"Hum-hum-hum~♪ Hum-hu-hu-hum~♪"
In Antarctica—the last untouched frontier of mankind, claimed by all yet belonging to none—stood Chaldea, a terrestrial paradise handcrafted by a king with every pleasure and facility imaginable. Through this paradise, a certain figure skipped toward a specific room.
His steps were light, cheerfully humming, breaking into a playful dance with every few strides. Carrying a bag in his left hand, he seemed practically giddy with joy. Had this been a young girl, it would have been a heartwarming, lovely sight. The meticulously calculated length of his stride was, frankly, magnificent.
Arriving before a door in Chaldea, he prepared to step inside.
(Working so late into the night, my dear student, Olga Marie! For you, I've bought sweets to relax that brilliant mind of yours! Love, Mr. Dandy! ...Heh heh, or something like that...)
Standing before the door, flexing his unparalleled intellect in idle fantasy, was Mr. Dandy. Known to only a select few in Chaldea, he was the spider lurking in paradise—the Napoleon of the crime world who forged Olga Marie's tenacity, instilling within her both ruthlessness and cold severity.
(My, with these lights on and voices at this volume... chatting with a target, perhaps?)
Before his hand even touched the doorknob, Mr. Dandy grasped the entire situation inside the room from the faint voices drifting through the gap.
Recently, he had assigned her a new independent study project: mastering conversational tactics focused on manipulating an individual's heart. He had presented Director Olga Marie with a plan—to play with her target, dance around them, and build an environment where she held absolute dominance. Since she required neither sleep nor food, if she was engaged in conversation now, it had to be that.
(Hmm, let's see how she's doing. Is she negotiating properly? Papa & Dandy will just take a little peek.)
Pressing himself flush against the door, he strained his ears, intent on catching every sound. An middle-aged man glued to a door in the dead of night was a thoroughly criminal sight, but for the Napoleon of the Underworld, it was just business. If his arch-rival saw him now, one could only wonder what he'd think—or if he'd throw him into a waterfall again.
(Do as you see fit. But whatever you do, never forget: you take the initiative, and you hold the upper hand, Olga Marie.)
Glued to the door, Mr. Dandy radiated the aura and wisdom of history's greatest villain. Concentrating his focus, he read her mental state through her pitch, tone, and pronunciation, taking in every last detail...
"—Bwahaha! That's precisely why they call me the Phoenix! What, you ask if I was alright? I emerged with the blast at my back, right out of a car blown to smithereens! Everyone held their breath as I slowly walked out! Every last one of them praised me! To Musik the Phoenix, the immortal!"
Through audio and video, she was forced to watch a corpulent man wrapped in a bathrobe boast endlessly about his car racing exploits in a booming, husky voice. It was torture... disguised as heartwarming enthusiasm, which she listened to with a painted-on smile. Since both audio and visual data were heavily processed on her end, no personal information reached him—allowing her to let out a quiet sigh without hesitation.
(Listening to someone brag about themselves is so tedious and boring. Good to know for future reference.)
One-sided conversations and forced communication made no one happy; in fact, they only made the listener miserable. Olga Marie grew a little wiser, stifling a yawn.
Since she was housing and protecting the families of Chaldea's members, she had to treat them with care and maintain proper etiquette. That was why she indulged in non-business conversations like this—partly under the pretext of understanding their personal character...
(He really is a bundle of sheer vitality, this man...)
Even from the content of his story, that much was clear. The Musik family was ordinary by mage standards, possessing barely a slight financial advantage. He was the head of that family, and simultaneously... a renowned driver and survivor. There was no doubt about it; she had been forced to hear about it every single day since communications began.
He was the driver, the sponsor, and the mechanic, all rolled into one. His driving technique was top-tier. He physically cleared every hardship and obstacle in his path, never faltering even when he tripped up or crashed (even if the car exploded into scrap). Because of his indomitable spirit—always returning no matter the injury—he was apparently quite a famous figure in the racing circuit. She couldn't quite picture it, so she had tried simulating it with a go-kart earlier, only to burst out laughing. That was her mistake. She needed to reflect on that.
His survival skills were also first-rate. Utilizing his personal favorite spell—"Magecraft to Turn Rotting Meat into Prime A5 Beef"—he possessed the track record and capability to return alive from anywhere.
...Not that it was any of her business, and frankly, she couldn't care less. But how on earth did he intend to reach the Root with a spell like that? A mage's research ultimately boiled down to reaching the Root anyway, so she hoped she could be forgiven for wondering. Sending one's soul to the Root through the sheer shock of eating delicious meat...?
"Pfft—"
No, no, pull yourself together, Marie. Mocking someone else's research is unbecoming. That isn't the slick, villainous composure Mr. Dandy preaches. It goes against his teaching to be a ruler, not a small-time thug... But still, this is just... too hilarious... It's like something out of a cooking manga...
"Oh? Shivering with emotion, are we? I thought so! After all, this is one of my few redeeming qualities and hobbies! It is my own strength, my own achievement!"
Mistaking her squirming silence for awe, Gourdolf began to speak even more eloquently. Listening to the endless tales of valor, Olga Marie fought a desperate battle to suppress her laughter...
Finally, as the clock ticked past one in the morning, Gourdolf wrapped things up.
"Ah, look at the time. We've been talking for quite a while. Let us end today's meeting here."
"Yes... Thank you... It was a very... fruitful session..."
"Is that so? You were that moved! I see, I see...!"
"Gwahahaha!" Gourdolf roared, in high spirits. Mistaking Olga Marie's agony from holding back her stomach cramps for admiration and awe, he boasted even louder.
"If you liked it that much, next time I shall show you a video recording summarizing my finest moments! My speeding car! My exploding car! My overflowing grit, my surplus grit, my uncontainable grit! I shall show you all of it!"
"Yes... Thank you very much... Well then, until our next meeting."
"Gwahahaha! Leave the food for that lot to me! To tell you the truth, I opened up the go-karts, the circuit, and the rental cars for them, so there haven't been many complaints!"
"...Oh?"
That was a pleasant surprise. Given how much he acted like a typical snobbish mage, she had expected him to do it reluctantly while spewing curses. She never imagined he would voluntarily improve the environment and raise their standard of living, which earned him a huge boost in Olga Marie's books.
The families of everyone in Chaldea were at stake. The happier and smoother the relationship, the better—even if he was just doing it to assert his own superiority. If it benefited her side, she would simply make full use of it.
"Thank you. For a mage, that is an extraordinary decision. I, for one, hold it in high regard."
By phrasing it as "what you're doing is unusual for a mage" and "I evaluate it highly," she could navigate the conversation to satisfy his self-esteem while increasing his goodwill toward her.
"Indeed, indeed! I won't end up like the Clock Tower. This time, I have decided to succeed in this paradise of yours!"
"...What do you mean by that?"
Gourdolf answered triumphantly to the question that slipped out of her mouth.
"It's simple. My life is at a dead end, a blind alley. Even if I succeed, even if I gain fame, it will fade with my generation. From the perspective of a mage—where leaving behind a bloodline and stacking achievements is everything—I have accomplished nothing."
"..."
"But... what am I supposed to do? Even if I try to win people over, I don't know how others feel, or how to be loved. I don't know how to interact with people, or what the 'right' answer is. So I had no choice but to show off! My house, my wealth! Because that's all I have! If that's my only point of contact with others, I can't help it, can I...?"
Completely different from his earlier vigor, Gourdolf slouched his shoulders, deflating. I don't know how to love or be loved by others. That's why I'm disliked, and why I've always been disliked.
Mages were the type of people who ruthlessly discarded anything unnecessary for their own research. For that sake, they would sacrifice others without hesitation, even using their own flesh and blood as materials.
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