Chapter 508

The more Mecklenburg listened, the less he understood what he was hearing. It wasn’t because Askanien was saying something nonsensical that seemed strange when viewed only in terms of Eugène Lamour or painting. Nor was it because, for some reason, it felt as though Askanien were speaking to a wall rather than to Mecklenburg.

He had asked to be told a reason why one should not die. Naturally, if a life had been born, it should be lived. At least, that was how it ought to be unless that life, by any reasonable calculation, infringed upon the interests of the majority or harmed others unlawfully.

“It’s absurd for someone who doesn’t know how to live to construct a story about living.”

Askanien seemed like someone whose mind was elsewhere, as though he were alone here. And yet he spoke with a clear gaze.

“The more I think about it, the less I understand how I came to construct a story in which a person from a world where every justification collapses in the face of mere survival overcomes the will to recover himself and rushes toward survival. To spend one’s days in a time when the will to live itself is regarded as another step toward death, and then to turn into a young person who looks forward to tomorrow and depict people who love one another… It makes no sense.”

The will to recover oneself… Mecklenburg wondered if he had misheard. This guy was calling death a form of self-recovery. The desire to live ultimately led to death? The idea of dying because one wanted to live brought to mind an old Eastern saying¹. But that couldn’t be what he meant. Was he saying that one could find dignity in death?

No, that wasn’t it. He had said earlier that death was the only way to escape the irrational attacks of the masses. If survival itself meant further harm to oneself, did that mean death was the only true form of recovery? Was he talking about the violation of one’s person by others?

It was only afterward that Mecklenburg realized how strange the expression was. Askanien hadn’t said he was depicting a story, nor creating one, but constructing one.

But even realizing that changed nothing. Mecklenburg couldn’t say a word. He couldn’t bring himself to speak carelessly about something he did not understand.

Mecklenburg looked into Askanien’s eyes. Askanien was looking back at him. A chill ran through him. Taboo and death—concepts he had learned about at some point in his life—flashed through his mind.

They stood before a taboo.

No. Mecklenburg stood before it, while Askanien stood beyond it.

Askanien looked like a young politician standing at the podium, armed with a clarity of reason and force of conviction far greater than that of the established politicians who, steeped in the irresponsible and feeble inertia of relying on their snake-like years of experience and the superficial courtesy they themselves insisted upon, were accustomed to muddling their way through situations. He looked as though he could argue, point by point and without the slightest hesitation, why one ought not to go on living—and he seemed prepared to do exactly that.

At the same time, his detached eyes seemed willing to entertain any rebuttal. Perhaps he genuinely wanted someone to challenge him. But if they did, he would soon present a new line of reasoning that would render that rebuttal powerless.

Yet that reasoning did not come from the bravado of a young politician—from the competitive urge to defeat an opponent and lead his side to victory, or from some blind, hot-blooded sense of righteousness that demanded his supposedly correct policies be put into practice.

The rebuttals coming from him did not arise from a desire to attack his opponent. They came from questions he was asking himself.

And as he asked them, he reached out, seized Mecklenburg by the hand, and pulled him into the swamp. They were quietly waiting for Mecklenburg beyond the taboo. They waited as everything—every image, every truth, every principle of tradition—was swallowed up in irises and pupils as deep as an abyss.

Why should ending one’s own life be taboo? Why believe that death could never be more dignified than survival? Why should someone suffocating in an absurdity beyond their own power to change it continue living? Why should the sun rise tomorrow? Why should the Earth orbit the sun?

A stone had been thrown, sending ripples through the very center of the world.

Mecklenburg had never once perceived what lay beyond the taboo. And the fact that he had never even perceived it meant that, until today, he had not known that they were standing on their own two feet somewhere in this world, suffocating. Naturally, it also meant that he himself had never experienced such a thing.

Mecklenburg was far removed from absurdity. By his own admission, he had never once left the sunlit front grounds of his estate. Like everyone else, he had no intention of leaving them in the future. But this person was asking him to raise his head and look at the sunless forest behind the estate.

Mecklenburg did. But now he had no idea what he was supposed to say.

“I was irresponsible.”

Perhaps it was because Mecklenburg had given no answer. Or perhaps it was something Askanien had been thinking all along. Either way, Askanien spoke.

“Please forgive my rudeness. What I said was inappropriate, and I failed to show you the respect you deserve as my senior. I think I crossed a line because I’ve always felt too comfortable around you.”

“I know.”

Mecklenburg hurried to answer before it was too late.

He knew what Askanien meant by calling it rude. It wasn’t as simple as that. Perhaps he meant that he had been disrespectful to their relationship itself. In other words, Askanien must have believed that Mecklenburg was someone who, after hearing something like this, would quietly worry about another person. Otherwise, he could never have said it. Mecklenburg understood that much, too.

That was what he had meant when he answered, but somehow, his response didn’t feel like the right one for the situation. Mecklenburg felt somewhat at a loss, wondering why he could never seem to give a proper answer, even at moments like this. He answered without even knowing whether he was looking straight ahead.

“It’s not that you crossed a line. What I mean is, I know you were able to say all of this because I’m the kind of person I am.”

Maybe there were times when a relationship like this, a person like this, was necessary. Like now. Perhaps the reason Askanien wanted an answer from someone who couldn’t understand was because that very lack of understanding gave the answer a certain objectivity. Even if Askanien had been talking about Eugène Lamour, Mecklenburg couldn’t deny that he had heard something beyond that, too.

“It’s not something I’d call a slip of the tongue. I’m your senior in the Association, and… um, I’m older than you.”

Well, I could at least listen to you a little.

As he thought about what to say, Mecklenburg turned his head, his eyes narrowing unevenly. How irritatingly convenient of him to bring up his age. As if, despite not fully understanding what Askanien was saying, his meager experience and narrow imagination could somehow provide an answer simply because he was seven years older. But this wasn’t the sort of confidence that came from believing that having lived longer meant he could offer a more correct answer. He was deliberately saying something frivolous to ease Askanien’s burden. Perhaps this was the greatest courtesy he could offer. Normally, he would never have done this for the irritating Askanien, but something about the situation felt strange. At times like this, it was safer to trust his instincts.

Askanien neither smiled nor responded playfully. Instead, as if he understood Mecklenburg’s intention, he gave him a serious nod of thanks before turning his gaze to the fields outside the window.

“We’ll be arriving at Sir Lamour’s lodging soon. Let’s get ready to get out.”

“I…”

Mecklenburg didn’t know what had made him open his mouth. He simply let his gaze wander as he answered.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Askanien turned his head and looked at Mecklenburg.

“I may have knowledge, but I don’t have wisdom. You may see me as much older than you, but I’m only twenty-five myself. I suppose that might seem old to high school students like you, but from my perspective… I don’t really know anything about the world. Even when I thought I did, it turned out I didn’t know nearly as much as I thought.”

Maybe I’m the only one who doesn’t know anything. No, maybe all the young people my age, myself included, are like that. Just as Mecklenburg was wondering how he should correct himself, Askanien clasped his hands and added, “You don’t have to answer, Senior. I apologized because this was never the kind of question that anyone could ask another person and expect an answer to. I put you in a difficult position.”

An unbearable weight seemed to cling to Mecklenburg’s tongue, dragging it down. He didn’t expect an answer? That might well be true, but Mecklenburg had a feeling that if he didn’t do something now, he would miss his chance. He didn’t know whether that feeling was right. It probably wasn’t. After all, wasn’t this supposed to be about Eugène Lamour? Nothing terrible would happen to Askanien.

But he couldn’t just say anything. Making up something false, or repeating shallow words he had heard without truly understanding them, would both be wrong. Why should Eugène Lamour live? Because, of course, he had been born. Desperately simple, or perhaps fortunately simple after a life so sheltered that he could hardly understand the alternative, this was still the best answer Mecklenburg could come up with.

“I got here by blindly taking one predetermined step after another. I don’t think I ever really reflected on myself. So I… may not be all that different from the person I was at eighteen. I was never gifted at becoming wiser or more mature than others my age. I know that honestly growing older, facing things as they come, and learning from them is the only way I can increase my wisdom.”

Mecklenburg stared pointlessly at the dusty window frame of the carriage before looking away.

“And I know that I can’t give you an answer right now.”

As Askanien simply watched him in silence, he looked away again.

“Just as you said. I don’t know whether that’s because I lack wisdom, because this is fundamentally the kind of question that cannot be answered by another person, or because it’s something humanity has contemplated since ancient times without ever arriving at one clear answer. But I do know the textbook answer. Sir Eugène Lamour should live because he was born, and he shouldn’t take his own life because suicide is a sin. He should live, if only for the sake of the people who love him.”

Even after Mecklenburg had said he couldn’t give him an answer, Askanien listened attentively. He didn’t brush it off as a joke after putting someone into this much confusion, and seeing that he wasn’t going to do that only made Mecklenburg feel even more burdened, so he continued.

“But this isn’t the answer you’re looking for, is it? Then what about this? Eugène Lamour may choose death, but we cannot become bystanders to it. To work for the state is to work for its subjects, after all. Even if he is a foreigner, Sir Eugène Lamour has German blood, and in any case, he is on German soil. …This isn’t the answer you’re looking for either, is it? But this is the best I can give you. That’s what the manual says. I’m someone who made it this far by following the manual, so frustratingly, this is all I can say. But even if that’s how I’ve lived my life, I…”

He had another thought of his own. The feeling at the root of why he had found Eugène Lamour’s response so frustrating all along finally found its way into Mecklenburg’s words.

“If Eugène Lamour dies, I don’t think I’ll be able to accept this society. Little by little. Slowly.”

“…….”

“Eugène Lamour has to survive, if only for the sake of justice. To me, and to the few who have suffered the same pain as Eugène Lamour, he has become both a symbol and a figure in his own right. He is a signpost for those who come after him. That’s why I still don’t believe Sir Eugène Lamour is completely free of responsibility. He’s only free of his professional responsibilities, his primary responsibilities.”

Askanien listened quietly, then nodded.

“So he should be bound by a sense of duty.”

“…That’s not what I—!”

Mecklenburg faltered, his brows drawing together slightly.

“…I didn’t mean it that way. But I suppose it can sound that way.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to burden you either. Perhaps you could look at it from a slightly different angle and take it as, ‘Entrust the driving force of your life to what you believe ought to be done.’”

“…Yes. Sir Eugène Lamour should live, if only to accomplish something he believes is right. Whether he wants revenge, wants to advance the rights of commoners, or wants to change the public’s perception of famous people, there must be something that can give him the will to go on. Fighting for dignity and justice can sometimes become a reason to live.”

No. What he’d just said is wrong. Metaphysical values cannot be the rope that saves them right now. They have no will to grasp onto them. They can only wrap that rope around their necks and run. Even so, a material approach seemed like the worst possible answer of all. It’s all a matter of brain function, so take medication or seek help from the system…

Mecklenburg knew how hollow those words sounded, more than anything else. Perhaps even treating the problem with brain function would be wrong in itself. What he had suffered was not a dysfunction, but a problem with reality, and the dysfunction had come after the abnormality of that reality. If the harm caused by the absurdity was an event that had already happened, then failing to address the fact that he had been harmed was the opposite of dealing with it. At its core, it was merely a temporary fix while nothing had actually been resolved, a stopgap measure until the next volcanic eruption, something done simply to keep a life going…

Perhaps it was nothing more than prolonging a life.

Mecklenburg squeezed his eyes shut. Then, if they wanted to give Eugène Lamour the will to live, they would have to treat the cause of the absurdity, and that cause seemed to lie with the public. Even if the public no longer attacked Eugène Lamour, he had already grown sick of the absurdity he had endured. He would probably find even the thought of himself lingering in the minds of those responsible for that absurdity exhausting.

If he really wanted to tell Lamour to live, the only answer was to turn back time. ‘It can’t be helped, so try to see the situation more positively, and take medication alongside that…’ Could he really say something like that? In truth, no matter how incomplete an answer it seemed, wasn’t this perhaps the right one? Marcus Aurelius, Boethius—ah, how many philosophers had said that one’s circumstances depended on how one chose to perceive them? Especially in an age as medically advanced as this, the will to live could be cultivated with medication. What a blessed age this was.

But they had already declared that quitting was itself an affirmation of their dignity. Because the circumstances that had made quitting necessary were themselves an insult to them, and because they had suffered irreversible damage in the process. Mecklenburg could not answer. His head felt as though it would split apart from wrestling with a question he had never once had to face in his entire life, right up until the day he died.

Askanien was already turning over the statement Mecklenburg had denied.

“Perhaps that is what it is. Perhaps they have no choice but to live like moths, rushing toward the beliefs they have internalized. In this case, though, the phrase ‘have no choice’ feels insulting to me. But doing what is right because it is right is different from making the pursuit of what is right the goal of one’s life.”

“…Yes. I suppose it is.”

It might look as though they were moths rushing toward their deaths, but that wasn’t really the case. They were living in order to burn to death. That was how one might understand what he was saying now. Mecklenburg felt his thoughts growing increasingly tangled and pressed a hand to his forehead.

“I wasn’t trying to say they should live just to burn to death… Are they clinging to life because they have a goal, even if that goal is to burn to death?”

He hadn’t been asking for an answer, and none came. For some reason, however, Mecklenburg’s thoughts were becoming clearer by the moment. He rubbed his chin.

“Then there must be something else. They can’t be trains hurtling toward a cliff. There must be something that can overcome their sense of duty.”

Mecklenburg thought for a moment, then buried his face in his hands and agonized over it, repeatedly forming countless words in his mouth only to stop himself before they came out. There were countless things he never managed to say. After picking through them one by one, he finally settled on something that felt just as painfully cliché.

“I believe there must be something in life that makes you look forward to tomorrow.”

Mecklenburg was staring only at the carpet, so he did not know what expression Askanien was making.

“Even if everything they’ve been through has left irreversible damage. Long suffering does not necessarily mean eternal suffering. There are things that may seem eternal now, but eventually fade with time. If you told me there are things that time can never dull, I wouldn’t have an answer to that either… But there may also come a day when something else gains value alongside those wounds, until you can no longer feel the pain you’ve carried all this time. Of course, if someone were to tell me they’re simply too sick of it all to endure another day… I wouldn’t have an answer for that either.”

Askanien’s black shoes remained perfectly still. Mecklenburg slowly raised his head.

“But I hope there will be something that makes Sir Lamour look forward to tomorrow, just as his tomorrows used to be made up of painting. Maybe there’s nothing like that now. Maybe there won’t be for several years. But someday, something new might come along that makes him want to wait for tomorrow himself, and I don’t want to let Sir Lamour end his life without ever knowing that something like that might exist.”

Askanien was still looking at Mecklenburg with his fingers interlaced.

“So I want him to live longer. Even if it’s selfish of me, this is what I believe is right. So if he says he wants to quit, I think I have to stop him. I don’t want him to die without ever knowing the happiness he might have found.”

Countless counterarguments kept circling in Mecklenburg’s mind. Askanien was talking about someone whose exhaustion from everything they had endured had completely overwhelmed their will to live. There was no way someone like that could simply wait until they found something that made them look forward to tomorrow. It couldn’t possibly be that easy. Which meant Mecklenburg was saying something childish. ‘I want you to stay alive, so you have to stay alive.’ How childish and selfish that sounded, driven by nothing but an irresponsible desire.

And yet, as far as Mecklenburg was concerned, there was no other reason he could give to hold on to life besides that personal desire. He had always attached practical reasons to the idea that people ought to keep living, but he realized only today that such supplementary explanations could not make someone continue living.

Askanien nodded with an unreadable expression. Thinking that perhaps he shouldn’t have said any of that, Mecklenburg quickly added, “There has to be something that makes you want to do things you normally wouldn’t. …I don’t have anything like that, but maybe that could be something worth living another day for.”

“Something you normally wouldn’t do.”

Askanien said it while stroking his chin. Encouraged by the small reaction, Mecklenburg continued.

“The value you want to protect shouldn’t be something you uphold out of a sense of duty, or because it’s simply what human decency and morality demand. It has to be something your heart genuinely reaches for. You need something that can keep pace with you instead of making you keep charging forward. Something your heart is drawn to first. Don’t you have anything like that? You’re Nikolaus Ernst, aren’t you?”

You pursue justice. You’re someone who lives for justice. Mecklenburg didn’t know why, somewhere along the way, he had stopped talking about Eugène Lamour and started saying these things to Askanien instead. But perhaps this could become something he aspired toward without being enough to drive him through today. Then what could keep them going through today?

By the time he finished speaking, the carriage had already arrived at the estate. Askanien got out and held out a hand, asking with a smile, “You’re asking whether I have something like that?”

“…….”

“I’ll give it some thought.”

Feeling strangely uncomfortable, Mecklenburg avoided Askanien’s hand and got out of the carriage on his own. Askanien glanced at Eugène Lamour’s lodging and stood there quietly.

“I can only say that I’m truly sorry—and grateful—that you took my question seriously and gave me a genuine answer.”

“…….”

Askanien turned his head to the side. He briefly took in the scenery before looking back at Mecklenburg.

“Perhaps days like these really are the kind of thing that gives someone a reason to live through today. You have no idea what I’m thinking right now, Senior.”

Mecklenburg narrowed his eyes as he watched Askanien smile. So, had it gotten through to him or not? Askanien didn’t seem particularly moved by the fact that he had realized something new, nor by the words themselves, but neither did he seem to be taking them indifferently. With nothing else to say, Mecklenburg gave a short reply.

“You probably don’t know what I was thinking when I said all that, either.”

Askanien tilted his head and thought for a moment before nodding. He made a small gesture with his hand.

“Let’s go greet Sir Eugène Lamour right away. We already let him know that we followed him here in the carriage, but it’s still our first time entering his temporary residence.”

Meeting Eugène Lamour was easy enough. They had followed him here openly in the first place. Even as Mecklenburg sat in Eugène Lamour’s room and spoke with him, he barely took in anything that was said. His gaze kept moving back and forth between Sir Lamour and Askanien.

“…What are your plans now?”

“I don’t have any at the moment.”

The words that caught Mecklenburg’s ear for a moment made his heart sink. It didn’t mean Lamour was about to disappear from the world right then and there, but after everything they had been talking about, the words still hit him harder than they should have. Eugène Lamour gazed up at the ceiling, his face exhausted from spending every ounce of his energy throughout the day, yet also strangely relieved, as though he had no regrets left.

“I’m going to rest. I should rest until I get sick of it…”

Just then, one of his servants came over and whispered something in his ear. Eugène Lamour rose to his feet and looked at Mecklenburg and Askanien in surprise, as though about to say something. His lips moved for a moment before he furrowed his brow and shook his head.

“Why does everyone keep coming here?”

“But we can’t exactly send them away…”

The servant hesitated, and Lamour waved a hand.

“What are you talking about? I never told you to send them away. Let them in.”

Who could have arrived to make him react like that? Before Mecklenburg could ask, he instinctively turned toward the person beside him. Just then, the sound of someone recklessly charging up from downstairs rang out.

Two sets of footsteps. No, three. One person was running, while the other two weren’t. And of those two, one had the footwork of a battle mage.

Mecklenburg rose to his feet again without thinking. Eugène Lamour was already standing as well. The only one who remained seated was Askanien.

At that moment, Mecklenburg saw something change in Askanien’s eyes.

Wait. Was it the lighting? For some reason, his eyes seemed to hold a strange light that Mecklenburg couldn’t identify. Just as Mecklenburg reached out to grab his shoulder, there was a loud crash as the door was torn off its hinges.

That inconsiderate junior—Hohenzollern—stood there with his mouth wide open, grinning triumphantly. A servant who had followed behind him hurriedly caught the other door, which was still shaking from the impact.

“We’re here! We got here fast, didn’t we?!”

Hohenzollern tried to rush over to Sir Lamour, shouting something that seemed directed at no one in particular. Wittelsbach appeared behind him and grabbed him, looking troubled.

“Keep it down—!”

Wittelsbach pushed Hohenzollern back as if tossing him aside, then smiled and gave Askanien a polite nod. He turned to Sir Lamour and held out his hand.

“Good to see you, Sir Lamour. We have only just seen each other, and here we are again.”

Mecklenburg looked back at Askanien, who was now getting to his feet. And then he realized. If Askanien didn’t know the answer to the question he had asked earlier, perhaps Mecklenburg had figured it out before him.

Thirty minutes earlier, Elias had rushed out of the hallway onto the stage. He shouted at his friend, who had already disappeared down the opposite corridor.

“Wait, I’ll go ahead!”

Lukas was briefly taken aback, but nodded. Elias adjusted his hat, jumped down from the stage, and grabbed a French who was storming out of the theater in a frenzy.

“Hey, you.”

Translator Note

1. I’m not sure if this is the exact reference, but I think this may refer to the Korean phrase 사즉생 생즉사 (死卽生 生卽死), roughly meaning ‘If you are prepared to die, you will live; if you cling to life, you will die.’ It is a famous military maxim written by the Korean admiral Yi Sun-sin. ↩︎