“Please! Anything but execution! Have mercy, Your Highness!”
The instant he came to his senses, Soichiro Kanzaki found himself staring at a long row of men prostrating themselves before him.
His surprise was not simply due to wondering what sort of unreasonable customer would demand such an inhumane apology. A red carpet stretched out before him across a white stone floor. The chamber was easily three times the size of a large conference room, with lavishly ornamented doors and enormous windows that admitted a dazzling flood of daylight. And kneeling before him were dozens upon dozens of men.
Anyone capable of taking this in stride must have nerves of steel.
“This accusation of treason is nothing but a fabrication by the nobles! Lord Raficel would never do such a thing!”
“What nonsense! Would he have been arrested if there were no conclusive evidence?”
“He clearly intended to murder Lord Zephal and seize his place in the line of succession! A second prince born to a concubine should know his place!”
“His Majesty still lies ill, yet he shows no concern for him whatsoever. What appalling selfishness!”
*Oh? I recognize a few of those names…*
As though prompted by lines he had heard before, the next words slipped naturally from his lips.
“—Enough noise. Who gave you permission to speak?”
The low, dignified voice rang through the chamber. Everyone around him froze at once.
Wondering whether that had truly been his own voice, Soichiro touched his throat and felt fabric beneath his fingertips. Gloves. He looked down at himself again and drew a sharp breath. He was wearing neither his office suit nor one of the polo shirts he favored in his free time.
“Your Highness Zephal, surely there is no longer any need to question them. The criminals should be taken to the execution grounds at once.”
A tall man standing beside him leaned down and spoke with a serene smile.
*I see. So I’m Zephal.*
The people who looked as if they belonged in a Western fantasy, the audience chamber, his own extravagant clothing—and, above all, the name Zephal.
Zephal was the villain in one of Soichiro’s favorite novels, *The Abandoned Saintess’s Tale of Revenge*.
*Could this be what they call reincarnation? Even a man pushing fifty can be reincarnated into another world? I see.*
Had he awakened here as a child, perhaps he could have repaired the villain’s relationships with the protagonists and avoided his downfall. Judging by the present scene, however, he had arrived at the very moment when the villain passed judgment upon the heroes.
The bound second prince, Raficel, lay sprawled upon the floor in filthy clothing. His men, lined up beside him, were covered in bruises. They had evidently been handled with considerable violence.
*It really isn’t right to do that to people before their sentences have even been carried out.*
Soichiro frowned, unaware that the expression sent a fresh wave of tension through the room.
If he remembered correctly, Raficel was only fifteen at the time of his condemnation. Soichiro’s heart ached at the thought of treating a boy in the glittering springtime of his youth so cruelly.
With blond hair and blue eyes inherited from his mother, Raficel looked every inch the storybook prince. He had been written as a striking contrast to the black-haired, vermilion-eyed Zephal, and their personalities were equally different. Although he was a concubine’s son, the king adored his intelligence and innocent cheerfulness, raising him tenderly with his mother in a detached palace.
But Raficel had no political backing. Once the father who had been his sole source of protection fell ill and the first prince, Zephal, began ruling in the king’s stead, his life plunged steadily toward ruin.
“……”
“Your Highness? Is something wrong?”
In the original story, Raficel alone would be spared execution. All his supporters would be beheaded, while he would be sent to labor in the mines with hatred burning in his heart. Several years later, he would return with the Saintess to take his revenge. Soichiro had read that future again and again.
But if events continued as written, the royal capital was destined to become a sea of flames.
*There is no need to burn everything down. I would prefer a more peaceful solution. This old man is a pacifist, after all.*
“There will be no executions.”
“Th-Then…shall they be sentenced to forced labor?”
“Raficel will serve as my personal attendant. His men are to be employed as assistants within the knight order.”
“E-Employed?”
A murmur of bewilderment swept through the chamber. Raficel’s head flew up, and Soichiro looked down into eyes that remained bright despite the grime upon his face. Their gazes met, and Soichiro saw an unbroken strength of will within them.
“Are you dissatisfied, Raficel?”
“……Not at all. I am grateful for Your Highness’s mercy.”
The bound men were hauled to their feet. Even the guards holding their ropes looked utterly dumbfounded as they led the prisoners from the chamber.
Raficel alone remained behind, bowing so deeply that Soichiro could see the crown of his golden head.
“Raise your head. First, you will bathe. See that he is made presentable, then bring him to my chambers.”
“Y-Yes, Your Highness!”
Watching Raficel disappear amid a cluster of maids, Soichiro released a quiet sigh of relief.
The boy still had to meet the Saintess, the heroine of the novel. Together, Raficel and the Saintess would save this world from disaster and usher in a peaceful future. Only after guiding them toward that ending could Soichiro hope to enjoy a tranquil life of his own.
In the original history, Zephal’s fate was to vanish amid the flames of the royal castle after it was stormed, his survival unknown. It was practically another Honnō-ji Incident.
That conclusion had thrilled Soichiro when he was merely a reader. Now that he was the man destined to meet such an end, however, he wanted no part of it.
Even at this late stage, he would steer the protagonist away from becoming an avenger, guide him onto a respectable path, and have him save the world.
Raficel was Zephal’s half brother and only about five years younger than him, but Soichiro already felt like an uncle looking after a relative’s child. If he counted his age from his previous life, the difference between them was great enough for father and son.
*Grow up big and strong, Holy Knight Raficel…!*
Unaware of the fervent encouragement being sent his way, Raficel pressed his lips tightly together and followed the maids from the room.
* * *
Soichiro Kanzaki had been an ordinary office worker who would turn fifty that year.
The general affairs manager had recently retired and returned under a post-retirement contract, leaving Soichiro to inherit the managerial title largely as a formality. Before retiring, his former supervisor had promised to teach him each task when the need arose. The man complained that his salary had been reduced to a third of its former amount and sometimes acted as though helping were a nuisance, but he nevertheless taught Soichiro all the duties that had previously been passed down only by word of mouth.
Soichiro documented each one as he learned it, ensuring that work would continue smoothly even while he was on leave. Every procedure in the General Affairs Department, down to the smallest detail, was written into manuals and shared. If someone had to take an unexpected day off, another employee could step in. That mattered in a department where many of the women had young children.
“I always thought a department manager did nothing but sit at his desk.”
Even the female employees who had initially resented the extra effort gradually began looking upon him more warmly.
Despite their reluctance, Soichiro also began holding a departmental meeting once a month. He gathered suggestions from part-time and administrative employees who had initially been hesitant to speak and corrected imbalances in the team’s workloads.
Just as the General Affairs Department had begun functioning as it should, a comprehensive medical examination revealed that Soichiro had stomach cancer.
Stage four.
He had dismissed his recent indigestion as nothing serious. In hindsight, he should have gone to the hospital much sooner.
*Ah. I’ve lived this life calmly no matter what waves came my way, but I suppose it will soon be over.*
*“A human life lasts but fifty years. Compared to the lowest heaven, it is no more than a fleeting dream. Once given life, can any man escape destruction?”*
He felt like Nobunaga in the famous final scene with the dance *Atsumori*.
Soichiro loved books and had read many stories about Oda Nobunaga. He was especially fond of characters who seemed villainous yet possessed an irresistible magnetism.
He nodded to himself and decided that this, too, must be fate.
*Oh, that’s right. I should buy one of those thirty limited-edition éclairs this afternoon and take it home.*
He had gone to the trouble of taking half the afternoon off for his appointment. He could stop at a bookstore as well and, for the first time in ages, browse not only the new releases but the backlist shelves. It might be nice to buy all the books he wanted to read before he died.
Soichiro lived alone, so there was no one whose concerns he needed to take into account.
*Now then, what should I have for lunch today—?*
As he crossed the street with that thought in mind, a motorcycle suddenly darted out from beside a large truck and hurtled straight toward him.
*—Huh?*
