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Chapter 2: Everyone Heard That, Right?
[Albert’s Perspective]
Albert heard the faint sound of a fork bouncing off the floor as if from a great distance.
On the plate in front of him sat five prawns, beautifully grilled with herbs. It was clearly the head chef’s pride and joy, perfectly seared to a golden brown.
For the past seven years, Albert hadn’t let a single prawn touch his lips. Whenever he ate them, red splotches would flare up along his neck. It was a mild reaction, known only to his physician and his father. At banquets, he would simply push them to the edge of his plate and pretend to be engrossed in conversation until the dish was cleared away. He didn't want anyone to know that the next head of the house could be brought down by a piece of seafood.
And yet, his younger sister had just blurted it out.
No. She hadn't said a word.
Albert had been watching her mouth the whole time. Ever since finishing her soup, Liese’s lips hadn't parted once. And yet, he had heard her voice as clearly as if she were whispering right beside him.
“…Is something the matter?”
Now her lips moved. His sister, returned after four long years, tilted her head slightly and looked at him in confusion.
(Did I... fold my napkin wrong or something?)
Her mouth remained firmly shut.
Johanna’s glass began to rattle. Beneath the table, Albert gave the tip of her shoe a swift, light kick. The glass instantly went still.
“…My hand slipped,” their father spoke up.
It was the same tone he used at the Prime Minister's Office to silence squabbling ministers. Receiving a fresh fork from an attending servant, their father began cutting into his prawns as if nothing had happened.
Albert followed suit and picked up his knife. Steering clear of the prawns, he sliced into the side dish of potatoes instead.
His mind was completely calm—just as it was whenever he faced an unbalanced ledger. He could afford to be shocked later. First, he needed to verify what was happening.
Rule number one: Who could hear it?
His father’s face was as hard as stone, yet he had dropped his fork. Johanna and Theo’s reactions went without saying. All four family members had heard it.
What about the others?
Albert shifted only his eyes. A young footman was standing just behind Liese at an angle. Holding a water pitcher, he was staring idly out the window. From that distance, the voice should have reached him much faster than it reached Albert.
Over by the doorway stood Heinz, the butler, his expression entirely composed.
Thinking back, the signs had been there from the very beginning. The moment Liese stepped into the dining room, a voice had echoed right in his ear.
—Father... looks a bit thinner than he did in his fanbook illustration.
His father had looked at Heinz. Albert had looked, too. They both assumed the butler standing behind them had uttered an impudent whisper. Johanna had been staring at the doorway, while Theo was scanning the entire room. Every single one of them had been searching for the source of that voice.
(Big Brother's dodging the prawns... Whew, good. He knows his own limits.)
The knife slipped slightly in Albert’s hand.
A servant approached to pour water. He filled Liese’s glass first, then Albert’s. His hands didn't tremble in the slightest.
The servants can't hear it.
Albert locked eyes with his father, who was watching the same footman. Their eyes met, and his father gave the briefest, almost imperceptible nod.
Rule number two: How far does it reach?
“Theo.”
His younger brother’s shoulders flinched.
“Go to the kitchen and tell them to hurry the dessert along. Father has work in his study after this.”
Theo blinked. Looking into his older brother's eyes, he seemed to grasp the underlying signal and stood up.
“…Right. On it.”
“Close the door behind you. A draft is coming from the hallway.”
Theo slipped out, and the door clicked shut.
Silence fell over the dining room once more. Liese was carefully cutting her prawn into small pieces, bringing them to her mouth with understated grace. She ate as noiselessly as she had four years ago.
(The head chef here is so good! I love Grandmother's cooking, but the depth of this sauce is on a whole other level!)
His sister’s gaze happened to drift toward Johanna.
(…Even the way Big Sister eats prawns is so elegant! This is what people mean by an absolute 'national treasure' of a face!)
Johanna choked violently.
Covering her mouth with her napkin, she twisted away, coughing uncontrollably. A footman rushed forward in a panic to hand her a glass of water. Liese half-rose from her seat in concern.
“Big Sister, are you alright?”
“…Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Just a bit of herb caught in my throat.”
(Even the way she chokes is graceful! If I did that, it’d just be an embarrassing trainwreck!)
Johanna downed the water in one gulp, her ears turning bright red. Albert bit the inside of his lip, exerting every ounce of willpower to keep a straight face.
Before long, the door opened and Theo returned. He took his seat with a mix of relief and lingering anxiety, then gave Albert a tiny, barely visible shake of his head.
He didn't hear a thing out there.
(Theo's back... He still looks so restless. I guess after four years apart, I must feel like a complete stranger to him.)
Theo’s eyebrow twitched ever so slightly.
It only works when we are in the same room.
When the dessert—a wild raspberry tart—was served, their father took just a single bite before standing up.
“You must be tired from your long journey. Get some rest early tonight.”
“Yes, Father. Good night.”
(Father only took one bite... Does he not like sweet things? Or is he just uncomfortable having me around?)
Their father’s back froze for a fraction of a second right at the doorway.
◇
It wasn't until the night bell chimed that the four of them gathered in the study.
Heinz reported, “The Mistress and Lady Emma will be staying at the other party's villa for the next few days,” before bowing out. Waiting until the door closed and his footsteps faded down the hall, their father finally broke the silence.
“Everyone heard that, right?”
Nobody denied it.
“The servants couldn't hear it,” Albert stated. “Neither could Heinz. Nor Theo while he was out in the corridor.”
“Not a thing through the door,” Theo agreed, nodding. “The second I walked back in, it started again.”
Johanna collapsed onto the sofa.
“…National... treasure...”
“Johanna.”
“Well, it came right out of her mouth! I mean, it didn't come out of her mouth, but still!”
Johanna covered her face with her fan, though her bright red ears peeked out over the top edge.
“Has she... been thinking things like that about us this whole time?”
Albert was wondering the exact same thing.
In his memories, Liese was a girl of few words. No matter what their stepmother threw at her, she would simply keep her head bowed in silence. He had never known what was going on in her head. And without ever understanding her, they had failed to protect her and let her be sent away.
To think that his sister’s inner world was actually this chaotic and loud...
“It isn't a prophecy,” their father murmured, clasping his fingers over the desk.
“The matter with the prawns is an existing fact. She isn't predicting the future. Rather, her thoughts are directly broadcasting to us.”
“What about terms like 'fanbook' or 'original game'?” Johanna asked. “She also mentioned something being 'official.'”
“I don't know.”
His father’s answer was curt.
“Perhaps she read some book at her grandparents' place—a book unknown to us. For now, let us set aside what we cannot explain.”
Albert nodded. Not jumping to wild conclusions about the unknown was typical of his father's pragmatic approach.
Besides, something else bothered him far more than the origin of these mysterious books.
“She doesn't realize we can hear her.”
“Indeed,” Johanna lowered her fan. “If she knew, there’s no way she’d call my face a national treasure.”
“…'A creepy child.'”
Theo spoke in a low voice, repeating a phrase they had heard in their sister's inner monologue back at dinner.
“Did that woman really say that to her when she left four years ago?”
Their father’s clasped fingers tightened until his knuckles turned white.
On that morning four years ago, their father had made a promise to his daughter at the entrance and immediately returned to his study to deal with an urgent messenger from the Prime Minister’s Office. The stepmother had been the only one to see her off to the carriage.
“'She's the last person I'd want to run into,' she said...” Johanna repeated softly. “…And honestly, who can blame her?”
Albert glanced at his father’s profile. Beneath that stone-like expression, something was quietly burning.
“Do not let Beatrice suspect a thing,” their father said simply.
“Why is this even happening to her?”
Nobody had an answer to Theo’s quiet question.
The lamp wick flickered with a faint sizzle. Their father fell silent for a long moment before asking in a heavy voice:
“…Should we tell her?”
Theo was the first to shake his head.
“No.”
The fourteen-year-old brother clenched his fists tightly on his lap.
“If she finds out, she’ll shut down again.”
His voice trembled.
“She’ll silence her own mind, stop expressing anything at all... and then... she’ll disappear again.”
No one argued with him.
Four years ago, Theo had been just ten years old. Returning from morning practice, he found his sister gone. He had cornered his father, crying, but received no proper answers. Albert still remembered the look on Theo’s face that morning.
—We did not invite you. This is your home.
Albert recalled his own voice from dinner.
He had wanted to say 'Welcome home.' Yet such a simple phrase had come out so stiff and cold. And yet, his sister had understood it as: 'Big Brother's always so rigid with his words, but he's a total softie toward his family.'
Everything he had failed to say aloud, his sister had understood anyway.
“We don't react,” Albert said.
“No matter what we hear, we don't let it show on our faces. We don't speak of it. We make sure she never realizes.”
“…What about choking on my food?” Johanna chimed in.
“Exert some self-control.”
“As if self-control works against a sudden jump-scare like that!”
“It will,” their father interjected. “Because you must make it work.”
He looked at each of their faces in turn.
“We will not respond to what we hear. But neither will we let what we hear go to waste. Is that clear?”
“Understood.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Yeah.”
And just like that, a pact was forged within the Ahrens household.
◇
The next morning, Albert woke up earlier than anyone else.
Dressing swiftly, he went down to the kitchen before breakfast. The head chef wiped his hands in shock—it was the first time the young master had ever set foot in the kitchen at dawn.
“Is something wrong with last night's meal, my Lord?”
Albert took a single deep breath. It was something he hadn't told a soul in seven years.
“Do not serve prawns on my plate from now on.”
The head chef blinked in confusion.
“They do not agree with my body... Forgive me for not mentioning it sooner.”
Last night, his sister had thought: (I should probably mention that to the head chef later.) On the very day she returned, she had intended to go out of her way to report her brother's weakness—all by herself, quietly, so no one would notice.
He wasn't about to let her carry that burden alone.
Stepping out of the kitchen, the sky outside the window was beginning to turn pale white. Albert looked up toward the top of the stairs. His sister’s room was still quiet.
No matter what we hear, don't let it show on our faces.
Albert had no idea just how difficult that promise would turn out to be.
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