Fever Bloom (6)

“It’s been a while, Raiden.”

“…Father?”

My father’s face, which I was seeing again for the first time in almost half a year.

At this sudden father-son reunion, I couldn’t help but let out a stunned sound, completely bewildered.

What was my father doing here?

Gilbert, why is he here again?

No, more than that, what even *is* this place…?

A flurry of questions surfaced in my mind, but I pushed them aside for now and responded to the greeting.

“It’s been a while, Father.”

“Yeah.”

A short, curt reply came back immediately.

Too dry for a father and son’s reunion after so long, but I didn’t take it too seriously.

Father had always been this way,

Blunt and taciturn… the complete opposite of Mother.

“…You haven’t changed.”

Seeing him exactly as I remembered, I offered a vague smile.

The subtle emotions welling up created small waves above my turbulent heart.

I had to steady my shaky breath to avoid sinking beneath that swell.

“Anyway, what is this place? I’ve never seen it before…”

“Ah, now that you mention it, it would be the first time for you, young master. This is, well… the Duke’s private resting space.”

“Resting space…?”

I tilted my head in confusion at his inexplicable words.

Gilbert set down the bottles he was holding onto the table and continued.

“The Duke is such a heavy drinker, you see. He always has a drink after finishing his paperwork, and I thought he’d be better off drinking in a proper place than at his desk, so I prepared this space separately.”

“I clearly said I didn’t need it, though…”

“Ha ha, you’re here almost every day… are you trying to back out now, that’s disappointing!”

“…Well, I never said I disliked it.”

Father and the old man, each holding a glass and a bottle, were trading banter back and forth.

As I blankly stared at the two of them, a nostalgic feeling creeping over me, Gilbert made brief eye contact and smiled faintly.

“Now that you’re here, would you like a drink too, young master?”

“…I’m not old enough to drink yet.”

“Hahaha… surely you jest? You, who practically lived off alcohol every day.”

“Of course I’m joking. I’ll take a cold one.”

I lightly shrugged my shoulders and moved towards the table.

I sat down in a chair a couple of seats away from where Father was sitting, and let out a heavy sigh.

“Haa…”

“Your sigh is deep. Are you alright?”

“Probably.”

I nodded, running a hand down my face like I was giving myself a dry wash.

Truth was, nothing felt alright… but well, there was no need to broadcast it.

I needlessly chewed on my lip, drumming my fingers on the table.

After a moment of silence, a glass filled with liquor and ice appeared on the table.

“Please, take it. It’s a good vintage that came in last month. Heard it was brewed by nomads in the southwest region.”

“Thank you, butler.”

Taking the glass, a chilling coldness lingered in my palm.

The liquid, a shade of vermillion reminiscent of sunset, sloshed, adding a heavy weight to my otherwise empty hand.

I tilted the glass slightly, easing some of the weight.

A sticky, yet hot sensation flowed down my throat.

I could feel the alcohol flooding my hollow insides.

I emptied the glass in one go, creasing my brows as I exhaled the lingering bitter taste.

“……It’s bitter, quite a bit.”

“Please, drink slowly. You’re not good with alcohol, and yet you always gulp it down like that, you’ll get drunk quickly.”

Gilbert, refilling my empty glass, spoke as if advising me.

I chuckled quietly.

“Not good with alcohol? I wonder who you’re talking about.”

“It’s of course about you, young master.”

“I’m good with alcohol… I’m not exaggerating, really.”

“Hmm… Is it not so, that you lose all memory by the next day, as soon as alcohol touches your lips?”

“……”

Gilbert’s observation was accurate.

Having nothing to say, I fiddled pointlessly with the glass.

The reflection of a black-haired boy shimmered on the vermillion surface.

If I were to touch it, ripples would spread across the small pond, scattering the boy’s image.

Mulling over the fleeting impressions swirling in the glass, I spoke again.

“You know… the truth is, I remember everything.”

“What are you saying?”

“You know, back in the day. When I used to go around acting like a drunken fool. The truth is, I wasn’t actually drunk.”

Maybe it’s because I take after my father, a renowned drinker.

I’ve never really been one to get drunk easily.

I might get a bit tipsy, but it always stops right there, you know?

So, it goes without saying, I’ve never been drunk enough to black out.

“So, I remember everything, from beginning to end. Everything I did in the past…”

“……”

“I remember every single thing.”

“Young Master…”

Gilbert stares, looking dazed.

He seems momentarily flustered, but then speaks again.

“So, you’re saying that all those drunken rampages you displayed were all an act…?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Why would you pretend like that…”

“I wonder.”

Gilbert’s eyes are filled with disbelief.

I can feel my father, sitting beside me, glancing my way too.

I tilt my glass, a bitter smile playing on my lips.

The ice clinks, a soft noise. The distinct scent of alcohol brushes past my nose.

Savoring the faint, hazy buzz, like a morning mist, I wear a bitter smile.

“Back then… I was hurting a lot.”

“……”

“You both knew, right? That I was acting like a hooligan on purpose…”

A heavy silence drops over the surroundings.

Looking at the two people with their stiff faces, I nod, as if I knew it all along.

They’ve been by my side since before I was even born.

I thought they might have had some idea about the truth behind my past recklessness…

It seems I was right.

“Do you, by any chance, know *why* he did it?”

“No… I knew the young master was doing it on purpose, but as for the reason, I haven’t a clue…”

“Same here. Considering when you started changing, I figured it must be connected to Philippa’s death… but that’s as far as I got.”

Gilbert and my father both shook their heads, their expressions troubled.

I clenched my fist, a bitter taste in my mouth.

Despite the force, I couldn’t stop my lips from twisting into an ugly grimace.

Pushing aside the shards of emotion piercing my sinking heart, I spoke again.

“Shall I tell you the story?”

“…What do you mean?”

“The old story, of course.”

“This old man isn’t at an age to be hearing old stories from the young master…”

Gilbert let out what seemed like a pointless joke, then reached for the cupboard and pulled out a fresh bottle of liquor.

He filled my and my father’s empty glasses, then asked,

“…Are you sure you’re alright with this, young master?”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you’d be reluctant to touch on that time.”

“…”

I wonder, why was it?

Why did I suddenly have this urge to unleash stories I’d never breathed a word of before?

“I’m fine… it’s just a ‘past’ story, as you said.”

It was probably because of what happened yesterday.

The love of my mother, which I’d forgotten all this time, was stirring my insides.

The old emotions I’d been holding in were threatening to spill out with a single, strangled gag.

“How does it sound? Perfect for a drinking snack, don’t you think?”

“If the young master is fine with it…”

“…I want to hear it too.”

Hesitantly, Gilbert slowly nodded his head.

Following his lead, my father looked at me, a slight curiosity in his eyes.

With an ambiguous smile playing on my lips, I slowly moved them.

“Alright. Then, where should I begin… Just wait a little. It’s going to be a long story.”

*Click,* an old film reel starts playing in my head.

I stare at the yellowed screen and begin to unravel the story beyond it.

.

.

.

I spilled out everything, every messy detail.

The obsession that tormented me after my mother died.

The reason why I pushed everyone around me away so fiercely.

The loneliness I felt because of it, and even about the scars I carved onto myself.

It was in front of the very people I shared that past with, but.

Unburdening myself wasn’t as difficult as I thought.

Maybe it was because I’d already let go of so much, I was able to keep speaking in a calm voice.

“So… that’s how it went down.”

I finished everything with that plain sentence.

As the long, elaborate essay came to its end, a moment of silence flowed between us.

“”……””

I take a sip from my glass and turn my gaze.

I see two pairs of eyes looking at me with complicated expressions.

Shock, pity, sadness, worry… a mix of emotions melted into their gazes, and I gave a bitter smile.

“Don’t look at me like that. I know I was foolish, at least.”

Just because the world hurt me.

That didn’t mean I should have taken that pain out on others, as I pleased.

“It’s just… back then, I just couldn’t think straight…”

I mumbled to myself like I was making an excuse, and emptied my glass.

Breath heavy with the harsh scent of alcohol escaped my lips and shattered uselessly.

“……Earlier, the old man asked me if I was okay.”

I wasn’t okay.

“Not at all… I’m not okay at all. Everything’s a mess.”

I’ve been hurt too much, and I’ve hurt too many people.

How did it end up like this… it was too late to even ask that question.

“Can things be fixed?”

“……”

“If I try now, can I… can I undo the things I messed up?”

I longed for the days when Mother was here.

I longed for those days when everything was beautiful.

Those days when I could be loved by so many people.

Those days when happiness was melted into every ray of sunshine, they ached fiercely in my heart.

“Can I be forgiven by the people who turned their backs on me… by the people I hurt?”

And so, I asked.

To the people of the past standing before my eyes.

I offered a pathetic question, heavy with desperate hope.

“Will… will they love me again…?”

Can I be loved by you all again?

“No.”

The answer to my question, half-soaked in despair and half in hope, was Gilbert’s blunt reply.

He answered with a stern expression, stroking his beard.

“Those who have already been hurt… not everyone can love you again, Master.”

I, who had been nervously biting my lip, felt my strength drain away at those words, and I bowed my head.

So, it’s impossible after all.

“I suppose so, it’s shameless of me to come now……”

“However, I will.”

As I was about to accept the bitter reality.

Gilbert continued to speak, cutting off my heavy mutterings.

I lifted my head again, and

The sight of an elderly gentleman with a gentle smile came into view.

“I don’t know about others… but I will remain by your side, Master.”

“……”

“Because that is the duty of a butler, little Master.”

Little Master.

At that old nickname, I slightly trembled.

Each warm echo of the letters hugs my ravaged heart tight.

My vision, unshaken even by potent intoxication, melts with just a few soft words, shimmering hazily.

“……”

“Do you need a handkerchief?”

Wordlessly, I take the handkerchief offered by the elder, dabbing at my dampening eyes.

I’m grateful…

So grateful for the hope he casually offered, as if it were nothing.

Tears fell.

“Mister, uh, thank you…”

“Hah… It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you cry, young master.”

For a while, only the sound of sniffling and soft laughter lingered in the room.