“…Do you think the Center Director will be alright?”
“He already lost his mind. There’s no way he’s okay.”
Delroz spoke firmly, staring straight ahead.
“No Esper who’s lived for decades after losing their Guide can be sane. He’s just been pretending all this time.”
Like Rohan.
The words came without hesitation. Banteon gripped the hand he was holding tighter. It was a reality that might someday become Delroz’s future. Unless something unexpected happened between the two of them, Banteon would die first.
“How long will you live? Do you really have no lifespan?”
Until now, he’d known Delroz wasn’t quite human—more like a creature closer to a monster—but he had never mentioned it outright. He always acted as if he didn’t know, treating him no differently than usual. This was the first time he had asked him so directly.
Delroz, who had been silently walking forward, turned around to face him. Complex emotions flickered across his expressionless face, and then the stiff corner of his lips slowly lifted.
“I do have a lifespan.”
“When is it?”
“The day you die.”
Banteon’s mouth opened slightly. He stared blankly at Delroz, and the corner of Delroz’s mouth lifted even higher.
“What? Do you want me to live on alone after you’re gone?”
“I didn’t mean it like that…”
“If you asked me to, I would. But it would be rather painful.”
It was natural to think that the one who could survive should do so—but over that thought, another image flashed through his mind.
Rohan, holding a boy covered in wounds.
The Center Director, eyes closed, having let everything go.
Delroz would be no different once Banteon died. Even if he looked fine on the outside, inside he’d be crumbling, eaten away and rotten. Like a charred wooden statue, he might cling to the last thread of hope. No—he would probably wander inside a delusion he mistook for hope.
Banteon rubbed his thumb over Delroz’s hand.
“I’ll try to live just a little longer.”
“I like the sound of that.”
Indeed, rather than asking Delroz to live on alone after he died, it was better for Banteon to choose to live even one day longer.
Seeing Delroz’s satisfied smile, Banteon smiled as well.
A few days later, while resting at the estate, the two of them found an article in the newspaper.
It reported that the Center Director, who had long supported the Royal Esper Center, had resigned.
It said he had terminated all contracts with his temporary Guides and left the capital without any companions.
He hadn’t revealed where he was going, nor did he request a new Guide.
After reading the article, Banteon folded the thin sheet of paper and tossed it into a corner.
For no particular reason, he pulled Delroz close and linked arms.
There was no one who didn’t understand what the Center Director’s actions meant. The reporter, calmly stating the facts, had made the implication clear.
The next time the Center Director’s name appeared, it would be carved into a gravestone.
***
The Esrante estate resembled its master’s character. Outwardly elegant and quiet, but within, it was a place perfect for indulgence.
To put it another way—
“There really isn’t anywhere with better liquor than this place.”
Baiheron, who had returned to the estate after a long time, raided the wine cellar and laid out an impressive spread.
Banteon spared no expense on liquor, just like he did with tea. Even if he didn’t drink to get drunk, he liked to unwind with something special, so he had gathered rare and exotic varieties.
But all that effort was in vain now, as thick glass bottles rolled across the floor.
“……”
Normally, Banteon would have scolded him for acting so unruly, but this time he quietly raised his glass.
The cold liquid burned as it slid down his throat, and the sharp fragrance hit the bridge of his nose.
While Banteon savored small sips of the high-proof liquor, Baiheron drank the expensive alcohol like it was water.
Of the many bottles now resting beneath the table, Banteon had only drunk from the one currently in his hand. Twelve of the remaining bottles had gone into Baiheron, and the rest were being chugged by Delroz, who was pouring the contents straight down his throat, bottle and all.
“You’re fiery. Try this one too. It’s good.”
“Sounds nice.”
This unusual trio was the reason the expensive liquor kept flowing and empty bottles piled up on the carpet, without a single protest.
Baiheron had suddenly returned to the mansion, and since he was about to become family, he shamelessly proposed they all catch up over drinks.
Delroz, who Banteon had expected to refuse, nodded.
And Banteon, too uneasy to leave just the two of them together, joined in.
“You really know how to drink. My brother has an excellent palate, you know. Only the finest stuff in his collection.”
“They’re too good for your tongue, though.”
To Baiheron—who found everything delicious—the rare liquors poured down without resistance.
As he said, the taste that lingered on the tongue was ecstasy in liquid form.
Baiheron giggled as Banteon grumbled at him.
“My brother may sound harsh, but he’s a good guy.”
“Banteon is…”
Delroz, who had just downed the drink in his hand, opened his mouth.
“Banteon is quite gentle, isn’t he?”
“Pfft.”
Baiheron, who had just taken a sip of liquor across from them, abruptly turned his head and spat it out. Droplets splattered messily across the carpet.
Banteon pressed his temples hard, already making plans to throw the carpet out first thing tomorrow.
Regardless of how irritated Banteon looked, Baiheron wiped his mouth roughly with his sleeve and gaped.
“I feel like I just heard something completely bizarre…”
“He is gentle. Kind and affectionate.”
“……”
Baiheron stared at Banteon with trembling eyes, silently demanding an explanation. Banteon simply shrugged. Delroz hadn’t exactly said anything wrong, after all. That shameless reaction made Baiheron’s jaw drop.
“That’s just disgraceful behavior.”
“…Yes, sir.”
Baiheron shut his mouth tightly and nodded. Still looking unconvinced, he tilted his head in disbelief before finally opening his mouth again.
“Well, uh… yeah. Yeah, I guess. Everyone has their own perspective. There were plenty of people who liked my brother.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
“Whatever else, his looks alone are enough to charm people.”
At Baiheron’s muttered rationalization, Delroz lifted his glass in agreement.
“Sure, he’s a little high-strung, but he’s capable. And sometimes he’s unexpectedly cool-headed… although he does lose his temper now and then…”
“……”
The words started to drift into a murky space between praise and insult.
Baiheron scratched his chin, tilting his head.
“Now that I think about it, my partner’s the same. Are all Guides like that?”
“That’s a discriminatory remark.”
When Banteon pointed it out, Baiheron scratched his head with a sheepish grin.
“Thinking of it that way makes it all make sense. My partner’s always saying no this, no that, but ends up going along with everything in the end. That kind of thing’s pretty cute, you know?”
Delroz gave a small nod.
Banteon stared at him in disbelief, not understanding why he agreed with that, and Delroz quickly averted his gaze.
“Ah, haven’t seen my partner for two days and I already miss them again.”
“Then stop drinking and go back.”
“C’mon, I haven’t seen you in so long. I’m not leaving yet.”
Baiheron, who had been guzzling down alcohol with clear intent, slammed his bottle down on the table with a loud clunk.
“Hey, now that we’re drinking, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say.”
“You’re not even drunk. Don’t give me that ‘in the heat of the moment’ crap.”
“Ah! You never let anything slide, do you.”
The liquor stored in the Esrante estate was all handpicked by Banteon. It wasn’t meant for Espers.
For Espers of A-rank and above, it was no more than scented water that couldn’t even get them buzzed.
The only one actually feeling tipsy here was Banteon himself, though it was amusing to watch the others chatting and laughing like they were wasted.
“Well then, since you’re the one drinking, I’ll just say it.”
“Go on, I’ll listen.”
“I’m leaving Esrante.”
Hrk.
Caught off guard, Banteon choked, coughing as the sharp liquor burned its way back up his throat.
While he wiped his mouth with the handkerchief he had on standby, Baiheron kept his mouth tightly shut, staring straight ahead.
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah.”
Baiheron nodded. He didn’t look like he intended to back down.
Banteon knew better than anyone that once his younger brother dug in his heels, there was no stopping him, so he pushed aside his tangled thoughts.
“Sorry for always dumping everything on you. But you know I’m doing this because I trust you, right?”
“The Royal Family must be thrilled.”
Baiheron Esrante’s Guide was officially kept confidential. It wasn’t listed in any formal documentation, but there wasn’t a soul who didn’t know who it was.
The third prince of the current king.
After awakening as a Guide, he had been locked away in the detached palace—shunned and cast aside.
For generations now, the royal family had failed to produce a single high-ranking Esper.
All their Esper offspring had been of lower rank than the Esrante retainers.
In this generation, they had pinned their hopes on the king’s sons awakening as Espers—but all of them turned out to be ordinary people.
Then even their final hope, the third prince, awakened as a Guide.
It was a bitter blow that cast a shadow over the entire royal household.
Banteon, the firstborn of the Esrante family, also awakened as a Guide, but Pellato—who had acted as head of house—and both Tearot and Baiheron had all awakened as high-ranking Espers.
That alone made the circumstances vastly different from the Royal Family’s.
Their disappointment had been so profound that they buried the third prince deep in the detached palace.
A royal who was supposed to command all Espers had awakened not as an Esper, or even a powerless commoner, but as a Guide.
It was a manifestation the royal pride could not tolerate.
Then, by some coincidence, it was discovered that the third prince’s compatibility rate with Baiheron was the highest on record.
The two eventually signed a formal contract as partners.
Banteon was used to seeing his younger brother obsess over his Guide like a proper Esper, but to move families entirely…
“I don’t know. Do whatever you want.”
“Hehe…”
His brother laughed sheepishly and began massaging Banteon’s shoulders.
His technique was leagues worse than Delroz’s.
