Even a Scoundrel Gets Tired

4 – Resolution *Revised*

“…What exactly are you saying?”

“…I am deeply sorry, but

I’ve exhausted every measure at my disposal—”

“I believe the question I posed was,

what it is precisely you are saying.”

For a heartbeat, true murderous intent

threatened to erupt from within,

but I barely managed to bite down on my lip,

choosing to tear at it instead,

and the physician, who just moments ago

had been delivering his report with a placid face, paled as he witnessed my expression and recoiled.

Well, yes… I suppose that’s understandable.

If I were to hazard a guess, my face at this very moment likely looked capable of casually murdering a couple of men without breaking a sweat.

“M-Master?!”

But you… you shouldn’t be like this.

A family physician

shouldn’t give up on my mother.

You shouldn’t deliver news that there’s no hope with such

unflappable composure.

Shouldn’t you at least make some show of

doing your utmost until the very end?

“….!”

“Master!! This won’t do!!”

“P-Please, spare me!! I beg you!!

“I was wrong, Master!”

When I came to my senses, I found myself

gripping his collar, and in my other hand, a knife,

ready to plunge it into him.

If Ella hadn’t grabbed my arm beside me,

I would have shoved it right into his neck, no doubt.

For that, I was truly grateful.

Though, of course, the fact that Mother was gravely ill

was nothing short of utter misfortune.

“…You may leave.”

“Ye…Yes!”

As soon as the permission to leave was granted, he bolted like an arrow,

When, ordinarily, I would have been screaming at him

to save my mother right this instant,

he had made it perfectly clear to me.

That Mother had no chance.

Although he couldn’t save my mother, he was still a doctor.

At least, not the kind who would

toy with other people’s lives.

Especially not when that person was the

Duchess, whom he served.

“….”

“Master…”

“…Ella, can you bring other

doctors from around here?”

“…Master, the gentleman who just left

is famed to be the most skilled

in this vicinity.”

“….”

“That’s why we have him as our family physician…”

The more I heard, the more bleak

the reality became, and I ended up just collapsing right there.

Not kneeling,

but quite literally collapsing,

“Ma…Master, are you alright…? Hng…”

How did I manage to endure

all that crap until now?

How many icy stares had I endured,

playing the executioner, a role never meant for my fate?

All for the sake of my mother’s

well-being…

“…If you intend to leave me like this, what am I to do?”

That day, in the sky I beheld,

it seemed a great star had extinguished.

*

And that evening,

Sariel Reinhart, who had been lying as if dead until then,

slowly raised herself.

A body already withered and emaciated,

nothing more than skin and bone.

“…”

Sariel surveyed her room,

the dining table far off in the distance

was laden with food, perfect

for replenishing one’s strength,

and the bedding she’d been lying on

had been replaced as if by magic,

boasting a cloud-like softness.

An indulgence too extravagant for one of common birth.

Yet, even basking in these comforts,

she found no real joy,

‘What use are these things now,

when death is at my door? Those b*stards…’

For she, too, knew it instinctively.

That her life was nearing its end.

As the physician had said,

her life hung by a thread,

and the more acutely she realized this in her very bones,

the more a pang of regret blossomed

in a corner of her heart.

A lingering attachment to life, and a worry for her child.

Her son, born of common stock,

for whom she hadn’t been able to do everything she wished,

it felt unbearably cruel to leave him first,

and the more she thought this,

the more she longed to live just a little longer.

Besides, what about Jennison now?

It felt so terribly fragile.

To others, perhaps,

it wasn’t apparent. Only a mother

could truly know.

Jennison was never as impervious to the gaze of others as he pretended to be.

He carried on as though accustomed,

but how long that facade could last was

anyone’s guess.

Perhaps he would crumble in her absence.

‘That can’t be… it mustn’t be…’

Yet there was nothing

she could do in her present state.

How could someone who struggled

merely to keep herself upright

offer her son a single, comforting word?

She would be fortunate if he didn’t despair

at the sight of her ravaged state.

‘To fail, at the very last, to play

the part of a proper mother…’

She was filled with regret.

That, unlike the first wife, she hadn’t been able to give her children everything.

A commoner’s birth, that single blemish, had forever restricted her standing within the family.

A pathetic, pitiable woman.

That was the objective assessment she held of herself.

“Cough…cough!”

With the eruption of blood,

she knew, with a chilling certainty, that her

time was truly drawing short.

And in that instant, only

one thought consumed her mind.

She longed to see her precious son.

To speak a final goodbye.

“Ella… are you out there…?”

“….”

“Ella…!”

“M-Madam?! Did you cough?!”

“Go… fetch Jennison for me…”

Now.

*

“Mother… she…really wants to see me…?!”

“Yes…!! You must hurry…!!”

I didn’t listen to the rest of it.

The important thing now was that

Mother had woken.

And the important thing was that, upon waking,

she had called for me straightaway.

Tutta-ta-ta-tack─

Sudden footsteps echoing throughout the entire

manor in this early dawn,

but alas, I wasn’t in a situation

to be considerate of such things at the moment.

No, anyone else would have

acted just as I did in this situation.

Because this concerned none other than my own mother.

Before I knew it, I had left

Ella far behind me, and

headed directly to Mother’s room, and

immediately Ella’s voice reached me, ‘Young Master, you mustn’t barge in like that…!’

but without pause, I flung

open the doors to Mother’s room.

“…You’ve come.”

“…”

The moment I opened the door, a faint, fishy smell of blood wafted out.

One of the scents that

I knew all too well.

The scent of blood emitted by someone close to death,

blood that had rotted completely,

smelling almost like pus.

“…”

“…Why such a face?

Come, sit here quickly.”

Thwack, thwack─

Mother’s face, as she patted the bedding beside her, was the most radiant I had ever seen,

but having already caught that scent of blood from before,

I had already noticed everything.

That Mother was now dying,

and that she was pretending to be

so bright in an effort to conceal it.

“…Yes.”

But I saw no need to press the issue.

It was an admission I truly didn’t want to make.

Even now, a feeling rose like smoke,

to hoist my mother onto my back,

and search for doctors across the whole world.

But to betray the strength

I wanted to show her, before her son,

felt like a filial failing, something I couldn’t possibly do.

So, I walked calmly, settling heavily

into the seat beside her,

and before she could even speak,

buried myself in her embrace.

Like a newborn, craving comfort.

“Oh…Jenison, how old are you now,

to be acting this way…?”

Though those were her words,

she didn’t seem entirely displeased,

and soon, her hand gently began

stroking my hair.

I quickly soaked her clothes with tears.

“…”

“…Jenison.”

“…I won’t listen.”

Mother must have felt my tears, too,

for her hand stilled, mid-stroke,

and she seemed about to say something.

Sadly, I had no intention of hearing it.

I absolutely refused to accept

that Mother was going to die.

Having lived seven lives, she was the first person

to ever show me true affection,

a person who never gave up on raising me,

even while enduring the envy and

jealousy of everyone around us.

I refused, absolutely, to accept

that such a person would just…die.

I was so desperate, so very desperate,

that I would even pray to the gods I had so bitterly

resented for so long.

Even if the wheel of reincarnation turned

for me once more, it would be worth it.

I prayed, please, just let Mother live.

“..Jennison.”

“..I won’t listen. Never.”

“You must listen, Jennison.”

And, still.

God was not at my side.

Only mocking me from the heavens.

I lifted my head, just as it was,

and gazed at my mother.

Finally, facing her properly,

her face was,

unlike before, utterly ravaged.

The once glossy, flowing black

hair was now dry and brittle.

Her beautiful, fine skin

was covered in red blotches.

My mother, appearing almost like a leper.

And at that sight of my mother,

once more, I embraced

her tightly.

Like a lost child

begging not to be left behind.

“Jennison, this mother of yours

truly, truly loved you.”

“….”

“Even if you know nothing else, I hope you know that much.”

“….”

I didn’t want to answer.

If I answered those words,

it felt like Mother would truly abandon life.

“..Do you know why I named you Jennison?”

“….”

“Zenith, that is

the origin of your name…”

“….”

“Please… whatever kind of person you become later on…”

“….”

“I hope, truly, that you reach that zenith

and make yourself shine.”

“….”

“I love you, Jenison.

Please, don’t hate me too much.”

“..I.. lov..e.. yo..”

With those words, my mother slipped into a deep slumber.

Without ever hearing that simple, commonplace

‘I love you’ from my own lips.

I remained there, my head pressed against

her stomach, weeping silently.

Tears I hadn’t shed in ages,

so very warm, and so very painful.