The golden vines carved into the marble pillars gleamed, and the floor was spotless, shining like glass. From every angle, the room was as exquisite as a palace.
No, perhaps it was one.
Karyl stared expressionlessly at the mirror before him. The man reflected in it had a handsome face, but its excessive pallor and gloom ruined everything.
If you saw him in person, you wouldn't think he was handsome. You would only find him terrifyingly sinister.
Under the soft light all around him, he looked like a ghost. His expressionless face also conveyed a subtle weariness; only if you looked closely could you discern the revulsion hidden in the details.
+You don't seem to like the room I've arranged.+
A voice sounded, not in the air, but in Karyl's mind.
Psychic power.
What a convenient ability.
+Don't tell me you like it.+
+I have to design everything in this style. In a sense, this ship represents the status of the Emperor as a symbol. It could be just a ship, but in most cases, it isn't.+
+Another decision with political significance?+
+If I'm to become the Emperor, then I have to do this.+
+Does your list of things you "have to do" include using psychic power to talk to me?+
+Yes.+
+When does the banquet start?+
+In forty minutes. Get ready as soon as possible. One of my sons may ask you a lot of questions at the banquet.+
+I don't have to answer.+
+I also hope you won't answer, or even have to attend the banquet, but we both know that's impossible.+
Kael Lohars closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. The voice beside his ear faded away, growing fainter until it disappeared, but its echo remained.
This was his first time communicating through psychic power. It felt strange, but Kael didn't like it.
He hadn't asked whether the Wraith would attend the banquet. He already knew the answer.
And since the Wraith was attending—no, since Konrad Curze was attending, he had to go too.
For no other reason than politics.
When he saw the ship's religious decorations and the way people worshiped "the Emperor" along the way, Karyl understood a great deal.
But understanding was all he did.
"A banquet." He spoke to himself, still watching the mirror. "I can't believe I'm going to a banquet."
As he said this, he smiled. Not for any particular reason; he had simply just realized who Karyl Lohars was.
What was so strange about a noble's son attending a banquet? At most, this one was a little unusual in nature.
A banquet hosted by an emperor who was reclaiming the human worlds lost across the Milky Way, attended by his demigod-like sons.
The food would surely be lavish.
Perhaps there would even be someone there to record everything they said and ate, and paint the scene.
But could I still eat normal food?
With a sigh, he stood up. The spacious room had a special area for changing clothes. No one had explained any of this to him; it seemed "the Emperor" had already instructed them not to bother with explaining the basics.
He didn't need them to.
He didn't even want this room.
Karyl walked expressionlessly into the changing area. It was a long corridor with a dark carpet covering the floor.
The ceiling was mirrored, and a huge mirror stood at the far end. On the right was a small door of dark wood, standing open.
Beyond it was a magnificent bathing room, with a large bathtub for soaking. The showerheads, by contrast, were concealed in the ceiling.
A strange incense fragrance wafted from inside. It came from white boxes mounted on the walls, their surfaces reflecting a jade-like sheen. A full thirty towels hung from golden racks, soft and waiting.
Both sides of the corridor were lined with men's clothes in all sizes, from dark robes embroidered with gold thread to fitted shirts with lace cuffs. There were dozens of styles of boots, too.
Karyl stopped at the entrance and didn't go in right away. He examined the place, then took another deep breath. Only then did he walk inside, his face still expressionless.
The sound of running water soon began, and just as quickly stopped.
"Believe me, Konrad. The banquet will be lavish."
"How lavish?" Konrad Curze asked, perplexed.
Fulgrim couldn't help smiling. He spread his arms and made an exaggerated gesture—a rare sight.
"Very lavish."
He spoke softly. "I've eaten more than a hundred different dishes here alone. Today is the day of your return, so Father should have the honorable chefs prepare even more. You can enjoy yourself tonight."
"Enjoy myself?"
"Yes. Just look at how thin you are."
Leaning against the fitting room doorway, Fulgrim couldn't help sighing. "My brother, these are the smallest clothes I could find, but they still look too big on you."
"Is that a bad thing?" Curze asked.
He stood before a fitting mirror decorated with a double-headed eagle, wearing a loose black robe and a pendant Fulgrim had given him. His black hair had been combed back, and a peculiar scent was filling his nostrils.
He didn't much care for it.
"Clothes that are too loose make you look sloppy and listless. Most importantly, they're improper, Konrad. Didn't he teach you that?"
"..."
"Konrad?"
"...Do you have to follow etiquette when you eat, too?"
"Of course." Fulgrim nodded. "If you let yourself go and eat and drink too much, you may lose more than just your composure."
But I'd rather wear loose clothes. I'd rather crouch in a corner and eat nutrient paste, too.
Staring at the mirror, the Wraith thought this.
Loose clothes could hide more weapons. Karyl liked wearing clothes with wide, long sleeves, so other people couldn't see his knives.
It was important to conceal weapons. The Wraith told himself in Karyl's voice.
He didn't like the person in the mirror. Not at all.
Dressed in fine clothes, the man in the mirror looked like a god. His jet-black, onyx-like eyes only heightened the sense of distance, so unlike the way he used to be.
The Wraith had seen his own face before. While climbing buildings and spires in the cold wind, he would sometimes catch his reflection in the glass. Sometimes he would see his face in the murky surfaces formed by pooling acid rain.
That face was the first one he'd come to recognize as his own. But this one now...
He didn't like this change. He didn't like this place, either.
The Wraith had never imagined that he would miss that dark corner.
"Konrad? Are you all right?"
Fulgrim's voice came from the far end of the corridor, distant but unmistakably concerned. It wasn't feigned; it was genuine. The unprompted feeling, born purely of blood ties, left the Wraith at a loss.
He remembered each of their names.
Rogal Dorn, Fulgrim, Ferrus Manus, Lorgar Aurelian.
And they called him Konrad Curze.
I'd rather be called the Night Haunter, he thought. The man you call Father hasn't even spoken a word to me.
"...I'm fine." The Wraith answered in Konrad Curze's voice. "Will Karyl attend the banquet?"
"Of course he'll attend! Good heavens, brother, do you think we'd be so rude as to refuse him? He's—"
Fulgrim stopped speaking and shook his head, looking somewhat apologetic.
"I'm sorry, Konrad," he said softly.
"...Why are you apologizing?"
"What?"
"Why are you apologizing, Fulgrim?"
Konrad Curze repeated the question and turned around, lips pressed tight. "You've already been so kind to me. Why apologize, too? The other people I met for the first time greeted me with curses and bullets. Why are you apologizing?"
"I—"
Fulgrim froze.
"—Don't apologize. I know why, but please don't."
Konrad Curze spoke calmly. "If you didn't let Karyl attend, he wouldn't mind, and neither would I. But I wouldn't attend, either."
"Of course we'll let him attend—no, no, of course we'll invite him!"
For the first time since the man from Chemos had resolved to pursue the radiance his father had spread, he was this flustered.
He couldn't understand why his brother would say he wouldn't attend the banquet when everything was fine. Though he quickly realized that the problem lay in his choice of words, still...
"Words spoken without thinking often reveal what you really believe."
Konrad Curze said. "Mr. Fulgrim, I know you look down on him."
"Emperor, I never said that, Konrad!"
"The details reveal the truth."
Konrad Curze answered calmly. "To all of you, Karyl Lohars is just an insignificant mortal. I know that."
"So even though he raised me, that was only his good fortune. Even though he protected me on Nostramo, that was only a coincidence. I'm grateful for your love, but I don't think I deserve something so heavy."
"Brother!" The man from Chemos stood there, his face pale. "Please, don't say that."
"I have to. Karyl said that if you're unhappy about something, you should bring it up as soon as possible, instead of letting it take root between you and become a bloody thorn. So don't apologize, Mr. Fulgrim."
He fell silent for a moment.
"I know you see me as your brother, but have you ever thought about whether I want to be your brother? The man you consider your father—he hasn't said a single word to me."
"And Karyl..."
His words began to fall apart, losing their logic. At last, they sounded... like those of a year-and-a-half-old child.
"You look down on him."
The Wraith pressed his lips together and widened his eyes, his voice trembling.
"You're apologizing because you accidentally revealed what you really think, because you don't want to hurt my feelings. Mr. Fulgrim, you're not apologizing because you truly regret what you said."
Fulgrim was finally at a loss for words.
His lips trembled. His noble features looked weak against his pallid face, and his eyes were filled with sorrow and shame. The sorrow came from seeing Konrad Curze tremble as he spoke the truth; the shame, too, came from the truth he'd spoken.
Silence.
An unbeatable silence.
"But I'll attend the banquet," the Wraith said. "I don't want to hurt your feelings."
Before you continue