The Fat Aristocrat Waltz in the Labyrinth - Chapter 111
Chapter 111: The fat aristocrat grows up
Mitrof and Grace were sitting side by side on a bench in the backyard.
Mitrof explained to Grace the significance of Saffron giving up the ceiling painting. It may seem like Saffron made a sacrifice, but that’s not the case.
He harbored a new ambition. He decided to liquidate past dreams and turn them into funds for a new journey. There was no need for those around him to regret or stop him.
Grace groaned but nodded to come to terms with it.
The topic came to an end, and the warmth of the afternoon sun gathered between the two. Unfamiliar adults came and went from the chapel, but the children no longer cared. They seemed to understand better as Saffron explained the situation to them.
Mitrof thought that one should not underestimate children just because they are kids.
Especially the children in this church confront reality much more firmly than Mitrof does. They are forced to face it. Therefore, their age and mental immaturity do not correspond.
Children were running around the backyard as Lattier and Canule hung laundry on the clothesline. Mitrof was watching that scene, but his eyes briefly turned to Grace.
With Saffron’s resolution to the problem, the concerns that threatened Grace’s orphanage seemed to be resolved.
Grace had been cautious about the orphanage’s survival and the danger from the underworld’s powerful figures, so she had not been working with Mitrof.
Once all the worries were gone, the two of them could team up again and return to their daily routine of challenging the labyrinth. Just the thought of it made Mitrof’s heart flutter with excitement.
The sound of insects could be heard from beyond the overgrown trees behind the orphanage. There was a faint sound of a wooden door closing somewhere in the back alley.
“I can’t protect you.”
Grace had a strange sensation.
It was a scene so vivid that it resembled the dawn hour, when you wake up and still do not realize that you are dreaming.
Grace, although young among the elves, has considerable experience as a hunter.
She sneaks in the shadows of the trees, observing the movements of her prey and knowing their breathing. Sometimes, just before releasing the arrow from her bow, she sees a clear shot that is sure to hit its target.
When her arrow misses, Grace is left stunned. What went wrong? It couldn’t have been that… could it?
“…You don’t want me to join you—is that what you mean?”
“That’s not it.”
Mitrof replied firmly.
His lips were stretched and sealed as he clenched his teeth. His pupils appear bigger than usual because of the force he puts into his eyelids.
Grace can feel a certain obstinance surrounding him.
When someone finds an unshakeable answer within themselves and puts it into action, there is a distinct feeling. Although invisible, a wall is immediately erected, and no words can pass through it.
“You are loved by many people—children are waiting for you—if you die in the labyrinth, many people will be saddened.”
“Are you saying that you and Canule are different?”
“Canule is stronger than me, and she has a reason to explore the labyrinth.”
The ancient curse that befell her cannot be cured by any wise person. The only clue to a possible cure lies within the labyrinth itself.
“Then Mitrof, why do you want to dive into the labyrinth? You’re not cursed, you’re not looking for treasure to strike it rich, and you don’t even need to make a name for yourself, right?”
“…I am lazy. I am a coward who is too kind to himself, lacking in courage and nerve. I haven’t made any effort. I’ve spent every day like a holiday, a meaningless existence. That’s why there hasn’t been a special day in my life—a day where I can say that I have accomplished something and sleep well satisfied.”
Mitrof continued his words.
“When I challenge the labyrinth, I feel like I’m alive… Every breath I take against the monster makes my lungs swell with heat. Winning makes me happy, and losing makes me frustrated. But I feel like I can do better and grow even more… That’s what makes me happy—in the labyrinth, I can change—for the first time in my life, I feel my own willpower.”
Saying this, Mitrof’s face cleared up like a cloud had lifted.
Sometimes, even when we’re struggling, it’s important to find our own feelings by putting them into words. For Mitrof, who had always avoided speaking out and confronting his true feelings with others, this change he was experiencing was an odd sense of exhilaration.
When Grace first met Mitrof, his face was clouded with frustration. He had no hope; fear of tomorrow consumed him, and he was a person clinging to the darkness of night.
After a while, his face had completely changed.
Mitrof’s cheeks lifted as he looked at Grace with fiery eyes. The fiery center of the bonfire—due to the longevity of the elves, their emotions become scarce. The heat in Mitrof’s eyes as he looked at Grace moved her. She had never been looked at with such passionate eyes before.
Mitrof spoke.
Grace already knew she couldn’t reject his words.
“I can’t protect you—I’m weak—that’s why I need you.”
Grace’s eyes widened.
A man’s duty is to protect a woman. A knight’s duty is to protect a princess. In this world where it was considered natural, Mitrof’s words were pitiful.
However, Grace took joy in those words.
As a woman who held a bow and hunted like a man in the elven village, she was an outcast. The word “although she’s a woman” always followed her. The polished technique of her bow was Grace’s pride. Her pride was needed in its entirety.
“You are like the center of my whirlwind.”
“…What do you mean?”
The caught leaves were irresistibly drawn and sucked toward the center. A mysterious power seemed to exist in front of his eyes…
However, Grace narrowed her eyes without saying a word.
“My answer is already decided—I can’t let you go and worry about you; you’ve already taken it upon yourself to fight a troublesome enemy.”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to worry you!”
“Why did you challenge a demon alone again?”
Mitrof crossed his arms, closed his eyes, and fell silent, pursing his lips.
“That’s a man’s determination.”
He answered sharply.
“Men are such creatures, really.”
Grace widened her eyes and shook her head.
“You will never do something foolish like that again—promise me.”
“…Alright. I promise.”
“Good.”
Grace smiled and pinched Mitrof’s cheek. The soft and squishy sensation was surprisingly pleasant.
“What are you giggling about?”
“It’s punishment.”
Squish, squish, squish.
“Hey, stop it!”
“What’s wrong? I thought we were having fun.”
Mitrof grabbed Grace’s wrist and removed it, standing up in the process. He led Grace by the hand as they walked away.
They were heading towards Lattier’s place with a bewildered Grace in tow.
Sensing their approach, Canule turned around and quickly withdrew.
“Lattier-dono.”
Mitrof’s nervousness was apparent in his formal address.
As Lattier turned around, holding a small shirt in her hand, Mitrof faced her, his breath ragged. After a moment of silence, Mitrof gathered his words and finally spoke.
“I’m a useless guy who can’t do anything on his own.”
“——Uh, okay?”
“Other than handling a small amount of money, wielding a thrusting sword, and eating, I can’t do anything worthwhile—once again, Canule and Grace helped me out this time—and I don’t have the confidence to survive if I don’t continue receiving their help in the future.”
Mitrof didn’t bother considering how Lattier might feel about his confession. He had always lived his life trying to read other people’s reactions. But now he simply wanted to convey his own feelings.
“I wanted to believe that I was a strong person, that I was someone who could do something amazing someday, but that was not the case—I am a weak person—I have come to realize that—so, when the time comes, I will run away.”
“What do you mean you will run away?”
Lattier asked back. Mitrof nodded confidently.
“Yes, I will run away—however, I vow to be the last one to run away after letting my companions escape.”
Mitrof looked at Grace and Canule.
“I feel more confident with Canule and Grace by my side—together, the three of us can overcome anything, even opponents who are stronger than me alone—I need her by my side. So please allow me to challenge the labyrinth with Grace.”
There was a pause in Lattier’s response. Her grip on the shirt she held against her chest tightened.
“People who acknowledge their own weakness are rarer than those who boast about their strength—I hope that you’ll never forget that.”
Lattier replied, turning to face Grace.
“Grace, be careful—make sure to come back, no matter how many times.”
“…Of course, older sister.”
“Canule-san, you too.”
“——Yes.”
Perhaps caught off guard by being called out, Canule’s response sounded hesitant.
“Mitrof-san.”
“Y-Yes?”
“Please take care of my little sister.”
Lattier bowed deeply; Grace and Mitrof did the same, bowing deeply.