TuxedoTranslations

Chapter 105

After hearing that call, Albin’s heart skipped a beat. He stared blankly into the deep azure eyes only inches away.

Inside the cramped space of the glove, Blake’s fingers were interlocked with his, their hands pressed tightly together as they shared each other’s warmth.

An indescribable sense of fulfillment washed over Albin. Then, the strange feeling of familiarity that had surfaced several times before swept over him again.

His lips trembled.

“Are you… Little Black?”

Blake tightened his grip on Albin’s hand, excitement flashing through his eyes.

“It’s me. You still remember me?”

Guiltily, Albin looked away, but Blake was too close for him to escape.

Blake’s expression gradually dimmed.

“So you really did forget…”

“I didn’t do it on purpose. I lost my memory three years ago. I can’t remember anything from before that.”

Seeing Blake become increasingly dejected, his head lowering, Albin hurriedly added,

“But whether before or after I lost my memory, I’ve been looking for Little Black. I even write letters to him all the time. Thanks to that, I’ve managed to recover some memories.”

“I missed you so much…”

Albin threw his arms around him and complained,

“Where have you been all these years? I’ve been looking for you forever.”

After so many years without any news, he knew there was a good chance something terrible had happened to Little Black.

In this era, it wasn’t easy for a young child with no one to rely on to survive.

But Albin had never wanted to accept that possibility. He had always firmly believed that Little Black was still alive somewhere.

Resting his head on Blake’s shoulder, listening to his breathing and heartbeat, Albin let out a satisfied sigh. His voice became choked with emotion.

“Little Black, you’re still alive… that’s wonderful.”

He had finally found him.

Little Black was alive, standing right in front of him.

Even if his memories were gone, his feelings remained unchanged. The joy and satisfaction overflowing from his heart were almost too much to bear. Albin hugged him tightly, his body trembling with excitement.

Blake hugged him back.

It felt as if a missing piece of himself had finally been returned.

Burying his face against Albin, he breathed in his scent, wanting to carve it permanently into his soul.

A living, breathing Albin.

An Albin whose tearful voice was still so unbearably adorable.

Albin would never know that the moment Blake saw him appear before him under the identity of “Ross,” he had wanted to hold him exactly like this.

He had desperately wanted to confirm whether the person before him was a dream or reality.

His body trembled. He was terrified that this was merely a cruel illusion.

Yet at the same time, he thought that if this truly were a dream, then he would gladly remain trapped within it forever.

Answering Albin’s question, he said softly,

“My master took me away from Thorn City. I’ve been undergoing secret training all these years. I never knew you were looking for me…”

That sounded reassuring enough. At least Little Black hadn’t suffered some terrible fate.

Albin let out a relieved breath.

He had worried that Little Black had suffered greatly all these years, or worse, fallen into slavery again. He had even suspected that he might have been imprisoned somewhere and therefore unable to appear.

Now reunited at last, the two embraced as their overwhelming emotions gradually settled.

Albin cupped Blake’s face with one hand and carefully memorized his features once more.

Then he muttered,

“You don’t even have a crocodile face…”

Had his childhood appearance simply changed that much as he grew up?

Blake looked confused.

“What crocodile face?”

“Hehe, I’ll tell you later. I have so many things to tell you. I’ve accumulated eight whole years’ worth of letters!”

He brushed aside Blake’s bangs.

“You’ll be reading them for a very, very long time.”

It had taken Albin himself a considerable amount of time just to read through five years’ worth of letters.

“I’ll read every single one.”

Blake’s expression was serious.

“They’re Little White’s thoughts and feelings. I’ll treasure all of them.”

The smile on Albin’s face grew even brighter.

Poking Blake’s cheek, he asked,

“And what was all that scary talk earlier about possession and wandering spirits? Did you actually think I was dead? Just because my hair color changed, how did you come up with something that ridiculous?”

Then again, given that they had lost contact for so many years, even Albin himself had worried that something might have happened.

He dispelled the magic on himself, allowing his hair to return to its original short silver-white appearance.

His tone was lighthearted.

Blake, however, became serious.

“I really did witness your death with my own eyes.”

“Huh?”

Albin froze and stared at him in disbelief.

“Did you have a nightmare or something? Aren’t I standing here perfectly alive?”

He grabbed Blake’s hand and pressed it against his chest.

“See? My heart is still beating.”

Then he guided Blake’s hand to his warm cheek and even breathed softly against his palm.

“I’m a living, breathing person. Not some ghost.”

“But I truly saw a silver-white dragon kill you.”

Blake’s voice was unwavering.

“That feeling was real.”

Every time he recalled that scene, he felt as though he had fallen into an icy abyss. A suffocating sense of helplessness enveloped him, and only constant battle could temporarily drive it away.

The pain of that moment had been even worse than watching Albin being taken away years earlier.

No nightmare could ever create emotions that intense.

Albin had died before his eyes.

He had lost him once.

Of that, Blake was absolutely certain.

“It can’t be true!”

Albin responded just as firmly.

“The dragon would never kill me. He’s my father!”

How could his father possibly kill him?

The very idea was absurd.

“He’s been protecting me and taking care of me all these years,” Albin explained. “He’s a wonderful person. He would never do something like that. Besides, I’m still alive.”

Blake fell silent, his brow deeply furrowed.

“But you’ve lost your memories. Maybe he deceived you.”

Blake believed that the dragon had killed Albin and that, somehow, Albin had later come back to life. That was why he thought the memory loss existed.

Albin puffed out his cheeks.

“It’s not like that.”

Both of them stubbornly held to what they had personally witnessed.

Neither could convince the other.

At the same time, countless new questions surfaced in Albin’s mind.

Now that Blake really was Little Black, the hopeful assumptions he’d made earlier no longer worked.

Why had his father attacked Little Black?

Why had he injured him so badly?

Why was the Honeysuckle Merchant Guild hunting Little Black and his companions?

None of those actions matched the family Albin knew.

He fell into thought.

Even so, he chose to trust his family.

There had to be a reason behind all of this.

And he didn’t want to hide the truth from Little Black.

“Little Black, everyone in the White Apostles is my family.”

Blake’s pupils contracted sharply.

“What did you say?”

“I know you seem to have a grudge against the White Apostles,” Albin said firmly. “But I believe there must be some misunderstanding. My father and the others are absolutely not the kind of people you think they are!”

“I came here to uncover the truth. Little Black, can you tell me exactly what happened between you and them?”

Grinding his teeth, Blake answered,

“That man… the Apostle of Pride personally admitted that he killed my father. And back in Thorn City, he was the one who took you away.”

“Took me away?”

Albin searched his memories.

Although he had lost them, he had later asked his father about their first meeting, and it had also been mentioned in the letters.

“No. He rescued me that time. I’ll explain the details later.”

Then he paused.

“As for the father you’re talking about… do you mean the former king of the Kingdom of Cuckoo?”

What?” Blake didn’t understand why Albin had suddenly brought up that person.

Albin explained,

“While searching for you, I investigated your mother’s background. She came from the Mandrake family and was the former queen of the Kingdom of Cuckoo. If that’s the case, then your father must have been that king.”

“I never knew that…” Blake murmured absentmindedly.

He remembered that his master had once mentioned that his mother came from a noble family.

Albin tilted his head in confusion.

“Then when you say ‘father,’ do you mean Uncle Jacques?”

Blake nodded.

Albin looked even more puzzled.

“But Uncle Jacques isn’t dead.”

He explained,

“Back when Uncle Jacques was on the verge of death, he was saved by the Third Apostle of the White Apostles. He’s been unconscious ever since, but he’s definitely not dead. I even went to see him last year.”

“And the Lord of Pride and Uncle Jacques were friends. How could he possibly have killed him?”

Before figuring out why Blake believed the Dragon Lord had killed him, Albin deliberately avoided mentioning that the Lord of Pride was his father—the Dragon Lord.

That would only deepen the misunderstanding.

Blake froze completely, disbelief filling his eyes.

“Really?”

Not only was Albin alive, but his father as well…

“Of course it’s true!” Albin said confidently.

“He’s currently in the Kingdom of Roses. I can take you to see him yourself. Seeing is believing, right?”

Blake trusted Albin, but he still couldn’t understand one thing.

“But the Lord of Pride personally admitted that he killed my father.”

Albin frowned as well.

“I don’t understand why he would say something like that either.”

“Little White, could it be that he deceived you? That what you saw wasn’t real?” Blake guessed.

He trusted Albin, but he couldn’t bring himself to trust those people.

Albin puffed up angrily.

“If you keep saying things like that, I’m going to get mad. I think you’re the one who got tricked, idiot Little Black!”

Then he suddenly paused.

Tricked…

A flash of inspiration struck him.

“Little Black, is it possible that the person you saw was an impostor?”

Maybe someone had been pretending to be them.

Perhaps that fake possessed an ability similar to Larimar’s Mimicry, allowing them to disguise themselves as other people—issuing wanted orders under Gold’s identity and injuring Little Black while impersonating his father.

Maybe his father and the others had already discovered this person’s existence. Perhaps that was why they refused to let him leave—they didn’t want him getting dragged into the situation and being misled.

Maybe even the Dragon Lord Blake saw had been fake.

That’s right. It has to be.

Albin became more and more convinced of the idea.

Blake thought about it.

“That is possible. But how would we confirm it?”

He hadn’t known any of the White Apostles personally before.

Even if someone had impersonated them, he would have had no way to tell.

Could someone have been trying to manipulate him into killing people important to Little White?

If he had unknowingly done something like that, Little White would surely hate him.

The thought sent a chill down Blake’s spine.

Albin immediately thought of the same solution as before.

Catch them in the act.

“Leave it to me. I won’t be fooled by an impostor.”

His confidence was overflowing.

He was certain he could recognize his own family. As long as he saw them face-to-face, he would immediately know whether an impostor truly existed.

“But if there was never any impostor from the beginning…”

Albin hesitated before continuing.

“Then I’ll find out why they did those things.”

He rested his forehead against Blake’s, his crimson eyes shining intensely.

“I don’t want Little Black to force himself to accept something he doesn’t want to accept just because of me. So you can keep believing whatever you believe now. I’ll uncover the truth for you.”

He didn’t want Little Black to suppress his feelings or compromise himself for Albin’s sake.

He trusted his family.

And he trusted Little Black.

He believed that once the truth came to light, it would clear away the misunderstandings and dissolve the resentment between them.

“Okay.”

Blake’s heart was still filled with deep distrust toward the White Apostles.

At the same time, he could clearly feel Albin’s unwavering trust in them, and the contradiction tore at him.

But Albin seemed to understand exactly how he felt.

Albin valued him just as much.

And for Blake, that alone was enough

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