Good heavens… I never imagined I’d see you again.”

Kill led his son out of the storeroom to a place with a better view, plopping down on a damp chair as he spoke.

Atlind adjusted the wine bottle he was clutching and sat beside him.

“I’m not sure myself. Her Majesty left a Raphi behind, and that Raphi suddenly brought me here.”

“A Raphi?”

“Yes. You would know him, Father. The one who was the captain of the Royal Guard….”

Atlind pointed to Whees, who was standing at a distance, looking around. *A Raphi I’ve seen somewhere before,* Kill thought, before suddenly realizing Whees’s identity and letting out a dry laugh.

“So it’s the captain of the Raphi squad. If it weren’t for them, we wouldn’t have been defeated so soundly. I wonder what scheme he has in mind, bringing you here….”

“I don’t know about any schemes, but for now, I’m just happy to see you, Father.”

Kill looked down at the ground with an awkward expression, scratching his cheek.

“Well, there is that. In any case, I’m glad to see you. Arsinoe said you were safe and sound, but it’s hard to trust her word.”

“You still don’t think highly of Her Majesty, do you, Father?”

Atlind smiled and offered him the wine.

Kill, who had been wondering why he was holding it so dearly, took the bottle and let out a short gasp.

“Good heavens. Isn’t this a wine from Odelnos! How did you get this?”

Odelnos, a city of the Raphi located at the northernmost tip of the continent, known as the coldest place where people could live.

The wine from Odelnos was called the stuff of legends among connoisseurs, not only for the peculiarity of it being made by the Raphi, who didn’t typically enjoy alcohol, but also for its incomparable taste and aroma.

Even Kill himself only drank the precious wine on joyous occasions, like his son’s wedding or the birth of his grandchild.

“Her Majesty gave it to me before I came.”

“What? This isn’t something even a person in power can easily obtain. How did that woman get a wine that even I have trouble acquiring….”

Grumbling with a frown, Kill trailed off and let out a hollow breath.

He had just remembered something about Arsinoe’s past.

*She said she came from Pomnos. Does that mean she has connections with the Raphi of Odelnos, too?*

“She told me to give it to you. And she said that if you promise to follow her, she’ll give you a hundred cases of Odelnos wine.”

Atlind twisted the cork with an amused expression.

With a cheerful *pop*, an aroma like a mix of green apples and peaches spread through the air.

Goedel Kill, who had been staring at the bottle as if to say, *What nonsense is this?*, caught the scent and immediately pressed his lips into a thin line, letting out a low groan.

“No matter how… insignificant I may be, do you think I would change my mind over some blasted wine?”

“I think so, too. No matter how much you love wine, Father, you’re not the type to be swayed by something like this.”

Kill, who had been glaring at the bottle indignantly, softened his brow and muttered.

“……Damn it, why this wine of all things? To think she’d try to tempt me with my greatest weakness. What a wicked woman.”

Hearing his muttering, Atlind couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Despite his father’s sharp glare, Atlind just smiled lightly.

“Still, the wine itself is innocent, isn’t it?”

Glancing around, Atlind found a chipped teacup in the corner and poured the wine into it.

As the cup filled, the fragrant aroma spread even further, and Kill’s eyes began to sparkle. Atlind handed the generously filled cup to his father, then poured just a little for himself, only enough to wet his lips.

“The wine itself is innocent….”

Mulling over his son’s words, Kill, after a long hesitation, took a sip of the wine.

A sweet taste, as if all sorts of fruits had been concentrated into one, swept over his tongue, followed by a unique flavor that carried the chill of the north wind as a grand finale.

Finally, a rich scent that could not be described by any other fragrance brushed past his mouth and throat, filling his senses.

“This… is good.”

Raindrops trickling down the roof broke the silence with a soft patter.

A refreshing breeze carrying the scent of winter and the rustling of bushes drifted through the open window. The father and son, sipping wine amidst nature, suddenly met each other’s gaze and burst into hearty laughter.

“They say there’s truth in wine… This is trouble. I’m starting to think that woman isn’t so bad after all.”

Muttering to himself, Kill gently swirled his empty cup. Atlind promptly tilted the bottle and refilled it.

“She said she would forgive you, so why not just accept it? When you get down to it, neither of us is in a position to be acting so proud.”

“Of course not. We’re traitors. If I were king, I would have had the traitors’ heads, regardless of their usefulness or anything else.”

“Then why do you look down on Her Majesty so?”

Kill shot his son a look that said, *What kind of question is that?*

“Because I’m resentful. It’s infuriating enough that I lost, so why should I listen to her obediently?”

“…Ah.”

He had thought there was some grand reason for his father’s dislike, but it was just a childish one.

Atlind pressed his lips together, trying to suppress a smile. Despite his efforts, a laugh escaped, and Kill shot him a fierce glare, smacking him on the back.

“You find what I’m saying funny?!”

“I thought you were refusing for some profound reason, but that wasn’t it. You can be so childish sometimes, Father.”

“People get childish when they get old. Just you wait until you’re my age!”

Downing more than half the wine in one go, Kill let out a satisfied sigh and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Then, noticing the wine stain on his cuff, he began sucking on the fabric, not wanting to waste a drop.

“Well… now that I think about it, it is rather amusing. I should be begging for my life, yet here I am, acting all high and mighty. For her to come all this way, shamelessly trying to persuade me to cooperate… she’s no ordinary woman.”

“I thought she was just someone who became queen by riding on the Grand General’s coattails, but it seems she’s more remarkable than I expected.”

“Indeed. I can’t fathom how it happened. The late king and his concubine were as plain as could be. How a daughter like her could be born to him is beyond me….”

Kill lowered his gaze, staring blankly at the wine in his cup.

The reflection of a withered old man shimmered on the surface.

His disheveled appearance didn’t matter, but the bleak expression, so unlike his old self and utterly devoid of composure, struck a quiet blow to his heart.

“I should quit drinking.”

He had tried to imitate the monks, speaking of selflessness and whatnot, but he couldn’t shake the anguish that had seeped into his heart.

His emptied mind was filled only with worry. Worry for Parnas, worry for his domain, and worry for the state of the continent.

He could erase the Lord, the Duke, and the Chairman from his identity, but he could not erase the man named Goedel Kill. So the many titles returned, plunging him back into anguish.

A snob to the core, he could never become like a monk, no matter how hard he tried.

They say there’s a right place for everything and everyone.

*…Yes. I’m not cut out to be a cleaner.*

*Can’t even wash a rag properly, can’t even make a proper broom… I have no talent for cleaning.*

In the end, the only place for him to return to was the political arena, swarming with ghouls. He had to become a ghoul that devoured other ghouls, commanding and driving them.

That was Goedel Kill’s true calling.

It was impossible to change the crooked path he was on, but he could start moving forward again toward his intended orbit. It would take an eternity to polish his faded glory, but it was all his own doing, so it couldn't be helped.

“Father?”

Puzzled by his father’s silence, Atlind called out to him, his head held high. His single eye, filled with an impeccably clear light, reflected his father.

*I once boasted that I would give this boy the world.*

*I can no longer become king and give him a country, but the world isn’t something you can hold in your hand. Perhaps I can give him a different kind of world.*

*One that can be seen, one that can be felt.*

*A world where the have-nots don’t go hungry.*

*A world where the talented can rise high, regardless of their station. A world where even those with disabilities are welcomed.*

*Atlind, for you….*

*My son.*

*A world that is a little kinder to you.*

He reined in his thoughts, which had taken root far afield. And so, after much meandering, he resolved to step onto the destined path.

It was a path not for Arsinoe, but for himself—a loyal subject of Parnas and the father of Atlind.

“Well now, she did boast about giving me a hundred cases of wine….”

Staring intently into his cup, Kill tossed back the remaining half.

The liquid, containing all the beautiful flavors of the world, flowed smoothly down his throat. Savoring the lingering taste, Kill muttered quietly.

“Let’s see if she keeps her word.”