Irene Windler Is a Villainess? (4)
Unlike the Status window—no, unlike Derek, who could not hide his shock at the absurdity of Lee Han's abilities—Lee Han faced him more flatly than he had expected.
Figured I'd run into one of these sooner or later.
The sudden appearance of a Status window did not startle him much. Early or late, he had always been certain they would meet at least once. They met, just as he had predicted, and what Lee Han felt was this.
Hell of a character concept.
The regressor had been a textbook youngest son of the northern grand duke. The possessed heroine of the romance fantasy had come packaged with the usual secret of her birth and some special talent. Every lead he had met carried an air that suited the role. But this Status window, who might have been a past life or a possession—
Gloomy bastard.
Wasn't the gloom soaked into him, thick and sticky? A fresh character, maybe.
Shy of strangers, this one.
More precisely, dealing with other people was probably too much for him. The proof came at once.
"Th-that's, um, I..."
The moment Lee Han spoke first, the boy panicked and started buffering. A classic loner. An outsider. The sort who would frustrate anyone else, or invite every kind of misunderstanding.
Not as if I've only dealt with one or two of these.
He let it pass. Ten years a soldier in his previous life, and the socially unfit he had met would clear a thousand even if he counted low. A thousand—wasn't that exaggerating? He wished it were a joke.
At least this type stays quiet. The real nightmares are the bastards with their shit convictions and their pathetic little politics.
So Lee Han waited in silence for him to speak. Loner types might be slow of tongue, but if you didn't get angry or raise your voice—if you simply waited—they answered in earnest. Sure enough, as if to repay that faith:
"Y-you knew I approached you on purpose?"
"Hard not to."
"...I really did come in secret."
"Your steps were quiet, I'll give you that. Quiet enough I couldn't even feel a presence."
"...And you still knew."
"Senses run a little sharp."
"Th-they certainly... seem to."
"Hm."
"!"
When Lee Han turned a meaningful look on him, the boy flinched like a squirrel caught stealing food. A gaze that said I know what you did, straight through him. And just as predicted—
This kid looked at my Status, didn't he?
Lee Han already had a fair idea of what the Status window had done. So he asked.
"So. Was the observation fun?"
"!!?"
"Don't do it next time. Pulling that on someone you've just met is rude, wouldn't you say."
"Th-that's..."
"Your answer."
"...I-I'm sorry."
"You apologized honestly, so I'll let it go."
"......"
"Here. I'll give you a towel. Wipe the sweat."
"......"
Every time he spoke, the Status window flinched, until Lee Han finally let out a snort of a laugh. They had not even managed a proper conversation, but the apology was clean, and the reactions were sincere.
Doesn't seem like a bad one.
Click.
No need to pluck the eyes out. Lee Han slipped a knife—drawn at some point he could not even name—back inside his clothes.
D-did he just see straight through my skill?!
For Derek, it was enough to drain the color from his face. His heart hammered at the thought that this might be the first time anyone had noticed him using a skill. Even so, he did not believe the man knew exactly what he had seen.
H-his traits didn't include Player. That means he's a resident of this world. S-so he shouldn't know Status exists.
Why had he approached Lee Han today, gambling the Status skill he could use only once every three months? Because of the other Player he had always suspected, deep down. He had come to confirm it. If Status showed Player in the other man's trait column, that would prove they were from the same place. The gamble had been necessary. He had no idea what variable another Player might become, and if that person were wicked, it would be a serious problem.
He had braced himself and checked, and fortunately Lee Han's trait column did not contain the word Player. Proof that he was no Player, but a resident of this world. Derek felt disappointment and relief at once. At least, for now, he was still the only Player.
But—
I-I've been caught?!
The moment he relaxed, that sharp gaze came flying, and with it the meaningful hint that the man had felt the presence of his skill. Of course his guts went cold.
N-no. He didn't catch me completely.
Once he cooled a little, it seemed more likely the man had sensed something wrong in his gaze through Beast Instinct or Veteran Instinct. Traits at that level could well notice the alien feeling his skill gave off. So the skill itself had probably not been exposed.
I... was really in danger.
Even so, the danger had been real. If this man had attacked the instant he sensed something alien, Derek would have been deleted on the spot, with no way to stop it. His specs gave him no means of handling a level-seven warrior.
He doesn't seem as violent as I imagined.
Derek began to think the man might be cooler-headed, more rational, than expected. He must have felt the alien energy—the skill—and still let it pass without displeasure. What impressed Derek more than that was something else.
He's being considerate of me.
He had been bullied under the names stutterer and mute. Born with a clumsy, dragging way of speech and a personality people called warped, others were forever raising their voices at him or flying into a temper. For Derek it was a past packed with resentment. How many times had he thought he would be grateful if someone only gave him the chance to speak slowly, one step at a time? In all his life, exactly two people had waited and heard him out to the end. One was Karin, even now giving a splendid speech at the center of the debate. The other...
The name, the air about him... they really are alike.
Someone like the mentor he had met during two years of army life he had been sure would be hell.
He seems a little like Squad Leader.
Squad Leader. A little like Staff Sergeant Lee Han.
......Had the Squad Leader reincarnated?
"...Ha."
As if.
Even so, the odds of a dead acquaintance reincarnating in another world and meeting him again were absurd, and Derek shook his head. He would sooner meet another regressor or another possessor. A cliché like that could not exist. He denied it, telling himself the thought was ridiculous even by his own measure.
So, for now—
I should just count meeting a good person as luck.
Toward the third good person of his life, Derek slowly opened his mouth.
"I-I'm Derek. First year of the history faculty."
...Funnily enough, the Status window—Taechang—was only now offering his name and affiliation. Lee Han answered with a bored face.
"Well. Prompt of you."
"S-sorry..."
"Enough apologizing. More to the point, you're with history. Hm. Do they teach Fighting Art in the history faculty these days?"
"!!?"
"And not a common one. High Internal Art. The sort only nobles learn—high nobles, at that. And you've learned it."
"......"
"What's the surname?"
"...I'm sorry."
"Can't tell me, then. More suspicious by the minute."
"Nngh...!"
Taechang swallowed a groan and shrank even further. He seemed to understand that having too much he could not reveal was, by itself, enough to plant distrust. The distress and the anxiety were plain. He looked terrified he might have spoiled the man's mood.
Of course.
Doesn't look like the Mad Second Prince to me.
Lee Han was already certain this was the wastrel Second Prince known only by rumor. The High Internal Art was one thing, but there was also an air like his sister's—the unique atmosphere that belonged only to Pendragon royalty. He was sure the boy was royal. For now, though, he deliberately pretended not to know Taechang's identity. No point letting on that he knew more than he should. Someone might argue that pressure would squeeze out more information.
With this type, better to draw it out naturally than to lean on him.
Lee Han was a veteran at pulling information from every sort of person. Torture and threats were tools, but some people broke under them and some did not. In that sense, the Status window was very much the latter.
The type who'll spit it all out on his own, once he starts talking.
Simple, because he was innocent. Drop his guard and he would tell everything himself. So what Lee Han had to do now was simple.
"Cadet Derek."
"Y-yes?"
"For now, I'll set aside how suspicious you are."
"!?!?"
"But you know it yourself. How suspicious a figure you appear to be."
"Th-that's..."
"I can tell you approached me with some purpose. I felt no hostility and no killing intent, so this instructor is not threatening you. The suspicion, though, is obvious."
"......"
"So I'll make a suggestion. How about we go on as a question for a question?"
"...A q-question for a question...?"
"If either of us wants to know something, we ask in turn. You first."
"Th-that's—"
"I won't rush you."
"......"
...For a moment, silence hung between them. The offer was abrupt, but the Status window seemed to take it seriously. Well, he had reason to be grateful. He might not know Lee Han's real intent, but he had been handed a chance to gain information. Only by Lee Han's consideration could he still accomplish what he had come to do. A gift, fallen into his lap.
Lee Han waited, expressionless, for about three minutes. Then, all at once—
A crisp snap.
Silence
A rush of force.
"...Hoh. An interesting trick."
In that instant every sound was cut away, and their presence thinned. Lee Han glanced at the maid, at Little Bear, at Chick Two. None of them spared the pair a scrap of attention. They were sunk entirely in the debate, caught up in the eloquence of that fiercely present girl, Karin.
The boy opened his mouth.
"I-it may be odd to call this repayment for an apology, but I've shown you an ability I have. I hoped it might earn a little trust..."
"Interesting ability. Silence, was it?"
"...You heard that?"
"Heard it just fine."
"...It's good for talking in secret. Just the two of us."
"Not bad."
Well, now. Impossible not to envy the little Status window. This was plainly a skill—one of the talents Lee Han had wanted so badly, back when the memories of his past life returned. He clenched his teeth, played ignorant, and swallowed the bitterness. A plain envy: if he had possessed even one ability like this, wouldn't life have gone better than it had?
He was looking back, just for a moment, when the question finally came.
"I-Instructor, are you perhaps with the temple?"
"...Hm."
At last. And the question came with a sudden sense of déjà vu.
The temple again?
It lined up with what a subordinate of the regressor had thrown at him once before. Lee Han sorted his thoughts, the look in his eyes gone heavier.
The regressor's side, and the Status window too. There's definitely something at the temple.
That was the conclusion. He shook his head.
"At the very least, I am not a man connected to the temple."
"I-is that so..."
"Ha. If you meant to doubt me, why ask?"
"...Even so, you don't seem like someone who would lie, Instructor. So I'll try my best to believe you."
"A pleasing answer, Cadet Derek. As a reward, I'll allow you one more question."
"Th-then, may I ask what your relationship is with Irene Windler?"
"......"
—The bait was taken.
Just as he had thought. Guide the talk naturally, and a big fish bites. Lee Han did not show his pleasure. He put on the most bewildered face he could manage.
"You mean Cadet Irene Windler? Why ask about her and me all of a sudden?"
"F-first, the answer..."
"Hm. Fine. My relationship with Cadet Irene Windler can be defined as that of cadet and instructor."
"......"
"If you want a little more, we're also next-door neighbors."
"Next-door neighbors...?"
"Literally. She lives right beside the cabin where I live."
"...R-really?"
"What would I gain by lying? Even now, I'm speaking only the truth."
"Th-then, other than that..."
"An acquaintance. Someone I know. That's the clearest way to define what we are."
"......"
"My turn, then. Why are you so curious about Cadet Irene? Do you have some grudge against her?"
"I-it's not that, only..."
"Only?"
"Nngh..."
He hesitated, groaning, but the Status window had a conscience. Yielded to this far, he was the sort who answered. Slowly, he began.
"Th-this may sound strange, but the Irene Windler I knew was not a person like that."
"And what, exactly, is a person like that?"
"Sh-she doesn't smile brightly. She doesn't feel bright, the way a girl that age should."
"Then?"
Lee Han prodded, light as a needle, and the answer came at once.
"V-vicious. Wicked. Jealous of others. A black hand, trying to seize the academy with her house and her magic..."
"......"
"...A wicked villainess who belongs on a stage. Th-that's what I know her as."
"...Who?"
"Irene Windler, of course. The young lady."
...?
His head turned before he knew it. There was the girl, shoulder to shoulder with the maid, chattering softly, perfectly at ease.
Her? The villain?
...The spell-slinger's hidden nature?
His old disgust for mages stirred on its own, but he forced it down and shook his head. At least the Irene Windler he himself had dealt with was not filth, the way ordinary spell-slingers were.
But then—
"...Why did the mid-boss end up like that?"
"......"
The boy would have said he had only muttered to himself. Lee Han's ears caught it cleanly. The words mid-boss. And so, hearing Irene Windler's shocking identity, Lee Han blinked.
What? I thought she was the romance-fantasy's female lead, or a heroine at least. Not the lead. Not a heroine—