MaruMA:Volume16:Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I use an even cheerier voice to say to Murata, “Speaking of which~”

Faced with something so scary, who knows how terrified he is feeling inside. Even if it doesn’t show in his expression or voice, he must be trembling inside his heart.

Even if he’s a sage with over a hundred different memories, in actuality he’s still a slightly… no, quite intelligent modern high school student, so it wouldn’t be surprising if he panics from fear when he suddenly finds out he’ll be thrown into a place filled with rough and tough bad men.

That’s why I have to figure out how to get him to perk up, even if it means using my family’s embarrassing history to do it.

“When my old man got drunk, he once revealed his own past, saying he was in lockup before.”

“Is that so~~ Lockup is the substitute jail in the police station, doesn’t your dad look really prim and proper? What did he do? Or was he suspected of something?”

“I dunno, he didn’t tell me that part…”

Whenever my old man talks about this after some beers, my mom would smile mysteriously, so I think it must have something to do between them as a couple, though I have yet to find out the true reason to this day. (For details, see ‘My Son is in Ma!Freelance Work!?’)

“It happened in that time when he was working in New York.”

“A lockup in New York, too! How nice—I have never been in there before either.”

“I think normal Japanese high school students wouldn’t have been in there. Although I’m not very clear about it, it seems he was suspected unfairly, that’s why he was sent into the lockup at the New York police station, exactly the type of room with bars and a brick wall like you always see in foreign series.”

“Is that so~~ What a wonderful experience, I’m so jealous.”

Are you? Are you jealous? I’m glad you want an experience like that.

“Back then Pops was really annoyed, apparently he was even forcefully lifted by a buff leather-wearing New Yorker guy who was messing around with him.”

“Lifted?”

Murata also forcefully pushes up his glasses frames—our hands were just freed as well.

“He wasn’t choked?”

“Hm, I’m not too sure either, it seems he was lifted. The huge guy who at first came over to intimidate ended up saying ‘PLEASE, PLEASE’ all petitely. And then lifted him up. In any case, whenever anything happens, he would tell me, ‘If you did something like shoplifting, you would be caught and thrown into lockup, where you’ll be threatened by buff guys in leather, y’know.’ So I just told him I wouldn’t shoplift.”

“Mn—This is a father’s educational shield, huh. Using his own embarrassing experience, and hoping his son won’t stray off the path.”

Not only does he not think it’s embarrassing that he’s the only one in the Shibuya household to be cared for by the New York Police Department, he even considers it a heroic achievement.

“Anyway, if it’s what my old man said, it should be only 50% believable. But according to what my mom said, it seems that it’s true, he was thrown into lockup in New York.”

But that is still something that happened in the temporary detention room underneath the police station, it’s still nothing like an actual prison. Even if there are leather-clad truckers in lockup, there aren’t demon convicts, demon guards and demon warden, right.

That’s right, we’re not exactly in the corridors of the NYPD now.

In a prison in a country called Darco, all the way opposite of Shin Makoku.

Prison, jail, in this world both words refer to the same place, though in modern Japan it’s called ‘keimusho’. In other words, us we little sixteen-year-olds boys, have already done something that warrants us to go to jail.

From just now onwards, we try to huddle closer together when walking, our eyes keeping straight as well, because there are many people in prison clothes gathered behind the iron bars on both sides. Men and women are separated in jail, so of course these are all dirty and disgusting men. And these prisoners seem to want something from us as well, because they keep reaching out their hands from the spaces between the bars.

This should be that one—the ritual where prison inmates welcome rookies I always see in those late night movies.

“I saw this scenario before, y’know, what was it called? Uh—the hero was this handsome guy who kept getting threatened by the scary inmates.”

“Are you talking about ‘Prison Break’?”

“Yeah yeah yeah, it should be that one, but the hero there was super handsome, and I’m just a regular commoner, and neither am I wearing a high-quality watch… Waa, don’t touch me!”

“Ah, Shibuya.”

Before Murata even finishes his sentence, Gwendal has already helped me to peel away the hand reaching towards me from behind the bars. It’s just that, he’s obviously just peeling away the hand, so why is there a blunt sound?

“Move closer to the center, don’t let them touch you with their hands.”

“We’ll do that.”

The three of us—Murata, me and Gwendal have no choice but to lean together, walking in a straight line in that order. The one I envy the most is the frowning Gwendal, he just has to glare to scare the inmates out of their wits. If he just barked loudly with that voice, no matter how fierce or evil that person is, they would run to the corners of the prison.

But we… at least me, not only are my offensive skills average, even my defense is average, and my batting average as well as on-base average are also painful to look at, so I have no presence at all to scare those inmates who are experienced in crime.

“How did things end up like this…”

I shake my hand without completing that sentence, my hair – finally dry—falling onto my face.

But things ended up like this precisely because I decided not to run, so I cannot say anything discouraging now. If I regret it, then I’d be letting down Lord von Voltaire and Murata, who I dragged into this, way too much.

Even if the inmates are yanking the rookies being led to the main detention building by their clothes, the soldiers and guards leading the way won’t do anything. To them this is nothing much, we have to protect ourselves.

“Oh, yeah, Shibuya.”

When we finally get past the zombie area, and are getting ready to enter the next area, Murata suddenly says in a nonchalant tone,

“Your father’s heroic antics you were talking about just now, did they happen in the NYPD lockup?”

“Ah? Oh~~ That’s right, why are you mentioning that now?”

“In that case, it means I’m witnessing the important moment when you, the sixteen-year-old son, surpasses his father. Ah~~ Not bad, not bad, what a touching moment.”

But Murata is right, because the heavy door makes a sound behind me and then falls to a shut.

The three soldiers leading us in the front say coldly, without even turning around,

“After this is the real deal.”

In that case, what was all that about those arms reaching out along that path!? Aren’t they inmates held in here as well?

Speaking of which, there’s a reason we ended up in this situation.

It was just one hour ago, when we were planning to find the police in this country. If this country was under military rule and thus had no police, going straight to court would have been good too. In fact, it would make things easier.

Although being tied up isn’t particularly fun, but we can’t help it until we explain everything and get our names cleared. Even if we feel a little annoyed, we still had to resist that little bit of constraint.

When the soldier sitting on the stern of the swaying gondola announced our arrival at the destination, the thing that appeared before us was a large white and grey-blue building as far as the eyes could see. In this laidback port city on the sea, it seems stern and dark. Even if the wall was facing north, there were ridiculously few of those things that look like windows.

What could this building that tries to minimalize its number of windows be?

I couldn’t figure it out no matter how hard I thought.

It was only when the soldier who had been always checking his sword for nicks smiled strangely and told us, that we finally knew the truth.”

“This is the country’s pride and joy, ‘Who Is It Summoning Hell 1-Chome, Ah, Errand-Running 3-Chome Prison’.”

Raising my head to look at the bridge built over three canals and the stoic building on top of that, I couldn’t help but sigh,

“I get it, no wonder there are so few windows… What!?”

Prison!?

“Wait a sec, did you just prison!? Doesn’t prison mean keimusho? We weren’t interrogated neither was there any crime scene investigation, how did we suddenly get sent to prison!?”

Maybe he’s used to hearing the suspects freak out, so the soldier checking the nicks on his blade wasn’t listening to me at all, and even opened the lock on the steel wire nonchalantly. This whole place is surrounded by tall walls and canals, so we couldn’t get to the building without crossing that bridge.

If you want to get into the roofed indoors, you had to cross two more walls of steels wires and a steel fence.

And technically speaking we’re in the center of the fishing port, but I couldn’t see any shops or inns, only the huge building sitting here.

“Please go in.”

“I—was—saying—We want to go to the police or the court! Not the prison!”

“It doesn’t matter how much you yell, Darco only has this place.”

“What did you say—?”

“Please read this book carefully.”

The soldier gives me a guidebook.

This colossal ‘Who Is It Summoning Hell 1-Chome, Ah, Errand-Running 3-Chome Prison’ seems to be wide enough to cross three parallel canals, and its length is four times its width.

Its width is already rather shocking, to think its length is four times that! The way I see it, it’s ‘the eel’s nest’. What on earth do they plan to do with such a huge prison?

“Aah, this country, Darco, is about the size of Amami Oshima~~”

Sitting on a chair, Murata flipped through the guidebook and speaks with awe.

“You’re talking so carefree again.”

“But it’s really important to understand your current situation, y’know? You have to first figure out where you are, right? Ah, there’s even a plan of the building’s interiors here, only it’s really intriguing~~”

“What’s intriguing?”

Gwendal, who had been silent until now, breaks out of character as he asks Murata,

“Deducing from the size and population of the island, they really don’t need a prison of this scale. I can’t help but wonder what Darco’s crime rate is like.”

As a city on the water about the size as Amami Oshima, I think this huge prison is a bit… too big.

From the way the soldier said ‘Darco only has this place’, even if I deduce that this place acts as a police station and a court, this large a scale is still very abnormal.

“Speaking of which, are you the only muscle fanatic in the Shibuya famiy?”

After waiting for about fifteen minutes in the waiting room, everyone is chased out into something that looks like a gathering room. Other than us, there are two more middle-aged men, one man in his early fifties, and three young men that are barely more than boys.

The fully-armed soldiers chase everyone into the room, and then lock the door we came in through, so now the only escape route is the door heading into the facility. After that, they stand in front of the blackboard directly in front of us, saying, “Please wait a moment, the warden will be here in a moment.” Their tone is strangely respectful too.

Murata seems to have finished reading the ‘Who Is It Summoning Hell 1-Chome(1), Ah, Errand-Running 3-Chome Prison’ guidebook, folding it in half and stuffing it into his pocket,

“Your brother may be tall, but he doesn’t really care about muscles. Is the only muscle worshipper the second son?”

“Why are you mentioning this suddenly? And by ‘second son’, do you mean me? Although my old man is crazy about baseball and love cold jokes, he’s not that muscular. As for my mom and brother, they like cute things more than sports clubs. One takes the fantasy route, the other takes the eroge route, so the things they collect are complete opposites. Oh, yeah, is there something wrong with that?”

“Eh, does that mean you’re more like your father? But I really envy the Shibuya family, the husband and wife get along so well. My family, for instance, is a mess, because both my parents are professionals—although I think they’re really impressive. Since they’re experts at computers and law respectively, so when they argue neither will give way. But on principle my mother always wins the argument, so this makes my father always seems like he has no ground to stand on, it really is a little embarrassing to lose so many times, though.”

“You’re talking like that again—but don’t you really like your folks anyway? People always say, even if you date girls completely unlike your mother when you’re younger, the person you eventually bring back home to meet your parents always tend to be a lot like your mom. Speaking of which, why are you talking about family at a place like this…”

“Mn, about that… Look at that person over there.”

Maybe the power on his lenses isn’t right, but Murata squints behind his glasses, pointing at the person walking into the gathering place. It’s a woman, and the type that would roll her eyes at you if you asked for her real age.

Her hair, somewhere between gold and brown, is tied behind her head. On top of what looks like a female soldier’s uniform is something that completely goes against the name ‘Who Is It Summoning Hell 1-Chome(1), Ah, Errand-Running 3-Chome Prison’, a lacy pink apron…

The sound from my throat is a clash between a sigh and a breath.

“Look, doesn’t she look a little like—”

Gwendal’s gaze follows his finger, and he frowns in suspicion.

“M-mom…”

Impossible!

This is the prison in an alternate world, and in somewhere like this with the lowest of the low, I actually met someone who’s the same type as my mom.

She’s not alike, no matter what, she’s not alike! Definitely not!

Standing in the middle of the room that looks like the cultural center of a large station building, the female warden stands in front of nine suspects.

The lacy apron makes her look slightly younger, but her true age should be above thirty-five, or the early forties. Not alike! I’ll say it again, definitely not alike!

Mom’s figure is taller than her, and she’s better at acting cute. Her curly hair tied behind her head falling onto her slender shoulders, she would lean her body slightly forward and put her left hand on her hips, holding up her right index fingers as though scolding someone when she talks…

Waa~~ What to do, even her actions and aura are exactly the same!

The female warden, unaware of my internal struggles, speaks in the exact same posture as my mom,

“I’m the person in charge here, Ranatan.”

R-Ranatan… what a cute name, one that would make someone smile unconsciously. As the saying goes, the person fits the name. It’s just like how there are titles and nicknames that fit characters, so now I’m even more sure these names exist.

“N-no, but we don’t give ourselves names, it’s a present from our parents. A society where names change according to societal position isn’t considered normal either… But, the one that shouldn’t exist is the mentality of societal positions in the first place… What on earth am I talking about?”

“It’s the same name as the Boy Frog’s girlfriend.”

“What are you talking about, Murata? Speaking of which, how old are you?”

“I know a man called Mikotan, though.”

“Why are you joining in, Gwendal.”

But there’s still an unexploded bomb ahead of us, because once I hear what Warden Ranatan has to say next, my knees nearly buckle beneath me.

“From today onwards, Ranatan will help you criminals turn over a new leaf, ‘kay—”

Turn, over, a, new, leaf, ‘kay—

“Since you’re here at this ‘Who Is It Summoning Hell 1-Chome, Ah, Errand-Running 3-Chome Prison’, then everyone here is just like Ranatan’s son, ‘kay—”

“Am…”

Gwendal, who is standing next to me, grabs my arm, since the destructive power is so strong it seems to make me dizzy.

“A-am I the only one who thinks that way of speech doesn’t fit? No matter how I try, I still think that sentence ending is super strange~~”

“That’s the way moe-style characters speak. As long as you don’t bother about the age, it’s not that weird actually, I think this is really common in games and anime. If your brother heard it, I bet he would be beside himself with excitement.”

The appearance and aura just like my mom, and my brother’s favorite moe-style manner of speaking—this really is the worst situation in history.

But even if one of the suspects is suffering, that won’t stop Ranatan’s speech.

“Although all of you have done bad things, there’s still no such thing as a naturally evil child’, ‘kay—”

Warden Ranatan waves her extended index finger left and right, pulling the corners of her lips down so it looks like she’s about to say ‘No way!’. Looks like her lecturing standard fits the young man standing right at the front, because the target she’s staring at scratches his butt with an apologetic expression.

“That is why~~ From today onwards, come and desperately try to make up for your crimes here at ‘Who Is It Summoning Hell 1-Chome, Ah, Errand-Running 3-Chome Prison’ with Ranatan!”

But even if she’s a moe-style character prison warden, some things when said just can’t be ignored.

Be it for men or women, there are battles you absolutely can’t lose in life.

“Teacher, I have a question!”

I raise my hand forcefully, with a spirit I rarely show even in class. Warden Ranatan’s already round brown eyes go even rounder, looking between me and the file in her hand a few times before pointing at me,

“Do speak, Cru-chan.”

The sudden ‘-chan’ word nearly makes me trip. Oh, yeah, whenever I’m with Murata, I will instinctively use the alias Crusoe (Colonel). Together we’re Crusoe and Robinson, a duo name just below Murakenzu.

Anyway, I can’t be defeated just because she added a ‘-chan’. Even if the enemy is the same type as my mom, I still need to say what I have to say.

“We’re innocent!”

That’s right, we’re innocent.

“We can only be considered suspects at most, not inmates, so why do we have to be taken to jail?”

“What did Cru-chan do, ‘kay?”

Hearing Warden Ranatan’s question, the official standing at the side instantly replies,

“They fell into the fishing boat’s net…”

“Isn’t it too much to be put in jail over falling into a fishing net?”

“But afterwards, out of the hatred in their hearts, they stole a precious sea grape.”

“I didn’t steal it!”

It really pisses me off to be accused of something I didn’t do, so my voice goes instinctively louder than usual.

Ranatan turns her round eyes,

“So you think you’re innocent, ‘kay?”

“Yes, ‘kay… Damn, this catchphrase is contagious if you’re not careful.”

The moe-style catchphrase sure is scary, though not as scary as a notebook that kills you once your name is written in it.

“Cru-chan and Robin-chan are ‘black-haired’, right?”

“That’s right, they’re ‘black-haired’, And they should be big fish in the Order too.”

“What are ‘black-haired’? What order? Also, just wanted to ask, in ‘Who Is It Summoning Hell 1-Chome, Ah, Errand-Running 3-Chome Prison’, which is 1-chome and which is 3-chome?”

Since the strangely polite language is a local characteristic, I don’t have the right to say anything about it, but the Robin-chan she’s talking about should be Murata.

“‘ Black-haired’ means people with black-hair, ‘kay.”

“What!? There are people with black hair in this country!?”

“Of course there are, ‘kay.”

I think she just said ‘of course’.

“There are ‘black-haired’ serving their time here at this ‘Who Is It Summoning Hell 1-Chome, Ah, Errand-Running 3-Chome Prison’, ‘kay—Isn’t Cru-chan part of the Order, then?”

“Cru-chan… Forget it, it’s fine. I don’t know that order, besides, what do you mean by ‘order?”

“It should be that thing in front of the church where the teachers stand—Our school got rid of that thing long ago.”

Murata says something completely unrelated suddenly. Maybe it’s to calm me down, but his tone is exceptionally carefree.

“Eh, you don’t have an altar at your school? Then what if you wanted to do stair-climbing cardio?”

“At this age we should be memorizing dates in history, not doing stair-climbing cardio, ‘kay—”

You’ve been infected, Murata.

“We don’t know what sort of organization this Order you’re speaking of is.”

Lord von Voltaire crosses his arms around his chest, glaring at Warden Ranatan and the official next to her,

“We’re not from that organization, as we just arrived in this country’s fishing port a few hours ago, so how could we belong to that organization? We came to this land for a certain reason, but we’re from Shin Makoku. Our country has no ties with Darco, but as the people of an independent country, I hope you can give us the treatment we deserve.”

“Have you heard of it, ‘kay?”

“‘Shin Makoku’? Ah, I’ve heard of it, yes, it’s an island country on the other side.”

You’re instantly wrong. Although Japan is an island country, Shin Makoku isn’t.

“The people there only wear hats and shoes when they leave the house, and they walk on the streets with a noose tied around their necks. When they meet, they poke each other’s pits with their fingertips.”

“Is that so, ‘kay?”

Wrong again, but what country are they talking about, a country of perverts?

“That’s the culture of the Geksaray area.”

“Eh, there really is such a culture!?”

“Ah—Indeed there is, it’s the culture of a certain area, but according to my memories it was a long, long time ago.”

“Although it’s only in a certain area, this culture exists to this day. And it’s a minority culture that is under protection.”

“Eh? Protecting a naked tie culture!?”

If it was Shouri, he would definitely happily announce that this is a man’s romanticism, but I have no such fetishes, so I really can’t understand what’s so moving about that sort of action. If you want to strip then strip all the way, if you want to wear clothes then wear them neatly. Wait a sec, it shouldn’t be the naked tie, but the naked apron, right?

On the other hand, that knowledge is way too biased, to think they believe that everyone in Shin Makoku only wear ties as they walk naked on the street, isn’t that just like how Hollywood misinterprets Japanese culture? Just like how Japanese warriors with hair buns walk proudly in Akihabara looking for pretty girl models, etc.

Just as I’m asking ‘What on earth did you read to find out about Shin Makoku?’, that official smiles intriguingly and holds out a magazine with subpar paper quality.

On the extravagant cover with many primary colors, there’s a female character drawn in the American comic style drawing a bow, and the font of the title looks terrifying, as though it’s dripping blood.

“The Poison Lady Anissina and Big Friends”

“Wait a sec, the Poison Lady has been adapted into a comic!?”

“The adult content is really impressive, y’know.”

The official says proudly. Speaking of which, does that mean that Poison Lady comic is actually a p-porno comic!?

“The scene where the Poison Lady who was supposed to be dead is revived while biting a bone, is truly terrifying enough to make one’s knees weak.”

Oh~~ So it’s horror geared towards older readers.

Gwendal and I can’t help a sigh of relief.

“But this sure is troublesome, ‘kay—”

Ranatan puts her index finger on her chin, pouting slightly as she frowns,

“Even if you complain here, you can’t go out until you prove Cru-chan’s innocence, ‘kay.”

In other words we have to be locked in here with the criminal squad? Stop kidding.

“Throwing us into jail without even a trial, what justice in this!? Isn’t this the city on the water? When you talk about the city on the water, don’t you mean Venice? When you talk about Venice, you get the Merchant of Venice, and when you talk about the interesting parts it’s… Uh—Um----”

“When the COSPLAY judge made a mind-blowing judgment.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Isn’t the best part of the Merchant of Venice the COSPLAY judge?”

Even I’m not too sure what I’m talking about. Is it? Wasn’t it the girl referee dressing as a guy?

“Anyway, I cannot accept that you’re sending us into prison one-sidedly without listening to our explanations at all.”

“There will be a trial, ‘kay.”

“Eh, is that so? That’s great…”

“But only when someone willing to argue for Cru-chan and the others shows up, ‘kay.”

“Murata, do you know any lawyers?”

“On Earth, yes.”

That’s exactly what I thought he would say.

Since we’re in a different world, and this is the first time stepping into this country, there’s no way we know any lawyers. If we don’t know any lawyers, does this mean we can only wait quietly for a hot-blooded lawyer out to rid the world of all injustices to appear?

“Who are you kidding, how could we possibly wait this out.”

“Exactly—”

Maybe he’s been infected by her cute actions, because even Murata puts his finger on his chin, speaking with his head slightly tilted.

“And it looks like there won’t be a public defender, what to do~~ We’ll just have to defend ourselves.”

“Oh, I see.”

As expected of the Daikenja’s reincarnation, even if the way he does things isn’t all that smart, he’s still a lot more creative than someone who joins sports clubs like me.

Self-representation. Although I don’t know if this country has such a system, it is still a good idea. I don’t know how to do something like systematically explaining how everything we did is right on the side of the law, but Murata should be able to pull it off.

Damn! If I had known something like this would happen, I would have studied up on how to speak in public as well. If I had seriously read those books on speaking in Aniki’s room, then I could proudly say ‘I want to defend myself’ now. The cover of the book is a picture of a girl, so it should be easy to understand. If I’m not mistaken, the title of the book is… ‘How to Capture Hearts with Your Words, Relationship Version.”

Wait a sec! The man who’s aiming to be governor in the future, is that all he’s thinking about?

“Robin-chan wants to defend himself, then what about Cru-chan and this gentleman over here?”

“Uh—We’ll be represented by Murata as well.”

I look at him with a pleading gaze.

“Alright, ‘kay, I’ll record your requests, and send it to the relevant department, ‘kay.”

“Great, now we can get a trial, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

Warden Ranatan smiles brightly, until there are even slight, elegant wrinkle around her eyes, but I mustn’t say that aloud. If I want to eat a delicious dinner, I must never mention that.

“When the time comes, there will be a large scale hearing for Cru-chan and the others, ‘kay. Except, you guys are number two one four three, ‘kay.”

“Two…”

I don’t even ask how long we have to wait, because after all, you can’t solve a hundred cases in one day.

“Then before your turn arrives, please wait patiently in this ‘Who Is It Summoning Hell 1-Chome, Ah, Errand-Running 3-Chome Prison’, ‘kay. It’s an honor to get into our country’s prisons, y’know. Cru-chan, Darco’s prisons are inescapable, the security so tight that there hasn’t been a successful escape in almost two hundred years, ‘kay.”

Darco’s female warden tells me a terrifying number as I’m stunned, even holding up a fingers and waving it beside her cheek as she says,

“It’s really fun, ‘kay—”

How could there be any fun prisons in this world!

Just like that, while waiting for the two one four six hearings before us, we’re temporarily held in the ‘Who Is It Summoning Hell 1-Chome, Ah, Errand-Running 3-Chome Prison’.

But we’re not like the real criminals here who were convicted and are serving their sentences. Maybe the whole country, starting with Ranatan, believes that I stole, but I definitely didn’t steal any pickled plum stone! Even if no one believes me, I will never admit to a crime I didn’t commit.

And I’m a bit curious about this ‘black-haired’ order as well. Since there could only be black-haired and black-eyed people born among the mazoku, there’s a chance a mazoku comrade is kept here. Being held in a strange faraway land, who knows how scared they are inside.

Since we’re all mazoku, how could I not help them?

“What, have you changed your mind?”

Gwendal seems to have given up, not even frowning anymore as he asks.

“I’m starting to want to escape, but I saw the soldiers lock the door from the outside just now, and the security here is really tight, so it shouldn’t be that easy to break out.”

“Do you want to kick it open?”

“You mean like back then? Because of me.”

I don’t know if it’s because he couldn’t hide it in time, but the tall man smiles unknowingly. Looking up at him, I smile as well, because we’re both remembering a time in the past when we both kicked open a thick church door.

Ah—I keep feeling like…

“It’s been a long time, since I saw Gwen smile.”

“Is that so?”

“You only ever smile at animals.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. You only ever smile at animals and Greta, you’re always frowning other than that. But the mastermind behind all your suffering is me, it’s always been me causing you trouble.”

“That’s troubling, it seems you still don’t plan on giving up.”

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

“What’s the point of you saying that now? I gave up hope a long time ago, Your Majesty.”

I almost say, “Why are you suddenly so formal with me?” But I see the way he smiles wryly, so I take back those words.

Lord von Voltaire’s ‘Your Majesty’ always has some meaning, but this time it seems there aren’t any negative feelings in it.

Not that it would matter if there were.

Back to Chapter 4

Return to MA Series

Forward to Chapter 6