Home Visit (2)

Eyes are drawn to the scene.

The owner of the gambling den had nagged me to invest a bit, and now cards were being dealt across the well-appointed game table he'd set up. The atmosphere, already charged with excitement, swelled even more. A gambler, after checking his hand, let out a triumphant shout.

"I won, I won it all… I really won!"

Suddenly, the previously quiet onlookers erupted into frenzy. Most wore expressions of envy and frustration. The desire to turn a small amount of money into a large sum is always a hard battle to win, isn't it?

Even if it involves targeting someone else's wealth, wrapping it in the guise of a challenge or a game blurs the sense of guilt, leaving only the dream of striking it rich and the thrill of the gamble.

"Wow! To lose right at the end like this!"

Despite his loss, the defeated gambler maintained a breezy attitude. Meanwhile, the owner rang a small golden bell on the counter.

Amidst the heated whispers and gasps, the winner claimed the pot. It was truly a golden bell moment. I thought absently while clapping with a smiling face. A small portion of that money would be taken as the gambling house's cut, and the rest would go to the winner.

However, I didn't feel the slightest pang of regret for the money I had lost. Thinking that way from the start is a cognitive error that shows a misunderstanding of the gambling system, especially since, in the long run, it would soon return to me.

'Most of the money earned that way will just be spent on more gambling.'

Isn't that why there's a saying that the only true winners in gambling are the operators and the players?

If I repeat this golden bell game a couple more times, word of mouth will spread through the back alleys in no time. Attracting customers would just be a matter of time.

"It's been fun, but I've finished today's challenges, so I should be on my way."

I stood up, glancing at the excited winner packing away his winnings, but the onlookers held me back with disappointment in their eyes.

"Already leaving? Isn't that a bit early?"

"Did you bring home a jar of honey or something?"

It's not a home but a fortress where I'm staying, and there's not a jar of honey, but there is a honey pig and a little kid. I waved my hand dismissively while internally chuckling at the thought.

"There's someone waiting at home. If they find out I stayed out late here, I'm going to get in trouble. Oh, just thinking about it is scary."

"I know that feeling well! And I also know the secret for those situations. If you use this method, even a grumpy wife or husband will melt away…"

What is this crazy drunkard talking about?

I suppressed my disgust and quickly got to my feet, pretending not to hear him. Another gambler, gloomily watching the winner with his winnings, turned to me and asked, 

"Are you coming back to this tavern tomorrow? Are you going to continue that bet of yours? I feel like if I had just one more round, I could win it back after that unfortunate loss earlier."

"Oh, of course. I plan to make this my regular spot."

I lifted the tin cup left on the table, lightly tipped it to empty it, and placed it down with a smile.

"This is the only place that offers the first drink for free, after all."

After giving them a parting glance, I stepped outside, immediately realizing how overheated the air inside had been. I had one task left. I needed to quickly return and explore the southern spire where the ghost was said to appear. Leonardo must be waiting for me.

'Ugh, it's time to head back. I need to call my personal taxi.'

***

「Ugh, it's time to head back. I need to call my personal taxi.」

Leovald quietly opens his eyes. The voice that resonates near his ear is soft and melodious, one he knows well. It feels so close, as if it's clinging to his back and softly tickling him. Isaac said he felt it was ticklish, but perhaps it's more vivid than what Isaac experiences. Leonardo's body possesses sensitive hearing, after all. 

The sweet sound that occurs when the tongue sticks to the roof of the mouth and then falls away, the clear articulation of sentences without any slurred pronunciations, and the slightly upturned corners of his mouth that seem to pull the sound upward in a soft finish—all of it paints a vivid picture in his mind.

Leovald considers whether he should say something about restraining this ability, perhaps for the sake of courtesy. But such thoughts are fleeting. The opportunity to speak never truly arises, and before long, Isaac often finds himself mumbling to Leovald. He feels he should tell him someday that he can sometimes hear those mutterings. Strangely enough, even this sentence doesn't leave his lips. 

When he previously asked Isaac about how to use his ability, Isaac explained, "It works if you think of the other person and mutter as if you're speaking to them in your mind."

Is that why? The words that Isaac often mutters about him, even without intending to convey anything, flow into his ears like leaves lightly resting on a river, drifting away. Listening closely to those whispered thoughts brings an oddly calming sensation.

'What could taxi possibly mean?' 

Could it be a kind of nickname he uses for him? Leovald makes a mental note to ask about it someday as he continues on his way. It seems that the outside matters have concluded, and now it's his turn to greet him.

Greeting. Suddenly, his steps halt.

He becomes aware that it's an unfamiliar word with no connection to his life. He has no one to welcome, nor has he ever needed to. Reflecting on the changes since his death, Leovald realizes what has been lacking in the being called Leovald and what innate traits he possesses. This peculiar experience of observing oneself stems from the separation of soul and body.

A shifted perspective, the sensation of moving his body, heightened hearing, unfamiliar body hair colours, his voice—all of it reflects an image of another standing on a smooth surface. 

How does a person prove their existence?

His proof of existence has always accompanied his legacy. National Hero, Field Commander, Arbiter, and Champion of the Exalted.

He was named Leovald because he triumphed, earning the title of hero. He was called a field commander because he fought tirelessly on the front lines. He was declared an arbiter because he decimated his foes. He was regarded as a champion because he led a force of the exalted. Thus, what defines him is not who Leovald is, but rather his survival, victories, achievements, and history of struggle. So who is he now?

He resides not on the battlefield, but in a peaceful stronghold, free from expectations of bringing victory, envy, or responsibility. Just by behaving politely, people are astonished and believe him to be family, surrounding him with those who expect something and offer without conditions. And every day, he wakes and sleeps among them. Isn't this a ridiculous life?

From the moment he entered El Dante, Leovald felt a more intense urge. He sensed that he was a monster hidden beneath the skin of another, not different from the evil he had fought against for half his life. What, then, is the difference between that and his current situation?

To live by taking away the lives of others and to survive leaning on emotions and relationships that rightfully belong to their true owners. He never anticipated feeling so nauseated by this.

That feeling suddenly surged within him, overwhelming and unbearable, as the traces of 'Leonardo Ertinez' resurfaced for just a few minutes. The path of his life had been buried beneath the epitaph that bore his name. 

Everyone says he is dead. Leovald is dead. Is he truly Leovald, cast out from the trajectory of all the history he built with his life, actions, and body?

One day, while comforting Isaac as he tossed and turned in his sleep, he realized he couldn't close his own eyes, as if Isaac's restlessness had somehow transferred to him. Gazing at the rise and fall of the man's chest, he recalled one thing.

[At least you know.]

That he is Leovald. That he is not an invader hidden beneath someone else's skin, but a human like them. At least one person knows his true name, concealed beneath the shell of his body.

'You know.'

So, he must keep him close.

In a world where everyone sees him as 'Leonardo,' calling him someone's young master, brother, son, or sibling, he must keep close the one person who can truly face him. Otherwise, he cannot suppress the urge to tear away his own flesh to uncover the self hidden beneath. Like a caterpillar tucked away inside a cocoon, it feels as if Leovald's body is curled up tightly within the flesh of 'Leonardo.'

'…..'

He thinks of how this body constricts his true self like a suffocating shroud. The frustration of being in an ill-fitting vessel. He cannot find certainty that he is not that. The assurance that he is not a monster, that he is human, that his life is not merely a fleeting dream or illusion. He needs someone to give him that certainty. So, he hopes that this person won't wander far, but will stay by his side.

Leovald absentmindedly realizes he is pressing down hard with his blunt fingernail on his forearm and quickly withdraws his hand. A thin, red crescent mark remains on his skin where his nail had pressed. It's a foolish act. No matter how much he scratches and tears at his skin, all he will find is the thin fascia beneath and the clumps of flesh. He decides to stop this stupid behaviour and jumps down immediately beneath the wall.

Just before landing, he slightly lowered his body to muffle the sound, causing only the faint rustle of grass to echo around him. Soon, a light approached him from the darkness.

「Leo.」

Once again, the whispering voice. Leovald felt a wave of satisfaction wash over him. At some point, he had grown fond of being called 'Leo' instead of the usual titles like 'young master' or even 'Leonardo.' It lightened the shadows that clouded his heart, and he began to move forward.

As usual, he reached out with the intention of lifting his companion over the wall, placing his hand comfortably around Isaac's waist—

「…Ah.」

In that moment, Isaac flinched slightly and awkwardly stepped back.

「Uh, sorry. What's wrong with me…」

His breath, trembling and filled with confusion, resonated vividly in Leovald's ears. Leovald lightly clenched his empty hand, thinking, Ah, it's a good thing it's night. It's dark enough that his expression won't be visible.