[V13C4] Weasel Therapy and Cyril's Sleep-Talk

After parting ways with Monica and Isaac at Sazandol Harbor, Cyril went to find Melissa with Gluttonous Zoe held close to his chest. He was accompanied by Raul, as well as Thule and Pikeh in weasel form.

Truth be told, he still had many concerns about the black dragon and Isaac’s face.

But right now, delivering Gluttonous Zoe to the capital took priority.

As they walked briskly down the streets, Cyril briefly told Raul about the events since his arrival at Sazandol.

First, about how Monica’s memories and Isaac’s body manipulation magic were stolen by Gluttonous Zoe. Second, regarding how Cyril and Glenn were originally excluded from the operation, so they rushed to the harbor on their own.

And finally, how Black Dragon Theodore was shot down by Monica and ended up falling into the underworld. However, Cyril decided to keep the identity of Monica’s black cat a secret for now.

“Man, sounds like a lot happened before I got here,” Raul muttered.

“…Yeah.”

In fact, so much had happened that Cyril felt like his mind couldn’t keep up. He had never been good at thinking about multiple subjects at the same time.

Thus, he decided to focus on the task at hand: reporting to Melissa with Gluttonous Zoe in hand, while concealing the business with Isaac’s face.

Cyril glanced down at the artifact in his arms.

Gluttonous Zoe had stayed quiet ever since getting resealed by Sophocles.

As they walked, Cyril could not help but think about Theodore’s goal. The black dragon had promised to take Gluttonous Zoe through the gate.

“…So you wanted to go to the underworld?” Cyril muttered, but there was no reply.

Raul glanced at Cyril and the artifact in his hands. He had been there for the Lorelei’s song, so he knew about Gluttonous Zoe’s true identity——or rather, its life as a human.

“Cyril.”

“I…”

Cyril trailed off as he looked down at Gluttonous Zoe again.

The crimes of the Gluttonous Boy King and those of the current Gluttonous Zoe were heinous acts of violence. They could probably never be forgiven.

Even so, Cyril could not help but think.

“He was a child without any adult to scold him… I find that very sad.”

The young king was cruel and ruthless to be sure, but what about the adults who took advantage of his naivety to bolster their own authority?

Throughout his entire reign, he had no one to warn him about his mistakes.

Then, he was captured by the rebels and imprisoned, driven to the brink of starvation. As if that wasn’t enough, he was robbed of his humanity, not even allowed to die.

(Why didn’t anyone scold him? Just teach him that he’s doing something wrong.)

Even after being turned into a tool, the boy’s soul continued stealing to satisfy his gluttonous urges. He still didn’t understand the weight of his crimes.

All he wanted was to fall into the underworld, and be granted a final release from his pain.

“Cyril, Cyril.”

Cyril heard someone calling his name from the floor, so he looked down to see Thule in the form of a white weasel.

There was a hint of worry in Thule’s golden eyes, but Cyril had trouble making this out as his vision seemed a bit blurry. He rubbed his eyes and took another look.

“What’s wrong, Thule?” Cyril asked.

“Your voice sounds weird.”

“…?”

Now that Cyril consciously thought about it, his throat felt a bit scratchy. On top of that, he had a headache, and chills were running down his spine.

Earlier, Cyril had fallen into the sea, leaving him soaking wet. His clothes and hair had yet to dry at all. Only now did he notice the unpleasant feeling of damp hair sticking to his skin.

“Looks like he’s on death’s door,” muttered the gold weasel Pikeh.

“Don’t say such… cough, cough!”

Cyril tried to shout back, he was interrupted by a violent fit of coughing.

His joints ached, and his head felt incredibly heavy. He found it harder and harder to support his body weight.

After falling into mana-contaminated waters, then flying through the air while wet, Cyril had been pushed to his limit.

Cyril eventually fell to his knees, then collapsed forward onto the ground.

“Ah, Cyril!” Raul screamed. “I just realized that you’re soaking wet! Did you fall into the harbor!?”

“Oh no. His body feels really hot,” Thule followed.

“If he’s hot, then should I freeze him?” Pikeh asked.

“No,” Raul replied, “Let’s do something about his wet clothes first. Cyril, your stuff is at the Mage Association, right?”

Cyril tried to reply, but he was overcome by another fit of coughing. At this point, he could not stop shivering, and his head was too heavy to lift off the ground.

And yet, Cyril tried to crawl his way forward, wheezing with every breath. His blue eyes looked so intense that Raul could not help but gasp.

“This is a mission… from him… I must fulfill… my role…!”

His last attempt only lasted a few seconds before he lost consciousness.

Raul ended up carrying him to the Mage Association on his back.

＊　＊　＊

Following Gluttonous Zoe’s indiscriminate attack on Sazandol, and the appearance of a black dragon in the harbor, the city was in complete chaos. Naturally, everyone at the Mage Association was extremely busy.

As a member of the Seven Sages, Raul was no exception. After bringing Cyril in, he reported to Melissa, and was put to work cleaning the mana contamination.

Given the circumstances, they did not have the manpower to care for the sick. The feverish Cyril had to bathe and change into borrowed clothes on his own. Then, he collapsed into bed and woke up the next morning.

Trying to find an inn in this situation would be a nightmare, so he was fortunate to get a private room at the Mage Association.

(Everyone else is doing their job… How can I be so useless…?)

Cyril could imagine how busy Monica and Isaac must be right now. And yet, here he was, unable to do anything.

Once he started thinking about Monica, he only grew more depressed.

(I yelled at her again…)

Taking a black dragon as your familiar was unprecedented. It would be a big problem if the public ever found out. That much was obvious.

And yet, Cyril got frustrated at the fact that Monica kept secrets from him, which led to him yelling at her in anger.

(As I thought, I am not kind at all…)

Next came the issue with Isaac. He had violently slapped Cyril’s hand with his own.

This was likely him reprimanding Cyril for his lack of thought. Moreover, Cyril was still stuck in bed, having failed to accomplish the task Isaac entrusted him with.

He made the grandiose statement of “I will protect Monica and I will save you too!” But look at him now. How pathetic could he be?

(They must be disgusted with me…)

Perhaps amplified by his poor health, Cyril found himself thinking about his failures.

His brooding was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Hey Cyril, are you feeling better? I know it’s a bit late, but I brought breakfast, so let’s eat together… Uh…”

Raul’s voice cut off as he opened the door. After a moment of bewildered silence, he voiced the doubt that came to mind.

“So… is this some kind of ritual?”

Currently, Cyril was lying down with a golden weasel on top of his forward, and a white weasel on top of his blanket. Both weasels were stretching themselves to the limit, trying to cover him as much as possible.

The usual Cyril would probably shout a retort, then shoo away the weasels. However, he no longer had the energy for that. With the fever in full swing, even speaking a few words felt painful.

Since Cyril remained silent, the two weasels answered in his place.

“Sophocles said you should keep warm when you catch a cold,” Thule explained.

“And to cool off the forehead. That’s what I’m doing,” Pikeh added in a smug tone.

“Well, yes, I certainly did say that… But this is not what I had in mind…”

The muffled sound of Sophocles came from under the blanket.

For the sake of visibility, Cyril pulled his right hand out from the blanket, resting it on his chest instead. The black gem on his ring sparkled in the sunlight streaming through the window.

“Breast-less Thorn Witch. He is ill, as you can see, so allow me to speak on his behalf. First of all, we request a young woman to nurse him back to health.”

“If you’re going to speak for me… then refrain from making indecent remarks… cough, cough…”

Cyril’s voice was extremely hoarse, and he quickly broke down into a cough.

“Drink this,” Raul said, handing Cyril a steaming cup. “I made the Roseberg family’s secret medicine.”

Cyril raised himself up, pushing Pikeh off, then took a sip from the cup.

The medicine seemed to be sweetened with honey, but it did little to mask the bitterness. That said, Cyril felt the pain in his throat easing slightly. A comfortable warmth began spreading throughout his body.

As Cyril continued sipping at the cup, Raul gave a brief explanation of what happened after his collapse.

“Let’s see, so first is Gluttonous Zoe. We had Louis-san’s disciple take it back to the capital with flight magic. I made sure to mention the possibility that the stolen things might not settle back.”

Glenn has exhausted a considerable amount of mana as well, but apparently, he volunteered to transport the artifact.

Meanwhile, Melissa had peeled off the shadow on Silas’s arm, so he made a full recovery. The Dragon Slayer Mage was apparently getting sent on various errands throughout the city.

In particular, many of the water dragons remained in the vicinity even after Theodore fell into the underworld. Silas’s main job was to repel them and secure the safety of the harbor.

“Regarding the mana contamination and nation-wide dragon disaster,” Raul continued. “We’re still waiting for some reports, but it doesn’t seem too bad. Deploying the Seven Sages and Dragon Knights in advance seems to have paid off.”

“…I see.”

Cyril had failed to discern Theodore’s true goal of visiting the underworld, but his efforts did not end in vain.

His research into mana contamination helped, if only a little. This fact comforted Cyril, lifting his spirits slightly.

“As suspected, Sazandol is seeing the most severe mana contamination. Mary-san… The Starseer Witch is heading this way with her artifact as we speak.”

“…?”

Cyril was not familiar with the ancient artifact managed by the Starseer Witch.

He paused his sipping and glanced at Sophocles, who explained with a sparkle.

“He is likely referring to Star-Weaving Mira, an ancient artifact with the power to absorb and release the land’s mana.”

“Yeah, that one! I love watching her use it, because it looks so pretty. You’re not going back to the capital yet, right? Mary-san will probably use it at night, so let’s go watch. We can invite Monica and Isaac too!”

Hearing the names of those two reminded Cyril of his earlier thoughts, causing him to frown.

“No… I… I couldn’t possibly…”

After his failures, Cyril felt like he might die of shame if he were to face them again.

“Huh? You don’t want to invite Isaac?” Raul asked in surprise.

“…”

“But isn’t he your friend? At least, it looked that way to me.”

Now it was Cyril’s turn to be surprised. The word ‘friend’ did not resonate with him at all.

“I am his… his right-hand man.”

“Okay. Then you can be his right-hand man and friend then.”

“No… I can’t mix personal and public matters like that…”

Cyril’s mumbled excuse caused Raul to put on a rare expression of exasperation.

“You know, people often scold me for talking about private matters in public, but you’re doing the opposite, Cyril. That’s bringing public matters into a private relationship.”

“Ugh…”

“As long as you act professional in public, then what’s wrong with being friends?”

“…”

Cyril placed the empty cup on the side table, then crawled under the blanket, turning his back to Raul.

Once he finished lying down, Pikeh jumped onto his head, covering his eyes with her pleasantly cool tail.

“I’m just sleep-talking right now…” Cyril muttered.

“Okay.”

“…Back when I had just transferred to Serendia Academy… He was always looking out for me…”

“I see.”

“…Then I got ahead of myself, thinking that I was good enough to be acknowledged by royalty… Because if I had worth, I could finally be at ease.”

Back when Cyril was adopted by Marquis Highown, he was powerless in front of the barrier that was Claudia’s talent. He was simply no match for her.

Cyril was always anxious about losing his place, so the prince’s praises were music to his ears.

Felix Arc Ridill was a respected member of the royal family. And someone of his stature had acknowledged him!

Even after Cyril learned his true identity, this feeling did not change. Isaac Walker was as extraordinary as he had always been.

And so, Cyril clung onto Isaac just as he had done before.

“I… I never wanted to be his equal. He is an amazing man with talent far beyond my reach… That is why I used him to feed my self-esteem… I have been lying to him for so many years.”

Once Cyril confessed his feelings, he was overcome by a wave of shame, pulling the blanket up to cover his face.

“But what about now, Cyril?” Raul asked in his usual nonchalant tone. “You don’t need anyone’s acknowledgement, because now, you understand your own worth. Right?”

“…”

“I can tell your respect for Isaac was no lie.”

“…”

“How about we have breakfast now?”

“…Fine.”

The time for sleep-talk was over. Cyril pushed Pikeh aside and slowly raised himself back up.

“Here,” Raul said, handing Cyril a soup mug. The pleasant aroma of ginger and chicken wafted from the soup.

Cyril took a light sip. The flavor seeped into his tongue, overwriting the bitterness of the medicine from earlier.

“I brought some bread too. Want any?”

“No thanks.”

“Alright, then I’ll take some… Oh, by the way…”

Raul paused right before stuffing his mouth with bread, having suddenly remembered something.

“I heard my sister shouting ‘Why didn’t that stupid mutt report back to me?! I’ve had enough! He’s getting demoted to a deadbeat!’ or something like that. Then she stormed off to Monica’s house. Did Monica have a dog or something?”

“No clue,” Cyril said, shaking his head.

He only knew about the cat whose true identity was a black dragon.

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