The Strongest Brother Lost His Memory

* * *

‘W-What did he say again? Where was it?’

Julian looked around, panting for breath.

Of course, he wasn’t familiar with the Academy’s layout.

‘That weirdo with the weird way of speaking rambled on about a bunch of things, but I only remember the last part. Was it the Theology Library?’

Having completely forgotten everything Theo had said about the teaching office and research room, Julian headed straight for the Theology Library.

‘His delivery is a mess, and he’s teaching students? I bet his lectures are absolute garbage. But wait, is this even the right way to the Theology Library?’

It was located in a remote corner of the Academy grounds—a standalone building, and quite far away.

To make things worse, the door to the Theology Library was locked.

Julian, unfazed, rummaged through his pocket, pulled out a wire, and started jamming it into the lock.

‘I wasn’t called a delinquent butcher’s son for nothing. I’ve mastered these little tricks.’

Only after the lock clicked open did he scratch the back of his head and mutter,

“...Ah. I didn’t come here to break in. I was supposed to meet someone. Forgot about that.”

But the other places Theo had mentioned completely slipped his mind.

“Well, if I wait, someone might show up. I’ve got time anyway.”

He carelessly tossed the lock aside and stepped inside, heading up the stairs.

“Might as well gather my thoughts too.”

He had impulsively followed that golden-haired figure, but he still had no idea what to say.

He wandered around the empty library with sluggish steps.

It was cramped, and the books lining the shelves looked terribly boring.

“The librarian here’s living the dream. If you have to work somewhere, it might as well be in a place with perfect work-life balance.”

As he poked around the place, one desk in the corner suddenly caught his eye.

“...Huh?”

For a brief moment, his vision wavered.

“You came all the way here. I’ll give you that. But it wasn’t the best decision.”

Another fragment of memory.

“Go back. You’re being heavily watched. There’s nothing good that will come from us meeting.”

Julian, eyes filled with confusion, walked toward the desk.

‘Yeah... I’ve been here before...’

Standing before the desk drawer, he once again carefully poked a wire into the keyhole.

He didn’t know why, but it seemed like the past version of himself had desperately wanted to open that drawer.

And when it clicked open with a dull sound—

[Diary]

It clearly held something not meant to be seen by others.

“Shit. Sorry. My mental age is too low to have a strong ethical compass about not reading other people’s stuff. I’ll pay for this with money once I grow up.”

And with that ridiculous excuse, Adult Julian hastily opened the diary.

The diary, with numerous misspellings of “Antata” and “Theol,” was surprisingly written in the form of a fairy tale.

* * *

Once upon a time, long, long ago,

There lived a monster who didn’t want to die.

The monster stole the power of four divine beasts.

Then, it killed its own children to steal their power and discovered a way to stay young.

The monster gave birth to many children.

And in each generation, there was always one—blessed with especially strong power—called the “true heir.” The monster would kill that one to regain its youth.

The monster birthed and birthed, again and again.

So many that the exact number was unknown.

But that didn’t matter.

Among them, there was a child born with the gift of tracking.

When the time came that the monster’s youth began to fade, it would command the tracker:

“Find the true heir.”

‘It should be about time one is born.’

The tracker obeyed the monster’s order and wandered far and wide.

And then, one day—

The monster and the tracker both realized that the child had been born.

The tracker reached the child first, before the monster.

And the moment he saw the baby:

‘If I take this child to my father, the child will die.’

The tracker impulsively sealed away the baby’s power.

So the monster wouldn’t notice for a while.

And he lied—said he couldn’t find the heir.

‘It’s probably one of the nobles. So far, the more noble blood there was, the stronger the power seemed.’

Fortunately, the monster didn’t remember the baby’s mother—who’d lived in a rural village at the time.

The monster had, in a moment of lust, taken the mother and simply forgotten her.

She was just one of the many women abandoned by the monster, who always hid his identity.

So the monster didn’t even know the baby existed.

Just in case, the tracker changed the baby’s recorded birth date.

And from afar, he watched as the baby survived and grew strong.

He even looked for someone who might become the baby’s protector.

The baby’s birth mother had abandoned her at an orphanage and died shortly after in an accident.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

So when he finally found someone—not exactly well-mannered but at least competent enough to protect the child—

The tracker realized something:

Saving this child was the greatest thing he had ever done.

It erased the disgust of being favored by the monster. Gave his life value.

And once more, he vowed—

That if it meant protecting the child, he would give up his life.

The seal wasn’t perfect.

As the child grew, the seal would gradually weaken. And with that increase in power, the monster would inevitably take notice.

So the tracker made a decision.

Even if it meant offering his own life, he would remove the child’s power completely.

The tracker didn’t hope for the child to defeat the monster.

He just wanted the child to grow up normally—under the love and care of a protector.

Happy, bright, and healthy.

Even if he could never be part of the child’s “family.”

Even if he could never be called her “brother,” not even once.

Even if the child would never know him or the sacrifice he made.

But to fully hide such vast power, the tracker’s strength alone wasn’t enough.

However, if he used one of the four divine beasts—

Then maybe, just maybe, he could erase even the child’s power.

And so the tracker decided to follow the monster’s final order.

He wrote this, afraid he’d weaken in the face of his approaching death.

He planned to read it again and again whenever fear of obliteration crept in.

My little one.

I still remember the round green eyes I saw at the orphanage for the first time.

That toothless, smooth gum you smiled at me with.

Even though I was just a kid myself, I instinctively wanted to protect you.

Your very existence gives meaning to my life.

I may not believe in the monster, but I believe in God.

My God who gives understanding, compassion, mercy, and love.

Please—

Whenever I falter on the path toward death, push me forward.

Grant me the courage to sacrifice myself.

So I can disappear—wishing for your happiness along a path no one else will know.

* * *

The diary was short, but worn down.

Its pages, so tattered and fragile, hinted at how many times it had been read.

‘Holy shit...’

He’d often been afraid of a sacrificial death—and so he’d read this over and over.

Julian found himself breathing heavily without even realizing it.

The puzzle pieces in his mind were snapping into place.

‘Someone fit to be the child’s protector... Wait, aside from being a jerk, isn’t that basically me?’

Same mother—Julian.

Same father—the diary’s author.

His head was spinning.

‘They even kinda look alike!’

Blond and silver hair aside, both Yuta and Rosie had pale skin and soft, puppy-like features.

Even their slow speech and terrible way of talking were weirdly similar...

‘Then Rosie’s father must be... disguised as some low-tier priest...’

Julian remembered his own mother—Valia.

After all, aside from height, Julian’s appearance was nearly identical to hers.

With her seductive, wildly alluring eyes, beautiful from head to toe, like a fierce cat always on edge—

A mother who spread danger and charm in equal measure, unable to control her unstable emotions.

It wasn’t surprising that she’d become the one-night partner of a man hiding his true identity—only to be discarded right after.

And abandoning Rosie at the orphanage and vanishing? That was classic Valia.

Just then, as Julian anxiously skimmed the diary again—

‘Wait. Shouldn’t I save this poor bastard first? Since when has he been planning his own death...?’

A slow voice called out from behind him.

“Seventeen-year-old Julian has quite the talent for thievery. What a relief that such a ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) prodigious criminal slipped through the cracks of back-alley crime. I thank my God, who upholds justice.”

And before he could react, a damp handkerchief was pressed over his nose and mouth.