"Lucius Alcott…"
The tall military man stood before Rishe, eyes wide with shock. He quickly schooled his expression, bowing first to Theodore.
"Your Highness, Prince Theodore. Have my knights offended you somehow?"
"Well, I told them to leave, but they wouldn't listen. Would you mind explaining that, Lawvine?"
"Please forgive them. Their loyalty does not permit them to follow your orders, even if you are a prince."
"And I'd like to know why that is."
Lawvine had the air of a man on a battlefield. Gone was the caring instructor Rishe had known these last few days.
"We serve His Majesty, not you."
Theodore looked almost frightened at the mention of his father.
"Michel Hévin has announced a significant incident fifteen minutes from now. Of his own creation."
"Professor Michel, you didn't…"
"It's just as he says. I mentioned it to a random knight I found in the palace. That a crime would occur at the eighteenth hour and it would be my doing. Arrest me."
What was Michel saying?
Rishe was confused for a moment before she remembered his goal. "And by this strategy Prince Arnold will hear of your gunpowder?"
"Well, I'll have to confess everything in the investigation afterward. I imagine either the crown prince or the emperor will be very interested in what I have to say." Michel smiled softly, innocently.
"Considering the scale of what's about to happen, it would be impossible for the royal family to ignore."
Michel really was planning on using his gunpowder for some plot. Rishe had seen this coming. In fact, she'd resigned herself to it and factored it into her plans. But her heart still sank to discover that she was right.
Theodore clicked his tongue. "This isn't good."
He turned around to Rishe and whispered, "Lawvine isn't a knight. He can do this because he rules over Galkhein's northernmost territory."
"You mean he's judged Michel, a guest from Coyolles, to be an enemy of Galkhein."
"That's right. If my father's already heard about this, my brother may know as well. Father might have ordered him to do something."
Rishe clenched her fists. Michel had implied an attack on Galkhein, and Lawvine was monitoring him. If the emperor had gotten word of that and told Arnold…
Prince Kyle!
Doing her best to stay calm, Rishe met Michel's eyes. "Professor. Your actions have pulled in unrelated people."
"Yes. I know that."
"Professor! " Rishe couldn't help raising her voice.
Michel returned her gaze and plucked the cigarette from his lips. "Well, this unveiling deserves a show, don't you think? That way, people will understand gunpowder's might and just how much unhappiness it can cause."
"Unhappiness…?"
"Indeed. That's why gunpowder exists. I have to help it fulfill its purpose."
Michel had repeated these words so often in Rishe's third life. He believed all things were created for a reason, a role they were meant to fulfill. Fulfilling that role was the only way to give their life meaning.
That's why the professor and I parted.
Rishe was never able to accept Michel's way of thinking. She'd wanted to stop him from using his gunpowder, had pleaded with him not to. In the end, she could never get him to listen. They'd gone on to live separate lives, never again crossing paths.
"I brought it into this world—I am responsible for its existence. Even if it ends up making people unhappy, it must fulfill its purpose." Michel wore the same smile on his face now that he had that moonlit night. Rishe remembered the last time they'd exchanged words.
Just then, a knight flew to Theodore's side and whispered in his ear.
"Sister!" Theodore shouted.
Rishe listened to his report and let out a tiny sigh of relief.
We made it.
**************************************
Michel Hévin was feeling rather strange, standing in Galkhein's imperial palace's garden. The girl in front of him was to blame. He just couldn't understand the strong, earnest way she was looking at him, the person he'd only begun calling his student on a whim when he arrived here.
It's odd.
Michel tilted his head, savoring the sweet taste of his cigarette.
She looks angry, but that's not all. Although, who am I to guess at what's in someone's heart?
Vague memories of a distant day came to his mind.
"My wife is dead because of you."
His father had said those words countless times.
Their mansion had been dim and full of books. His father was thin, like he was slowly eroding. Eventually, their servants all disappeared, and Michel was stranded with his father's words day after day.
"You must repay me. You were born to make us miserable. You're a reaper."
His father was a brilliant scholar once, or so Michel had heard. But he changed when his wife died. And he'd kept the cause of her death—Michel's birth—beside him despite his deep hatred.
"I'm sorry for being born, Father."
Michel apologized to his father, clutching his robe around himself.
Even when he was hungry or lonely, he never asked his father for anything. Instead, he read through the books in the mansion to distract himself from his empty stomach. When he was studying, sometimes his father's eyes would soften.
Fortunately, studying suited him well. He was quick to absorb information and a natural at putting it into practice. The things he learned from books came to him as easily as breathing or drinking.
Thanks to all his studying, his father eventually brought him into the outside world. Michel was swiftly surrounded by adults. A bit removed from the cluster, his father said, "This child has inherited my abilities. Make use of him in my stead."
A commotion went through the adults, but Michel was ecstatic. For the first time in his life, he was something other than the child who killed his mother and ruined his father's happiness.
"Father, will doing this help you?" He asked, desperate.
His father threw him a hateful look. "Of course."
Michel remembered shuddering at how cold his father's words felt.
"It's the least you can do to repay me for raising a reaper like you. This is the only thing you're good for."
He'd forgotten long ago how his father's words had made him feel. Maybe he'd found it hard to stand, or his heart throbbed painfully in his chest. Maybe he couldn't breathe, the world spinning as he knelt and murmured "I'm sorry," under his breath.
But the more his father pushed him away, the more Michel immersed himself in his studies. The world had opened up to him as soon as he entered a laboratory. Anything he wanted to know, he could find out with experimentation and research.
Alchemy was so much more clear-cut to Michel than his father's heart, easier than gauging the man's mood on a given day. Plus, the adults in the laboratory were nicer to him than his father was.
"Michel's pretty amazing. Guess he really is that guy's son."
Secretly thinking of them as older brothers—or maybe even as fathers—Michel learned as much as he could about alchemy under their tutelage.
When the change happened, it was such a small thing. Michel was reading over a paper the adults had written, adding his own insights. What was lacking in the written plan instantly became apparent to him, as well as what was overabundant and what was uncertain.