[V8C11] Bion Brings Happiness, Pacireus Brings Ruin

“Hey there, Bion.”

Several years ago, Elliott Howard had greeted Cyril with these words in the classroom. Initially, Cyril assumed this was an innocent mistake.

That said, it had already been a week since Cyril’s transfer into Serendia Academy’s middle school division. Surely, his classmates remembered his name by now.

Nevertheless, Elliott parked himself directly in front of Cyril with a condescending smirk, following it up with a goading, “What? Are you deaf or something?”

Though perplexed at this incomprehensible behavior, Cyril gave a completely serious response.

“I think you have the wrong person. My name is Cyril Ashley.”

“Nah, you’re Bion, son of Simeon.”

“…? No, my father’s name is Vicent Ashley…”

Cyril’s puzzled response caused Elliott to burst into laughter. And it wasn’t just him; about half of their classmates were glancing at Cyril with hushed snickers.

It was then that Cyril realized he had given the wrong answer. However, he had yet to understand where he went wrong.

Elliott continued staring right at Cyril with a malicious smile, which would normally be considered incredibly rude. In other words, he evidently regarded Cyril as someone who could be treated with such impudence.

In a theatrical gesture, Elliott spread his arms and explained.

“Bion is a boy dressed in splendid clothes by his father, but he lacks the ability to speak. Why? Because Bion is just a doll. Simeon, a man with no son, had dressed up a doll and pretended it was his real child…. Come on, this is one of the most popular comedies in the capital. Where are you from, the boonies?”

Cyril finally understood what was going on; Elliott had referenced a popular play to ridicule him for being adopted. Simeon had dressed up a doll as his son, implying that Cyril was no better than a doll dressed up by his adoptive father.

“You have insulted not only me but also my father.”

The inherently competitive Cyril was not going to take this lying down. But in contrast to Cyril’s sharp glare, Elliott merely made a face of exaggerated surprise.

“Whoa, how are you talking back? Bion is just a doll, so just sit quietly in your chair like you’re supposed to.”

“Do you lack the ability to remember the names of your classmates, Elliott Howard?”

“Yeah, the ones who aren’t worth remembering.”

Elliott sneered with disdain as he pulled on Cyril’s bowtie.

“Feel free to dress yourself up all you want, but you’ll never reach our level on the inside. An upstart like you doesn’t deserve to sit in the same classroom as us.”

The phrase “you’ll never reach our level” rendered Cyril speechless. He had studied furiously before transferring into Serendia Academy, but he knew that his knowledge was still no match for Claudia’s.

(Claudia would have known about the ‘Bion’ that Elliott mentioned. Unlike me, she could have navigated this situation without embarrassing herself.)

As Cyril had fallen silent, Elliott seized the opportunity to make another nasty remark.

“If you want to pretty yourself up, why not try a dress? That should suit you much better than the male uniform, milady.”

Cyril felt the blood rushing to his head. He was indeed the daintiest among the boys in class.

But when it came to his comments about his appearance, Cyril was always unable to retort. Whenever the features he inherited from his biological father were ridiculed, Cyril grew furious as if his father himself were being mocked——and, in turn, he despised himself for holding such feelings.

Cyril did not want to inherit anything from the man he loathed. Or perhaps, he didn’t want to hate his father in the first place… As the conflicting thoughts clashed within his head, Cyril’s mind went blank.

(No, no, no! That man has nothing to do with my current situation. I need to say something back, anything…)

Seeing as how Cyril was still at a loss for words, Elliott opened his mouth to continue, however…

“I see, so you must be the ‘Bringer of Happiness’ to Marquis Highown.”

A well-modulated voice came from the entrance of the classroom to cut Elliott off.

Cyril turned around to see a boy with vivid golden hair, refined features, and a graceful demeanor. Despite his young age, he already exuded a commanding aura.

(The Second Prince… Felix Arc Ridill!)

As Cyril froze in surprise, Elliott finally let go of his bowtie and turned to address the prince in a casual tone.

“Bringer of Happiness? Bion is just an ornament. Perhaps you are remembering wrong, Your Highness.”

“Elliott, are you not a fan of classical literature? ‘Bion, Bringer of Happiness’ is the original work that the comedy ‘Simeon’s Son’ is based on. It’s a classical piece.”

Felix explained everything with a gentle smile. Though not especially loud, his voice left a lasting impression on all listeners.

“——Simeon was a man who had no son, so he dressed up his doll Bion in splendid clothes, treating it with the utmost care.”

“Yeah, and it’s a comedy where we laugh at his stupidity,” Elliott interjected.

“It seems the more recent plays emphasize that aspect, but in the original work, Bion receives a soul from the goddess, turning him into a real human. Then, he repays the foster father who showered him with affection.”

Felix turned his azure eyes toward Cyril. Unlike Cyril’s deep blue eyes, Felix’s were a light aqua color, with a drop of green. The prince continued with a gentle smile.

“And it seems to me you are the Bringer of Happiness for Marquis Highown.”

Immediately, Cyril felt a rush of heat going through his entire body. This time, however, it was a completely different emotion from anger. His heart thumped loudly and his face grew hot. The boy in front of him looked as if he were sparkling.

(This is the person I want to serve.)

Cyril thought so from the bottom of his heart.

＊　＊　＊

“What an interesting fellow.”

In an empty corridor, Felix——or rather, Isaac Walker——spoke to his contracted spirit, Wildianu.

In the form of a white lizard, Wildianu climbed onto Isaac’s shoulder and responded in a hushed tone.

“Are you referring to Cyril Ashley?”

“That’s right. I took a peek at his academic records prior to enrollment, and his performance was outstanding, particularly in history and essay questions. I think I’d rather have him than his ‘walking library’ of a sister… Plus, he seems easier to handle than Miss Claudia.”

After Isaac murmured out the latter part with a shrug, Wildianu voiced a slightly hesitant-sounding question.

“So you are considering him as a candidate for next year’s student council?”

“Yeah. About half of the student council members will be appointed by Duke Crockford, and Elliott Howard is practically guaranteed. That’s why I want to allocate the remaining positions carefully.”

Elliott’s father, Count Darsby, was one of Duke Crockford’s confidants. Given that connection, Elliott will undoubtedly be appointed to the student council.

Elliott had been close to the real Felix, and thus, the only one to figure out Isaac’s true identity, but Duke Crockford knew nothing of that.

Since Isaac wasn’t on good terms with Elliott, he harbored expectations for Cyril, someone who held the potential to confront Elliott head-on.

“Wildianu, what do you think the strongest loyalty comes from?”

“…The nuances of human emotion are a bit difficult for me to grasp.”

In response to Isaac’s abrupt question, Wildianu shrank back apologetically. Isaac chuckled a bit internally, thinking that the non-human Wildianu might be more sensitive to human emotions than himself.

“I believe trust is the source of the strongest loyalty. Anything born from fear or domination is fragile. Such loyalty will eventually be betrayed.”

Isaac himself was no exception; he was in the process of betraying Duke Crockford.

The power of authority or the carrot-and-stick approach may be a quick method to gain followers, but that fell far short of genuine loyalty. And what Isaac desired was genuine loyalty born from building trust.

“——Bion, Bringer of Happiness. I want your unblemished trust and loyalty.”

Isaac had always wanted his right-hand man to be someone like that.

“Oh, by the way, Wildianu, did you know that ‘Bion, Bringer of Happiness’ has a sequel?”

“Does it not end with Bion and his foster father Simeon living happily ever after?”

Wildianu tilted his small head in response, so Isaac began to tell the rest of the story. He voiced the events as if it was an exceedingly ridiculous comedy, oozing with sarcasm.

“You see, the man next door envied the joyous Simeon, and attempted to imitate him. He dressed up a doll in splendid clothes, named it Pacireus, and tried to adopt it as his son. However, Pacireus wouldn’t move no matter what he did. Only once the enraged man kicked the doll did it finally start moving, as if it had somehow gained a soul…”

Isaac’s azure eyes gleamed as his lips twisted into a dark, satisfied smile.

“And so, the doll killed the man in revenge. A fitting conclusion, don’t you think?”

If Cyril Ashley was ‘Bion, Bringer of Happiness,’ then Isaac Walker was ‘Pacireus, Bringer of Destruction.’ Isaac knew full well that, sooner or later, he would end Duke Crockford with his own hands.

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