A Depressed Kendo Player Possesses a Bastard Aristocrat

Chapter 106.2: Heat flower (6) Part 2

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.

And so, I told them everything.

About the crippling OCD that haunted me after Mother's death.

About why I pushed everyone away.

About the loneliness I felt, the wounds I inflicted upon myself.

Even though I was confessing to the very people who had been there through it all, it wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be.

Perhaps it was because I had already let go of so much.

My voice remained calm and steady as I spoke.

"So... that's how it was."

I ended my story with a simple sentence.

Silence filled the room once more as I finished recounting the long and winding tale of my past.

""......""

I took a sip of my drink and glanced at them.

Both Gilbert and Father were looking at me with complicated expressions.

Shock, pity, sadness, worry... countless emotions flickered in their eyes.

I gave a wry smile.

"Don't look at me like that. I know I was foolish."

Just because the world had hurt me...

Didn't give me the right to lash out at everyone around me.

"It's just... back then, I wasn't thinking straight..."

I mumbled, more to myself than anyone else, and emptied my glass.

A shaky breath, heavy with the scent of alcohol, escaped my lips and dissipated into the air.

"You asked me earlier, Gilbert, if I was alright."

I wasn't.

"Not at all... Nothing is alright. Everything is a mess."

I had hurt too many people, and had been hurt too many times.

It was too late to wonder how it had come to this.

"Can I fix it?"

"..."

"If I try hard enough, can I make things right again...?"

I missed the days when Mother was still alive.

When everything was beautiful and bright.

When I was surrounded by love.

When every ray of sunshine seemed to hold a promise of happiness.

"Can I be forgiven... by the people I pushed away... the people I hurt?"

And so, I asked them.

The two people who had witnessed it all.

My plea, laced with desperation, hung heavy in the air.

"Can they... love me again...?"

Can I ever be worthy of their love again?

"No."

Gilbert's voice, firm and resolute, shattered the fragile hope that had bloomed in my chest.

He stroked his beard, his expression serious.

"Those who have been hurt... may not be able to love you again, Young Master."

His words drained me of all strength. I hung my head, my teeth digging into my lip.

I knew it.

"I suppose that's to be expected... It's foolish of me to even ask..."

"However, I will."

Gilbert's voice cut through my bitter mumbling.

I looked up to see a gentle smile gracing the old butler's face.

"I cannot speak for everyone else... but I will remain by your side, Young Master."

"..."

"It is a butler's duty, after all... Little Master."

Little Master.

The long-forgotten nickname sent a shiver down my spine.

Each syllable, warm and comforting, embraced my wounded heart.

My vision, clear even through the haze of alcohol, blurred with unshed tears.

"..."

"Do you need a handkerchief, Young Master?"

I accepted the offered handkerchief without a word and wiped my damp eyes.

I was grateful.

So incredibly grateful for the hope he offered so casually, so effortlessly.

Tears streamed down my face.

"Gilbert... Th-thank you..."

"Haha... It's been a while since I've seen you cry, Young Master."

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were my choked sobs and Gilbert's soft chuckle.

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