King Carmin “II” and His Lifelong Performance

Cherry rapidly blinked as she darted between the starry particles and at the witness. “M-Mister Horace, are you seeing this?!” she asked excitedly. “I-I did it! I finally awakened my Crimoire!”

“So it seems,” said Horace, rubbing his chin. “How unexpecting.”

“Hehe, look! They’re so cute and warm!” She stretched her smile and waved her hands around, leaving a trail of glittering stars. “This is amazing!”

A tiny particle landed on her sleeve, burning a hole in it.

“Ack! Never mind!” Cherry closed her fists and fanned away the particles before they could land on any other fabric.

Horace chuckled and clapped his hands. “Congratulations, it seems like you’ve found a solid resolve,” he said.

“Did I? I don’t feel any different,” she said, staring at her hands as she summoned one particle—no bigger than her fingernails—and observing with curiosity. “I only feel a lot of nostalgia.”

“Nostalgia can be a drive, you know.” He broke his gaze with a sad, understanding smile. “Who wouldn’t yearn to relive their happiest days?”

Cherry extinguished the particle and stared at his back. “Does that mean you also want to return to the good old days? As in, you want to stop the fight?”

“What? I—that’s…” Horace clicked his tongue and paced around the room. “I’ve been waiting for Ren’s return, but now that I remember his true plan, I can only assume he happily agreed with my demand and dropped me off without a word because he wants me to stay and reconcile with all of you. Damn it, I fell for it like a fool…”

“So, in other words…”

“...I have no choice but to confront him.”

Cherry smiled and clapped her hands in excitement. “Then let’s go and see Solomon! It’s about time we finally end this!” She gleefully skipped toward the door, grabbing the doorknob and twisting it.

“Eh? N-Now?”

“Yep! Right now!”

She opened the door, only to face the man himself wearing a bewildered look.

Without thinking, Cherry instantly slammed the door shut and leaned against it.

“You do realize I already heard everything, right?” asked Solomon.

Horace widened his eyes and grew pale.

Damn it, she should’ve known they were too loud! Somehow, she expected Theodore to also show up, but he was probably too exhausted to care about the noises.

“S-Since when?!” she asked.

“My apologies. I arrived the moment he spoke.”

Wow, at least this saved quite a lot of time. Cherry swallowed and mouthed the words, ‘Are you ready?’

Horace hesitantly nodded.

“I-I’ll let you in if you won’t start a fight!” Cherry stammered.

“I promise,” said Solomon.

She inhaled, slowly twisted the door open, and let him step inside. Cherry turned to Horace, who shared the same unnerved expression as hers.

For a long minute, only the grandfather clock made any noise.

Solomon cleared his throat. “It’s… been a while, hasn’t it, Horace?”

Horace briefly made eye contact before staring at the clock. “So it seems,” he mumbled.

Solomon extended a hand. “I must apologize. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” he said. “But now, I finally understand your feelings. Shall we continue our talk?”

Cherry darted back and forth at the two, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Horace folded his arms. “Somewhere else,” he muttered.

“I agree. Cherry, you should return to bed. Horace and I will continue to settle this privately.”

Cherry pouted. “Fine, but you two better keep your word and never start a fight from now on. Got it?!”

“...Yes, ma’am,” mumbled the two.

✦☆✦

Vines and flowers wrapped the marble pillars, and rows of animal-shaped topiaries greeted the visitors. A soft, cool breeze brushed past the men as they approached the fountain at the center of the courtyard. Solomon motioned to the sitting ledge and took a seat for himself.

Horace claimed a spot on the opposite side.

“We’ve promised not to fight, did we not?” asked Solomon, staring at a rabbit-shaped shrub.

“I know,” said Horace, gluing his eyes at a rosebush. “But to avoid any reflexes, I’d rather keep myself at bay.”

“...I understand.”

A heavy silence hung over the two as they continued to admire the work Dorothy poured into the garden. Horace wished he could’ve complimented her more before he departed, whereas Solomon could only pray for his daughter’s safety, wherever she was now.

At least twenty years have passed since Horace first knew Solomon. After living under the same roof with him for so long, he no longer needed to question him behind any of his actions.

Whenever Solomon wanted to ponder deeply on a subject, he’d always choose to sit in the gardens. The endless ticking of time and the suffocating air indoors could only further stress him out, but out here, the refreshing breeze, the natural scent of the earth, and the melodic tunes of the passing birds were all he needed to clear his mind.

Sometimes, Solomon would even invite Horace himself to join him, knowing that he’d be frequently stressed out as well. Not like sitting here did much for him during such old times. He would only ever amuse Solomon by staying still and quiet until the bizarre doctor would walk away with satisfaction. The two of them wouldn’t even talk much. They’d simply sit and stare at the plantation—like some sort of meditation practice.

Horace tossed a subtle glance at Solomon, who stared down at the rippling reflection of the fountain.

“I, too, dislike the stars,” muttered Solomon. “Back in my youth, I’ve done so many regrettable things under such a sky.”

“Pardon?”

Solomon rolled up a sleeve and dipped his hand into the fountain, gently stirring the water. “Before I became a doctor, I was part of the royal army that served the previous king.”

“You mean… the real King Carmin? The king whose name was stolen after the raid incident decades ago?”

He raised a brow. “Our current king told you the truth of his identity but not our past?”

“Not the full story. He only told enough to clear some confusion during our work together.”

“I see. Anyway, the real King Carmin…” Solomon shuddered. “He used to pillage nearby kingdoms, plunder their villages, and capture the surviving children.” He lifted a hand and clenched it. “All to make them kill each other in his slaughterhouse we used to call his orphanage. Those who managed to survive were rewarded a place in his army.”

Horace’s mind clicked. “And you were one of them?”

“...Indeed, I was. Hundreds of children were captured and forced to kill to survive, but only a few of us walked out of there alive.” His gaze grew dark as he stared down at his palm, still disgusted by the stains only he could see. “Even after surviving his orphanage, the former king forced us to fight on the frontlines as we continued our endless cycle of raids and captures, and if we ever tried to resist, it was off with our heads.”

“D-Didn’t you realize it was wrong? I thought you, of all people, would know that.”

“...At the time of my capture, I barely learned how to read, let alone learn what was right or wrong. The earliest memory I can recall is a house on fire before the knights threw me into a cage with crying children,” he mumbled. “I remembered feeling terribly scared and confused. The next thing I remember, someone gave me a knife and said if I wanted food, I had to kill.”

“That’s… horrible.”

“...Hah, I was too young to even realize what was going on, so I’d just hide in some crate and hope my mother would find me. But then, the hunger pangs came.” Solomon rubbed his throat. “When vampires get too hungry, they lose all sense of reason as their instincts take over, so before I knew it, I woke up to my first kill. I felt sick. I felt horrified. I was so confused. But I was starving out of my bloody mind.”

Solomon let out a dry chuckle as he hunched over and rested his elbows on his lap, staring at his palms. “Before I knew it, my heart sealed itself off. It was true—we vampires can choose to be cold-blooded. Growing up, all I ever thought about was trying to survive and nothing else.”

Horace sputtered around, still digesting the truth. “And the real King Carmin did this… to hundreds of children?”

“All for his sick, twisted pleasure,” Solomon muttered.

“H-How did the public not find out yet?”

“...Dead men tell no tales, I’m afraid.”

“But here you are. Couldn’t you spread such a story? Did our king force you to stay silent?”

“Somewhat, but it was for a good reason. He said that since it’s impossible to remove a king’s name in history, he decided to steal it and do things the real king would despise to tarnish his legacy as revenge. Plus, this would also help us hide the fact that the real king was usurped long ago.”

Horace blinked, processing the truth for another moment before shaking his head. “That ambitious lunatic… Then, I assume he was also a fellow survivor?”

“Of course. As a matter of fact, he was the one who brought us survivors together and conspired a rebellion. When we were finally strong enough, we fought our final battle under a sky just like this—which was that raid incident that everyone now knows. It was probably the most brutal, gruesome fight I ever had in my life, but when dawn arrived, we finally slayed the tyrant and crowned our leader as the new ‘King Carmin.’”

Horace dropped his jaw and slumped his shoulders. “No wonder,” he muttered. “No wonder he doesn’t have a single ounce of etiquette for royalty!”

“That’s what stood out to you?” Solomon snorted, almost drawing an amused chuckle. He turned to the fountain and stared at the stars reflecting in the water. “Thanks to him, he freed us from our chains and allowed us to live normal lives. That’s when I realized I didn’t know what to do. I only ever killed people, and I never thought of looking ahead after that tyrant’s death, but one day, the king we know today approached me.”

“What did he say?”

He let out a soft chuckle. “There was a brief period in my youth where I deeply felt so much grief and regret for my actions that I wanted to give up,” he said. “Out of nowhere, that man stopped me, and as if he knew my feelings, said that he could show me a better life if I joined him. Obviously, with nothing to lose, I decided to follow him and wondered if he’d ever keep his promise.”

Solomon stretched a smile as he faced Horace. “And so, when he took over the throne and claimed Carmin’s name for himself, he approached me and said that I should become a doctor to save as many lives as I had taken.”

Horace widened his eyes.

“During my work, I ended up saving Mari’s life. We managed to get along shortly after, but…” He stared at his palms. “One day, I overworked myself and collapsed out of malnutrition, and Mari happened to be at my clinic at that time." He forced a cough. "I must admit, I was quite ashamed when she saw that side of me, all rabid and thirsting for blood.”

Horace frowned. “How did she react?”

Solomon scrunched his face. “She said, ‘That’s kind of hot.’”

The ex-butler mirrored his judgemental face.

“Hah, Mari sure was peculiar, isn’t she? She accepted all my flaws without any hesitation. Perhaps that’s when I finally started falling for her as well. When she found out, she was so happy that she instantly proposed to me.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Ridiculous, wasn’t she?”

Horace lowered his head, staring at his hands in defeat. “She was indeed,” he mumbled.

He should’ve known he never had a chance. Not once.

Oddly enough, learning about this gave him a strange sense of closure. At least, he finally learned that their relationship was truly healthy, one that made Maribel happy.

If Maribel truly was happy with him, then Horace should be content after all.

He tossed a glance back at the doctor who took a deep breath.

“From then on, plenty of events happened,” said Solomon, “and here we are, dealing with a brand new predicament.” He faced the sky again. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask this for a while: Why did our king, the one who supposedly stole Carmin’s name and promised us peace, decide to establish the Chevolaires? Why did he antagonize us all?”

“Ah, he never wanted to, and neither did I.”

“I know. That’s why I’m asking.”

“...I’ll tell you his exact words: ‘What else can I do when all the spotlights are on me? Bear it with me, as we have been for decades. I'm more than certain you and the rest of our friends will find it trivial compared to our early days anyway.”

Solomon maintained his stare at the sky briefly longer before quietly chuckling. “Somehow, I expected he'd say that," he said. "And at the same time, he still confuses me."

“I had the same thought."

Both of them wearily sighed before it turned into another long round of silence.

“Did you ever meet your goal?” asked Horace. “About saving the same amount of people as you’ve killed?”

“I have not,” the doctor muttered. “I didn’t even reach half of that amount.”

But thanks to a certain someone, Solomon could never continue his career the same way again, and both knew each other too well to pity or bear any grudges on each other.

“What a shame then,” said the man responsible for his hell-bound reputation.

“Haha, what a shame indeed.”

The two continued to stare at the nature surrounding them, and at some point, Horace yawned.

“Oh, forgive me,” said Solomon, standing up. “I’ve lost track of time.”

“No need to fret,” said Horace, getting up next.

“It’s about time we both finally rest.” Solomon smiled and extended a hand. “Shall we head back inside?”

Horace blinked. “And hold my hand while we’re at it?”

“I might as well. You’re wobbling in your steps.”

“Eh?” He blinked down at his quivering legs, and as self-awareness and exhaustion finally caught up to him, his knees gave in. Before his face hit the ground, Solomon grabbed his wrist and raised him back up, wrapping an arm over his shoulder.

“Ugh, why are you so kind?” Horace grumbled. “Even after everything that I’ve done to you?”

“Haha, Horace, I’ve known you for decades. Not once did I ever sense bloodlust from you.”

“Your senses must be failing you.”

“Have you already forgotten about my backstory? I know more than anyone what true bloodlust is like.”

“Then explain why I’ve tormented and chased after you this whole time.”

“You just wanted to vent your frustration and jealousy at me, that’s all.”

Horace contorted his face and scowled. “I… truly despise you,” he grumbled.

“You can tell me all about it, old friend. I’ve missed you too.”

Horace gritted his teeth and leaned as far away from his face as possible. “Just be quiet.”

Solomon gleefully laughed as the two walked to their rooms, much to Horace’s annoyance. Eventually, everyone in the mansion finally succumbed to sleep—even Ren, at his own home, was forced to rest before he could interrogate the traitors thanks to a certain someone by his side.

One individual, on the other hand, found himself on the verge of sleeping permanently.

Somewhere in Loumont, the mastermind sneered down on Ortrone, who coughed out blood on a cold, hard floor.