Ch. II: The Russian Empire Episode 6: The Lord’s Memories — Part Ⅰ

―On the train to Russia, memories of Victor’s past glories come flooding back―

At last, the time came for Victor to leave the land of his birth, where he had lived for so many long years.

Bathed in the golden light of evening, he boarded the long-distance train bound for Moscow, a coffin strapped to his back, with the cat held securely in one arm.

Here as well, a brief exchange unfolded between Victor and the station staff at the time of boarding―much like the conversation he had experienced at the entrance of the hotel.

In the end, however, his status as a nobleman once again served as a universal pass.

Even so, the staff offered him some well-considered advice.

“To prevent unnecessary curiosity from other passengers,”

and

“to spare you the trouble of being questioned repeatedly at your destination,”

they suggested that he would be better off covering the coffin with cloth.

Victor agreed.

When he asked the staff to find something suitable, they returned with a large white tablecloth ordinarily used in the dining car.

After paying the fee, along with a generous tip, Victor wrapped the coffin completely in the cloth and secured it with leather belts.

The thick fabric, lavishly trimmed with lace, made the cargo appear sufficiently 'aristocratic.'

Ordinarily, of course, such luggage would be carried by a servant―but for a nobleman travelling alone, it was merely large, not particularly strange.

“Times are certainly changing,”

Victor murmured to the cat as he sank into the sofa of his luxurious first-class compartment,

“but it seems that the ‘good old manners’ are still very much alive.”

The cat, indifferent to Victor’s remark, leapt onto the opposite sofa and stretched out, settling in comfortably.

Although the outcome matched Victor’s hopes, the station staff’s devotion to their duties was worthy of praise.

―This, indeed, might be called the very essence of a civilised world.

A quiet memory stirred in Victor’s chest: pride in his homeland, from the days when he had lived as a ruling lord.

A magnificent civilisation, underpinned by European order. In that world, people’s roles were clearly defined by social rank, and by earnestly fulfilling those roles, the world itself had continued to turn.

Gazing at the rolling waves of wheat fields passing beyond the window, Victor spoke softly.

“The wheat was glistening with that same fresh green colour back then as well…”

This was a time before Victor had become an immortal―

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A time when his world, though busy with the responsibilities of lordship, was peaceful, and everything around him overflowed with hope and light.

From a young age, other nobles had whispered that he would one day become a great ruler.

Despite opposition from factions who claimed he was 'too young,' Victor ascended to the position of lord at just sixteen years old, shortly after his father’s death. That moment lay centuries in the past now.

Before the investiture ceremony that would formally recognise his rule, the young Victor slipped out of the castle alone and lay down among the wheat fields below the walls.

“My father died so suddenly,” he said,

“and being appointed his successor has left my heart unsettled…”

He had spoken to no one in particular then; now, only the cat could serve as his listener.

The gentle warmth of spring, poised delicately between the fading chill of winter and the first hint of summer, brushed the boy’s cheeks on a refreshing breeze.

Squinting against the dazzling sunlight, Victor noticed a small bird―one that had been singing in the nearby woods―suddenly take flight toward the distant sky.

At that sight, tears began to spill from his eyes.

“I wish I could fly freely like that,” he confessed.

It was the first moment in Victor’s life―having known no material hardship as the only son of a great lord―that he truly recognised his own lack of freedom.

“The moment the investiture ends, all personal freedom will be stripped from me.
No matter how ‘glorious’ the status that follows may be, when weighed against what is lost… one cannot help but weep.”

After crying his fill, the boy slowly rose to his feet and wiped away his tears.

He engraved the image of the bird flying into the far-off sky deep into his mind, then began walking back toward the castle.

Victor did not look back. He felt that if he turned even once, he would never be able to return.

“There is no other way to live for one born as a lord’s son…”

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As a young ruler, Victor governed well, supported by retainers far older and more experienced than himself.

He oversaw flood-control measures to improve agricultural yields, reformed tax policies to relieve the poor,
established laws to protect skilled leather craftsmen, and prohibited the extortionate fees demanded in commercial transactions.

To his people, his work fully deserved the title of 'wise ruler'.

The citizens, reassured by the young lord’s steady governance, brought stability to the local economy―and with it, public safety.

Peace was reflected naturally in the gentle smiles on people’s faces.

Even when grievances arose, they were ultimately resolved by weighing the burdens imposed against the peaceful life those burdens sustained.

'Order grounded in reason creates beauty and peace.'

'To preserve that order―this is the duty imposed upon those granted lordship by the grace of God.'

This was Victor’s guiding principle at the time, and his lived experience seemed to prove it true.

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“I may not look it,” Victor said lightly,

“but I am, in fact, an intellectual sort.
Even so, there were moments when my mind itself suffered… a 'malfunction'.

…Sir Cat, would you like to hear about it?”

He smiled at the cat with childlike innocence.

The cat met his gaze for just a moment, let out a sound that was neither quite “yes” nor “no,” and then fell silent.

The first of these “malfunctions,” if it could be called that, belonged to the happiest category.

One day, the butler arrived with documents in hand and announced,

“My lord. Preparations are underway for a reception to meet prospective brides.”

How should one even begin to put into words what passed through Victor’s mind at that moment? Perhaps no one could truly know. Even Victor himself would struggle to explain it.

“Well… things proceed regardless of my feelings,” he said with a faint laugh.

Yet on his face lingered a calm expression, as if to say: this, in essence, is what happiness looks like.

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© 2026 Kaori Yumesaki. All rights reserved.
The Japanese version is published separately.
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Next Episode: Chapter II: The Russian Empire ―

→ Episode 7: The Lord’s Memories ― Part Ⅱ

The brilliant memories of Victor’s youth as a ruling lord, and the joyful days he shared with his gentle wife.

The more beautiful those memories were, the deeper the pain they carved into his heart―

for they belonged to a past that could never be reclaimed.