Chapter 6 - Damn Reincarnation

Lionheart

A training spear. A stick without even a spearhead attached. Still, its tip had been shaped into a long point, so a solid thrust... might not pierce flesh, but it would hurt like hell.

What if it landed squarely in an unguarded solar plexus?

“Urrgh!”

This was what happened. Cyan rolled over and over, spewing vomit everywhere. Ciel, who had been standing with her mouth agape, screamed and hurried toward him, while Nina clapped a hand over her mouth in horror.

“I win.”

Eugene set down the spear as he spoke indifferently. Had it been a real spear, that last attack would have killed Cyan. Of course, it wasn't a real spear, but with Cyan rolling on the ground after taking a blow to a vital spot, the outcome was clear.

“Nina. Go get someone to take that bastard away.”

“Yes... yes...!”

“That was dirty!”

Cyan kept retching even as tears and snot streamed down his face. Ciel had approached him in concern, but the filthy sight stopped her from going any closer to her brother. Instead, she raised her eyes and glared at Eugene.

“What was dirty about it? The duel started the moment he threw his handkerchief.”

“Well... you're right about that! But dirty is still dirty.”

“Is the inside of your head some beautiful, peaceful flower garden? The duel had already started—what the fuck does fighting dirty have to do with it? Your stupid brother threw his handkerchief first, then stood there fucking posing. That's why he ended up like that.”

Ciel quietly shut her mouth under his blistering barrage. She couldn't think of a rebuttal, but she also hadn't immediately understood his remark about a beautiful, peaceful flower garden inside her head.

“... Did you just call me pretty?”

“Has the heat gotten to this girl?”

“Anyway... dirty is still dirty. You didn't fight honorably.”

“Wow. They said you were twins, and you really do share the same incredible logic.”

“I'm not like my brother.”

“You seem to have the same brains. So what do you think an honorable duel is? Throw a handkerchief, count one, two, three, go! And then fight?”

“Hmm...”

Ciel worked her lips and glanced at Cyan. Having rolled all over the ground, he was now sobbing, covered in vomit. Disgusting as he was, she did feel sorry for her brother in his miserable state.

“... You could have hit him a little more gently.”

“Sorry, but I already went plenty easy on him.”

“Have you really never trained your mana?”

Ciel's eyes shone as she asked. Eugene, who was gathering the sandbags scattered on the ground, turned to her with unmistakable annoyance.

“Aren't you leaving?”

“I asked if you've really never trained your mana.”

“I told you I haven't!”

“Liar. How could you carry all those heavy things without training your mana? And your attack. It was so fast that my brother couldn't have reacted properly even if he hadn't let his guard down.”

Her curiosity-bright eyes narrowed. At her words, Eugene paused in the middle of gathering the sandbags.

“So you did see it?”

“Just a tiny bit.”

“I guess your eyes aren't entirely for decoration.”

“You have a really nasty way of talking.”

“I've been hearing that for ages.”

Everyone except Vermouth had said it to him at least once. While Eugene piled the sandbags in one place, Ciel stood rooted to the spot, watching his back. She couldn't make out every movement of the muscles beneath his clothes, but he did seem to be relying on strength alone, without using mana.

That only made it harder for her to understand. She and Cyan had trained their bodies since they were little, too. Since seven? Recalling what Eugene had said earlier, Ciel sank deep into thought.

'He was pretty solid for a thirteen-year-old brat.'

Eugene had felt resistance the instant the spear tip struck. Proof that Cyan's body was far better trained than one would expect at his age. The force pushing back against the spear also meant he had already accumulated enough mana inside him to react to danger.

He hadn't simply taken the blow, either. The instant the attack landed, Cyan had instinctively tried to pull his body backward. A little kid who couldn't have any actual combat experience had instinctively tried to escape danger.

'Impressive for a brat. But for a descendant of Vermouth, he's trash.'

Of course, Eugene didn't know exactly how strong Vermouth had been at thirteen. He had first met the man when he—Hamel—was twenty. Still, he could make a rough guess.

Cyan Lionheart. Despite receiving the main family's instruction from childhood, the boy was so inept that it was hard to believe he was Vermouth's descendant.

'Still, he does have potential.'

It was only because Eugene was measuring him against Vermouth. In terms of future possibilities, Cyan showed decent promise. So did Ciel. Although Eugene hadn't fought her directly, she seemed to have a discerning eye.

“You... how dare you... do this to me...!”

Cyan looked up at Eugene, panting for breath. His head spun. Every movement hurt as though something had pierced the middle of his body, and a foul, rotten taste lingered in his mouth.

“Dirty... you fought dirty...!”

“You really are twins. You say exactly the same things.”

Eugene looked at Cyan with a smirk.

“I don't want to repeat myself. Ask your sister what I said.”

“You... son of a bitch...!”

“Or try searching your memory. Your ears still worked while you were rolling around puking everywhere, didn't they?”

Cyan couldn't argue. It was true. Even through the horrific pain and the sense of injustice that nearly drove him mad, he had heard Eugene.

But even if Eugene hadn't fought dirty, thirteen-year-old Cyan simply couldn't accept his defeat. In front of his sister and the servants, he'd ended up looking this... this disgraceful!

“Time to clean up.”

Eugene stared straight at Cyan's humiliation-twisted face and taunted him.

“You threw up all of that. If you clean it all up, I'll clean the carriage, too. Nice and fair, right?”

“How dare you... how dare you...!”

“And when you lose a duel, the honorable, polite thing to do is humbly admit, ‘I lost.’ After all your blathering about honor, honor... you aren't going to do something dishonorable, are you?”

“Ugh...!”

He couldn't argue, he was angry, his body hurt, his mouth tasted disgusting, and everything felt unbearably unfair. If only it hurt less, he would have stood up and demanded another fight. But right now, Cyan couldn't even do that.

His swelling misery and anger turned into tears. Sniffling, Cyan hung his head. Of course, Eugene felt no pity at the sight. Wasn't that little brat the one who had acted like an asshole first?

Still... he did feel a little dubious about himself for being such a smartass to a thirteen-year-old kid.

'Maybe I should've just put up with it. Am I going to end up in some pointless fucking trouble?'

He was a little worried about what lay ahead, too. He'd been openly mistreated and looked down on from the start, and now he'd left Cyan, a child of the main family, in that state... More than anything else, he worried they might use this incident as an excuse to turn their fire on his father back in the countryside.

'Just you try it. I'll fucking...'

While Eugene mulled over these thoughts, Cyan desperately held back his tears. He didn't want to disgrace himself any further... But he wouldn't admit defeat, either. It was a childish sort of stubbornness.

“Young master!”

The distant shout drew close in an instant. A tall man in uniform arrived at the training ground. Far behind him, Nina was running breathlessly with her skirts held in both hands.

“What... what on earth happened here?”

No lion emblazoned on his chest. His use of “young master.” The man appeared to be a knight sworn to the main family.

'Well, well.'

Eugene's eyes lit up at the man's movements. He didn't know his exact age, but the man seemed far more skilled than Gordon, who had escorted him all the way here.

“He... Hezar.”

Cyan's eyes filled with tears as he looked at the man.

“I... I lost. To that bastard... I challenged him to a duel... and I lost...”

“A duel...”

Hezar glanced at Eugene with a stiff expression, then crouched down and helped Cyan up. Vomit smeared his hands and uniform. At the sight, Ciel recoiled several steps in disgust.

“... Forgive my late introduction. My name is Hezar, and I am responsible for Young Master Cyan's instruction.”

Supporting Cyan, Hezar bowed his head.

“The attendant told me what happened, but I came in such haste that I didn't hear the full account. ... What... exactly happened?”

“I am Eugene Lionheart, from Gidol.”

Eugene did not bow.

“Gidol... That is where Lord Gerhard's family lives.”

“Yes. He is my father. As for what happened... Cyan picked a fight with me. I tried not to respond, but...”

Eugene continued, staring directly at Cyan's face.

“Cyan insulted my father.”

“When did I do that?!”

“He asked whether my father had never taught me what honor was, and called me a coward.”

Cyan's face flushed red.

“He also said I smelled like cow shit.”

“... It's true. You do smell like cow shit...!”

“Your mouth smells like puke, so shut the fuck up.”

Eugene glared at Cyan, his eyes wide. Cyan trembled involuntarily under that fierce gaze. His solar plexus still throbbed from the direct hit.

“... And so you dueled?”

“Cyan insulted not only me, but my father. Sir Hezar. Is there any reason I shouldn't have accepted the duel?”

The question gave Hezar a powerful sense that something was off. The boy before him had to be about the same age as Cyan and Ciel. Yet he spoke calmly, without letting his emotions take over the conversation. After years of enduring the twins' whining, Hezar hardly dared judge whether this boy was abnormal or the twins were.

“... Your reason was valid, but... I believe you were too heavy-handed.”

“Isn't showing mercy in a duel an insult to one's opponent?”

“...”

“Sir Hezar. If my technique is clumsy, I would gratefully accept your advice. But I don't want advice telling me I was too heavy-handed.”

“... I apologize for overstepping.”

Hezar bowed his head again. Cyan, still leaning on him for support, twisted his face.

“Hezar! That bastard has trained his mana. He's from a collateral branch! He trained his mana without even undergoing the Bloodline Succession Ceremony!”

“I asked you to shut your fucking mouth, didn't I?”

Eugene tilted his head and glared at Cyan. Cyan closed his mouth again and lowered his eyes.

“... Young master.”

Hezar let out a long sigh and shook his head.

“Young Master Eugene has not trained his mana.”

“Hezar! Are you lying, too?!”

“What reason would I have to lie to you, Young Master Cyan...?”

“It doesn't make sense...! He beat me without even training his mana! And... and those! Those sandbags! He wore them on his body...”

“I can sense no mana in Young Master Eugene.”

Hezar spoke as he glanced at the sandbags behind Eugene. Even at a glance, they looked very heavy. He had moved with all of those attached to his body? Hezar struggled to imagine the sight.

But no matter how many times he checked, he could sense no mana in Eugene.

“Lies... it's a lie.”

“Young Master Cyan. First... let us have your injury examined.”

Speaking soothingly, Hezar studied Eugene's expression.

“I struck him in the solar plexus with the spear.”

“... Anywhere else?”

“It was a single blow.”

A single blow... Hezar groaned softly, and Cyan bit down hard on his lip in shame.

“... Then... Young Master Eugene. I shall see you another time.”

Unable to say anything more, Hezar bowed politely. Only then did Nina, who had run from far away, arrive at the training ground. Unsure what to do, she bowed her head deeply.

“I-I'm sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?”

Eugene grinned as he watched Hezar walk away with Cyan still leaning on him, his shoulders slumped. What was he doing, treating a brat like this? He had genuinely felt those doubts, but teaching an obnoxious little brat some manners was fun.

“See you next time.”

Trotting along behind Hezar, Ciel looked back at Eugene and smiled.

“Bye.”

Eugene smiled back and waved to her.