Chapter 69: A Strange World (8) Bang! Bang! Bang!
After dismounting, Napoleon hammered hard on the knocker mounted on the manor's front gate.
Before long, he heard someone walking quickly toward the door.
"Who is—… Ah, you're Young Master Guillaume's friend. It's been a while."
"Ah, Mister Alain. I hope you've been well. I'm on my way home on leave, so I came to ask if I could impose on you for just one night."
"Of course. Come in. There's a stable inside the estate—if you give me the reins, I'll tie the horse up there."
"Ah, thank you."
Following Alain's guidance, Napoleon handed over the reins and entered the manor.
The Toulon family's three-story residence—built on a traditional Baroque base and expanded with Rococo additions—sat in the countryside, yet it still carried a splendor that didn't lose to the mansions of Paris.
"Well, well—who's this! Isn't this my proud youngest son's friend? Come in."
"Master of the house! It's been a long time. Have you been well?"
"Haha! I've been well, of course! Your name was… Napoleon Bonaparte, wasn't it? It's only been a little over a year, but you've gotten much taller and sharper than before!"
Charles de Toulon—lord of Gehenne and father of the current Finance Minister of France—smiled brightly as he clasped Napoleon's hand and shook it.
"But what brings you here?"
"I got leave and I'm on my way home, and I wanted to ask if I could stay just one night before heading to Toulon."
"Haha! You're my proud son's friend—of course you can! Come in."
"Thank you truly! Then I'll take the liberty of staying one night, Master of the house."
Napoleon bowed with a bright smile, and Charles watched him with satisfaction before speaking.
"Right, right! Ah—have you eaten dinner? If you haven't, eat with us. They're in the middle of preparing the meal, so adding one more portion is nothing. Speak freely."
"If I even receive a meal, it feels like I'm causing real trouble…"
"Nonsense—what would I begrudge for France's pride, the Toulon family's pride, Guillaume's friend? Eat comfortably, haha!"
"Then I'll ask once more, even if it's an imposition."
"Mmm! Bonaparte, I like how decisively manly your decisions are—so clean and straightforward! They say heroes recognize heroes, and you really are worthy of being Guillaume's friend!"
Charles patted Napoleon's shoulder as if encouraging him, then gave him a grin.
"Then I'll go to my study for a bit—I have something to check. The dining room is on the first floor beside the parlor, and dinner is in an hour, so don't be late. As for a bedroom to rest in, pick any empty room on the second floor and use it, Bonaparte."
"Yes, understood. Rest well, Master of the house."
Napoleon bowed toward Charles, then turned toward the stairs leading up to the second floor.
'Strange… Compared to the last time I met him, I don't think he was usually that lively…'
As Napoleon tilted his head and set a hand on the railing, someone opened the front door and came in, calling out to him.
"Sir Napoleon, did you meet the master of the house?"
"Thanks to you, Mister Alain, I greeted him properly. But he feels a bit different from the master I had in mind. Did something happen?"
At Napoleon's question, Alain went, "Ah," and spoke.
"Ah, the master looks like he's in a good mood, doesn't he?"
"Yes. He looked like someone who'd just received a birthday present."
"Haha. The truth is, the master will soon be returning to his post as Toulon Harbor Master."
"H-Harbor Master?"
"Yes. He's reclaiming the position he originally lost due to political infighting with his cousins, so I suppose it feels especially meaningful to him."
Only then did Napoleon nod as if he understood.
"So that's what it was… Thanks to you, Mister Alain, I understand now."
"It's nothing. It's simply what I must do as a servant. Then please rest comfortably until mealtime."
After saying that, Alain turned toward the first-floor kitchen and walked away, and Napoleon went up to the second floor, unpacked in the very first bedroom he saw, and lay down.
"Haha! So I really do look like I'm in a good mood! Yes—what Alain told you is right. The joy of recovering what should rightfully be in my hands!"
After the meal, Charles laughed pleasantly as he swallowed a sip of wine.
"But those… cousins, did they really hand over the Harbor Master position without any resistance?"
"That Didier bastard—ah, that damned cousin of mine is named Didier. That idiot caused so many incidents that I hardly had to lift a finger—petty merchants all sided with me. A naval colonel even came to me asking that I please take up the post as Harbor Master as soon as possible."
"Wow—so Guillaume that kid being great is because the master is great, right?!"
"…Mm. Yes."
But at Napoleon's words, Charles—unlike before—held back, and slid a sidelong glance at the two people seated opposite Napoleon.
"Y-Yes, yes. Mister Bonaparte is righ—right… Guillaume, that boy, he's great…"
"Haha… Guillaume isn't a member of House Toulon for nothing…!"
Charles set the wineglass in his hand gently on the table and spoke softly to Napoleon.
"…Bonaparte? Your rank right now is… what was it?"
"Artillery captain."
"Is that so? When I was young, I wanted to become a soldier myself. Time is regretful, isn't it. If you've finished your meal, could you come to my study and tell me a bit about your military life? I want to feel satisfied by someone else's experience, at least."
"A few words is something I can certainly do."
At Napoleon's answer, Charles smiled in satisfaction and rang the bell to summon a servant.
"Good. Then follow me. You two, get up now and go do your own work."
"Yes, Father."
"Hah, what a ridiculous fellow. I'd like to meet that friend called Grouchy personally, just once."
Charles poured wine again into the emptied glass and spoke to Napoleon.
"Brother Grouchy? His head doesn't just 'turn'—it's completely gone. It'll be hard on you."
"Haha! If you say that, it only makes me want to meet him more!"
"Is that how it works?"
"It is! Haha!"
After laughing it off for a while, the two fell silent, staring at each other.
The one to break the stillness first was Napoleon.
"…But why did you call me all the way to your study?"
"…Mm. So you're not an empty-headed fellow, either."
In response to Napoleon's serious voice, Charles wiped the smile from his face and slowly spoke.
"I heard you… unpacked in the first bedroom on the second floor."
"Yes, I did."
"That room… belonged to the woman who was Guillaume's birth mother. She's no longer in this world."
"…What? I-I didn't know at all! I'll move my things right away!"
At Napoleon's wide-eyed panic, Charles shook his head.
"No, no. There's no need. It's a room nobody uses anymore anyway. There's no need to attach pointless meaning to an empty room, as if it were a person. Heh."
"T-Then why bring it up?"
"Mm…"
After staring into Napoleon's eyes for a long time, Charles swallowed a sip of wine and spoke again.
"…Do you know that Guillaume is… an illegitimate child?"
"…Pardon?"
"It isn't something to boast about, of course. It's embarrassing to say, but the truth is, Guillaume is an illegitimate child."
Even as Napoleon blinked in confusion at something he'd never heard before, Charles continued.
"Usually, an illegitimate child grows up receiving neither love nor attention from the household. Because that is what's best for the bastard—and for the household.
Even after they grow up, they can never peel off the label of 'illegitimate.' So rather than letting them crash into the high walls of reality later and be crushed by it, this world treats it as some strange virtue to give them no attention from the start."
But then—Charles set the wineglass in his hand neatly on the study table and added,
"Guillaume's birth mother left this world while giving birth to him. Perhaps because of that… I felt too much pity for the child. I couldn't be harsh with him. I clothed him the same, fed him the same, treated him the same as Pierre and Georges."
As he spoke, Charles turned his head to the right, looking up at the star-stitched night sky, and continued.
"But… that child's potential was far greater than I ever imagined. I—no, no one our family has ever produced—could accomplish what that child can.
And the likelihood of another like him appearing in the future is slim."
"…."
"And so I worry. Of course, right now Guillaume is this country's pillar as Finance Minister. But the moment he so much as stumbles, this world will slander him with anything, carve him up, and drop him to the very bottom."
That's what this human world is, isn't it? Charles added bleakly.
Still watching the Milky Way, Charles finally tore his eyes away and looked back at Napoleon.
"And to speak plainly—what do you think Pierre and Georges, those two children, think of Guillaume?"
"…I don't know."
"Even among family with the same father and mother, this is a frightening world where poisonings and assassinations happen now and then. Let alone those two—Guillaume is a threat, if anything, and never a welcome presence.
If Guillaume flies through the sky like Icarus and falls, they'll rush in like Caribdis and tear him to pieces."
At Charles's chilling words, Napoleon rolled his eyes and answered.
"…That doesn't sound like something an outsider like me should be hearing."
Even at Napoleon's voice, which sounded like he was asking to be let go, Charles continued without caring.
"No. It's because you are an outsider that I'm telling you. There's a saying that in this world, the only people you can trust are your parents. If I die, who will stand on Guillaume's side?"
"…Wouldn't it be better if you told Pierre… and Georges directly?"
At Napoleon's words, Charles gave a bitter smile.
"I am Guillaume's father—but I am also Pierre and Georges's father. If I told them what I just told you, how deep would the wound be for them? Someone might call me indecisive if they saw it, but even so—I can't do it."
"…I'm only close with Guillaume, that's all."
"Yes. A close friend."
Charles rose, took Napoleon's hand in both of his, and spoke slowly.
"Bonaparte. Please remain Guillaume's friend to the very end. I ask this of you."
At Charles's pitiful-looking face, Napoleon said nothing, only nodded.
Charles released Napoleon's hands, walked to the window where the night sky brushed past, clasped his hands behind his back, and said,
"What a strange world. It feels like everything goes opposite what the Bible says."
"…That's true."
At Napoleon's reply, Charles turned back and spoke.
"Haha. Yes—because of this old man's complaining, it's already gotten this late. Go sleep. If you're going all the way to Toulon tomorrow and even boarding a ship, you'll have to ride hard for a long while again, won't you?"
The night sky reflected in the window was so bright that Napoleon couldn't see Charles's face as he spoke—backlit as it was.
He couldn't see it clearly, but for some reason, Napoleon felt like he knew Charles was smiling.
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