With the exception of what was going on with my brother, who had essentially abandoned our home, everything seemed to be going smoothly…when news broke of an infectious disease outbreak in the country where my father was stationed.
One night, I received an international call from my father, who told me my mother had contracted the infectious disease, that she was unconscious and in critical condition, and that he had contracted the disease as well. I was confused by the news and began to panic…when my father scolded me over the phone.
“Pull yourself together, Gensei! Nothing good will come from you losing your nerve!”
His words hit me like lightning as I gasped, snapping back to my senses. My father gave me as many orders as he could before ending the call, explaining he still had matters he needed to convey to his subordinates and colleagues as well. Even with his wife teetering between life and death and his own health at risk, my father stood firm as a public servant, unyielding to the very end.
“It is your duty to take over for the Suou family when I die, Gensei.”
Those were the last words my father ever spoke to me. Just hours later, his condition took a sudden turn for the worse, and he passed away in that distant land, almost simultaneously with my mother.
When the news eventually reached us, my brother broke down crying…but I didn’t shed a single tear.
“Pull yourself together, Gensei! Nothing good will come from you losing your nerve! What you must do now is fulfill your duty as a Suou!”
My father’s words—the words of a man who embodied the Suou spirit until his last breath—etched themselves deep into my heart. If he were here, he would have scolded me if I had even thought of crying, and he would demand I carry out my duty as a Suou. So I didn’t shed a tear. Instead, I simply fulfilled my duties as the new head of the Suou family.
Even with the instructions my father gave me before his death, the days that followed were terrifyingly busy and chaotic. Due to the circumstances surrounding their deaths, bringing my parents’ bodies back to Japan proved incredibly difficult as well. Yet, against all odds, I managed to give them a proper funeral in the end.
It was then, for the first time in ages, that I finally got to speak with my brother.
“There’s still work I must do as the head of the family, but there are some areas which I simply cannot manage alone. I need your cooperation.”
However, my brother frowned and replied:
“No.”
“What?”
“I said no. Why would I help you?” my brother snapped. Though I was slightly surprised by his defiance and how his demeanor had completely changed over the past few years, I replied calmly.
“While you may not be the head of the family, you are still a Suou. Don’t you think you should help the family, now that our parents have passed away?”
“I’m a Suou? Help the family? To hell with that. That’s your logic, not mine!” my brother shouted, as if spewing out everything he had held inside these past few years.
“I’m sick of this! I’m sick of this family name—of all of you! Even on his deathbed, our father didn’t have any last words for me—his own son. Not that I was expecting any fatherly affection anymore, but damn, he really was a terrible parent. But he was still our father! They were still our parents! So of course, it hurts that they’re gone! Of course, I’m going to cry! And yet! You didn’t even shed a single tear at their funeral! And the first thing you say to me is that? You want to talk about the family? Do you even have a heart?!”
I didn’t even know how to respond to his outburst as he fiercely glared at me before turning on his heel.
“Maybe I would have helped if you had comforted me even a little when I was crying. But it’s too late now. I’m leaving. I don’t need any of the inheritance, so do whatever you want with it.”
And with that, my brother left the Suou residence. In the end, I couldn’t find the right words to stop him and could only watch his back grow smaller as he walked away. Once my brother was gone, I was truly alone, buried in the endless responsibilities of the Suou family, but no matter how busy I became, his parting words still lingered in my mind.
“Do you even have a heart?!”
Maybe he was right. Maybe I really didn’t have a heart. Looking back, I couldn’t recall a single moment where I genuinely showed my brother any kindness. I respected our parents, but if asked whether I loved them, I wouldn’t be able to answer with certainty. No… Deep down inside, I probably didn’t love them. If I had, I probably would have at least shed a tear at their funeral.
“Is it true that you turned down every single prospective marriage partner you were set up with?”
For the first time in ages, I met up with some friends from university at our usual café…when one of them suddenly asked me that question.
“…Yes.”
“What?! Why?! What a waste! That means you turned down the extremely intelligent and famous Ms. Ousaka, too, right?!”
“I even heard you turned down the young lady from the Kujou family as well! You really turned everyone down?!”
“Yes.”
“What?!” my friends cried in disbelief.
Each of the candidates came from prestigious families and possessed the education and ambition that would make them ideal wives for a diplomat. But no matter which of them I married, I could only imagine a future that mirrored my parents’ relationship. Of course, up until recently, I thought that was acceptable, but…
What would I do if we had a child who turned out like my brother? Would I simply watch in silence as he walked out the door, unable to give him the love and warmth that he desires from his parents?
And when I thought about it that way, I couldn’t bring myself to marry any of them. What my future wife needed wasn’t pedigree or perfection, but…
“Sorry to keep you guys waiting! Here are your three hot coffees and one espresso.”
One of my friends raised an eyebrow at the female waitress who brought over our drinks.
“Oh! Uh…? Are you new?”
“Yes, I started working here last week. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” She smiled brilliantly. She wasn’t particularly beautiful, and my first impression of her was that she seemed utterly ordinary.
“This isn’t what I ordered…”
“Huh? Ah! I-I’m so sorry.”
My second impression of her was that she went beyond simply being ordinary. She was dull-witted as well. Yet, for some reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Initially, I assumed it was the novelty—the result of being surrounded only by exceptional people my entire life. However, she continued to intrigue me, and I began frequenting the café often, even by myself.