Passion: Diaphonic Symphonia Novel - Chapter 39

“That’s right. Whether you give up the right to the possibility of succession—that is, to become a candidate—from the very beginning, or if you give up midway.”

“How is that different?”

“Whether you have to bear responsibility for your choice, or not. That’s the difference.”

Jeong Taeui looked at Richard in silence for a moment. Then he looked at Ilay, and finally at the children assembling the guns in front of him, and said,

“So, if you give up your right to succession from the beginning, there are no disadvantages, but if you give up midway, you have to pay a commensurate price, is that what it means?”

Richard nodded. Jeong Taeui thought for a moment, then asked again.

“Do the children know that?”

Since they were talking about it right in front of the children, they surely knew, but he was curious about how much they understood and comprehended.

Richard smiled and said, “Of course.”

“Since their lives are at stake, it’s only fair that the children are given a choice. When we first present the choice to the children, we tell them everything they need to know. Whether they will participate in the competition to inherit Tarten or not. If they refuse to participate from the beginning, that’s the end of it. That child loses the possibility of inheriting Tarten, but they also don’t have to pay any price for it. They can live freely and normally, mingling with others, without any disadvantages.”

Jeong Taeui looked down at the children.

The quick-fingered child had almost finished assembling the gun. The clumsy-fingered child was a bit slower.

However, in other fields, the quick-fingered child might fall behind, and the clumsy-fingered child might excel.

No one could be superior in all aspects, and that’s why competition was needed to determine their overall superiority. Not a short-term, accidental superiority, but an inevitable superiority that emerged after long-term observation of the competition.

Now, it was impossible to judge which child was better or worse. Because a child who was lagging now could grow at an astonishing speed. Then, upon becoming an adult and accomplishing each task laid before them, a clear difference would eventually emerge that anyone—even they themselves—would have to acknowledge.

Just as everyone now considered Richard to be the most superior.

“That means if they give up during the competition, there are disadvantages, then?”

Jeong Taeui asked back, thinking of Christoph. As far as Jeong Taeui remembered, Christoph had also quit midway.

Richard looked at the almost assembled gun of the child, then surveyed the floor around him. He picked up a fallen spring and handed it to the child. The child’s face crumpled, and he began to disassemble the gun again. Richard smiled, gently telling him to try again slowly, and then, with the same smiling face, continued calmly.

“If they decide to join the competition from the very beginning, then until they become adults, that child can gain all the experiences they desire under Tarten’s full support. Everything they want to learn, know, master, or see, hear, or feel, can be supported. …You might not believe it, but providing a perfect environment for one child costs an enormous amount of money. It’s an amount that would be hard to accumulate even in a lifetime through conventional means. All of that, these children can be provided with.”

Jeong Taeui responded, “Yes…” in a meaningless tone. And waited for him to continue.

“Now… but what if the child gives up on the succession competition midway? All their efforts until then go to waste. Of course, the funds and the child’s own time are one thing, but the time, effort, and resources of others who put their all into providing everything for that child become useless. So, it’s natural that the child who gives up should incur a corresponding penalty.”

“….”

Penalty.

The child had to return what they had received.

What he had been provided by others, as he said, was time, effort, and material.

Among those, what could be returned.

“We recover the resources that went into raising that child. They must pay that amount.”

“No, you said it was an amount that couldn’t be accumulated in a lifetime.”

“Yes, by conventional means.”

When Jeong Taeui asked, Richard readily nodded. Jeong Taeui looked at him with a bewildered expression.

“By what unconventional method do they have to repay that money?”

“That is at the discretion of the person.”

He concluded so simply that Jeong Taeui was momentarily speechless.

“Similarly, the time and effort that must be repaid are recognized as the cost of acquiring that material. …Simply put, they just have to repay the money.”

The words, What kind of family is this? welled up in his throat.

Jeong Taeui stared blankly at Richard, then looked down at the children again.

The child who had completed the assembly second was checking if anything was missing. The child, who had quietly pulled the hammer, smiled shyly when his eyes met Jeong Taeui’s.

“Then, if they compete until the very end, until a successor is chosen, they won’t have to repay those costs, right?”

Jeong Taeui asked without looking at Richard. “That’s right,” he replied. Jeong Taeui was silent for a moment.

“Then, if they just stay until the end without giving up midway, they wouldn’t have to receive that penalty, so why does anyone give up?”

“Perhaps because everyone thinks differently. Once a successor is chosen, the remaining competitors have to live assisting the successor under them. —If someone lacks confidence in being chosen as a successor but has a personality that dislikes working under others, wouldn’t they rather pay an enormous compensation even if it takes a lifetime, just to be free from others’ commands?”

Richard’s voice was calm.

Ilay, who had been listening silently beside him until then, chuckled softly.

“It sounds like you’re talking about yourself. If you hadn’t had the possibility of being chosen as successor, you would have chosen to pay the compensation, even if it took a lifetime. Since you’re the type who can’t work under others.”

Richard raised an eyebrow but shook his head with a smile.

“Nonsense, not at all. And I’m not confident that I’ll be the successor.”

“That’s not humility, that’s hypocrisy.”

“Thanks for the compliment.”

Richard calmly retorted to Ilay’s snickering remark. Then, to the children who had finished assembling, he told them to disassemble it again. After assembling it one more time, he added, “I’ll teach you the most effective way to use it for children your age.”

Jeong Taeui watched them, lost in thought.

Just as one cannot judge another person, one cannot criticize a structure or method just because it is unfamiliar. Any method, having its disadvantages, also has advantages.

But.

“If they’re made to choose at such a young age, there’s a high chance they’ll regret it later. It seems harsh to me.”

Jeong Taeui said with a bitter smile.

It was something he could have swallowed without saying—something that would do him no good to say—but he ended up saying it anyway.

However, Richard shook his head with that gentle face.

“At any time, one must bear the responsibility for their own choices.”

Jeong Taeui fell silent.

This was the thought of a man named Richard. And perhaps that thought was also the thought of the entire Tarten family, who had actively—or passively—agreed to this method being passed down.

Jeong Taeui was lost in thought for a moment longer but soon let out a quiet sigh.

If it happens with their consent, then it’s fine, he supposed.

“Christoph, in a way, knew where he should be and where he shouldn’t. It’s just a pity he didn’t realize it sooner, then he wouldn’t have had to bear the burden of compensation.”

Ilay mumbled slowly. In his faint, smiling voice, there wasn’t a single shred of pity.

Jeong Taeui clicked his tongue. He pulled at his hair for a moment, then sighed again.

Ilay looked down at Jeong Taeui. He turned his gaze to the distant forest. As if he knew Christoph was there.

“This isn’t where he should be.”

“…Yeah. You’re right.”

Jeong Taeui agreed weakly. He was so drained that his voice had no power in it at all.

Indeed, today was not a good day. Fatigue was just accumulating in his mind and body. …Come to think of it, how many good days had there really been since he came here?

“Yeah. That’s right. Rather, T&R’s mobile unit, which is rumored to be a den of madmen, would have been a more fitting place for him.”

“Ah, right. …”

After saying “That’s right,” Ilay, who had spent time with Christoph in that den of madmen, subtly frowned.

Jeong Taeui stared blankly at the forest.

Occasionally, he could faintly hear short shouts or the sounds of horses galloping, as if someone was spurring their horse from near the forest entrance.

He recalled Christoph, who handled horses so well that he made almost no sound, and you couldn’t tell how he did it just by watching. Sometimes, he even felt as if Christoph was talking to the horses.

He doesn’t belong here.

Yet, elsewhere, he blends in so naturally.

“….”

Jeong Taeui sighed and shook his head.

He should stop thinking. Otherwise, only unpleasant thoughts would keep coming.

“…But.”

Once he consciously blocked thoughts of Christoph, something that had bothered him fleetingly while listening to the conversation earlier, but which he had momentarily forgotten, came to mind.

Jeong Taeui stared intently at Ilay, then shifted his gaze to Richard. This time, with a look of shock, Jeong Taeui, tilting his head in disbelief, slowly asked,

“Earlier, you said the person who received the offer to be a succession candidate but refused was Johann, but surely, not that Johann…?! ”

“As far as I know, there’s only one Johann in this house.”

“Ah, come to think of it, you two seemed to get along quite well… he’s an interesting friend, isn’t he?”

After a moment’s hesitation, the compliment “interesting friend” didn’t sound ordinary at all. It translated into sounding like he was implying, That guy also has a slight mental illness.

Jeong Taeui looked at them with a dumbfounded expression.

Of course, there were times when he would occasionally marvel at how smart that guy was while talking, but that was a separate issue.

Come to think of it, Christoph was also a strong candidate for succession until he quit…

“… …Tarten… doesn’t seem to place much importance on the character of the person who will be the successor?”

If that were the case, no matter how outstanding one’s abilities, how would the family operate? But then, the elder he had seen recently seemed like a person of excellent character, he mused, deep in agony, not seeing Richard’s ambiguous, silent smile in front of him.

Instead, Ilay, with a wide grin, said something to both of them that was far from desirable to hear.

“You’re implying that your character has quite a few problems, Richard.”

Only after hearing Ilay add, as if admiring, “What excellent insight,” did Jeong Taeui realize what he had said to Richard.

His face hardened with a gasp, and he quickly stammered, “No, that’s not what I meant, what I was trying to say…” Richard smiled and told Jeong Taeui, “It’s fine,” but Jeong Taeui felt as if he had spilled a water jug. A water jug that couldn’t be picked up.

No, in fact, he had subtly thought that this man also had a lot of character issues, but he hadn’t intended to reveal that meaning so overtly. Why did Richard chime in when Johann was being discussed?

Jeong Taeui painfully reflected on his mistake. And he glared fiercely at Ilay, who bore great responsibility for this situation. In an attempt to somehow salvage the situation, he decided to turn the arrow.

“But it can’t be compared to T&R’s mobile unit, where they pick members by ranking their character in reverse order… It seemed like they had a lot of problems not just with character but with personnel selection too.”

He didn’t like the tactic of attacking others to escape his own predicament, but he had no choice now. Besides, even if he attacked someone else, hadn’t that person caused the problem?

Ilay, still with a pleasant light in his narrowed eyes, suddenly smiled slyly at Jeong Taeui’s words.

“You mean that mobile unit where Christoph played a role.”

I’m talking about you, you!

Jeong Taeui shouted in his heart as loud as he could, but Ilay muttered as if it were someone else’s business, as if he had nothing to do with that place.

“Besides, that problematic personnel selection… all of them were quite familiar faces to me, but the one who picked them out was my brother. Yes, I thought there were quite a few problems too… I’ll tell him later.”

Gasp…

It felt like he had spilled another water jug.

No, what I want to say is, Jeong Taeui tried to rephrase.

What I want to say is about your character issues.

“So, what should I say, about that character, which was only rumored to be very famous at the European branch of UNHRDO in the past.”

“Ah, yes… Indeed, there were some issues with personnel selection there. I actually had no intention of becoming an instructor at that organization, nor did I expect to be offered the position.”

“Exactly! It’s a huge problem to select people for key positions based only on their abilities, without considering their character!”

“Although it was related to arms dealing, anyway, the person who covertly pushed me into that position was one of the instructors at the Asian branch there. Jeong… what was his name again…”

“….”

Better to just shut up. He’d break all the remaining water jugs.

Richard, who had been sitting with his chin propped on the table, rolling his eyes between the two, seemed curious as to why Jeong Taeui had suddenly fallen silent, but he didn’t ask.

Just then, as if to help Jeong Taeui, who had begun to exercise his right to silence, a child who had disassembled and reassembled the gun fiddled with it and asked,

“If you pull the hammer here, and then pull the trigger, the bullet comes out, right?”

“That’s right. I’ll teach you how to load the ammunition a little later.”

Richard turned his attention to the child and replied. Ilay, who had been looking down at the child fiddling with the gun, humming, suddenly said, “Just a moment,” and took the gun from the child.

As Richard had said, it was a model made exactly like the real thing. There was no visible difference in appearance. Jeong Taeui looked at the gun in Ilay’s hand with admiration. Models are made so well these days.

Ilay gripped and released the gun a few times, muttering,

“As expected, it’s much lighter. With this, even toy bullets wouldn’t be effective. No, would it even shoot?”

He tapped the barrel with his fingertip, then pulled the hammer. Click, a much lighter sound than a real gun echoed.

“Even if it’s just for kids’ practice, this won’t feel good to shoot at all.”

Ilay twirled the gun once, then gripped it again, and with a sneer, pointed the muzzle at Jeong Taeui. Jeong Taeui frowned, looking at the muzzle aimed at him.

“Stop it. Even if it’s a model, it sends chills down my spine when you’re holding it.”

“Haha, even I can’t kill someone with an empty gun…”

It was then.

The child, who had been looking at them with a somewhat flustered expression ever since Ilay aimed at Jeong Taeui, urgently cried out, “Oh!” as Ilay pulled the finger he had on the trigger.

But the sound was a beat too late.

Bang!—with a light sound, Ilay’s wrist shook slightly. The barrel and sights of the gun, clumsily assembled by the child’s hand, tilted and twisted slightly.

Simultaneously with that short, light pop, a brief gasp burst from Jeong Taeui’s lips: “Ah!” He grimaced sharply and bent at the waist, slowly crouching down.

For a few seconds, silence flowed.

Richard stood up, flustered, and all the children stared with wide eyes. Only the child who had assembled the gun muttered awkwardly with a comically crumpled face.

“I was curious how strong it was, so I cut an eraser and put it in… Mister, are you okay?”

In the instantly frozen air, the child approached Jeong Taeui, bewildered.

Jeong Taeui, who had been clutching his stomach and crouching, only managed to stammer out after a moment of silence,

“If possible… I’d prefer my brother… but was it really an eraser? Why does it hurt so much… damn it.”

As Jeong Taeui mumbled, even in a dying voice, the stiff atmosphere loosened.

The children muttered, “We were surprised,” and Richard sighed lightly, laughing.

“It’s a good thing it was a model. If we had been practicing with a real one, and at such close range, even an eraser could have been dangerous depending on where it hit.”

“Ugh… my side…”

Jeong Taeui slowly stood up, rubbing the area between his side and stomach.

It had hurt quite a bit.

The impact had made him instinctively bend at the waist.

Did I get a bruise? Jeong Taeui muttered to himself, rubbing his waist, then suddenly glanced at Ilay.

“So, you’re just going to shoot me with a gun like this just because I tried to make a judgment about your character…?”

No matter how he reasoned, the circumstances clearly indicated that it was not Ilay’s fault, but Jeong Taeui, who had been on the defensive until recently, clung to his pain as leverage.

Ilay stood holding the gun, silently staring at Jeong Taeui.

Jeong Taeui fell silent.

A featureless face. A face that locked away any expression of emotion, completely unreadable. He couldn’t even guess what Ilay was thinking.

“Il—… Riegrow.”

He called his name.

Then, as if returning from another world, Ilay looked at Jeong Taeui with a displeased expression.

“No one gets hurt by just getting hit by a piece of rubber.”

Jeong Taeui glared at him, his eyes like axes, at the overly brazen remark, especially coming from the one who had fired the shot.

Ilay, losing interest, lightly tossed the gun back to the child.

“If the barrel gets misaligned from shooting one piece of rubber, it’s useless even for practice. Your family earns a lot of money, so instead of being stingy, why don’t you use good stuff?”

“Hey, if it were good stuff, I’d be dead by now,” Jeong Taeui grumbled from the side, but Ilay only gave him a fleeting glance and no reply.

It seemed he couldn’t cling to this either.

Jeong Taeui rubbed his throbbing side, inwardly clicking his tongue, “Tsk.”