I opened my eyes.
"Magnificent," I said through a yawn. I sat up in bed and let my gaze wander across the room. "Another night of decent sleep."
That, in itself, was a miracle.
"How wonderful." A voice with a crisp English accent echoed through the room, distorted by an unnatural reverb.
I ignored it. My eyes locked onto the golden wall clock instead. Its hands crawled forward with painful slowness. Watching time pass always made me wish I were less self-aware.
Ever since my encounter with the Moon—and thanks to those brutal training sessions with Primrose—my sleep schedule had become completely irregular.
"This world will demand more from you than you are willing to give." The voice resonated inside my head. For a few seconds, I stared into nothing.
Of course. I was the first stepping stone in the ascension of the one who would become the God of this world.
But…
My freedom was non-negotiable. As long as there was an exit from this situation, I would take it.
I drew my left hand from beneath the covers and looked at the revolver.
"What is freedom?" I spun the cylinder, sliding it in and out while staring at the chambers. "It is having the will to be responsible for yourself."
Adult life had left me far less willing to let others take me by the hand.
"Don't be so theatrical or melodramatic," the voice said, clearly amused. I couldn't help but smile. "Reality will not bend to fit your mental narrative."
I clicked the cylinder back into place one last time and aimed the revolver at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
"The world should not have to adapt to me." It was a universal truth, here and in the world I had come from. "I must adapt to it."
I closed one eye to aim better. I hadn't wasted my time training with Primrose.
I wasn't even half-decent, but I didn't need to be. I wasn't going to change the world with a single gunshot.
"…Destroying it is also an option."
I let out a short laugh, lowered the gun, and stared at it.
"You wish." I clenched my fist. The revolver vanished in a small burst of white light.
I threw off the black blanket, opened the shutters, and sunlight flooded the room. The warmth on my skin drew a contented sigh from my lips.
The singing of the birds made me cover my ears. I needed to savor these peaceful mornings while they lasted.
"I'm looking forward to today's tests."
"There are some really cute girls here."
"Does anyone know when the Prefect elections are?"
The clamor of students echoed down the hallway. Part of me felt sorry for them. They had arrived full of hope, only to be sent off to war once their studies were finished.
The other part of me thought it was far too early for this much noise.
Either way, I needed to get ready.
I walked barefoot around the room simply because I felt like it.
I had certainly usurped Jakob's belongings with surprising ease.
I stopped in front of the study desk, where the letter from Jakob's grandfather lay open. My fingers traced the broken edge of the wax seal. The crowned lion of House Liedschlag seemed like a rather dull, uninspired emblem.
The name Liedschlag meant nothing to me anymore.
There was nothing of the original Jakob left inside me. Even his emotional responses were growing rarer.
I thought back to that vision…
Today I would likely waste an hour trying to decipher the words of that King.
I offered a silent prayer for the soul of the original Jakob—not to the King of Souls, but to my mother's God.
I didn't know if He could hear me here, but it felt more reasonable to pray to Him than to this world's absent deity.
How many blasphemies had I just committed with that single thought?
"Enough to get you imprisoned," the voice replied. That was actually a real detail from the game. In the lore, there were people condemned to an eternity in the deepest darkness…
I remembered finding a dagger with a bone handle and a blade black as coal in that place.
Its description had sent a cold sweat down my spine.
{Pray to your gods and walk toward death in life. There shall be no rest nor remembrance for you. A thousand times is death preferable to falling into this prison. }
I smiled. This world was already a nightmare for me. I had no desire to experience the hell inside the nightmare.
I decided to head into the bathroom. The first thing that greeted me was the reflection of a young man with white hair and red eyes.
It was an aristocratic trait, I supposed—to look both unnatural and beautiful at the same time.
I approached the mirror, touched the glass carefully, and examined my appearance.
"I should cut my hair," I muttered. I was starting to look a little too much like a certain leader of the Band of the Hawk.
I turned on the faucet and splashed hot water on my face. It helped wake me up.
My expression was that of someone with zero desire to work.
Standing before this ebony sink and oval mirror trimmed in gold, I wondered if all this pomp was truly necessary.
There were people who would kill for these luxuries, but honestly… it wasn't for me.
My long, messy hair didn't detract from my looks at all. One of the perks of living in a world where everyone was naturally attractive.
I felt tempted to run my hand through it, slick it back, and look like a proper villain.
"…Maybe it's time to graduate from tutorial boss to full villain," I declared in an exaggeratedly dramatic voice.
I chuckled at myself.
"Aim higher," the voice returned, sounding as if someone were speaking directly into my ear. "Become the God of this world."
I closed my eyes and counted to ten. I couldn't let those thoughts take root. Not now…
The image of a full moon hanging in a night sky made me feel physically ill for a moment.
I frowned.
It was an absurd thought.
I opened my eyes and went to take a shower.
"How ironic," I whispered. My reflection showed red eyes completely devoid of emotion.
I slapped my cheeks twice and forced a friendlier expression onto my face.
I had grown far too used to hiding my emotions. It seemed my face had begun to reflect that habit permanently.
Was my body adjusting to my soul, or was my soul adjusting to this body?
Whatever the answer was…
"Eventually I'll even forget my old appearance." The realization felt both worrying and strangely comforting. "Even now, I might be losing insignificant memories of my past life as if they were nothing."
Would I still be *me* once I had forgotten everything from my previous life?
Wasn't there a metaphor about that? Something about a ship having all its parts replaced?
I smiled.
It didn't really matter.
"Rebecca." I spoke my mother's name aloud. That was one thing that must never be forgotten.
Everything else could be lost.
The image of a blonde girl with green eyes surfaced in my mind.
A mixture of hatred and longing rose in my chest.
I had no desire to remember anyone else…
"Well then," I told myself with my best practiced smile, "maximum effort."
It was the day of truth.
This circus of relationships was about to begin.
I left my room, locked the door, and stepped into a hallway already full of students.
The crisp morning air helped me relax. These peaceful mornings were among the few things that still made me feel human.
"Good morning, everyone." I offered my best smile to those present.
Cordiality had to be my brand. Part of my goal was to be seen as the most mediocre noble possible.
A pawn pushed into the corner of the board was no threat to anyone.
Most gave me a slight glance or a polite nod.
I was in the most modest section of the boys' dormitories. Here, we all belonged to the same social stratum.
Only three students stopped what they were doing to give me looks ranging from mockery to outright contempt.
Strangely, being surrounded by hyenas fighting for power and influence was less irritating than my previous school experience had been.
"Tsk." One clicked his tongue at me. So early in the morning and already passive-aggressive.
"The pianist," another said derisively. My pursuit of music seemed to offend them.
Being known by that title was still better than being remembered as the greatest failure of the fallen House Liedschlag.
Still, I could understand their perspective.
To them—dreaming of becoming great lords whom everyone must please—a person like me, who seemed interested in nothing but music, was disappointing.
They were far more stereotypical than I had imagined.
"Ignore him," said the one who seemed slightly smarter than the rest. "Let him lose his honor and status with the way he lives. You saw him with that commoner girl."
"We're not that far from those commoners ourselves," I said. Few were willing to accept that truth. "I assume you're all heading to the area reserved for princes and heirs?"
I didn't say it with sarcasm. I felt no real animosity toward them. They simply bored me.
I knew at least some of those "chosen ones" were walking these same halls, analyzing everyone else with the certainty that they were the owners, protectors, or chosen ones of this world.
"Speak for yourself," one snapped, voice full of anger. "Crawling through castle sewers and hunting on the grounds—you look like a commoner who only knows how to survive on the edges of civilization."
Several onlookers stared at the trio in disbelief. For many nobles, such a low blow was beneath them.
A network of rumors had already formed.
I wasn't particularly social these days, but whispers still reached my ears.
"You'd better hope the Director doesn't hear you," I said. "Or any commoner with powerful friends or a strong benefactor."
I saw fury ignite in their eyes.
"Do you think that scares us?" one sneered arrogantly. His face suffered from a chronic condition of terminal stupidity.
"No," I replied, already mentally exhausted. "There are a thousand reasons why you should be afraid. Pick whichever one you like best."
They had no idea how dangerous Primrose could be when she wanted to.
"You're the one who should watch himself," another said, stepping closer. Being shorter than me, he had to tilt his head up. "Those delicate hands of yours don't look like they were made for anything except playing instruments and commoner girls."
This asshole…
I let the comment slide. These idiots had no real power over me or my friend.
"Or worse, you should've seen when that half-giant hugged him," the first one added. It was clear none of them knew when to shut up. "That half-blood bitch."
Several boys walking down the hallway froze. They looked at the speaker as if he had lost his mind.
Something inside me made a click.
"You're speaking about a princess," I said. My tone remained friendly. Inside, I was far from happy.
A small crowd began to form around us.
"So?" the noble asked brazenly. I immediately understood he would not live long enough to leave descendants.
With that personality, he was bound to cross the wrong person eventually and end up as a corpse.
My face took on an expression without my permission. I was certain it had become terrible—not of hatred or rage.
Instead…
I smiled.
"Hey," I said calmly, almost cheerfully. "Did you know she's also a candidate for Student Representative?"
If I piled on a few more titles, I might awaken his survival instinct.
No one was stupid enough to disrespect such an important figure.
The leader's smile told me I had miscalculated.
"Does it bother you that we speak badly of that pink-haired abomination?"
The gathered students held their breath or let out sounds of surprise.
"He didn't just say that," someone muttered incredulously. "He can't possibly be that stupid."
I thought the same.
"Come on," one of the trio said arrogantly. "Do you really think an abomination like her can do anything to us? We're protected by the Academy's diplomatic neutrality!"
It seemed I had overestimated them.
I counted to ten in my head and reminded myself that Armine wouldn't like it if I acted recklessly.
"…Be careful," I said, choosing patience. They were still thoughtless teenagers. Maybe they genuinely didn't understand what they were doing.
"I don't need concern from the lapdog of a hybrid bitch."
The world around me faded. Everything turned gray, and my mouth went dry.
"Three bullets~" the revolver's sing-song voice whispered in my ear. I felt the weight of two skeletal hands on my shoulders.
Its presence was dark and murky. Its touch felt like nothing but bones against my skin.
It was disgusting.
My mind wandered into dark places.
These three lives were already marked for the slaughterhouse—whether by their own actions or by exhausting someone else's patience.
Right now, I was that someone else.
"Listen carefully," I said, stepping forward into a world without color or sound. In my left hand, I felt the phantom weight of the revolver.
Their smiles pushed me right to the edge of a very blurry moral line.
"Enough." A voice boomed like a roar. Color and sound flooded back into the world.
It carried a strong, exotic accent that reminded me of Mediterranean actors from my old world.
From the crowd emerged a young man with tan skin. His confident steps echoed in the sudden silence.
Many seemed to consider this a high-caliber rarity. I understood why.
They hadn't expected someone like him in our modest corner of the dorms.
I noted his dignified bearing and calm expression. He carried himself like someone accustomed to ruling through presence alone.
No one dared speak. He wore the uniform as though it were royal regalia.
"This situation cannot continue," he said, voice radiating calm authority.
I felt like I recognized him.
His amber eyes lingered on me for a moment before fixing on the trio.
"Do you have a problem?" The hostility from the apparent leader made me want to punch him.
The newcomer crossed his arms and looked down at him. The height difference was significant.
"Several," the calm voice unsettled the idiot. "In a single sentence, you have insulted a foreign princess, the daughter of a hero, and the descendant of Sodchad—may glory be upon his name—and you have dared to defile the grounds of this academy with your arrogance."
To my surprise, the trio seemed to reflect for a moment. Maybe they weren't completely hopeless.
That thought lasted until, naturally, one of them opened his mouth again.
"And who do you think you are to lecture us?"
The newcomer's smile was one of confidence and mild amusement.
"Ardeshir," he said, letting the name hang in the air. "Ardeshir Mehraban."
The reaction was immediate. Several students stepped back. Others paled. One of the trio even made a choking sound.
I understood now why his face had seemed familiar.
Ardeshir Mehraban.
[The Lion of the Desert]
Prince of one of the desert nations, rival and ally in [Kings Roads], and one of the three characters who embodied the phrase "I will die on my feet."
The leader of the trio—the one who had called Armine an "abomination"—opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water.
"Y-you're…" he stammered.
"Heir to the throne of Arshaka-Nûr. Descendant of Shāh Mazda." He inclined his head slightly. "Though I prefer simply Ardesh. Titles are exhausting, don't you think?"
He said it with such casual warmth that it took a moment to register the silken threat beneath it.
The trio leader swallowed hard.
"I… I didn't mean—"
Ardeshir stepped in front of the trio, smiling brightly while his eyes remained cold.
"You didn't mean to insult a Princess?" His voice stayed calm. Almost gentle. "You didn't mean to slander the daughter of the Hero Who Defied the Abyss? You didn't mean to call her—and I quote—'a half-blood bitch'?"
The prince's friendly tone made the three idiots sweat buckets.
"It was just a joke with no ill intent," one said, trying to sound pitiful.
A cold, calm fury swept through my brain. My body was ready for violence just from hearing him.
When I took a step forward, Ardeshir's hand landed on my shoulder. Since we were the same height, it felt like he was deliberately blocking my path.
"No," he told me, calm but authoritative. I met his eyes and realized he was evaluating me.
"That's right," another of the trio said in an even more irritating voice. "It was an innocent joke. We would never disrespect Her Majesty Armine."
"…" I stared at the boy who had spoken. My expression must have been terrible, because he started sweating even more.
"I believe," Ardeshir continued, amber eyes fixed on the trembling noble, "that you meant exactly what you said. The question is: do you understand the consequences?"
The weight of their stupidity and insults finally seemed to penetrate their thick skulls.
"We…" one began.
"It wasn't our intention. It's just a misunderstanding," the leader finished weakly.
Ardeshir's smile didn't waver.
"Ah. A misunderstanding." He nodded thoughtfully. "Tell me, is the diplomatic neutrality of this academy an excuse to overlook slander against foreign royalty?"
The color drained from the leader's face.
"Surely someone as magnanimous as Lady Armine will understand we meant no harm," I said. The irritation inside me only continued to grow.
This little…
"Is that so? Because…" Ardeshir pretended to think for a few seconds. "In my nation, such words would be considered an extremely grave insult. Entire houses and bloodlines have been erased for less."
He let that sink in.
The expressions on the three boys' faces were precious.
"Of course," Ardeshir continued, softening his tone, "we are civilized people. We do not declare war over the tantrum of a child."
The word *child* landed like a slap.
The leader's face turned red.
"I am not a—"
"Then act like a man," Ardeshir said. For the first time, steel entered his voice. "End these fruitless squabbles, watch your tone, and remember that there are far less patient people in this world than I am."
Ardeshir gave me a discreet glance.
"But we—"
"Or," Ardeshir interrupted smoothly, "I can write to my parents. And to hers. We can see how this plays out diplomatically."
He smiled.
It was not a kind smile.
"I wonder," he mused, "how the Hero Who Defied the Abyss would react upon learning that his daughter was called a 'bitch' by some random noble…"
The silence in the hallway was so complete I felt tempted to laugh.
These idiots had really outdone themselves.
"We…"
"I…"
"…"
"Continue with your activities," Ardeshir told the crowd. He truly sounded like someone with authority.
Everyone dispersed at his command. The morning returned to normal.
"Fine," the leader muttered, turning on his heel. "Let's go, guys."
"Good luck today," I said in an exhausted but sincere tone.
The three turned around and gave me disdainful looks before continuing on their way.
They had learned nothing.
"Have patience with them," Ardeshir said in a big-brother tone. "It's clear they know nothing about life."
There was no need to state the obvious.
"You're right," I smiled. "Thank you for stepping in."
Ardeshir's expression grew serious. He turned his back to me and took a step.
"I didn't save you from them." His voice carried a certainty that intrigued me. "I saved them from you."
And with that, he left…
…I suppose I really needed to improve at hiding my emotions.
"Well then," I said in the tone of a tired civil servant, "time to face the day."
I walked toward the great hall.
I needed a light breakfast. Today I would likely have to fight Aeono.
Aeono…
The memory of his introduction yesterday was still fresh. He had walked with absolute confidence.
His physical appearance left nothing to be desired, and he possessed a natural charisma that seemed capable of capturing everyone's interest through presence alone.
It was so obvious that he was the protagonist that it felt ridiculous.
I sighed as I entered the dining hall.
The crowded tables were thick with political schemes, alliances, and calculated strategies—far more than I had any appetite for. The weight of it all had turned a once-comfortable space almost unpleasant.
I scanned the room for an empty table.
"Lucky me," I muttered. Seeing none from where I stood, I wove through the crowd with less enthusiasm than I should have had.
"Jakob!" an energetic voice called out. I looked over and saw Conlaoch and Primrose.
Perfect. A strategically located table with trustworthy people.
I walked over and took a seat next to Conlaoch, who was eating something that resembled a bacon-stuffed hamburger.
"Good morning," I said. "What's new?"
"Good morning, Jakob!" Primrose greeted me cheerfully. It was sometimes hard to believe she was the same girl who had once broken a bear's neck with a well-placed kick. "Our hunt is still supplying the kitchen with ingredients."
As it should. We had nearly caused an ecological collapse in the forest. Fortunately, Primrose had corrected our mistake by making me hunt predators instead…
*Jesus. This world is insane…*
"Good to hear." I turned to my only male friend so far. "Hey, wet dog. How's everything?"
"Nothing special," Conlaoch replied after swallowing. Then he gave me the look I had learned to hate during our training sessions. "Hey, what do you think?"
He pointed at Primrose, who was eating pasta with a spoon, her cheeks stuffed with sauce.
I frowned.
"That the meatballs must be good," I said. Primrose nodded enthusiastically, smiling around her spoon.
"No—well, yes—but I meant how Primrose looks in the uniform." His grin was even more annoying than usual.
I looked at her again. That was when I noticed.
"You look good in the uniform." I had grown used to seeing her in her red hood and hunting clothes (if one could even call that tiny skirt and white shirt "hunting clothes"), but she looked quite striking like this. I wouldn't have been surprised if she already had her own fan club.
To my surprise, Primrose's cheeks turned red and she looked away.
"Thank you." Despite how cute the gesture was, I had believed I'd developed an immunity to her heroine charm. "I'm glad you think I look pretty."
Never mind.
Her power was too great. My heart skipped a beat when she smiled at me.
"Aah." I felt a twinge of irritation at Conlaoch's amused sigh. "Hey, Jakob."
His voice suddenly became serious. His eyes focused on something to our side. He looked especially alert.
"What's wrong?" The change in tone was unusual; there had to be a good reason.
"Aren't those people from your country?" I discreetly glanced where he was looking, and he was right.
At a distant table, a group of students was sharing jokes while looking toward us—specifically toward me.
Blond or white hair, eyes in shades of blue, green, and gold that screamed privilege.
I noticed the bronze family crests they wore near their hearts or on their collars: bears, serpents, and the like.
"Yes," I said, watching one of them point at me and laugh. "Just ignore them."
What was so funny? I was simply sitting here enjoying a moment with my friends.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Conlaoch said, looking serious and slightly hostile. "You don't have hearing as good as Primrose or me. Trust me, it's not smart to ignore them."
I looked at Primrose. She had stopped eating. Her eyes had turned ice-cold.
"Is it true?" she asked.
"Yes." Her voice was slightly distant as her dull eyes fixed on the group. She was assessing them.
"Just ignore them," I said, mostly for her sake.
Primrose was a commoner. Getting involved with nobles—even low-ranking ones—could cause problems.
Although…
Thinking about it, the first major event in her Royal Path involved Aeono saving her from noble harassment. That would help turn her into the protagonist's chosen heroine. If everything went well, she would become a Goddess of Home, Marriage, and Hunt.
Honestly, it wasn't a bad ending for her or this world, but…
I needed Aeono to fall in love with Armine.
Her salvation depended on that. So I would have to work toward that future.
A warm world without the horrors of Helal.
I imagined Armine sitting on a throne in the sky beside Aeono.
Mmm… The thought irritated me, but I pushed it aside.
"Are you sure?" Conlaoch asked doubtfully. "Primrose may be a commoner, but I am the heir of a noble house and a knight. There won't be any problems on my end."
True. Despite everything, Conlaoch was surprisingly skilled at politics.
"No," I said firmly. Too many problems just because of a few idiots.
"But they're saying horrible things," Primrose said. She had regained the sparkle in her eyes and now looked slightly sad.
Did insults toward me actually affect her?
"It doesn't matter," I replied. "Though now I'm curious. What are they saying?"
Primrose opened her mouth, but Conlaoch stopped her with a gesture.
"Nothing worth repeating." His tone made it clear the matter was closed.
"Understood." It really wasn't that important.
"Orders?" A waitress approached with a practiced smile.
"A light breakfast, please," I said, smiling back.
"Ahh," Primrose let out a surprised sigh and gently took my hand. "Are you feeling okay, Jakob? Are you sick?"
Her worried tone and tender gaze left me slightly off balance.
"Oi," she squeezed my hand. "What are you implying?"
I decided to ignore the electric jolt I felt when she touched me.
"You just ordered a light breakfast," Conlaoch said with a serious, slightly suspicious expression. "That's very unusual for you."
Son of a…
"Would you like me to cook something special for you?" Primrose's worried look was too much even for me.
"I'm fine," I said, somewhere between frustrated and exasperated. "I simply don't think as well on a full stomach."
Conlaoch raised an eyebrow.
"…Nervous about today's matches?" It was concerning how quickly he could read me.
"A little," I admitted. I was quite anxious about what was coming…
"Don't be," Conlaoch said, taking another bite of his hamburger. "You're quite strong now. Few will be able to beat you."
I smiled. Coming from him, that was high praise.
"Maybe," I said uncertainly, "but I'm not one to be overly confident in my strength."
I still remembered the Rat King and how close he had come to killing me due to carelessness. Damn vermin…
"It's true that it's not good to get complacent," Primrose said with a pure smile and affectionate tone. "But you're much stronger now. I don't think you'll be defeated so easily."
I looked at Primrose, then at Conlaoch…
They were my friends.
*Friends…*
"Okay." I smiled and closed my eyes. I heard the waitress set a plate in front of me. When I opened my eyes, I felt disappointed. "Ugh."
Slices of white bread, a bowl of fruit, boiled eggs, and a bit of sauce…
"Are you sure you don't want something more nutritious?" Conlaoch showed me his delicious bacon hamburger. God knows I wanted to eat like that, but…
"I'm fine." I took the bread, spread sauce on it, and took a bite.
I couldn't stop my face from showing exhaustion and resignation.
I had never thought much about it before, but I had clearly grown accustomed to the intense flavors of this world.
Each bite made me want more.
This world was definitely making my gluttony more and more active.
I hoped that was all it was… I felt the phantom weight of that milk-white revolver in my left hand.
"Aah." I sighed, already tired of a day that had barely begun.
"Well," Conlaoch finished his hamburger in three large bites and stood up. "I'm going to challenge all the good fighters this year before the matches start."
His wolfish grin and determined look told me he was about to do something incredibly stupid.
"Don't do it." I remembered another piece of his lore. This guy had recklessly gone after the strongest opponents. "Seriously, Conlaoch."
I gave him my best deadpan look and the most hollow voice I could manage.
He gave me his best son-of-a-bitch smile in return.
"I heard Lyssandros from the city-states is among the strongest this year."
I felt a chill at the name. Top-four boss in [Kings Roads] and one of the most tragic characters.
"Don't do it." I looked him in the eyes, my expression serious and my voice emotionless.
It wasn't just for Conlaoch. It was for Lyssandros too…
"…Fine." Good. At least he realized I was serious.
The idea of my friend fighting that poor guy was more than I could tolerate…
"But I'll go after the rest of the best fighters." He ran off before I could say anything else.
God.
"Jakob." I looked at Primrose, who now wore an adorably doubtful expression. "Are you sure you don't want me to do something about those guys? I can make them get lost in the forest and meet the wolves."
I almost smiled. Despite how terrifying she was, Primrose was genuinely kind.
I could understand why she was so beloved by the fandom.
"No." I shook my head and noticed another guy staring intensely at me from a corner. "There's nothing to worry about."
I hoped…
"Are you sure?" Primrose made me look her in the eyes. She looked worried. "If you want, I can follow you without you noticing."
I laughed.
"No, don't." While Primrose was practically invisible when she wanted to be, that would be political suicide. "Don't do it, Primrose. I'll be fine. Focus on finding classes that will help with your credits."
She stared at me, clearly conflicted. I noticed her playing with the fingers of her right hand.
"But…" Because of our brutal training, I had almost forgotten that Primrose was just a young lady trying to protect her friend (me).
But I was trying to protect her too.
"You're a commoner," I said. There was no gentle way to start this. "I know you could do a thousand things to make them understand it's a bad idea to mess with us, but to them you would be nothing more than prey that willingly presented itself."
The look Primrose gave me surprised me. She looked both frustrated and angry.
She understood. Or at least enough to be frustrated by that fact.
"I don't like it," she said with an adorably angry face before standing up. "Well, I have to go talk to the Director."
"Are you in trouble?" I asked with a smile. She looked at me with concern.
"The Director says I can't have third breakfasts." I hadn't thought about it, but Primrose ate even more than I did…
One moment.
"Primrose," I said seriously. "How many meals have you had today?"
She paused, counting on her fingers.
"Four?" she said, as if it were a perfectly normal number for someone who had been awake three hours.
"It's seven in the morning." How did this girl eat so much, and where did all those nutrients go?
BOINK.
Aaah, of course…
"I ate something light before dawn," she explained. "And then a proper breakfast after my run."
Okay, that didn't sound *too* bad.
"Well then…"
"And then I saw Aife preparing those cheese buns and thought it would be rude not to accept."
I stopped what I was about to say…
"Rude," I repeated, not entirely sure I understood.
Did Primrose understand basic social norms?
"Rude," she nodded firmly, as if refusing food were a moral failing. "And then I ate an apple while walking here, but that barely counts."
Fascinating…
"Why doesn't it count?" I was seeing sides of her I hadn't during her brutal training.
"Because it was only an apple, Jakob." She looked at me with genuine pity. "An apple is not a meal. An apple is what happens *between* meals."
I opened my mouth to argue but had no counterargument. Somehow, that logic was irrefutable.
But it wasn't just the act of eating. It was her entire philosophy of eating.
"What do you think of this bread?" I lifted a slice.
She entered a deep reflection for a few seconds.
"This bread is good," she announced, taking it from my hand as if presenting court evidence, "but the bread my dad makes is better."
Ooh. New information about my hunter friend…
"Does your father bake?"
"Every morning." Her eyes drifted into the distance with pure daughterly affection. "He wakes up before dawn. He uses a stone oven he built himself. The crust is thick—really thick—and the inside is soft and warm and smells like…"
She trailed off, searching for the right word.
I smiled. I knew what it was.
"Home," I said, looking into her eyes. She smiled back.
Before the training and before understanding her better, she had seemed like a stereotypical ditzy girl.
Now she was so much more.
…We had been staring at each other for quite a while.
"He also makes pies," she added happily. "Rabbit pie. Mushroom pie. Berry pie. Savory pies. Sweet pies. Leftover pies. Once he even made a pie out of another pie."
"A pie out of another pie?" Without a doubt, that sounded like something Primrose's father would do…
"It was brilliant." I believed her. "Well, I'm going to the Director's office. See you later, Jakob."
She left with slow, calm steps. I soon lost sight of her.
"Well…" It was still impressive. I finished the rest of my breakfast and prepared to check out the clubs.
I needed to obtain the ability to create resources. I didn't know what twists the story could take, but I knew that in the second half, items became much harder to obtain normally.
That said… I wanted to see Armine.
Even after the Opening Ceremony, it felt like we hadn't talked enough…
"Calm down, Jakob," I told myself. "She has responsibilities."
Besides, if my plan succeeded, she would spend more time with Aeono and less with me…
I decided to focus on other things. Today was a good day.
The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and… there was a chance Aeono would humiliate me in front of my friends.
A good day.
All I needed right now was to reach the Metallurgy Club and the Alchemy Club, join them, and plan my next moves.
Simple. Direct. No cosmic horror. No anxiety. No eroge nonsense.
Just a guy walking toward a club.
"Stop." A random student said it into the air.
It wasn't directed at me. I refused to deal with another idiot noble today.
I should keep walking.
"Stop." I saw the rest of the people in the hallway moving away from me.
No.
"Stop."
Oh, for fuck's sake…
"I said stop, Liedschlag."
Of course…
I mentally reviewed everyone who had the authority to tell me to stop.
Armine? Yes.
Director Hawkwood? Technically.
Zofia? Unfortunately.
Primrose? She didn't say "stop." She simply appeared behind you with her rifle.
Logically, I shouldn't react to a voice I didn't recognize…
So…
I kept walking.
"Are you deaf?" Goddammit, he was following me.
Footsteps. Quick. Someone grabbed my shoulder and spun me around with what was clearly meant to be an intimidating display of strength.
I turned.
Before me stood possibly the most aggressively groomed human being I had seen in two lifetimes.
Platinum blond hair so meticulously styled I was certain each strand had been given a name and a purpose.
"Good morning." I extended my hand. He looked at it as if it were filthy.
Rude.
Pale blue eyes trying very hard to project dominance but mostly projecting "I practiced this expression in front of the mirror."
A jaw so tightly clenched it looked like he was trying to crack a walnut with his molars.
"Do you think you're funny?"
Yes, actually.
I had been a decently successful streamer. My humor had played a big part in my popularity.
"Not at all," I said sincerely. His expression grew more serious. "Well…"
His uniform had more gold embroidery than the Academy's entire formal collection.
"You are a disgrace." What a hostile voice this guy had.
Also…
He smelled like he had bathed in an entire cologne factory.
"…Do I know you?" I asked, genuinely.
The silence that followed was extraordinary.
His left eye twitched.
"Do you… know me?" His voice was too controlled. The kind of control that meant someone was three seconds away from screaming.
"Should I?" I searched Jakob's memories.
Nothing.
I searched my knowledge of the game.
Nothing specific.
I examined him again.
Blond, rich, excessively perfumed…
That described roughly forty percent of the male nobles here.
"I am Erasmus Weißgold," he announced, as if declaring the arrival of a continental emperor. "Third Son of the Margrave of Weißgold. Knight-Candidate of the Order of the Silver Thorn…" He continued, but I stopped paying attention.
Only one piece of information mattered.
I knew the Order of the Silver Thorn. In the game, I used to destroy it for materials, weapons, and items.
I suppose in one of those playthroughs I must have killed this guy…
They were good times…
Oh, he stopped.
"…Okay?"
I waited for the rest. There had to be more.
He stared at me.
I stared back.
A bird sang somewhere outside the window.
It was a nice bird.
I liked that bird.
"Is that all?" I asked.
His other eye twitched.
"'Is that all'?" he repeated, his voice rising half an octave. "The Weißgold Mining Consortium supplies ore to two nations! Our family has controlled the northern territories of Gwydon for seven generations! My grandfather personally…"
"I'm sorry, I really have to be somewhere else," I said, turning around. "Pleasure to meet you, Weißberg."
"Weißgold," I could hear the frustration in his voice.
"Sure." I resumed walking toward the Metallurgy Club. "That."
I heard footsteps behind me… I sighed internally.
He is following me.
Of course he was following me.
"You dare turn your back on me, Liedschlag?" His steps were sharp and aggressive—the gait of someone taught that walking aggressively was an intimidation tactic.
It wasn't.
"I'm going to the Metallurgy Club," I said without turning. "You're free to walk in the same direction. It's a free hallway."
"You think you're clever, don't you?" He was beside me now, matching my pace. His cologne preceded him like a chemical weapon. "Do you think that because you played a few notes on a piano and made some girls cry, you're someone special?"
Oh.
Oh, this was about the concert.
"I played more than a few notes," I said mockingly. "There were at least several dozen. Possibly hundreds. I lost count."
His jaw tightened further. At this rate, he was going to need a dentist.
"An artist," he spat the word like it tasted bad. "That is what you have reduced the name Liedschlag to. Your family was once respected, and you have turned its legacy into a parlor trick."
God, man, could you be any more cliché?
"Are you saying being a pianist isn't good enough?" I didn't even look at him, simply slowing my pace. "And it's very bold of you to assume there was anything left of the Liedschlag name to reduce."
I heard him click his tongue.
"You have no pride. You sit at your little piano while we, the real nobles, train for combat, for leadership, for the duties that matter," he continued, clearly having rehearsed this speech. "What will you do if war comes? Play them a song until they die of laughter and shame?"
At least he wasn't as stupid as I thought. He was already considering the possibility of a war.
I would have liked to tell him that I was preparing myself for something even worse than whatever he was imagining, but it wasn't worth it.
"Depends on the war. Some conflicts can be resolved with a well-timed lullaby." I made sure to say it in my most irritating voice.
He stopped walking.
I didn't.
"Are you mocking me?" His voice had dropped to what he probably thought was a dangerous tone.
It reminded me of a chihuahua trying to sound like a wolf.
I had met real wolves.
Primrose had introduced us. They were much more terrifying and significantly less perfumed.
"I'm not mocking you," I said honestly. "I'm trying to get to the Metallurgy Club. You're the one following me and delivering a monologue."
Something in my tone must have struck a nerve—several, actually—because he stepped in front of me and planted himself in the middle of the hallway like a very expensive obstacle.
I stopped.
He was a few centimeters taller than me. He clearly considered this significant, because he straightened to his full height and looked down at me with what I could only describe as "rehearsed superiority."
I looked him in the eyes and smiled with amusement. He must have had a lot of confidence in his combat ability.
Funny.
Conlaoch was better than him by a massive margin.
Primrose was superior to Conlaoch in every way. Her very existence was unfair.
And don't even get me started on Armine.
This guy reeked of cologne and hair products.
He was no threat to me.
"Step aside, please." I saw the outrage on his entire face.
With a swift movement, he removed his right glove and threw it at my face.
…Okay.
"I challenge you," he said, a vein throbbing in his forehead.
I decided to be even more irritating…
"To what?"
That threw him off balance.
"To… to a duel," he recovered. "A formal duel. To demonstrate the difference between a true noble and a…"
"No," I wasn't interested.
"…a monkey in a suit who dishonors his family name… what?" His face looked genuinely incredulous.
"I said no, thank you. I'm busy."
Seriously, I had better things to do with my time.
"You can't refuse a…" he began, sounding uncertain.
"I just did." I couldn't pretend that honor, bloodlines, and duty mattered to me. "Besides, formal first-year duels require mutual consent and faculty approval, which means paperwork. I hate paperwork. Are we done?"
His face was turning a shade of red that didn't seem medically advisable.
"You are a coward," he hissed. "You hide behind your piano."
I wish. I could probably make good money as a musician. I had tons of music I could "create."
A simple life like that was all I asked for.
"You're right." Let's go with this.
"Behind your friends…"
"Probably."
"…and you don't have the courage to face a real…"
"You're right."
"…warrior who…" He stopped mid-sentence, completely derailed by my agreement.
"You are completely right," I said with a nod. "I am a coward. I play the piano. My family is in decline. Is there anything else, or can I go?"
Weißgold (I had already forgotten his name) looked at me as if I had begun speaking an unknown language.
The thing with people like this: they come prepared for two responses.
Response A: You get angry, defend yourself, and escalate. This gives them the confrontation they want.
Response B: You cower and submit. This gives them the ego boost they want.
They are never prepared for Response C: You simply don't care.
I didn't care.
Not about him, not about his family's mining consortium, and definitely not about his opinion.
This guy thought calling me an "artist" was an insult.
It was ridiculous.
"It doesn't matter if you run from me now." I could feel the hatred in his voice. His face turned purple, veins bulging. "I can make sure we're paired together in today's physical examination."
The smile he gave when saying that was enough to make a child cry.
I almost felt bad for him. It was obvious he was trying very hard to intimidate me.
"I don't think that's a good idea…" I began in a friendly voice. Then the epiphany of opportunity hit me like a train. "Actually, yes. Do it."
"What?" For a second, his face returned to normal from the surprise.
It was brilliant.
"Yes." I took his shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze. "Put me as your rival in the test. That way you can demonstrate your undeniable superiority."
The look he gave me told me he didn't understand what was happening.
Perfect. I didn't need him to understand. I just needed him to do what I said.
"I…" His voice sounded completely convinced now.
I needed to fix that.
"Imagine it," I smiled. "Everyone watching you defeat the false noble who degraded himself in front of the entire Academy."
"It could be…"
He needed one last push…
"You'll be the center of attention." That was usually what people like him wanted. "Everyone—from princesses and princes to commoners—recognizing your worth. You'll be the most important man in the world…"
I watched as with every word his face grew happier.
"Yes." He nodded, looking very pleased with himself. "It's a brilliant plan."
*Sold.*
"You're brilliant," I said so his good mood wouldn't fade.
"I'm brilliant." This was…
"You are strong, intelligent, and charismatic." This guy couldn't possibly be dumb enough to repeat what I said.
"I am strong, intelligent, and charismatic."
Never mind. He was clearly an idiot.
"You'll eat a nice steak." It was impossible that…
"I'll eat a nice steak."
I felt exhausted just listening to him.
"Now you're going to go tell the Director your great idea."
"Now I'm going to go tell the Director my great idea." For some reason, after saying that, he laughed heartily. "Your reputation is over!"
And he ran off laughing like a cartoon villain.
I looked around. Several students were watching me with doubtful expressions. For my part, I mentally patted myself on the back.
"…It was too easy." Truth be told, that guy (I had already forgotten his name) was not the brightest.
"Did you see that?"
"He literally handed himself over on a silver platter."
"He seems very weak."
"Isn't he the guy who played the piano at the ceremony?"
"Oh God, do they want to hurt him?"
It seemed some people recognized me from the opening ceremony.
"His music is very good."
"He has talent."
…Mmm. Their opinions of me were positive.
My mother would be proud…
Anyway… I should continue on my way.
"Excuse me." I gave a polite bow to everyone and kept walking.
The nice bird sang again. I smiled.
It was turning out to be a good morning… I hoped nothing would ruin it.
…
…
…
The morning sun covered me with perfect warmth. I left the castle and headed toward one of the adjacent buildings.
I breathed in the fresh morning air as I walked along the marble path. Butterflies fluttered about, and several students were exploring the school's beauty.
"It's a beautiful day," a lovely girl said while admiring the flowers beside the path.
"Shouldn't we be preparing for today's combat?" her dark-haired friend asked worriedly.
"Nah," the first one dismissed it. "Let's be honest, we're mediocre at best on the battlefield. We just need to put on a show and pray we don't get paired with Her Majesty."
Their conversation reminded me that boys and girls had their tests in separate locations.
And…
There was a series of heroines beloved by the [Kings Roads] fandom that I would personally prefer to avoid like the plague.
Jaga. A walking Pandora's box. No thank you.
Leona. One of the three most beloved heroines, but so charismatic and attractive that I honestly didn't want to meet her.
And the list went on. I preferred not to think about it…
For now, I would enjoy the scenery.
During my playthroughs of [Kings Roads], I had always admired the effort put into the locations and architecture.
The Metallurgy Club had always been one of my favorite places.
A large building made of black stone with large open windows that allowed air to flow freely. Inside were all kinds of tools for blacksmithing and ammunition crafting.
I caught the scent of burning wood as I approached.
"Excuse me." It was lucky the double doors were open.
The heat and the only person inside greeted me.
A girl, to be more precise.
She was sitting at a table away from the lit furnace, looking very focused on her project.
"Well," I began with a smile. "Good morning."
I said it into the air, hoping to make a good impression on the club members.
"Tsk." My ability to not expect the worst remained excellent.
In front of me, a beautiful girl with scarlet hair clicked her tongue in obvious displeasure.
"I only said good morning."
"Tsk."
This was proving very unproductive.
"I'm interested in joining the Metallurgy Club."
"Tsk."
Okay, that was the third tongue click since I walked in.
"If I've bothered you or shown any disrespect, I apologize."
She was sitting at a drafting desk, examining blueprints with goggles over her eyes.
Without looking at me, she said:
"Don't you have anything better to do than come bother people?" Her voice made it clear she was irritated by my presence. "Some of us have actual work. We can't waste time on nobles and their whims."
*Oi…*
"I'm here to learn." I kept my voice as calm as possible.
"I'm sorry," she said with fake pity. "But I'm not interested in your life."
…Okay.
"I would like to speak with the president of this club." This girl was clearly not going to cooperate.
"He won't be here for a while. I don't know when he'll return, and I think you should go see if pigs fly." She turned her head toward me, removed her goggles, and gave me a shit-eating grin. "Or maybe you should focus on your music and leave real work to people like me."
I closed my eyes, counted to ten mentally, and tried to calm down.
"…You're a commoner," I said after recognizing her.
Blue eyes, scarlet hair, freckles, beautiful, and with a very sharp tongue.
I opened my eyes and found her smiling, looking very pleased with herself.
"Ooh, does the prince recognize this poor and humble girl?" Her mocking tone didn't affect me, but her expression was extremely irritating.
One of the less-used heroines.
Katya Karamazov.
"I'm not a prince," I said with my best friendly expression, extending my hand. "Jakob Liedschlag. It's a pleasure."
She looked at my hand with doubt, seeming surprised by the gesture.
Then she focused on my eyes.
"At least you don't have soft, delicate hands." She then went back to her blueprints. "The president will be back in an hour. Come back later if you're truly interested."
Some progress, I supposed. This meant I could take a walk and try to distract myself while waiting for the president.
It sounded like a solid plan.
"Thank you." I turned… Actually, now that the characters were here, I should look for quests.
"I don't need your thanks." God, this Katya was a ray of sunshine.
"Likewise," I said calmly. "Thanks for the information."
Just as I was about to leave, I heard her voice in a low tone:
"Good song, by the way."
Mmm… I guess she wasn't so bad after all. Though I could better understand why she was one of the least-used heroines.
"Anyway," I said as the sun's rays kissed my skin. The warmth of the day was quite comfortable. I should take the time to enjoy these moments of peace. "A walk wouldn't be bad."
Walking would help me think.
If the student who had stopped me in the hallway (it was concerning how little I cared about his existence) succeeded and we were paired as rivals, I had no reason to worry about Aeono.
I smiled.
Yeah, right.
I also couldn't underestimate Weißshukfel (or whatever his name was). Despite everything, he looked well-trained and had a firm posture.
Nowhere near Conlaoch's level, but I could still recognize someone who trained with everything he had.
"Uuuuhhhh."
There was also the possibility that Aeono would still be my rival. There I wasn't so sure I could win.
"Uuuhhh."
I also didn't know what background or build Aeono had. It could be any of the seven, really.
"Uughhh."
God, the anxiety was making me make weird noises.
"Uughhh."
Wait, that wasn't my inner voice.
"Uuuhhhggg… Lord, I know you have a plan, but I don't think including me in it was a good idea…"
I looked toward a bush.
Was someone having a conversation with God behind those bushes?
"Hello?"
It was suspiciously large, and from inside protruded two brown leather boots.
The boots were trembling.
"I would have been better off as a rock… Rocks don't have to run three kilometers, deal with women who smell like cinnamon, or worry about inheritances." The voice paused reflectively. "Though rocks break too. I guess even as a rock I wouldn't have been safe."
…I already knew this world was completely insane and yet…
I felt a slight temptation…
"No. Not even in my dreams." I decided to continue on my way. It wasn't my problem and was surely some key character or some shit that would once again destroy my perception of reality.
"Ehehehe." I could hear that little bastard's laugh even now, along with the phantom weight of the revolver.
"Pssst." I heard nothing.
I kept walking.
I heard something moving behind me.
"Wait," said a thick, masculine voice.
Oh, fuck.
I activated my ring and poured all my power into my legs.
"This is Aeono's problem…" I muttered without enthusiasm.
He was the protagonist. He could come have these forest encounters.
"Wait," the voice said again, this time closer.
"Nope." And I started running forward.
Then a hand—thick, calloused, with knuckles that looked like they had been punching stones since childhood—grabbed my shoulder with unexpected speed.
"You." The hand yanked me toward the bush with the strength of a draft animal.
Before I could process what was happening, I was crouched beside a guy who smelled of olive oil, sweat, and chronic resignation.
"What the hell…?" I began.
"Shh." The guy put a finger as thick as a sausage over my lips. "Lower your voice. If she finds me, I'll die. And if I die, I want it to be in silence, the way I lived."
"You're not living in silence right now." I looked at him with barely controlled panic.
This was all absurd.
"That's because I'm not dead yet." He said it as if it were a perfectly reasonable explanation.
I looked at him carefully.
Dark brown, short, messy hair. Brown eyes with permanent-looking bags—not from lack of sleep, but from an existential fatigue that had probably been born with him.
"Are you running from something?" My sixth sense made me immediately regret asking.
He smiled tiredly.
Oh, God…
His face currently expressed the same enthusiasm for life as a fish on a cutting board.
He seemed slightly shorter than me. Maybe 1.80m. Robust build, with broad shoulders and arms that looked capable of lifting a horse.
His uniform was wrinkled, as if he had put it on in a hurry—or had been crawling on the ground. Which, given the evidence, was exactly what had happened.
"Who are you?" I asked in a low voice, because apparently I was now an accomplice to whatever this was.
"Rodrigo," he said with the intonation of someone reading his own epitaph. "Rodrigo Fuerte, from Hesperidia. 'Here lies Rodrigo, who wanted to live quietly and wasn't allowed to.'"
I stared at him.
Oh no…
"…Is that your introduction or your tombstone?"
Please don't answer the way I think you will…
"Both. I've decided to prepare it in advance to save whoever has to organize my funeral some work." He looked at me with complete seriousness. "Do you know how to carve stone, by any chance?"
Son of a…
"No." I already knew who you were… someone up there hated me… I remembered the Moon and decided it was probably more than just hate.
"A shame. It would have been useful." He said it with genuine disappointment, as if he had expected any stranger he crossed paths with to have funerary sculpting skills.
"Why am I in a bush?" I asked, trying to steer the situation.
His smile made me regret asking that question.
"Because you look like someone who understands suffering." Rodrigo evaluated me with the look of a veteran recognizing another.
I don't want camaraderie from you, buddy.
"…Seriously?" Maybe I was much more of a masochist than I thought.
"Your eyes. I've seen them in the mirror. They're the eyes of someone who knows the day is going to go badly and has made peace with it."
"…Hey." I felt a strange mixture of camaraderie and intense hatred. "Is that any way to talk to a stranger?"
He had the audacity to smile.
"It's not an insult. It's the greatest compliment I can give a man." Rodrigo nodded with solemnity. "Only those who have truly suffered can recognize each other. It's like a club. A terrible club that no one wants to be a member of, but one we all belong to anyway."
I opened my mouth. My brain processed what he said and I stopped myself from saying anything.
I couldn't argue with his point.
I closed my eyes. I counted to ten and then looked at him.
"Jakob Liedschlag." I extended my hand.
He returned the gesture. Something was wrong with all of this.
"Not necessarily a pleasure." His honesty made me want to hit him. "You surely come from a family that ignores you just enough not to hurt you, but not enough to bother with an accident."
…Fuck.
"…"
I hated this guy.
"Am I wrong?"
I sighed.
"You're not wrong about absolutely anything, and that worries me." That statement applied to both of my lives.
Rodrigo nodded with the understanding of someone who had known misfortune all his life.
"It must be hard," he said, looking at me with sympathy.
I shook my head.
"Not really," I said without too much difficulty. "I hate my family."
It took me a moment to process what had come out of my mouth.
I felt fear knowing that Jakob and I thought the same.
"I'm sorry." The honesty in Rodrigo's voice left me slightly off balance.
"It's not a big deal." He looked at me without enthusiasm.
"My father loves me," Rodrigo said reflectively. "He tells me every time I break something. 'I love you, son, but this is coming out of your inheritance.' I don't have any inheritance left. He's a man of numbers, my father. He keeps track of every wall, door, and piece of furniture I've destroyed. He has a book. An entire book. He calls it 'The Register of Rodrigo's Calamities.' He keeps it next to the message from the Most Holy King of Souls—may glory be upon His eternal name."
…I saw him smile with good humor when he mentioned the King of Souls.
For some reason, a lump formed in my throat remembering that this world's God was not here to hear His faithful followers…
"An entire book?" I needed to distract my mind.
"With an index." Rodrigo swallowed. "And appendices."
A silence formed between us. But it wasn't uncomfortable. It was the silence of two people who had just discovered they spoke the same language of misfortune.
"Why are you hiding?" I asked finally.
All the color left his face.
"Her."
A shiver ran down my spine. Not because of his tone—but because I recognized that tone exactly.
It was the same one I used when Primrose decided it was time to train.
"Girlfriend?" I asked on instinct.
Rodrigo looked at me as if I had told him the Earth was flat.
"Girlfriend?" he repeated with horror. "GIRLFRIEND? Girlfriends love you, hug you, bring you food, and say nice things to you. She has known me since we were children, is always stuck to me, and doesn't let me relax. Does that sound like a girlfriend to you?"
…Poor bastard…
"…Technically yes, depending on the culture."
Somehow I managed to keep my face from smiling.
"Not in my homeland!" His outraged face made me feel better.
That said.
"Then what is she?" I was evil.
Rodrigo opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Closed it.
His face went through at least seven different expressions, none of which seemed capable of capturing the complexity of his thought.
"She's my… she's…" His voice dropped until it was almost inaudible. "She is the most wonderful person I have ever met in my life and the main reason I ask God to take me every morning."
"…That is the most romantic and saddest thing I have ever heard in my life."
"I know." Rodrigo let himself fall to the ground. "As my grandmother used to say: 'Love and death only call once, and both leave you equally stiff.' I have stopped being able to tell which one is chasing me."
I smiled.
Finally. Something normal.
"How did you meet her?" I asked, knowing I was going to enjoy this.
"The first time I saw her, I thought three things." Rodrigo raised three fingers. "First: 'Ooh, a girl with bear ears.' Second: 'How can she lift a tree by herself?' Third: 'I'm going to slowly walk in the opposite direction before she notices me.'"
Aah, I already felt better about myself.
"And?"
"She noticed me."
"Of course." I smiled.
"She took me by the hand and said: 'You need food to be strong. You will be my friend.'" Rodrigo looked at me with the expression of a man recounting the exact moment his life had twisted irreversibly. "That's when I knew God had a sense of humor. And that I was the joke."
Yes, that confirmed it.
"Hey," I said cautiously, "your surname is Fuerte."
"Yes." Rodrigo looked at me like a prisoner confirming his sentence. "That's why I'd like to smash my head against a wall, but the wall would probably lose."
Rodrigo Fuerte.
[The Strong Arm of Hesperidia]
One of the most beloved NPCs.
"The ones with the…?" I smiled internally, knowing this guy suffered with every mention of his family weapon.
"Don't say it." Rodrigo looked at me with genuine pain. "Please. Don't say it."
"The swords…?"
"DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO WAKE UP EVERY MORNING KNOWING YOU CAN BREAK EVERYTHING YOU TOUCH?" His whisper was so intense that the leaves of the bush trembled, and a bird fell dead between us. Rodrigo looked at it with absolute resignation. "…See? See what just happened? I wasn't even trying to do anything."
This was hilarious.
The Curse of the Fuertes.
In the game, it was a marginal note in the description of an object—a medallion you could find in Hesperidia. It said something like: {The Fuerte family was blessed by the King of Souls during the war against the deity Llaha with unparalleled strength for their valor.}
It is also known that they received two legendary swords upon defeating the emissary of that deity.
There is no real curse.
They were literally divine gifts that gave them an advantage over many. In fact… I think they were among the weapons that could truly wound and kill Helal.
And this guy treated it like a terminal illness that also charged him rent.
"It must be hard."
I remembered that many players who used to roleplay as villains killed him to take his swords…
I never did it because I wanted to stay away from conventional builds, but videos I saw about it reminded me of a scene.
"Time to kill this guy's girlfriend."
Right… that was the first step to activating his questline.
I felt strangely desolate. After the first step came more and more actions that would throw Rodrigo into the deepest despair.
… I…
"It is." I saw that Rodrigo was looking at the sky with an absent expression. The sun was hitting his face. "Each generation, the firstborn inherits this multiplied strength. We can overcome any obstacle, but… The more delicate things are beyond our reach."
A cloud cast a shadow over Rodrigo's face. It must be hard…
"I'm sorry…" I told him, partly for his misfortune and partly for what players did to him just for better weapons and stats.
Rodrigo looked at me with a distant expression.
"Look," he said, raising his right hand. "Do you see this hand?"
I saw it. It looked like a normal hand. Maybe a little wider than average.
"With this hand I have broken three training swords. Six doors. A stone wall. The nose of a duke who looked at my friend the wrong way," the smile when saying that was that of someone quite satisfied, "although that was an accident I don't regret. The blacksmith's favorite anvil in my village, who still doesn't talk to me. And my father's pride, the day I beat him in a duel at eleven years old."
What a fascinating thing… It still cost me, but I was starting to see it more clearly…
These were people. Not just characters…
I…
"What did your father say to you?" I looked at the sky. The blue was the same as in my world of origin.
The sun on my skin, the earth I was sitting on, the warmth… this world was real…
And that terrified me more than I was willing to admit.
"'Son, I am very proud and very worried. In that order.' And then he added: 'And now you're going to pay for the anvil.'" Rodrigo said with a sigh that seemed to come from the bottom of his soul and make a stop at every organ before leaving. "I've had a personal lawyer since I was fourteen. To handle property damage claims. Do you know what it's like to have a lawyer before your first date?"
I smiled and had to hold back my laughter.
"No, but I'm starting to understand the magnitude of the problem."
"My lawyer has more work than I do. He earns more than I do. He lives better than I do. Sometimes I think the true curse of the Fuertes is generating employment for lawyers."
I let out a laugh I couldn't contain.
Rodrigo looked at me without smiling, but with silent approval.
"You understand me," he said as if he had found water in a desert. "I see it in your eyes. You are a man who knows what it is to carry something you didn't ask for."
He wasn't wrong.
I thought about the revolver that appeared in my hand without permission, about the moon that pursued me, about a body that wasn't mine and a life I hadn't chosen.
"Something like that," I said.
"Friend." Rodrigo extended his hand. Not as a noble extends it for a formal greeting, but as a soldier extends his hand to another in a trench.
I took it without hesitation.
His grip was surprisingly controlled—gentle, even. And in that gesture, I understood how difficult it was for him to calibrate every physical contact.
Every touch, every hug that could shatter the bones of a normal person.
He smiled, and it was exactly as I expected: small, tired, and slightly surprised to exist.
"You know," he said, releasing my hand, "my grandfather always said that friends are brothers you choose. I used to think it was a lie, because half the things my grandfather said were lies. But maybe on this one he was right."
His family sounded more and more insane with everything he told me.
"And the other half?" My curiosity might be my undoing…
"The other half were excuses to drink more. A great man, my grandfather. He died at ninety-two, in his bed, with a glass of liquor in his hand and a smile on his face. The bastard won." Rodrigo looked at the sky with a mixture of admiration and envy. "I aspire to that. To die old, peacefully, and preferably without having broken anything important that day."
He is dreaming too big.
"It's a good goal." Honestly, it didn't sound bad.
I imagined myself as an old man, comfortably in bed while Armine passed me a glass of grape juice (I'm sure she would never let me drink alcohol) and both of us…
Oi… Why was I imagining myself as an old man next to Armine?
"Is something wrong, friend?" Rodrigo was looking at me doubtfully. "Your face is red."
What hot weather today…
"Everything's fine," I said in a higher, more nervous voice than I wanted. "It's hot, but keep telling me about your great dream."
His gaze seemed doubtful, but he continued.
"It's the only goal. Everything else is vanity." He said it like a philosopher pronouncing his final truth. "As my great-grandfather used to say: 'The brave man dies once, the coward lives a thousand times.' And you know what? I prefer the thousand. A thousand peaceful days, without training, without bear girls who smell like cinnamon, without…"
He stopped.
His ears turned red.
"It's hot," he said with a nervous smile.
I nodded like a madman.
"Right!?" My voice sounded more desperate for some reason…
"It's strange," his voice also sounded nervous.
"Yes."
"…"
"…"
"Totally."
I hadn't said anything… but…
"Who smells like cinnamon?" The doubt was eating at me, and I needed to stop thinking about Armine.
"Forget I said that."
Not in your wildest dreams.
"I don't think I can."
"…Damn it." Rodrigo let himself fall to the ground again. "Her name is Isabella Bellúrsa, Countess of Ursalia and owner of Ironclaw."
…Aah, his girlfriend… Ooh…
"And…?"
"She's always with me." Rodrigo closed his eyes like someone accepting a fact. "She says she follows me to make sure I don't do anything wrong, just because once I killed a horse when I tried to pet it."
"What?"
"That she's right." He said it with the pain of someone admitting something he had been denying to himself for years. "She's right, and that infuriates me, because I would prefer her to be wrong so I could ignore her without guilt. But no. She has to be intelligent, on top of being beautiful, on top of being taller than me, on top of…"
He stopped again.
…Poor idiot. He didn't realize he was hopelessly in love with her.
I could only sigh internally.
You had to be really stupid not to realize that if a girl that perfect was interested in you, it was because…
"On top of…?" I decided not to think about anything related to Armine. Better to keep making this guy suffer.
"On top of nothing. I haven't said anything. I'm not saying anything." Rodrigo looked at me with pleading eyes. "Brother, I ask you as the greatest favor I will ever ask a man I met seven minutes ago: don't tell her I said she's beautiful."
"Why?"
"Because she'll get happy." He said it as if it were the worst thing that could happen. "And when she gets happy, her ears move. And when they move, I…"
He covered his face with both hands.
God, how can someone be so in love and not be aware of it?
KAAK
KAAK
KAAAKK
Hey, the bird that sings when convenient.
"It can't be that bad," I said, knowing it was exactly that bad.
He smiled as if he had been given permission to be the first to charge at the enemy in an obviously suicidal attack.
"I lose all will to resist," he murmured between his fingers.
I was incapable of not laughing. Every word that came out of this guy's mouth was gold.
"And what if she really needs you?" My mouth moved on its own. "What if something threatened her?"
Why was I asking this question?
I…
Rodrigo became very still.
The theatricality disappeared from his body as if someone had turned off a faucet.
"That's not fair," he said in a low voice.
"I didn't ask if it was fair." I was being unusually intense about this…
Was it because we were similar or…?
Rodrigo looked at me with an expression I hadn't seen on him until now. It wasn't comical, or dramatic, or defeated.
It was the expression of someone who had thought about that question many times.
In the darkness. Alone.
"I would break whatever I had to break." He didn't say it with drama. Without emphasis. Without pose. Just as a fact. "Doors, walls, people. Whatever. Anything between her and her safety ceases to exist."
"You…" I began. He had reached the same conclusion as me…
"And then I would charge her for the repairs."
I looked at him. His face was serious. Too serious.
I almost laughed. Almost.
"It sounds like you love her a lot."
"I DIDN'T SAY THAT." Another bird fell between us. Luckily it wasn't my favorite one. Rodrigo looked at it with the resignation of a man who had stopped counting his disasters. "…God in His Holy Glory also thinks I love her. Everyone thinks I love her. The stones, the trees, probably the damn birds."
"This specific one doesn't," I said, looking at the dead bird.
"Urghhh." His suffering was entertaining, but…
"And you?" I looked him in the eyes. His face became more serious for a few moments. "What do you think?"
"I think I would like the earth to open up and swallow me." Reflective pause. "But if that happened, she would probably jump after me. And then we'd both be inside the earth."
"You haven't answered my question."
Rodrigo looked at me fixedly for several seconds.
"I know," he said, and in those two words there was more honesty than in everything he had said before.
Before I could continue, we both felt something.
A vibration.
Not in the ground—in the air.
"Here she comes…" Rodrigo whispered with pure terror. "It's like death. Inevitable. Punctual. And it smells like honey and cinnamon."
"You told me not to say she smelled like cinnamon."
"And I told you not to tell *her*. I'm telling you because we're brothers and brothers share their suffering."
Steps. Soft, but firm, with a constant rhythm that denoted absolute confidence.
A shadow was cast over our bush.
"Rodrigo." The voice was feminine, very delicate, cold, and with a tone I imagined demons would have before dragging their victims to eternal punishment. "I know you're there."
Rodrigo stopped breathing and looked at me. His eyes said: "Tell her I'm not here."
My eyes said: "We are literally in the same bush, and apparently she can smell you."
"I can smell you." She said it as if she could read my thoughts. "You smell like olive oil and self-pity."
Ouch. That hurt even me.
"And I also smell the one who is with you." Oh no. "It's a mixture of recklessness and selfish heroism."
What? I looked at the culprit with eyes full of doubt.
Rodrigo closed his eyes.
"It has been a pleasure knowing you, brother," he told me with complete seriousness. "Tell whoever wants to listen that I died with dignity. Lie if necessary."
"I'm not going to—"
A hand entered the bush and grabbed Rodrigo by the neck. The look he gave me was that of a sheep that knew it was going to be sacrificed.
And so he came out of the bush, without any elegance and notably mortified.
"You too, come out." Death—I mean, the girl who had pulled Rodrigo out—told me with a voice that would make a warrior flee.
I thought about running…
Until I heard her cracking her knuckles.
I came out of my own free will, shaking leaves from my hair.
And I was finally able to see the person responsible for Rodrigo Fuerte's permanent existential crisis.
Oh.
She was beautiful.
Dark brown hair with honey highlights that fell to her shoulders. Sun-bronzed skin.
Blue eyes that shone with a mixture of affection and exasperation.
She wore the female uniform and… aah, it was difficult to keep my gaze on her eyes. Exuberant was an appropriate word for her body…
I mean, she wasn't at Armine's level, but… God, I hated this… I still hadn't really gotten used to this aspect of the world…
Isabella Bellúrsa had her hands on her perfect hips and was looking with narrowed eyes at Rodrigo, who was sitting on the ground.
That's when I noticed her bear ears. Round, furry, chocolate brown, peeking out from her hair like two fluffy buns.
She had a little black hat between her ears that looked quite cute, to be honest…
"Rodrigo!" Despite being adorable, her voice carried notable strength, along with a much thicker accent than Rodrigo's.
Wait a second.
"Excuse me." From her tone, it was clear she was someone very serious and of notable fierceness.
"Good day, sir. May God bless you on this beautiful day." The total change she underwent upon seeing me was such that I had to look toward Rodrigo to make sure it was the same person who had terrified him.
Rodrigo's look was that of a man warning of danger without saying a word.
I looked at Isabella again. Her expression of kindness and sweetness was not fake, so…
"Thank you," I said in a friendly voice. I then turned to Rodrigo with a dazzling smile. "It's good to know you'll be under the care of such a distinguished young lady. I wish you the best, my friend."
I opened my eyes a little wider and saw the expression of horror on Rodrigo's face.
Am I a bad person if I say his suffering amuses me?
"Ohohoho." Hey, Isabella's laugh was very comical. "It's good to see that Rodrigo has finally made a decent friend besides me."
I liked this girl. I saw Rodrigo's kicked-puppy expression again and decided to help him a little.
"No need to say that. He hasn't stopped talking about how wonderful his great friend Isabella is since we met." Her face turned red as a tomato and I discreetly looked at Rodrigo. "He seemed nervous. I'm sure he was anxious about today's tests. Try not to be too hard on him."
Her face softened when she heard my reasons, and his filled with hope.
"Is that so?" I noticed Isabella's tone became softer and her gaze more compassionate.
"Absolutely." I nodded, then turned around to continue my walk. "I think you have things to discuss. If you'll excuse me, I'll take my leave."
"Of course. Have a good day. Thank you for keeping Rodrigo company." She gave me a courteous bow.
That made me turn around and imitate her gesture.
"It was a pleasure," I said before continuing on my way. Even from a few steps away, I could hear Isabella scolding Rodrigo.
"Twenty minutes," she said, her voice controlled with precision. "You've been hiding in a bush for twenty minutes."
"Twenty-three," he corrected with the dignity of a man who no longer had anything to lose. "If you're going to scold me, do it with precise data."
Isabella let out a sound through her nose that was half laugh, half growl.
I couldn't help but laugh at that.
What a beautiful relationship those two had…
I walked among the trees as the sound of their voices grew more distant.
"Maybe I should visit Edward," I told myself as a breeze stirred my hair. I was already leaving the forest and came upon a very beautiful lake.
There were swans and geese near the water. I also noticed white pillars supporting a dome, very much in the style of Greek temples.
I closed my eyes for a moment. The beauty of this world was intoxicating. It almost made me forget about the moon…
For a few seconds I felt like I could stay here, simply enjoying the calm that…
"You can't even show your face properly. What kind of noble hides behind his hair like a ghost?" someone said in a disgusting tone.
God, it seemed I couldn't have a moment of peace…
I opened my eyes and noticed in the distance that there was a group of people surrounding a young woman sitting beneath the dome.
I turned around. I smelled trouble in that entire scene.
It was surely the call to action for Aeono.
He was the protagonist. He should take care of these kinds of things.
"I heard that [Sun Drinkers] drink animal blood when they can't find humans. Is that true? Do you drink rats?"
I stopped dead when I heard that term.
In [Kings Roads] there were several races the player could encounter.
One of them was the Sun Drinkers, who were basically vampires.
Well, like everything in this world, their vampires were beautiful on the surface and terribly terrifying underneath.
I had never had much interest in them myself, but I had read item descriptions and watched some speculative videos about them.
In summary: No.
Simply no.
I had already experienced a real fight with what was supposed to be the joke boss and nearly died. I didn't want to know what a vampire on steroids could do.
"She's probably praying right now. 'Oh, King of Souls, please make me less of a monster…'"
Aah, how obvious it was that they were nobles. They lacked common sense.
I had to get out of here. I didn't want to be around when the vampire decided her lunch had a name and surname.
Laughter. The hollow, performative kind.
I sighed. What idiots…
"Please," a delicate, timid voice, almost pleading. "In the name of the Dolha-Strigoi, I ask you to leave me in peace."
That name.
I recognized it.
Aah, for fuck's sake…
Imperial Princess of Solomonara. Duchess of Gorgomana.
And one of the 120 heroines of [Kings Roads]
Oh no.
Oh no, no, no.
I remembered the cinematic.
The sky turns red. All the corpses from every battlefield the player has crossed rise. She sits on a throne of bones with a smile so serene it gives you goosebumps, and says:
"I waited for you. I waited for you for so long." The designer had outdone himself with the expression of madness and desire in that moment. "Now you will never leave me again."
I stopped dead, did a perfect about-face, and marched toward them with a serious expression.
Fools.
They had no idea how terrifying this girl was, idiots.
They were harassing her without the slightest idea that they were poking a nuclear warhead.