Once Ram had settled the guests, Rem appeared before Ayanokoji with crisp, efficient movements. "Lord Kiyotaka, Master Roswaal requests your presence. He is waiting in the dining hall. Please, follow me." Her tone left no room for refusal. Ayanokoji didn't mind; he wanted to see this "Roswaal" for himself—to measure the man's weight and determine if he was an asset to be used or a threat to be neutralized.
In the present, at the Roswaal Manor...
"Calculating my utility before we've even met? What a delightful boy," Roswaal murmured, watching the sky-projection with a painted grin. "Such a personality... he might actually save me quite a bit of trouble. We may reach my goal much faster than anticipated."
Beside him, Rem refilled his tea. "Do you dislike him, Master Roswaal?"
"From what the sky shows, he isn't the type of person one 'likes,' Rem. But since we haven't met in the flesh, I shall reserve judgment. What about you?"
Rem looked at the image of her alternate self glaring at the screen. "I don't know him yet. But if he threatens this house, I won't need a reason to hate him."
Ayanokoji followed Rem through a grand hallway. The craftsmanship was impeccable—hand-carved wood and ornate decorations that screamed of immense generational wealth. Yet, despite the size of the estate, he had only seen two staff members. The lack of a proper retinue for a man of Roswaal's status was a glaring anomaly.
In the dining hall, a massive table was set with exquisite desserts and a vintage candelabra. Emilia, Felt, and Rom were already seated. Felt looked like a stray cat in a palace, eyes darting toward every shiny object. Rom sat stiffly; even with a custom oversized chair, the giant looked like he was trying to fit into a dollhouse.
"Kiyotaka! Over here!" Emilia waved enthusiastically, gesturing to the seat beside her.
Ayanokoji noted the change. She had dropped the formal titles. She's calling me 'Kiyotaka' now. She's completely lowered her guard, viewing me as a trusted confidant. A simple girl... she'll be an easy tool to calibrate. He sat down without a word, his face a perfect mask.
Emilia had changed into casual wear—a simple pink sundress and white over-the-knee socks. The look was modest, yet it highlighted her natural, almost ethereal charm.
"How is the room Ram prepared for you?" she asked, leaning in close enough for him to catch the faint scent of flowers.
"It's excellent," he replied. He would still perform a sweep for hidden passages and surveillance devices later tonight, but for now, social maintenance was the priority.
His gaze shifted to the other side of the table. A tiny girl sat there, her legs likely dangling inches above the floor. She had cream-colored hair tied into elaborate twin-drill pig-tails and wore a red frilled dress. She looked like a masterpiece porcelain doll. She was currently focused on Puck, feeding him soup from a small silver spoon while the cat-spirit purred in bliss.
"This is Beatrice, or Betty," Emilia introduced. "She's the caretaker of the Forbidden Library."
Beatrice looked up. Her butterfly-patterned eyes met Ayanokoji's for a fleeting second before her bright smile vanished, replaced by a wall of cold indifference. She didn't offer a greeting, turning her attention back to Puck immediately.
Another difficult personality. Engaging with her now would be a social dead-end, Ayanokoji thought. He was more interested in the "Forbidden Library." Knowledge was power, but it was currently locked behind a language barrier.
Finally, his eyes settled on the man at the head of the table. Tall, thin, and dressed in a bizarre, asymmetrical outfit that resembled a circus performer's costume. His face was painted with clownish makeup, one eye framed by a blue mark.
This was Roswaal L. Mathers.
"A pleasure to finally meet you, Lord Kiyotaka Ayanokoji," Roswaal said. His voice had a strange, sing-song cadence that felt intentionally grating.
"The honor is mine, Lord Roswaal. I've heard much about you," Ayanokoji replied. He dissected the man's appearance. Most would see a madman or an eccentric. Ayanokoji saw layers. People wear costumes for reasons: to seek attention, to hide their true selves, or to mimic a predecessor. Whatever the reason, Roswaal was a variable that required constant monitoring.
"This food was prepared by Rem. Please, do try it," Roswaal said warmly.
"It really is delicious, Kiyotaka! Try it!" Emilia urged. Felt was already halfway through her second plate, eating with the refined grace of a starving wolf.
Ayanokoji took a bite. The flavors were complex, a perfect balance of sweet and savory. It was superior to most high-end meals in his former world.
"Lady Emilia mentioned your origins," Roswaal leaned forward, his mismatched eyes sharp. "The 'Empire of the Rising Sun.' Curiously, I've never seen it on any map."
"A small, isolated nation," Ayanokoji lied smoothly. "Too insignificant for most cartographers to bother with." He knew from previous loops that the world was vast and fragmented; a "hidden kingdom" was a plausible cover for a stranger.
"I see. My own education must be lacking then," Roswaal chuckled, though his eyes didn't mirror the mirth. "I understand you wish to support Lady Emilia's camp. As a guest of this house, is there anything I can provide to aid you?"
"I appreciate the offer. If possible, I would like to learn your written language," Ayanokoji said. "I can speak the tongue, but I am illiterate here. Additionally, I'd like permission to explore the surrounding territory."
Literacy was the key to the library. Mapping the terrain was the key to surviving the next assassination attempt. Ayanokoji was already building his fortress.