Emperor Assassination (2)
I visited the Imperial Palace alongside Ifrin. The air was heavy amid the stringent security, the atmosphere shrouded in gloom.
Thud— thud—
As I walked the corridor, various 'gazes' pierced me. They belonged to the nations or factions across the continent who had heard the urgent news.
"......Please wait here for a moment."
Ahan guided us to the reception room.
An empty space with just two chairs. It was a perfect sealed chamber, both scientifically and magically.
"I shall return shortly."
Ahan departed.
Ifrin sat in a chair, fidgeting anxiously with her fingers.
I sat as well.
"......"
"......"
We waited in silence.
Silence.
Stillness.
Ifrin's cough.
The faint tick of my pocket watch.
At last, the sound of the door opening again.
"......Professor Deculein. Disciple Ifrin."
Ahan had returned, her expression as cold as a corpse.
"Y-yes?"
Ifrin startled and replied, while I simply regarded Ahan calmly.
"From this moment, I ask that nothing I say be leaked anywhere. This is also Her Majesty's command."
"Understood."
"Yes."
Her pallor was ominous, but it posed no great concern.
"Professor. And Miss Ifrin. Her Majesty has just......"
Sophien's death would mean the end of the 'current world.' Even a precursor would stain the entire continent in hues of mortality.
Yet here, in this place, no such death flags existed.
"Passed away."
......And so.
I struggled to accept Ahan's words.
It felt like hearing an impossible theory or the ravings of a shaman.
"Her Majesty commanded that only you, Professor, and your disciple be informed."
Ahan spoke in a voice choked with suppressed tears.
I leaned back against the chair. Ifrin's trembling breaths reached my ears.
"Therefore......"
Ahan swallowed her final words. I continued in her stead.
"We shall keep silent. Until the culprit and mastermind are caught, and the Empire stabilizes."
"......Yes. If anyone outside asks, saying she is resting will suffice. Then, please spend some time here. Leaving too soon will arouse suspicion."
Ahan altered her expression once more and exited the sealed room.
I, meanwhile, sank into thought.
"......"
Sophien's death.
I had truly never imagined it, not even once. At least, not the idea of living on 'after her death.'
In truth, even now, I couldn't quite grasp whether this was Ahan's lie or Sophien's ploy.
Perhaps I was in shock.
Of course, in the main quest, Sophien could die more than once. But each time, the player faced 'game over' and restarted from the save point, where Sophien, naturally, lived again in the new world.
Thus, a 'world without Sophien' should be impossible to begin with.
"......Professor."
Then Ifrin called to me.
I looked at her—the one who'd been off since yesterday. Shadows darkened her face, her fidgeting fingers like an octopus's tentacles, irritating to behold.
She spoke.
"Actually...... I came back from two months in the future."
Ifrin told Deculein everything. She had regressed from April 9th to now, and Murkan had called it the Altar's 'declaration of war.'
"......Declaration of war."
"Yes!"
She'd started hesitantly, unsure of herself, but as Deculein listened gravely, her voice grew bolder, each syllable pressed firmly.
"And the Altar borrowed demonic power to assassinate His Majesty!"
Deculein nodded. Ifrin quickly pressed.
"Do you believe me?"
He replied nonchalantly.
"I believe you."
"......Really?"
"Or is it a lie?"
"Nooo! It's not a lie."
"Thus, I believe you."
"......Ah."
Ifrin scratched her cheek awkwardly.
A single phrase, followed by Deculein's continuing words, left her flushed with embarrassment.
"No matter when, I shall always believe you."
"......"
No need to go that far—
Ifrin pouted, mumbling to herself.
"Let's go."
Deculein glanced at his pocket watch and rose. Ifrin, who'd been staring blankly, belatedly stood as well.
"Yes!"
"Stick close and follow. The palace is crawling with outsiders now."
Deculein led, Ifrin followed energetically.
Straightened back. Striding legs. Grimaced lips.
Ifrin was solemn, but as courtiers and knights lining the corridor swarmed, she shrank back.
"Professor! How is His Majesty?"
"His Majesty is resting. There will be no official statements until the culprit and mastermind are identified, so best not ask me."
"His Majesty truly has no issues, right?!"
Deculein brushed them aside familiarly and pressed on.
But Ifrin got caught in the crowd. Tall knights and officials shoved her with their shoulders.
"Agh! My jaw— ow......?"
Then her wrist was seized. A gloved hand yanked her forward. Stumbling along, Ifrin looked up at the owner of that long arm.
Deculein.
"......Uh."
"Don't get pushed away. You might get stabbed."
"Stabbed?"
"The assassin might still be inside. Whether they couldn't escape or chose not to."
He growled menacingly, gripping her wrist as he walked. To keep her from getting lost or separated. If any courtier or knight lunged, he shoved them roughly and glared threateningly.
"......"
Ifrin gazed at her wrist. His large hand gripped it tightly, nearly overflowing her slender one.
A bit higher, his broad back.
For some reason, time slowed in this moment.
"We're departing."
"Huh?"
Snapping out of her daze, she found herself already in the car.
"Yes."
Rain floored the accelerator smoothly from the driver's seat. The car glided away.
"......Whew."
Ifrin finally calmed, slapping her inexplicably burning cheeks—smack.
"Right. So, what do we do now?"
She asked hurriedly. As Deculein cast Silence in the car, he replied.
"We must uncover the conditions of your regression."
"Conditions?"
"Regression isn't your power. It's someone else's, temporarily bestowed upon you through some mechanism. Thus, its operation is inherently imperfect."
Ifrin's brief regression.
That Authority must be Sophien's.
Yet for some reason, it had shifted to Ifrin temporarily, and the Altar exploited the gap to kill Sophien.
"......Whether you always regress specifically on April 9th."
Sophien was no easy mark. She was the core threat the Altar or any player had to guard against most.
That the Altar hadn't touched her until now was surely for that reason.
Killing her rashly would hand over all clues about them for free upon her regression.
"Or if there are other specific conditions."
"......Yes."
"With that, you can revive His Majesty."
Ifrin nodded resolutely.
"However, the Altar is dangerous and powerful enough to harm His Majesty, so you'll need another ally."
Deculein pondered briefly.
Thump!
The car jolted. Ifrin's shoulder twitched. Blinking, she glanced at the driver's seat.
A tremor never felt in Rain's driving.
"......Julie."
He named her. Ifrin widened her eyes.
"Julie the knight?"
"Julie is the most honest person on the continent. Just trust her. But if she doubts your words, there's a bracelet in the drawer of my office. Take it."
"Bracelet...... what bracelet?"
"The only gift she received from her father."
"Ah......"
Listening quietly, Ifrin suddenly realized something odd about the conversation.
Deculein assumed everything centered on 'you'—her. Asking Julie for help: Ifrin. Saving His Majesty: Ifrin.
Why me alone? Can't we go together?
"Worry not."
As if reading her mind.
"I won't foist it all on you."
Deculein smiled lowly.
"You're still too young to bear that burden."
Then he placed a hand on her nape. At the wildly sudden gesture, Ifrin jolted. Her body stiffened.
His face drew near, plain to see.
"......It will be but a moment, Ifrin."
Like a scene from some melodrama novel.
His voice whispered, seeping in.
"You might feel lonely in that brief span."
Thud!
The car lurched violently. Deculein held Ifrin tight, steadying himself against the rough driving.
"But I promise you."
Ifrin didn't yet grasp his words. With their faces so close, even basic meanings escaped her. She could barely hear.
She just swallowed—gulp gulp.
"I shall follow your time, even if belatedly."
Deculein extended his other arm.
One hand still on her nape, the other passing her chest to grip the car door handle.
"I will overcome the regression."
What he'd installed on her nape was Neck Iron.
"So...... until then."
What he intended.
Just like that time at the semester's start......
"Wait for me."
The Neck Iron on Ifrin's nape activated via Telekinesis.
"Wait— aaahhhhhh————!"
Ifrin was flung from the car.
"Gaaah———"
The fully hooded Neck Iron soared steeply, offering no resistance, while the car's path veered opposite her flight.
Whoosh......
Cleaving the sky at tremendous speed, Ifrin watched the receding car. She sensed the assassin's aura pursuing Deculein from below.
One 'silhouette' etched firmly into her retina.
"......A knight."
She didn't know the name. Nor the identity.
But definitely a knight.
The robe concealed it, but armor gleamed faintly on the figure's chest.
"A knight......"
With that memory, Ifrin blacked out.
......Some time later, when Ifrin opened her eyes, she was in the palace's secret chamber.
Regaining consciousness, Knight Delik and Ahan approached first, informing her.
That Professor Deculein was dead.
Patter patter— patter patter—
Dark rain streaking the window like oozing slime, spiderwebbing traces.
It was raining.
But why was this rain so filthy?
Staring blankly, she shuffled back to the sofa and sat.
"......"
Tick tock— tick tock—
The second hand's echo filled the hush—this was the palace's secret guest room, secured by stringent protective magic. On Ahan's advice, Ifrin waited here.
For April 9th.
Please, even a moment sooner.
"......She wailed like a beast."
Then Delik spoke. Fresh from Deculein's funeral today, his face was haggard.
Ifrin asked cautiously.
"Yeriel...... miss?"
"Yes."
Ifrin hadn't dared attend the funeral.
Not just because outside was dangerous, but because she couldn't face Yeriel's expression.
"I thought they weren't close."
Delik sighed, clutching his face. Yeriel's image lingered vividly in his eyes.
Clutching Deculein's coffin, scraping until her nails splintered, howling until she fainted—a desperate sight unimaginable for the usual Yeriel.
That scene still clawed at Delik's heart.
"......"
Ifrin watched such a Delik.
Pouring down......
Outside, the rain intensified.
Irregular noise pounding as if to shatter the glass.
"......Whew."
Listening quietly, Ifrin gritted her teeth. Clenched her fists. Having resolved inwardly, she took a deep breath.
"Knight."
"......Hm?"
Delik turned. Ifrin, cheeks puffed like stern buns, said.
"Help me out."
"......"
Delik frowned wordlessly, his face screaming what nonsense.
"I have somewhere to go."
"Go? No, you can't leave. You're one of only two who saw His Majesty's critical state—you're surely targeted too."
"Someone to meet."
"Someone? No way! How can I trust that?!"
Delik raised his voice, scolding like an adult to a child.
"No! To leave, you'll have to take me down first."
"......Pfft."
Ifrin had once suspected this Delik.
But spending a week in the palace together, she'd naturally realized he was genuine—at least regarding Deculein.
"I know. I get it, but......"
Deculein had said Julie was trustworthy.
And Julie surely knew the clues too.
Ifrin already knew: thirty knights had visited the palace just before His Majesty's assassination.
And one of the assassins tailing Deculein was a knight.
Julie was one of those thirty, and knew all twenty-nine others, so she had to meet her no matter what.
"It's my master's request."
"......"
Delik's expression shifted. He asked gravely.
"......Is that true?"
"Yes. So we need to stop by the professor's mansion too."
"......"
Delik bit his lower lip in thought, but only briefly. Hand on his chest badge, gripping his sword hilt, he nodded reliably.
"Very well. If it's the professor's request."
"Yes. Thanks. So, uh, how do we go?"
Pondering the plan, Ifrin glanced out the window carelessly.
And......
"Eeeek——!"
She startled so badly foam nearly formed.
—......
Outside the palace window.
Sylvia stood like a ghost, drenched head to toe in rain.