Chapter 504

There was no way anyone could have missed how noticeably strange Eugène Lamour’s condition was. I took Leo, who was supposed to be resting, back to his room, then left with Elias and headed to the archives, where we started going through Eugène Lamour’s records again. Elias had just woken up from a nap. Perched on the windowsill, he yawned and said, “They even made an article out of the fact that he’s in Bavaria.”

“Maybe the news spread through my other art teacher.”

I kept my eyes on the newspaper as I spoke. Elias lightly jumped down from the windowsill, returned the newspaper he had finished reading to its slot, and shrugged.

“Even so, the fact that that made the news…”

“Yeah.”

He opened another glowing newspaper and whistled.

“Whoa. It says he’s been divorced twice. Can they just write stuff like this in the papers?”

“That’s not important information.”

“Luka, do you actually know what divorce is?”

“…I do.”

I probably knew more about it than he did. It was a concept completely removed from Elias’s life, so no matter how well he had memorized the definition, he couldn’t possibly know it as well as I did.

Elias proudly raised one corner of his mouth.

“I know too.”

“Good for you.”

If he’d been paying even a little attention at school, he should know something like that. But I kept that thought to myself. Elias opened another newspaper and frowned.

“Wait. This one says that’s not true. It says his first wife died, then he remarried an English singer and divorced her six months later. Do you know what remarriage is too?”

“Of course I do. You know it too, right? Good job memorizing it.”

Apparently satisfied with getting an answer and praise at the same time, Elias draped an arm over my shoulder and muttered, “Hmm. So which one is actually true?”

“We’d have to look through the British register of persons to find out.”

“Wow. The ‘Eugène Lamour Effect.’”

Elias quickly lost interest in the news about Lamour’s divorces and focused on another article. When I looked over, he shoved the newspaper toward me.

“It says the number of foreigners entering France while he was holding a solo exhibition seven years ago increased by twenty percent compared to the same period the previous year.”

“He’s raking in foreign currency.”

“Whoa, wait. Born in ’53? We were born in ’79. So he’s been painting since he was young. He was valedictorian when he entered the French International Academy of Fine Arts and graduated at the top of his class too. Then his wife died and his style completely changed… Huh. He started getting absolutely roasted by everyone around then, but his paintings got even more expensive. Must be nice. If his paintings kept selling at these prices, he’d be richer than my father.”

“He’d be richer than most nobles.”

“Exactly. Hmm…”

Elias flipped through the pages rapidly. He rattled off the information he had read to me.

“They say Duke César Choiseul was Eugène Lamour’s patron when he was in school. Apparently, he paid for all of Lamour’s schooling. Lamour himself said he was born into an ordinary family that was struggling to make ends meet and couldn’t afford to attend art school… but apparently the two of them are still on good terms.”

“He couldn’t afford tuition? You really never know how things will turn out…”

“Exactly!”

“All right, then. Seek, and you shall find.”

I lightly struck the archive floor with my staff. When I saw the light spread across the room, I spoke the name I was looking for.

“César Choiseul.”

Light began to seep out from various places. Elias found the glowing documents and hurried over to me. As we briefly sifted through the newspapers, we came across a familiar surname. I slowly traced the words with my finger.

“He had a godmother. Anne d’Orléans.”

“Orléans~?”

Elias playfully furrowed his brows. He then gathered the documents bearing César Choiseul’s glowing name and placed them on the windowsill behind me. It was his way of telling me to use the next spell. I struck the floor with my staff again and began investigating Anne d’Orléans.

“If Lamour reads an interview where one of his old classmates comes out and says he had a nasty personality even back in school, I wonder what he’ll think.”

As we left the archives and headed back to the hospital room, Elias walked along behind me with his hands shoved into his pockets. I shrugged. Leo had informed me that we had an appointment that evening, so that was where we were headed. The moment I arrived at the hospital room, I flopped down on the bed and put on a miserable expression, while Elias silently started eating the pile of fruit.

A little while later, there was a knock on the door. I called out without much thought.

“Come in.”

The person who entered was Mecklenburg. He placed a box on the bedside table and greeted Elias. Since Elias was looking at him with open disdain, senior or not, Mecklenburg stood there looking puzzled before awkwardly sitting down beside me.

“You kept refusing my visits, so I wondered if something had happened. I finally managed to come today.”

“I don’t exactly want to meet people in this state. Why are you here?”

“I came to check whether your treatment is going well.”

“Why would you?”

I asked irritably, and Mecklenburg answered just as irritably.

“I suppose you really aren’t planning to hide it?”

“Never mind that. You can see the state I’m in, right? I’m definitely not going anywhere anytime soon… Please explain that properly to the Command.”

I let out a pained groan as I pointed at the bandages around my leg. Mecklenburg nodded and politely asked Elias, “Lord Hohenzollern. Could you leave us alone for a moment so the two of us can talk?”

“No, Senior.”

When Elias flatly refused his request, Mecklenburg looked at me as if to ask what was wrong with this guy. I had nothing to say, so I merely looked back at him. He cleared his throat and got back to his feet. Then he lightly tapped the box on the bedside table with his fingertips.

“…You seem to be doing well. These are Easter chocolates.”

“It’s quite surprising to see you bringing something like this, Senior. I’ll enjoy them.”

“Surprising?”

Mecklenburg smiled in a tone that sounded like he was suppressing something. His gaze briefly shifted toward Elias, so I knew exactly what he was conscious of. I shook my head.

“Nevermind. Is there anything else you wanted to say?”

“…You won’t be reprimanded over the Stadelheim incident, and the government may send someone to investigate again. I’ll come back then. Is there anything else you want me to convey to the Headquarters?”

“Let’s see. Tell them to change our team’s uniform color, too. That blue looks refreshing.”

Mecklenburg looked down at his tie, then apparently realized belatedly that I was joking and shook his head with an exhausted expression. I had said it knowing there was no chance it would happen, simply to tell him there was nothing else to report for now, but it wasn’t entirely a joke. In fact, I was planning to gradually lay the groundwork. Elias, who had taken my words completely seriously, pulled a face.

“To Prussian blue? Ugh.”

“Ah, right. That blue. Can’t you make clothes unless the color has something to do with the country?”

“Why would you use a color that has nothing to do with the country for a uniform? If you’re going to treat the colors of our proud people and homeland so lightly, then hand in your uniform. You should have the proper sense of responsibility and respect for it, yet you just come out with this nonsense…”

As Mecklenburg seriously reprimanded us, Elias rolled his eyes back and slowly slid down in his chair. I knew exactly why he was doing that, but I had nothing to explain to Mecklenburg. When neither of us said anything, Mecklenburg looked down at us with an unhappy expression.

“Did I say something wrong? You two certainly don’t look like you agree.”

“It’s nothing. Eli, should we take Senior with us?”

“What? Why?!”

“Take me where?”

Elias and Mecklenburg both stiffened at the same time. Elias glared at the equally serious Mecklenburg, slammed his fist against the bed, and cast a soundproofing spell.

“Luka! We’re fine on our own!”

“It’s not about whether we can handle it. I mean we should bring him along as insurance. You saw him just now. He’s always been an extreme nationalist, a conservative, and a monarchist loyal to the Emperor. The government likes people like that.”

“You want to bring him just because he’s pro-Emperor?!”

“If something goes wrong, he’ll make a perfect shield. We’re going because there’s a chance we might get ourselves into trouble, too.”

Elias seemed to gradually understand what I meant. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head.

“It won’t hurt to have him with us. It hasn’t even been a week since the Stadelheim incident, and I don’t want our own actions causing another problem. If the other pro-imperial factions try to make a move against you, his presence should keep them in check.”

“Hmm…”

Elias pursed his lips, then nodded. I turned to Mecklenburg, who was watching us from outside the broken soundproofing spell with an unimpressed look.

“Senior. Do you like painters?”

“Painters…? What painter? Who?”

“Eugène Lamour. We’re going to see him now.”

Mecklenburg raised an eyebrow at that.

So, we were on our way to find out why Eugène Lamour had looked so distraught, and to keep an eye on the situation in case something happened to him.

“Who doesn’t know Eugène Lamour?”

Mecklenburg’s voice sounded much brighter than before. I ate the Easter chocolate he had given me—fortunately, it was completely bitter, so I didn’t have to spit it out—and headed for the building where the press conference was being held, as reported in the article. It was a small theater.

Contrary to our concerns, there didn’t seem to be anything seriously wrong with Eugène Lamour. The building was simply noisy with reporters and visitors, with no particularly tense atmosphere. I kept my eyes forward as I made my way through the crowd in the lobby, which was bathed entirely in yellow light. As we headed toward the less crowded staircase on the right, I recalled what Mecklenburg had said.

“You’re so certain that everyone knows Eugène Lamour. I suppose that’s the kind of recognition you get when a single painting can cost as much as a house.”

“You’re comparing it to money? How vulgar.”

“No, I just… I suppose things are similar regardless of the era.”

“Are you surprised that he’s so famous?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Try imagining yourself living like Eugène Lamour.”

“Sounds pretty good to me.”

“Yes, I suppose it would.”

“You’re no fun. More importantly, how are you walking so well?! Did you fool me again?”

Not this again. Feeling like I wanted to cover my ears, I answered without a word of complaint.

“It really does hurt. Want to touch it?”

My leg was numb now, so it didn’t hurt much, but this was the best answer I could give. Mecklenburg seemed to think I was spouting nonsense again and snapped irritably.

“Then can you at least tell how badly it’s broken?”

“No.”

“…….”

Mecklenburg seemed to decide that he would simply stop talking. He kept pressing his gloved fingers against his eyes instead.

I took another piece of the Easter chocolate he had given me from my pocket and held it out to him. I expected him to look offended that I was giving him back something he had given me, but perhaps his blood sugar had dropped, because Mecklenburg accepted it without a word and ate it.

Apparently even seeing Mecklenburg eat was enough to irritate Elias. He suddenly pulled a hip flask from his pocket and started drinking.

Mecklenburg glanced at a newspaper someone had left lying around—the one with a photograph from Eugène Lamour’s solo exhibition—and quickly said, “However I look at it, his paintings really are sensational. I can’t believe I get to meet Eugène Lamour…”

“You seem awfully excited for someone who knows this isn’t exactly a pleasant situation. I never knew you were interested in art, Senior. If you like his work that much, why don’t you buy one?”

“I would if I could. They’re impossible to get.”

“That’s how popular he is?”

I hadn’t realized there was actually a market shortage because I still thought of him as little more than my daily art teacher. His paintings wouldn’t have reached such astronomical prices for no reason, but the supply-and-demand graph in my head had yet to catch up with the image of ‘some suspicious French art teacher.’

Mecklenburg spoke with a slightly excited tone.

“He’s a pioneer of a new artistic movement. The rough brushwork and weight of his paintings make them feel alive. I especially like his bold combinations of color. There’s none of the sense of stability and prosperity of the Belle Époque¹ in his paintings. But neither has he returned to the school of thought that seeks to reproduce nature. Eugène Lamour’s perspective in portraying the darker side of Europe is too original to simply call it novel. Even though he doesn’t take students, the fact that young painters are imitating his style alone should tell you just how immeasurable Lamour’s influence is.”

“You, of all people, are talking about the darker side of Europe?”

Elias, who had been looking at Mecklenburg with a sour expression this whole time, tilted his head and asked grimly. Mecklenburg frowned, wearing an expression that asked what on earth was the problem with these people acting like this since earlier, and merely raised the corner of his mouth.

Elias knew there was no point in explaining any further to a ‘German mage officer,’ so he quickly let out a sigh. I headed toward the dressing room beside the stage, where Eugène Lamour was waiting.

“So, Sir Lamour is trying to explain away that article from yesterday?”

“I suppose so. You read it?”

“Who hasn’t?”

Mecklenburg continued, “With a reputation like his, everything he does seems to attract nothing but criticism. But regardless of what anyone says, there’s no denying the mark Eugène Lamour is leaving on modern art history. He’s that influential, that groundbreaking, that powerful a figure… And yet, precisely because of that, I don’t really understand why he feels the need to go around explaining himself over every little thing.”

“Do you think Sir Lamour is overreacting?”

“I don’t know. I just think it’s common for someone to react even more strongly when they have something they’re worried about being exposed.”

I nodded, but let out a sigh as I muttered, “I don’t know what Sir Lamour is thinking any more than you do, but… honestly, you and I really don’t get along, Senior.”

“What do you want me to do about it?! I feel the same way!”

“Then why did you say you wanted to come with us?”

“I’m going to see Eugène Lamour. I’m not following you around like some lackey!”

That’s what he’d say. I opened the door. Elias, apparently having read my thoughts, scrunched up his nose and pulled up his upper lip as he covered his ears. When Mecklenburg turned to look at him, Elias stared back with a perfectly serious expression.

Whatever they were doing, I focused on Eugène Lamour, who was standing in the middle of the waiting room like a drunk. His face was pale as a corpse, and his expression was stiff, like someone who was about to do something drastic. I was inwardly startled once again by his bloodshot eyes, but I greeted him calmly.

“Good afternoon. I sent you a letter by carrier pigeon before coming here. I’m not sure if you received it.”

“I did. Do as you said.”

In short, I had told him that once the press conference was over, I would personally escort him back to where he was staying. There was a chance something might happen to him on the way.

When Eugène Lamour’s gaze shifted behind me, Mecklenburg gave him a neat smile.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Albert Mecklenburg.”

Eugène Lamour looked at him with an annoyed expression and said nothing. Despite hearing the surname ‘Mecklenburg,’ instead of properly greeting him, he abruptly grabbed the hand Mecklenburg hadn’t even offered and gave it a half-hearted shake before letting go. He then immediately disappeared with his secretaries.

Mecklenburg nearly wiped his hand in shock before swallowing it down. He spoke so quietly that I could barely hear him.

“He’s quite the eccentric. Is he always like that?”

“What did you expect in a situation like this?”

Elias shot back. Mecklenburg seemed to be more confused or offended than genuinely bothered by whatever Elias said. He quickly returned to his usual expression and, trying to maintain his composure, said, “I think I can understand why the people around him have such wildly different opinions of him.”

“I think I can understand why bringing you along was a bad idea, too. Do you understand that?”

“No.”

“Then please be quiet.”

We took seats in the wide passageway extending to the right of the theater. Only Eugène Lamour and the stage staff would be able to see us from there. Before long, the press and audience seats filled amid the noisy commotion, and Eugène Lamour stepped onto the stage. Holding a microphone artifact powered by a voice amplification spell, he said with a grim expression, “I’m Eugène Lamour.”

The sound of camera shutters poured from the press seats. Mecklenburg whispered in confusion, “That’s it?”

“First of all, I’d like to ask everyone who came here today why you’re here.”

At those words, Mecklenburg’s eyes widened. He hurriedly cast a soundproofing spell, then opened his mouth. But he couldn’t seem to get a word out, merely placing a hand on my shoulder.

Eugène Lamour pointed accusingly as he spoke.

“Are you all here hoping to get a scoop? Do you think I’m going to be the one to announce the ‘shocking news’ in the Saxony Daily? Or are you here because you expected me to persuade you with tears? Of course, I assume most of you reporters were sent here by your newspapers, so I’m excluding you from what I’m about to say. But to all the French critics here, I’m asking how you managed to get hold of the article announcing this press conference the moment it was published and make your way to Germany. It must have taken at least thirty minutes just to pack your luggage. You’re awfully quick.”

Eugène Lamour had been pacing around the stage restlessly when he suddenly stopped. His eyes hardened as he asked coldly, “Isn’t this basically stalking?”

Mecklenburg momentarily looked grave and raised a hand toward his mouth.

“…That was a reckless thing to say. This really isn’t the time for it.”

“Exactly…”

I checked my watch and muttered, “In ten minutes, we’ll probably see a headline like, ‘Eugène Lamour—Now Paranoid, Too?’”

“Hm?”

Mecklenburg frowned, apparently displeased by what I had said. I continued quietly, “Lamour’s legal team will probably be collecting every article as it’s updated in real time. The newspapers will put out headlines phrased as questions, then fill the articles with meaningless content that never actually answers the question in the headline. They’ll probably include some positive assessments of Sir Lamour, too. People’s reactions depend on the headline. What’s written in the article itself doesn’t really matter.”

“That’s rather excessive. Is it really a good idea to think so negatively about everything?”

Elias frowned at Mecklenburg’s words. I ignored both him and Mecklenburg, thought for a moment, then shrugged.

“How about we make a bet?”

Mecklenburg stared at me silently before looking away. Just then, a bewildered voice came from below the stage.

“I don’t understand, Sir Lamour. You were the one who permitted us critics to attend, so why are you saying something completely different now? If you intended to speak to us this rudely, why did you hold this press conference in the first place?”

Translator Note

1. The Belle Époque is a period of French and European history lasting from the end of the Franco-Prussian War in 1871 until the start of World War I in 1914. ↩︎