The treasure room was dark, dusty, and packed. The contents appeared to have doubled since the last time Yuuri had ventured in here. He doubtfully eyed
the mess while Wolfram looked over a scroll he had plucked from a holder to the right of the door. “There are scraps of paper all over the place. She picked
up something that looked like trash.”
“But she knew it wasn't trash when she took it out of here,” said Wolfram. He rolled the scroll back up and put it away. “The inventory hasn't been updated in
years. If she really did find it on the floor, then it probably came in with the most recent collection. Gather up any loose papers you can find. Maybe hers was
part of a book or pad, in which case any matching pages could lead us to it. I'll look for the vase. That will at least tell us which part of the room she found it in.”
“We should have brought her with us.”
“That would raise too many questions. If anyone asks, you wanted to look at your treasure and I insisted upon keeping you company.” Gunter might guess the
truth, but he had held his silence earlier and Wolfram hoped he continued to do so.
“What she did wasn't that bad.” Yuuri scowled as he squatted and started piling up any paper in sight. “I don't blame her. Why would they?”
“They wouldn't, not really. But it will remind everyone of how she came to be with us. I think that's what she's most afraid of, losing people's trust and being
viewed as an outsider again. I'd just as soon Gwendal never realizes she is still an accomplished liar.”
“Do you have to say it like that?” Yuuri had enough guilt as it was. He had claimed Greta as his own, but he hadn't raised her. He had never understood how a
little girl could become a would-be assassin, so he had never questioned how easily that would-be assassin had become a perfectly sweet and innocent little
girl again. He had taken her in and assumed doing so would erase any problems she might have. He might call her his daughter, but honestly he had treated
her more like a cute pet to be enjoyed while he was around and left behind when he had better things to do. “It's my fault for not being a real father to her.”
“You aren't old enough to be a real father to her,” Wolfram pointed out. He huffed out a quiet laugh at the memory. “One look at her should have been enough
to know her claims were nonsense. It's a credit to her acting abilities that she was even allowed into the castle.”
Her lying abilities, Yuuri thought gloomily. “A real father would make her face the consequences of her actions, not sneak around trying to hide her mistake.”
Wolfram turned away from the unopened crate he had been about to climb over and went to crouch in front of Yuuri. “Is that what you want to do, Yuuri? I
don't view this as hiding Greta's mistake. I view it as making up for my own. I really do blame myself more than I blame her. When you left she started calling
me Papa.” When Yuuri's eyes widened, he dropped his own. “Maybe my reaction gave me away. Or maybe she heard it from someone else. I think she knew I
couldn't adopt her without you.”
“Why not? You claimed her as soon as I did!”
“As a gesture,” Wolfram bit out. “If we married, any children of yours would be mine. I claimed her as a way to stake my claim on you. It was a selfish and cruel
thing to do. I never considered her feelings, what would happen to her when you married someone else and she never saw me again. If I had it to do over...”
But there was no point thinking about that. He rose and moved to sit on the edge of the crate. “After you left I encouraged her to spend more time with mother.
As a former Maou, she's the only one of us who might have been able to adopt her. I avoided the castle and rarely saw Greta when I was here. I thought a
gradual break would be easiest on her.” He could have helped her deal with the anger and grief. Instead he had abandoned her as surely as Yuuri had. He
folded his arms over his chest, looking away when Yuri rose and approached him. “Everyone here loves her. I won't have them viewing her with mistrust now
because I wasn't here when she needed me. I'm not trying to hide what she did. I'm trying to make up for what I did, what I didn't do.”
“I'm the one who left,” Yuuri whispered. His throat ached. Wolfram's averted eyes were too bright. If Wolfram cried he didn't know what he'd do. “I'm so sorry for
leaving like that.”
“You didn't plan to leave.” It was suddenly so easy to forgive him for that. After all, “I have been planning to leave for a long time now. At least I have a chance
to make a proper goodbye before I go. That's more than you had.”
Yuuri pulled him off the crate and hugged him fiercely. “You're not going anywhere.” He felt and heard Wolfram take a hitching breath, and held him tighter. “I
won't let you go anywhere.”
“I have to,” Wolfram choked out. His throat was so tight it hurt to breathe. He wanted to sink into the embrace, wanted so badly to feel wanted and needed.
Yuuri did care. But Yuuri cared about everyone and everything and that wasn't good enough anymore. He wasn't a lonely child starving for some bit of
affection. What he wanted, what he really craved, was to be necessary. He wanted one person whose world would stop if he wasn't a part of it. He was never
going to get that from Yuuri. He had already died a slow death and Yuuri hadn't even noticed he was gone, hadn't hesitated to leave the moment he was
brought back. Yuuri didn't need him. No one here really did. He took a shaky breath. “I won't stay here and watch you marry someone else. I can't. I'll always
serve you and the kingdom, but I'm going to leave as soon as the engagement is over. I have to.”
“It's not going to be over. I'm going to marry you.”
“I wish you wouldn't say things like that.” He dropped his head against Yuuri with a pained smile. Yuuri sounded so determined it would have been easy to
believe him. He wrapped his arms around Yuuri and hugged him back, grateful for the kind words if not the sentiment behind them. “You can make your
decision after your coming of age ceremony. You'll still be a child until then,” he murmured. His voice was too quiet for the teasing tone he had been trying to
put into it. He leaned back so he could see Yuuri's eyes. They were as damp as his own felt. Poor Yuuri, trying his hardest to do it right. There was no right
between them. “You're too young to risk being forced into marriage.” He gave him a teasing smile. “There is no bolt on this door. We could claim we were
dancing, but I doubt anyone would believe it.”
Yuuri reluctantly let Wolfram step away. This was the second time today someone had warned him about the possibility of a forced marriage. He frowned as he
watched Wolfram climb over the crate to rummage in the pile behind it. “It wouldn't be a forced marriage. You can't force the willing,” he blurted. “I'm not afraid
of a shotgun wedding.”
“We're not going to have any kind of wedding,” Wolfram muttered before he could stop himself. He winced when he heard Yuuri climbing over the crate behind
him. Yuuri could be nearly as stubborn as he was. They could very well end up arguing all night until Yuuri's mind was set on marrying him, just to prove that
his mind was set on marrying him. He didn't want anything more between them to be done simply to prove a point. He turned with a warning frown. “Yuuri-”
“Can a king even be forced to marry?” Yuuri asked sharply. He was angry, mostly at himself. Wolfram didn't believe him. That was his fault and he didn't know
how to fix it. He had never appreciated him, had never really seen just what he had until it was gone. If he couldn't get Wolfram to trust him, he'd lose him
again. He couldn't stand the thought of that. “If someone came in here and saw us kissing, could they really force us to marry?”
Wolfram flushed indignantly. “I would never kiss you in a place like this. It's filthy, for one thing.” His eyes widened when Yuuri stalked toward him. “Don't even
think it. Yuuri, I swear if you kiss me just to prove that you can I will beat you to within an inch of your life.” His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword when he felt
Yuuri's maryoku flare at that threat. “I meant it, Yuuri.”
“I believe you,” Yuuri said, stopping right in front of him. “I want you to believe me, too. I want to kiss you. I want to make out with you.” Wolfram's eyes
narrowed, but now wasn't the time to explain that term. “I want to marry you. More than any of that, right now I want...” He curled his hands into fists and let out
a shaky laugh. “What I really want is to spar with you. Right here and now.” His eye glanced over the boxes and glints in the piles around them. “We'd destroy
this entire room and I couldn't care less.” Wolfram was still eyeing him warily. Yuuri gave him an unhappy frown. “Murata told me it's normal for mazoku to have
hormone surges when they come of age. I guess my Maou side is slipping a bit. Sorry.” He forced himself to turn away before he made things worse. “I'll look
for the vase on the other side of the room. White with roses on it, right?”
Wolfram caught his arm before he could take a single step. “How much energy did Anissina take from you earlier?” Concern overcame everything else as he
vividly recalled the months leading up to his own coming of age. Why hadn't he considered that? Yuuri had more maryoku than a full-blooded adult mazoku.
His wouldn't be the token ceremony normally performed for half-mazoku. Yuuri was experiencing a real physical change. Wolfram cringed at the thought of
Yuuri being reduced to a quivering ball of self-loathing. His mother's talks hadn't helped him one bit. He could only pray she didn't try to help Yuuri through
this. “What exactly did Murata tell you?”
Yuuri grew nervous as Wolfram's open fear infected him. “Murata just said that it was normal. He said I'd be fine as long as I don't let my Maou side take over.”
“And Anissina?”
“She acted like she took a lot, but it didn't feel that way to me.” He winced and admitted, “I was angry at the time. I barely noticed what she took.”
Wolfram nodded. “Getting angry easily is the least of our worries. You'll want to meditate and spar and...” He blushed furiously as he realized Yuuri wouldn't be
able to do the other thing that helped, not in his room.
“What's wrong?”
“You really are attracted to me,” Wolfram blurted. His face was so hot it hurt. Yuuri blinked and then blushed dark enough to make him feel somewhat better. It
was still difficult to look him in the eye. “If Mother's perfume amplified things, this is a thousand times worse.” But it also made it very difficult to lie to oneself.
His own coming of age had forced him to accept that he served no purpose in the world and he had hated himself long and hard before firmly burying away his
childish dreams. What had Yuuri's forced him to accept? His feelings for him? Wolfram dropped his eyes, wondering with more hope than he should have
allowed just how Yuuri would deal with those revelations. Maybe Yuuri would bury those unwanted desires as deeply as he had. If he did, then for Yuuri's sake
Wolfram hoped they never resurfaced the way his had. Then again, Yuuri wasn't likely to have his heart stopped any time soon. That had a way of shaking
things loose.
“We should probably look for that vase,” Yuuri said slowly. He didn't want to. He didn't want Wolfram to let go of his arm. He wanted to hold him again, to kiss
him and ask what that third option was that had made Wolfram blush like that. But Wolfram did let go of him, so he turned away and made his way to the other
side of the room.
His eyes passed blindly over shelves of dusty artifacts. He opened a chest of glittering coins and jewels, and reached in to play idly with a string of gold and
green. Even if Wolfram did wear jewelry this would clash horribly with his uniform. It would be beautiful against his bare skin, though. Yuuri dropped the
necklace and slammed the lid of the chest with more force than necessary. He sent a guilty look over his shoulder and frowned when he spotted Wolfram
sitting on his heels before a low shelf. “Did you find it?”
“I should have known,” Wolfram murmured. “She came in to take something, yet she wanted to draw it instead of keeping it. A vase she coveted but couldn't
steal...”
Something in Wolfram's tone had Yuuri scowling as he hurried over to him. The vase was dusty, more gray than white, but the moment Yuuri looked at it he
understood exactly how Greta had felt. He wanted to take a picture of it and put it online for everyone to see and envy. “I don't even take pictures,” he
murmured to himself.
“I painted it when Mother first received it,” said Wolfram. “The painting was such an exact replica I had to destroy it. People wanted to draw the painting the
same way I had drawn the original.”
The thought of Wolfram painting something realistic was enough to snap Yuuri out of his trance. He sent him a look of disbelief. “You painted an exact replica?”
Wolfram smiled without taking his eyes off the vase. “I hadn't developed a style yet. I just reproduced what I saw. Anyone can do that.” He leaned forward and
gently blew some of the dust off the vase. “It isn't even pretty. Brother said it was cursed. Mother called it an enchantment. I think the woman who made it was
in love with her. She wanted the vase to be duplicated the world over so everyone would see and worship, but never touch. Mother was the only one who
could touch it. I thought she had destroyed it. How sentimental of her to put it away down here. Sympathy for an unrequited love...”
“Wolfram?”
“Yes, Yuuri?”
“Stop looking at the vase.”
Wolfram let out a quiet laugh as he reached blindly around the floor for any paper that might be nearby. “I don't think I can,” he admitted. “This is why Greta
wanted to draw it rather than steal it. We should move one of the crates in front of this shelf when we leave.” He sighed with relief when Yuuri shoved a slip of
paper into one of his hands. His eyes finally left the vase, dropping to widen on the torn page he was holding. He quickly rose, putting his back to the shelf and
reaching down to pull Yuuri up with him. “Where did you find this?”
“It was under my knee,” Yuuri admitted. “Is it-”
“From the same book as Greta's? Quite possibly.” Wolfram helped Yuuri shove a crate in front of the shelf. Then he held up the page where he could see it.
“Sketchbook of the Great Sage. What do you suppose are the odds of that?”
Yuuri stared at the fancy lettering for a long while. Then he grabbed Wolfram's hand and pulled him toward the door. “I have a good idea where to find him,
too.”
.-.
Murata was taking a well-deserved nap in Yuuri's ridiculously large bed when a weight suddenly flopped over his legs. He sat up with his heart pounding in his
throat. “What-”
“They know about the map. You might want to return to the temple.”
“Don't do that,” Murata huffed. “Unlike you, I can actually die from a heart attack.” He shoved the body off his legs. “I liked it better when you were a proper
ghost.”
“They know about the map,” Shinou warned him. “They're on their way here now.”
“The map,” Murata repeated, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “The map you said no one would ever connect to me? That map?”
Shinou rose, looking more sheepish than guilty. “I didn't know they'd find the title page. I can't predit the future.”
“No, but you're very good at setting the future up so it turns out just the way you want it to. I told you I'm finished helping you meddle. I want no part of it.”
“Which is why I haven't done anything since you came back. Ulrike is the only one who knew I was still around. All I did was keep an eye on Greta. It was the
least I could do since you let Yuuri linger on Earth for so long. How was I to know she would try to give back that page from our sketchbook?”
“It is not my sketchbook,” Murata muttered. He put on his glasses and eyed the door, debating the merits of bolting versus confessing. Not that he had
anything to confess to aside from consorting with a meddling ghost. He hadn't even done that much by choice. “You know very well I destroyed all of my
sketchbooks before I died. Just because some tinkerer named his pad after me doesn't make it mine.”
“Maybe you can explain that to them. They'll be here any minute.” Shinou frowned thoughtfully. He wondered how Yuuri knew Murata would be in his room.
“Yes,” said Murata, “that's a grand idea. And when they ask how I knew about it, I can tell them that a little ghost whispered it in my ear.” He glowered when
Shinou vanished, reappearing as a weightless miniature sitting on his right shoulder. “Will you be sticking around this time?”
“No. Whatever happens between them can't have anything to do with me.”
“Yet you were obviously spying on them or you wouldn't know they're on their way here.”
“I took a few discrete peeks in on them. I'm not a voyeur. Notice that I am not disclosing anything that I may have seen aside from the fact that they know about
the map and intend to confront you about it.”
The tone implied that he had seen quite a bit. Murata wished Shinou had taken physical form so he could swat him off his shoulder. “Just because you're not
gossiping doesn't mean you aren't meddling. Still! Haven't you had enough yet? What exactly are you hoping will happen?”
“I just want them to be happy.”
Murata scoffed. “I know better. You brought Yuuri here when he was the same age as Wolfram because you wanted Wolfram to fall for him.”
“He had the heart-”
“Meanwhile, you fully expected Yuuri to fall for Conrad. You intentionally set them up for heartbreak. Isn't it enough you screwed up Cecilies love life without
messing up her son's?”
“I had less of a hand in that than you think,” Shinou said coolly. “I supported her marriages-” He frowned when Murata snorted. “Very well. I promoted her
marriages. But she wanted them and loved them and loves the sons she got from them. She has no regrets. Wolfram is the only one who holds what I did
against me.”
“Which is why you should talk to him. Now would be as good a time as any.”
“They can't know I'm still around until they have decided for themselves where they will go from here. The future is theirs. I'm just sticking around for the ride.”
The presence vanished an instant before the door opened. Murata's shoulders slumped. Shinou obviously wasn't sticking around for this particular ride. He
watched as Yuuri tried and failed to tug Wolfram into the room. Shinou wouldn't tell him whether he wanted them together or not. He suspected Shinou still felt
he owed it to Conrad to give Julia back to him. For a spirit who could see everything when he wanted to, he was very blind. Julia was dead and buried. All that
remained was Yuuri. Wolfram was a perfect match for Yuuri.
“You caught me,” Murata said, strolling to them with a smile. “When I heard you weren't sleeping in here any more, I didn't think you'd mind me borrowing the
room. It's much bigger than the one I usually stay in when I'm in the castle.”
Yuuri stepped back when Murata joined them in the hall. Wolfram refused to set one foot inside his bedroom even to talk to Murata. He was surprised by how
much that hurt. He pushed that down as firmly as he could. “I'm not here about you using the room. I'm here about this.”
Murata eyed the slip of paper with honest contempt. “Sketchbook of the Great Sage? My sketchbooks were of much better quality than this. They were also
very flammable. I burned them shortly before my death. This isn't from anything of mine.”
“You don't know anything about it?” Yuuri sent a quick look at Wolfram and received a nod. “We think Greta's map was on a page from the same book as this.
We were hoping this might help us find it.”
Murata handed the paper back. He had thought that vanquishing Soushuu would rid him of the need for subterfuge and lies. Had he known Shinou would now
be able to use his energy to take corporeal form he might have stayed back on Earth. Things were supposed to be simple now, not more complicated than
ever. “I was told that Greta's map vanished from your room. Were there guards stationed outside the door that night?”
“The guards,” Wolfram said, sending a frustrated frown at Yuuri. “Of course. The guards can tell us everyone who entered your room from the moment you left
the map till the moment you noticed it was missing. We can get the names and confront them. If none of them confess we'll know one of them is lying. Then it's
just a matter of figuring out which one.”
“We should have thought of that,” Yuuri agreed with a wince. “Thanks, Murata.”
“I'm glad to help,” Murata smiled. “Now, about the room-”
“It's all yours,” Yuuri waved. He tugged Wolfram down the hall. “Let's ask the guards outside your room first. Then maybe we can spar a little while we're over
there?”
Wolfram couldn't help but smile at Yuuri's expression. He looked both wary and hopeful. “I know you hate crossing swords with me, but it really does help.
You'll feel awful if you flare up and hurt someone.”
“Especially you.”
Wolfram gaped and then laughed. “You're worried about hurting me? Oh, Yuuri, you should be so lucky! You would have to go full Maou in order to beat me
and I haven't done anything to earn a 'punishment' from him. I was referring to your maryoku flaring up when you're going about your day. You'll have to be
careful that it doesn't flare up around Greta or the maids. Even Gisela could be hurt by it if she were too close. When you get angry, either meditate it down or
find someone to spar with. I'll volunteer members of my own squad if I'm not available to fight with you myself.”
“Even Lukas?”
Wolfram looked down at the hand that had tightened around his own. He shouldn't get so much pleasure from Yuuri's jealousy, particularly when there was no
basis for it. He smirked anyway. “Especially Lukas. He's very good at being irritating. He might even be able to irritate you into using your magic. Daniel is
better with a sword, but Lukas has the highest maryoku of anyone on my squad.”
“After you.”
“Well, of course.”
Yuuri squeezed his hand again. “I'd rather fight you.” He drank in Wolfram's smile. It was worth being beaten into the dust to have Wolfram smile at him like
that. And, besides, he had been promising Morgif a nice fight. He just hoped sparring with Wolfram would help dampen the urge to do things fiances didn't, as
a rule, do.
As soon as Murata closed the door, arms slipped around his shoulders and pulled him back a step. He sent a sidelong scowl at the cheek pressing against his
own. “We've talked about this.”
“We haven't been half brothers in a very long time, if we ever were to begin with.”
“That's not the point. This is my last life remembering everything. Wait until we're reincarnated.”
Shinou let out a quiet laugh. “You say that as if you think I intend to have our souls placed closely enough for us to meet up in our next life.” Which was exactly
what he had intended to do all along. But he hadn't known then that he would be able to take form once freed of Soushuu. He saw no point in waiting when
they could enjoy a semblance of life right now. Murata was stubborn, though. His Daikenja had always been stubborn. “Speaking of our next life, would you
prefer to be born as a male or a female?”
“As if it matters.” Lips brushed his neck and he squirmed free. “We've talked about this. I'm not going to change my mind.”
“You have never been kissed in this lifetime, just like your first.”
“Perhaps I intend to keep it that way,” Murata muttered. He definitely didn't intend to live his last life sleeping with a dead man.
“I don't want you to die a virgin again.”
Murata scoffed and plopped back on the bed. “I'm just a teenager in this life. There are plenty of years left for me, and lots of people on earth. I might hook up
with someone eventually. Some of the girls over there are very cute.”
“I see.” Shinou joined him, stretching out on his back and folding his hands behind his head. It was so nice to feel things again. He patiently looked forward to
the moment Murata gave in and let him feel even more. “Tell me, will these girls be wearing the scarves, or will you?”
“I knew you were eavesdropping,” Murata laughed. “I've never used scarves on anyone. Or had them used on me,” he added, before Shinou could get any
ideas. “I was just messing with Yuuri. He makes it too easy.”
“And the 'block' you claimed to have been around?”
“Just once as a male,” Murata frowned. “It wasn't something I cared to repeat.”
“Then you would prefer to be a female in your next life?”
“Not really. Too much regular bleeding. I definitely prefer being male. And tall. It's frustrating being this short and weak.” He folded his arms over his chest and
scowled up at the ceiling. “You wouldn't believe how often I've been bullied in this lifetime. I might as well have no maryoku at all.”
“You have enough for me to be here. You could live out your life with me. No one would dare bully you here.”
“No,” Murata snorted, “I'd be avoided and condemned for consorting with the spirit of a man rumored to have been my half brother. That's not much better
than being bullied. I actually like people now, and prefer to have them like me. In case you hadn't noticed.”
“I noticed,” Shinou smiled. “Have you noticed that the rumor of our possible relation died long before I did? I think you protest too much.”
“Don't,” Murata warned, half serious and half laughing. “I didn't share those plays so you could spout them back to me. If you start quoting Shakespeare at me,
I'm going to hop on one of Anissina's bikes and ride all of my maryoku off so you'll be stuck floating around the temple for the rest of the week.”
“Would you really do that? Yes,” Shino frowned, “of course you would. You can be a cold taskmaster when you set your mind to it. I recall Cecilie was quite
fond of scarves during her second marriage. There may still be some sturdy ones stored away in the castle...”
“You wouldn't dare,” Murata said dismissively. He closed his eyes and pulled off his glasses, letting Shinou set them on the nightstand. He enjoyed his
company when he wasn't being an infuriating meddler, but he really did prefer him not having a physical body. They were too unevenly matched now, so much
so that he felt like a child next to him. Still, a deviant part of him longed to wake up bound by scarves with Shinou stretched out over him. That little fantasy had
followed him through more lifetimes than he cared to count and retained its appeal no matter what sort of body he was living in. It was a good thing Shinou
couldn't possibly make it real. Shinou couldn't manifest physically at a distance from him and he doubted Wolfram had left any scarves behind in this room.
There might be a few socks the maids had missed that could be stretched long enough, but even an amorous spirit would balk at that.
.-.
PART 12
.-.
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