Volume 2

Chapter 97 : The Boy, Part One

On a nearly deserted street, an old man and a boy stood silently in the pouring rain.

“Young Master,” the umbrella-holding old man said, “it’s time to go back.”

“Wait a little longer, Saville,” the boy in an elegant black suit murmured, gazing at the grand mansion across the street. “Just a bit more.”

Saville was utterly loyal to my commands, yet he didn’t understand why I insisted on lingering after the ball, waiting for something unknown.

Then, within seconds, his eyes twitched slightly.

His gaze sharpened like a falcon’s, and in the flash of lightning, he saw a knife-wielding shadow in a side room’s window.

“Baron Baiman should be dead,” I said. “Go check, Saville.”

“Yes, Young Master.”

Saville handed me the umbrella, and in the next instant, his form seemed to shift discontinuously from the moment before.

He took the umbrella back from me, his expression odd: “He is indeed dead, and—”

“And killed by his own wife… Let’s go.”

I, the young Hydra, lowered my eyes and turned to leave.

The old butler followed closely, never questioning how I, who had no prior dealings with Baron Baiman, knew of this bizarre murder after attending a simple ball.

Saville never spoke more than necessary.

“Ah, Asa!” At the Hydra Mansion gate, Elnilisa, standing in the rain, spotted me from afar and waved happily: “Come dance with Mommy!”

The current Lady Hydra danced with the blooming flowers and trees at the gate, carefree and joyful.

She could have let the rain slide off her without a trace, but she didn’t.

Her sun-like golden hair was soaked, her heavy, conservative gown no longer voluminous.

Her youthful face glistened with raindrops, yet her eyes shone like stars piercing the stormy clouds.

As she danced, the swaying of plants blended with the relentless rain, forming a cheerful melody that outshone the weather’s gloom.

Stepping into a shallow puddle, flowers bloomed, lifting her body.

Lady Hydra danced lightly and brilliantly, humming as she reached me.

“Ta-da!”

Elnilisa lifted her soaked, heavy skirt and curtsied, her radiant, playful smile devoid of the refined calm a lady ought to have.

She blinked: “How was my dancing?”

I touched my face: “You splashed rainwater on me, Mother.”

“How fussy!” Elnilisa huffed, yanking me out from under Saville’s umbrella.

She waved her hand: “Saville, you can go back.”

“…Yes, Madam,” the old man nodded slightly, his form vanishing.

Pulled into the rain, I looked up at my mother, expressionless: “I want to rest, Mother.”

“No way!” Elnilisa refused outright, arms crossed.

Lacking any noble grace and exuding a touch of commoner charm, she said: “Your irresponsible father hasn’t been back in ages, so you have to take over his role of being teased by me, Asa.”

“…I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“A woman doesn’t need to reason with a man, and a mother doesn’t need to reason with her son.”

Lady Hydra raised her head proudly: “So I get to be doubly unreasonable.”

Helpless, I sighed: “So, how will you tease me?”

“Dancing, of course.”

“With you?”

“In your dreams,” Elnilisa said, flicking her wet golden hair, splashing more water on my face.

Proud of her taste and dance, she declared: “I only dance with Mel, not even you, Asa. Besides, you’re so tiny, dancing with you would be like playing with a kitten… Hmm, that sounds fun.”

She propped her cheek, eyeing me like someone eager to toy with a pet cat.

But she abandoned the idea, perhaps due to her agreement with Flamel or because treating her son like a pet felt wrong.

Pointing, she summoned a cluster of rain-swayed flowers by the roadside.

Their roots pulled from the soil, moving shakily like the “stick figures” I’d seen in that other world.

The flower cluster curtsied to me with its lush petal skirt.

I looked at the “flower person,” then at my mother, brushing wet hair from my forehead: “Are you punishing me for not taking you to the ball?”

“Nope!” Elnilisa drew in response.

To indulge her playful whims, I took the flower girl’s branches and danced with it in the rain.

Humming, Elnilisa waved her hands like a conductor, softening the relentless rain.

It blended with the rustling of plants and the wind, forming a lingering concerto.

As she played her impromptu melody, Elnilisa watched me dance with closed eyes.

Admiring her cute, handsome son’s graceful poise even in the storm, she muttered about “some lucky girl” and asked with a grin: “Who was your dance partner today, Asa?”

“The youngest daughter of the Deep Blue Duke from Eastern Port.”

“Oh… who’s that?”

“An unimportant girl.”

“How did she look?”

“Far less than you, Mother.”

“I didn’t ask you to compare her to me! No one can match me, honestly!” Elnilisa exclaimed.

As if chatting casually, she lifted her soaked skirt and sat by the garden’s flowerbed.

Surrounded by blooms, she propped her cheeks, seeing through my thoughts: “Flattering me won’t end the dance early.”

“It’s just the truth.”

“Ahem… Well, it is true,” she admitted, her mood brightening.

A ray of sunlight broke through the clouds, spotlighting me and my partner, following my movements, making me the world’s focus.

“Besides her looks, what were her good points?”

“Quiet, considerate, elegant, knowledgeable… and genuinely fond of me,” I replied calmly to her tiresome questions.

“You don’t need to mention the last part! I know every girl likes you,” Elnilisa said, her short heels tapping the ground as her legs swung, dismissing my words: “Mediocre! The world’s full of girls like that. Not good enough!”

“There are only thirteen dukes in the Empire, Mother.”

She huffed: “There’s only one Anselm in the Empire.”

“You’re always hostile to women’s ‘gentle’ traits.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying I’m not gentle?” Elnilisa fumed.

My flower partner gently tripped my ankle with its roots, but I spun past it, executing a dazzling move.

“I meant you transcend conventions, which is how you captured Father’s heart.”

“…That’s more like it,” she muttered, directing the storm to shift for my dance.

Her music lacked structure, a pure flow of emotion—sometimes perfect, sometimes erratic.

Yet I always adjusted to its unpredictable shifts, finding the perfect steps.

In the storm, I danced flawlessly, impeccable in every way.

But watching her perfect son, Elnilisa’s smile faded as she composed her chaotic melody.

She suddenly asked: “Asa, was the ball fun?”

“…”

My steps faltered, the only flaw in my perfect dance, but I quickly adjusted, answering calmly: “It was decently fun.”

“Then tell me,” Elnilisa asked softly, “what was good to eat at the ball?”

“…The steamed algae lobster was decent.”

“Besides your little partner, were there other pretty girls?”

“Mr. Oma’s eldest daughter, the companion of the Ketaen Guild’s president…”

“Any fun things, interesting people, or strange events?”

“…”

In the rain, I, maintaining perfection, fell silent—perhaps because there were none, or because… I couldn’t answer.

“Asa…” my flower partner raised its branches, gently stroking my head.

“You didn’t think to enjoy the food, chat with cute girls, or have fun. How could you be happy?”

I replied calmly: “Everyone defines happiness differently, Mother.”

“So you’re saying that sour face of yours is happiness?” Elnilisa stepped through puddles to stand behind me, pulling my lips into a smile, sighing: “It was a ball, Asa, not a… negotiation table.”

“They’re essentially the same.”

“They’re not the same at all!” she said, her voice rising slightly.

“You should’ve eaten, drunk, flirted with every cute girl until they couldn’t sleep, boasted your talents to draw a crowd, or done something wild and left me to clean up your mess… You clearly—”

Her voice dropped, tinged with a heartbreaking helplessness in the rain.

A mother’s helplessness.

“You’re only… ten years old.”

An age for carefree freedom.

Not for my relentless pursuit of perfection.

Elnilisa embraced me from behind, murmuring: “Asa, you’re not happy at all.”

“…This is how I’ve always been, Mother.”

In the ceaseless rain, my voice was faint, almost illusory.

“You were never like this,” Elnilisa said, holding me tighter.

“Even when you loved studying, you made time to rest and relax. But now? When did you last shoot arrows, go on an outing, or truly relax? Even at a ball, you treat it like a negotiation when it’s meant for fun.”

She turned me to face her, cupping my rain-chilled cheeks: “Asa, what’s making you so tense, so afraid?”

I met her eyes steadily, my tone unwavering: “You’re overthinking, Mother.”

“Don’t try to fool me,” Elnilisa said, gripping my face a bit harder.

Always so lively and unmotherly, she was now utterly calm, utterly serious: “You know I’m your mother.”

“Mother,” I said softly, “you’re overthinking.”

I repeated my words calmly, indifferently.

“…”

Elnilisa stared into my clear sea-blue eyes, so like her husband’s.

When she took that tiny infant from him, exhausted and weak, seeing those small, beautiful eyes, she thought: This is my child.

This is the most precious thing in my life.

In the rain, mother and son stood in silence.

After a long time, without speaking, Elnilisa gently embraced me, asking: “Is dancing in the rain happier than dancing there?”

I hugged her back, clinging fondly to her cheek: “It is, Mother.”

“Good…” Elnilisa stroked my head lovingly. “Good.”

She released me, standing with her usual lively smile returning.

“Alright, the dance is done. Go take a bath and rest.”

I nodded lightly, taking her hand as we returned home.

The rain eased, a rainbow arching across the cleared sky.

Hand in hand, mother and son walked home, a warm scene.

***

Bang!

The moment my bedroom door closed, I, the young Anselm, slammed my fist against it.

My body slumped, exhausted, as I pounded the floor, my perfect face twisted in… hysterical ferocity.

It was confirmed again.

The scenes from that memory projected into reality, matching everything I saw perfectly.

I had tested this too many times, knowing the memory was true but unable to accept it.

I sought to disprove it, only to sink deeper into despair with each attempt.

A false world, a fabricated… life.

I clutched the expensive carpet, veins bulging on my pale hands.

I didn’t dare keep hitting the floor, fearing passing servants would notice.

Like a wounded beast, I curled up, trembling, letting out low whimpers.

Every day, every day, this happened in my room.

Just a little more… just a little, and I would’ve broken, telling my mother everything.

No matter how I hid it, how normal I acted, I couldn’t fool Elnilisa’s eyes.

Because she was my mother, who knew her child so well.

But this was something… absolutely, absolutely, I could never tell anyone.

If my father knew all this was false… to what depths would his madness plunge?

If the Empress knew everything was preordained, what would become of this world?

It would be a catastrophe capable of overturning the entire world, shattering everything, bringing ruin and collapse.

I told myself this, and I believed it unwaveringly.

Because they had the power to change everything, when they learned the despairing truth of this world, they wouldn’t cower helplessly on the floor like me.

Instead, to seek the truth, they would stop at nothing, personally… dismantling everything, destroying everything.

The divine species were, by nature, the closest to madness.

So… no one could ever know this secret.

Curled up on the floor, I reached out with trembling hands to smooth the wrinkled carpet.

I staggered to my feet and collapsed onto the bed.

“Moth…”

Bearing a despair no one in this world could fathom, unable to voice the pure anguish I endured, unable to share it with anyone, I instinctively called out that name but forced myself to stop.

I closed my eyes, my chest heaving, breathing deeply.

“Only I can…” I whispered softly. “Only I can change it all.”

Only I, a pure anomaly, had both the means and the ability to alter everything.

There was much to do; I couldn’t waste time proving the truth.

I needed to delve deeper into that memory, to keep pushing to grow stronger—not just in power but in resolve and knowledge.

I had to extract every ounce of value from those memories, and most importantly…

“Anselm, you must never be weak,” I told myself.

Pain or despair could only be vented alone, in some hidden corner, never to be seen by anyone, especially Mother and Father.

Anselm, you must change everything.

You must never be weak, never rely on Father or Mother.

I, the young Hydra, unaware of how to confront that supreme being, told myself this.

A ten-year-old child, at an age meant for relying on parents, told himself this.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep