Advance. (2)

Of course, the ministers of the Imperial Palace all knew how to play Go. If one had to describe it, they were all eager learners.

The emperor's favor in the Empire was no different from a castle. And the sole hobby of the indolent emperor was Go.

"Let us begin."

Thus, the ministers watched this match with tense expressions. The professor who alone could form a proper game with Sophien.

"Are you prepared?"

"Yes."

In contrast, Deculein nodded with composure far removed from tension or anxiety. Sophien held out the Go bowl to him.

The emperor had black; the professor, white.

The two players, each drawing their stones, faced one another.

"Referee."

"Yeees."

At Sophien's call, an elderly man in Go robes approached. A master of the Tadahae Islands, capable of commentary and recording the game record.

"I am Aldo, serving as temporary referee. Then..."

He glanced back and forth between Sophien and Deculein with keen interest before announcing the start of the match.

Clack!

At the opening, black—Sophien—placed her first stone at the star point in the lower-left corner.

White—Deculein—chose the star point in the upper-right.

Black ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠followed at the small knight's move in the lower-right; white at the star point in the upper-left... It was an ordinary probing battle, yet everyone watched in bated breath.

"...Indeed. Professor Deculein seems to be holding his own against Her Majesty."

"Look at Her Majesty's serious face. Truly remarkable, deeply moving. How has she grown so splendidly..."

The ministers were impressed, but old-timers like Romelock looked distinctly displeased at Deculein's strong showing.

Clack!

"Your Majesty. I have a question."

Suddenly, Deculein spoke. Sophien slowly raised her head to meet his gaze. Facing her icy stare, Deculein asked,

"What is the reason for Your Majesty's such deep devotion ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to Go?"

With that, he placed the thirtieth move. Sophien felt a flicker of irritation. Was this idle chatter meant to disrupt her focus? Still, she answered.

"Because it is the one thing with any amusement."

Clack!

Sophien countered with the thirty-first move, probing the weakness in the upper-right.

"I see."

Plop.

Deculein blocked it deftly. Sophien's brow twitched.

This guy—his hand placing the stone had been exceedingly light. Had he always been this relaxed?

It wasn't a matter of gesture or posture.

His entire demeanor was infused with ease.

"And why do you wonder?"

Sophien tossed back a question with her thirty-third move.

Up to then, black and white on the board were evenly matched.

"Because Your Majesty's passion moves me."

"...Nonsense."

Deculein fell silent, focusing on the game.

White and black on the wooden board slowly organized their formations.

Thus, at the fifty-fourth move.

"Now, surely Your Majesty will pour that passion into state affairs, the continent, and your own self-cultivation as well. I believe so."

Deculein spoke again. Sophien found the words uncomfortable.

At that moment, Sophien held a slight advantage over Deculein, but the difference was so minuscule that a single mistake could overturn the board.

A razor-thin balance.

Sophien refused to acknowledge it. Feigning calm, she replied,

"Insolent wretch. You dare speak of passion to me? Very well. Now I shall ask."

Sophien glared at Deculein. Her eyes were fierce, as if flaying his skin.

Yet Deculein did not avert his gaze.

"Professor. You know who it was that once tried to poison me in the past."

The words ended in a single breath.

A cold silence descended on the space.

Deculein and Sophien stared at each other across the board like a wall. They were composed, but the ministers caught between them were a sight to behold.

Gulp—gulp—

From the moment Sophien uttered those world-shocking words, everyone's faces turned toad-like. Their eyes bulged as if to pop out, breaths ragged, on the verge of suffocation.

The endless silence was broken by the sound of a stone.

Plop—

White's seventy-sixth move.

It rippled like a wave on still water. But Sophien wasn't looking at the board. She merely continued, staring straight at Deculein.

"That poison gifted me with boredom and sloth."

Sophien's voice was serene. No tremor, no fragment of emotion.

"It made even searching a bother..."

Deculein gazed at her steadily before tossing out casually,

"Behold."

"What?"

His tone dripped with arrogance and bravado. Sophien felt her gut twist at the interruption, but belatedly glanced at the board.

"!"

Horror flickered in her crimson eyes as she assessed the position.

A single move had shattered the balance between black and white.

"..."

All thoughts in her mind erased. Her hand clutching the stone trembled.

Sophien stared blankly at the board.

"This..."

Even seeing it, she couldn't comprehend the drastic shift.

A brilliant move she hadn't even conceived—

Deculein's seventy-sixth move began crumbling the razor-thin ice.

White's seventy-sixth move.

It rippled like a wave on still water.

"..."

Sophien felt tension choke her throat. Such a feeling was utterly new.

But no need for worry. From experience, Deculein lacked the skill to drag the game to the late endgame. If she stayed unshaken and responded calmly, he'd expose a weakness himself.

Plop, plop, plop.

Sophien didn't yield. Stones fell like water droplets.

The framework and territory flipped in an instant. Black, which had held a slight edge, now desperately chased white.

"..."

In that doomed configuration, Sophien mobilized every possible move she could devise.

The game wasn't over yet. There must be a path to victory somewhere. In Go, there's no absolute defeat— I haven't lost...

Yet.

Plop, plop, plop—

The notes of stones echoing in the silent space suddenly ceased.

Sophien's hand stopped as well. The white stones she couldn't capture had become an impregnable great dragon dominating the center.

Grind.

Sophien ground her teeth, lifting her gaze obliquely. Her merciless pupils filled with the figure of Deculein.

Her lips twisted. A fireball surged from the depths of her heart. Yet she struggled to maintain composure.

"Count the score."

"Two and a half points. I win."

"..."

Sophien stared at Deculein. The perennial glacier of her eyes was slowly thawing. A trembling breath escaped her violet lips.

"...Ha."

"My apologies, Your Majesty. It seems I've grown a bit."

Sophien hid her expression. But in her mind, something snapped clearly.

"This—"

Sophien's hand slipped under the board. The entire table vibrated like a massager. Deculein watched her behavior with calm eyes.

"You dog-fucking-cock—"

Crash!

Sophien hurled the board high. The wooden slab rocketed up, embedding in the ceiling. Amid the splintered board, countless stones rained down like snow.

In that flurry of black and white—

"Were you that angry?"

Thirty minutes later, I asked Sophien, who had barely calmed.

"..."

Sophien leaned back in her chair without a word. We were back in the Imperial Palace, the 'Hall of Learning.'

"Your Majesty?"

"...I thought I might lose. But actually losing stirred such a strange emotion."

Sophien muttered, finger to her temple. Her tone was one of resignation.

"Separately, your seventy-sixth move was impressive. Of course, your weird prattle beforehand still irritates me, but it's largely my fault for falling for that psychological ploy."

I gave a small smile. Sophien looked at me and said,

"What are you grinning at? Makes me want to crack your skull."

"That's fortunate."

"..."

Plop— As I placed a stone on the board for the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠game review,

"What makes it fortunate?"

"Because the emotion Your Majesty just felt wasn't anger."

"Insolent fool. What makes you think you can judge my feelings?"

I shook my head. The emotion Sophien showed flipping the board was far from anger.

It was what the current Sophien needed most.

The spark that ignites passion.

"Not anger, Your Majesty. It's the thirst for victory."

Sophien fell silent for a moment. She watched me with that sharp face for a long while, then dove back into studying the game record.

"Next game in two months. I shan't lose then."

"Yes. Nor shall I."

"Get out."

I rose from my seat.

Watching Sophien study Go, determined to overcome defeat, I backed out of the chamber.

...Two months was insufficient to persuade the continent. But ample to force it.

The thought struck me while touring nearly the entire continent.

Was there really a need to persuade them like this?

Do you explain a lighter's mechanism to a chimpanzee?

Just make them use it.

The villain's prestige and fearsome image were perfect for such times.

I pressured those unwilling to hear my proposal. With Emperor Sophien's approval, the methods were plentiful.

Inspections via Imperial Guard, Imperial Palace missives, threats via Yukline bank funds, and more.

"Professor! Any more costs risk bankrupting the territory itself. Please reconsider..."

Thus, quite a few nuisances had come calling. I was clearly forcing the path to save their territories, yet the lords and nobles begged for mercy.

I glared at the nobleman at my mansion's entrance.

"Ge Han, was it?"

"Yes, Professor. Our house cannot bear the costs—"

"Bankruptcy is better than ruin, and you're just redirecting your squandered assets to good use."

"...Ah."

Thirteen local lords had visited my mansion. All vermin who neglected basic territorial defenses.

"Professor! Please. We'll do anything—"

"Begone."

I shoved him out with Telekinesis and exited the mansion. A car waited in the garden.

Through the open window, a familiar face appeared.

"You're here?"

It was Yeriel. I opened the door and sat beside her.

"You're a total terror these days, you know? Like the Grim Reaper or something."

"Ignore it."

"...Hmph."

Yeriel shrugged. Then, with a sullen face, she asked,

"But really, you're going to Recor Dak?"

"It's already decided."

"Nooo~ But still~ That woman's there. You know, that woman."

She suddenly stopped, grinding her teeth with a growl.

I turned to her. Suddenly curious.

"Why do you hate Julie so much?"

"..."

Yeriel bit her lip silently. She clicked her tongue, arms crossed.

"...When I entered university. I was all alone. Someone went to a swordsmanship tournament."

"Jealousy, then."

"No it's not!"

Yeriel wailed. I nodded and sank into the seat, pulling out a book.

"...Hey."

As I turned pages, she glanced cautiously and stammered,

"Back then... did you hate me?"

"..."

Hearing that voice, I pondered.

Did Deculein hate her?

...He must have loathed her.

"Yeriel."

I placed a hand on her crown. Leather glove touching hair. Yeriel looked up, puzzled.

Meeting those round eyes—so unlike Deculein's, utterly cute—I answered softly.

"I do not hate you."

"..."

Yeriel froze. Literally stiffened. Motionless as if not breathing, then suddenly pointed out the window.

"S-Stop! We're here!"

I looked. We'd arrived at the station.

"Very well."

Ren got out first and opened the door.

"I'll guard Hadekan well."

Then Yeriel said,

"...It's our territory."

I gazed deeply at her. She coughed awkwardly, embarrassed, but something irked me.

"Yeriel."

"W-What?"

"Don't beat around the bush. I never permitted it."

"..."

Slam!

I shut the door. Through the window, Yeriel wore an incredulous expression.

"Ren. Go."

"Yes, Master."

I sent the car off and boarded the platform.

First to catch my eye: three heads.

Allen, Drent, Ifrin. They huddled, chatting animatedly.

—Look here. One of these companies is bound to blow up.

—Really? The names all look so similar?

—Ifrin, how much did you invest?

—A thousand elne each in four spots. Every payday, split and all in. Just do the trips, doubles or triples right away. In three years, a hundredfold. This firm will be our future asset and pillar...

Ifrin was inciting them.

Clack—

I deliberately stomped the platform; all three turned.

"Ah. Professor's hereee!"

"Hello."

"You've arrived."

Different greetings as I scanned their attire. Allen and Drent were normal, but Ifrin was absurd.

"Ifrin. Do I take you for a knight?"

"Pardon?"

Mages usually wore robes. In dangerous spots, enchanted leather armor.

Yet Ifrin wore chain mail. Called scale armor or chainmail.

But plate armor was useless for mages. It hindered spellcasting.

"This? They say flying beasts swarm near Recor Dak. So—gyaaah!"

I disassembled her armor with Telekinesis.

"N-No! I bought it expensiveeeek—!"

Meanwhile, Julie waited at Recor Dak's entrance for the imminent arrival. With the warden, numerous knights, and Ihelm.

"Argh, when's he coming? Freezing my ass off."

Ihelm grumbled. Julie glanced at him, then back to the horizon.

Clop—clop—

Faint hoofbeats. Deculein's distinctive scent carried on the wind.

Julie ground her teeth.

"...Ah. There he comes!"

Imperial knights pointed to the horizon. Two horses galloped. Leading was Deculein, his riding posture textbook perfect.

"The professor looks so picturesque... ahem."

Imperial knights glanced at Julie and coughed. Julie showed no reaction.

Clop clop—

Hoofbeats grew fiercer, temperature dropping. Julie's unconscious mana chilled the air itself.

"Ugh so cold! It's freezing!"

Ihelm, bundled in fur robe and coat, complained to Julie—when

The horses slowed, and finally,

Deculein arrived.

"We greet the professor!"

Imperial knights approached and bowed. Deculein acknowledged with a nod, dismounting with his aides.

"Yo. Deculein. Ifrin. Long time."

Ihelm greeted, teeth chattering. Ifrin turned away with a huff.

"..."

Julie simply watched Deculein. But her mouth wouldn't open. No words came.

If she'd known curses, she might have unleashed them.

But Julie had never uttered profanity in her life. Nor would she.

"Hm."

Deculein, meanwhile, surveyed Recor Dak's landscape leisurely.

Empty, barren expanse. A desolate winter utterly unfit for him.

"From there to there."

Deculein gestured to the coniferous forest near Recor Dak.

"Clear it and build separate lodgings."

"Ah~ Good idea—"

"Recor Dak is Phairden property."

Julie interjected. Business matters gave her words.

"We cannot clear it arbitrarily. The forest serves as a fine barrier and sustains the herbalists' livelihoods—"

"I knew you'd say that."

Deculein looked down at Julie with cold, sharp eyes. She didn't flinch. After a staring contest, Deculein said to his aide,

"Allen."

"Yees."

Allen handed Julie a paper. She took it while still glaring at Deculein.

"Verify it."

She looked. Her eyes lingered long.

In short, Deculein had acquired Recor Dak.

This useless, unhelpful land—for a whopping 30 million elne.

Julie was speechless for a moment.

"..."

"Recor Dak is mine now. I warned you it might be uncomfortable."

Deculein surveyed the area. Pale winter sky. Towering conifers. Admiring Imperial knights.

"No special greetings; we'll maintain the current system."

His gaze soon returned to Julie.

At this moment's rising bizarre helplessness, Julie clenched her fist. She glared at the paper in her hand.

Then, Deculein said,

"We'll start with the logging. Use the prisoners' labor."

"""Yes, understood!"""

The Imperial knights responded vigorously, and Deculein passed her by.

Standing dazed, Julie felt someone tap her.

"You need to return that document... It's an important contract."

Deculein's assistant professor, Allen. Julie's eyes widened as she nodded.

"Ah, yes. Sorry. Here, take it."

"Aww~ No need to apologize. Knight, hurry on! It's freezing!"

Allen beamed and followed Deculein. But Julie alone watched their retreating figures from afar.

Whoooosh—

A biting gale whipped her hair.