Cohabitation (2)
In the far east of the continent lurks a secret society known as the Altar. They aim to resurrect a god who perished in ancient times, basing themselves in the sanctuary of Mieolji, where no new life can grow.
The return of their fallen deity. They devote their entire lives to that singular purpose. They never doubt their faith or convictions. They willingly sacrifice even their own lives.
What binds them together is a "dream."
One day, a single strand of dream descends upon them like divine revelation.
The faithful receive the same grace, behold the same goal. Fanatical in their response to the god's call, they build a proud religion in anticipation of the descent to come.
—The god has come down.
Thus, the Altar covets Deculein's knowledge of the Rune Language. The god Himself desires that knowledge within his mind, appearing directly in the dreams of the faithful to declare as much.
—Is that professor walking a path different from my father's?
Yet Deculein rejected the Altar's proposal. A stance utterly at odds with the previous lord.
"Glory" and "honor." Those were surely the sacred duties of the Yukline family.
—We cannot be certain. Perhaps he wishes to monopolize the Rune Language...
—It matters not. We need the Rune Language. Mastering it will allow communion with Him.
A language that enables direct communication with the divine. With such knowledge, they can offer more fervent worship and hasten the descent.
—Watch him closely. We require that professor's knowledge. He cannot refuse our negotiations forever. Provoke Altiegue if need be.
Even to the Altar, Deculein's actions seem peculiar.
They do not know why that professor champions Altiegue. A mere human's scheme, yet inscrutable to them. They merely exploit the "fact" thoroughly.
—Yes.
The Empire already knows of the Altar's existence. They are distracted by bribes for now, but the faithful know the imperials regard them as madmen deep down.
Thus, the Altar knows precisely what words to wield.
"The Altar also champions Altiegue."
That single line will suffice.
The rest falls to the fury of deceived humans.
At Yukline Manor, a single guest awaited in the front garden where Julie and I arrived. Zeit, dressed in a sharp suit.
"Well, well~ You're here~"
Zeit approached with a beaming grin.
"Professor Deculein! You two make such a fine pair. You too, Julie."
"We are on duty. Refrain from personal remarks."
Julie shot him a stern glare. Zeit shrugged and inspected the new car from every angle.
"Oh ho. A new ride? This one's roomy enough for me. Still, I preferred your old one."
"Is that so."
"Yeah. Strange, right? This design looks fancier, newer..."
Probably because I hadn't bestowed Midas' Hand on it. Zeit's senses could keenly detect even the slightest trait.
"Anyway, I heard you met those Altar bastards."
Suddenly, his tone sharpened like a blade. His gaze upon me was feral, overt.
"Indeed. They sought knowledge of the Rune Language."
The Altar reveals its nature gradually as one progresses in the game, but any noteworthy named character would already know of them.
Some engage in mutually beneficial dealings, even accepting bribes, but there are plenty like Zeit who despise them utterly.
"Knew it. I'd love to rip their jaws off barehanded and yank out their guts..."
"You'll wreck the car!"
Just then, Yeriel smacked Zeit's hand. He had unconsciously been gripping the door frame and backed off with a hearty laugh.
"Ah~ I keep forgetting this body's strength. That's why cars ain't for the battlefield. One shove and they go flying."
"That's not the car's fault, Count—it's yours."
"Is it now? Anyway, Yeriel, my almost-in-law. This a new model?"
"Not quite in-law yet, but yes. Brand new."
"Oh ho. How much?"
Zeit's face lit up. Yeriel nodded.
"300,000 elne. Want one? For Count Phairden, no need to draw a number."
"...Hahaha! Too pricey! Pass!"
Zeit bellowed with laughter. Yeriel pouted, lips pursed.
"More importantly, will you be staying tonight, Count Zeit?"
"Nah. Confirmed it's the Altar's doing—good enough. Plus, I'd cramp your lovebird vibes."
Zeit waggled his brows slyly. Julie growled like an angry tiger.
"Speaking of business, Yeriel, my almost-in-law—you're starting one too, eh?"
"No! Why'd you blab?!"
Yeriel screeched, glancing warily at me.
Of course, she thought I was in the dark. In truth, reports from Ren and Enen arrived the moment she launched it.
"Yeriel."
"..."
She flinched, cold sweat beading at her temple.
Zeit scratched his neck awkwardly.
"Ah~ Looks like it was your solo venture, in-law. I'll head out then~"
As the massive bear lumbered away, Yeriel glared daggers, grinding her teeth.
"Yeriel."
"...Nice weather."
"Answer me."
"...Well, it's... now... 'au'to'mo'biles have more business potential than 'ma'ges'..."
Stammering, Yeriel switched tactics, speaking curtly.
"They look promising. Why? Our territory could use a factory. And those Brunhil pricks act so smug over one car. 'We'll yield the lord's vehicle, but Miss Yeriel's is backordered—' What bullshit!"
Yeriel huffed, thumping her chest. Then she peeked up at my face slyly.
"So... we're making cars. We've got mines aplenty."
"We'll make them. Why haven't you until now?"
Her jaw dropped. That reaction told me everything. Naturally, it was because of Deculein. Manufacturing is for lowly folk—no dignity, something like that.
"There's a talented fellow at the hardware store I invested in. Send him to Hadekan, and I'll design it today. Base it on that and proceed."
"Hardware store?! You?!"
"...You?"
I narrowed my eyes; she patted her mouth.
"Then I'll... get going..."
And scampered off.
At Julie's request for "the smallest room," I assigned her the manor's smallest guest room.
Though a guest room, it came complete with bathroom, toilet, and even a dressing room.
"Use this."
"It's too—"
"The smallest in the manor. Don't scorn Yukline hospitality. Nothing smaller."
"...Yes, sir."
Julie wordlessly placed her bundle on the bed.
"What era is this bundle from?"
I chuckled at her luggage. A cloth-wrapped bundle.
In an age of handbags, backpacks, even suitcases—yet a furoshiki bundle.
"Ah. Looks humble, but it's a magic item. Holds two or three bags' worth. Snagged it cheap four years ago."
Pride swelled in her voice. She even smiled, reminiscing about the purchase.
"I haggled like a pro. Merchant started at 5,000 elne, but I—"
"Spare the tale. Is duty round-the-clock?"
"Yes. Nights are riskiest. Their attacks won't end with one."
"Likely. But the next could be a year off. Better to marry than cohabit a year."
"...Duty lasts three months."
Averting her eyes, Julie unpacked.
Indeed, it held quite a lot.
"Take this."
I offered her a coin-sized crystal orb. She tilted her head.
"What is it?"
"Linked to the manor's barrier. Alerts first to intruders. Doubles as communicator—constant line to basement security."
"Ah~ So many wonders."
She nodded, reaching for it—but I withdrew it slightly.
"But handing you the orb outright? You're too scatterbrained."
"Pardon? Why am I scatterbrained?"
Her brows furrowed.
I reshaped my golden tie pin into a necklace, threaded the orb, and clasped it around her neck.
Julie startled, resisting at first, but fell silent at my words.
"You lost the ring I gave you last time."
Julie had lost the ring I gifted her.
Or rather, discarded it.
I smiled, then my face hardened abruptly.
"..."
Why do I.
Hold this memory.
"I..."
Misreading my expression, Julie bowed silently. Somewhat flustered, I merely patted her shoulder and left.
Leaning against the corridor wall, I swept back my hair.
"...So vivid."
Forcing the ring onto Julie's reluctant finger. Roughly, as if to crush it. Her lips pressed tight, eyes welling with tears.
A memory not mine, yet feeling utterly my own.
"Ah."
I knocked and reentered. Julie, mid-unpack, turned awkwardly.
"Wh-what—"
Her half-unpacked bundle on the bed.
A stuffed doll inside.
"Hmm..."
My gaze on it; she squeaked, snatching the panda's head and hiding it behind her.
"L-lucky charm. Jinx thing. Every knight has one—"
"Room key. Lock it always. I might drop by unannounced."
I handed her the key. Her face tomato-red, but her expression knightly solemn as she accepted.
"Thank you."
"Or shall I necklace this one too?"
"N-no need! Out!"
She shoved my back; ejected, I chuckled in the hall.
Then.
"Hmph!"
A needle-sharp grunt pierced my ear. Yeriel.
"Having the time of your life~"
"Yeriel. Didn't you leave?"
"...What? You said you'd do the design."
"Design?"
"Car design!"
"Ah, right. Follow."
I nodded, walking the hall with her. Yeriel chattered nonstop. Your grin was creepy as hell. Like you even smile. Do it more.
"Quiet."
"..."
In the study, I fetched paper and fountain pen, sketching a design blending modern knowledge and my aesthetic sense.
Not blueprints, just aesthetics—the engineers handle the rest.
"Here."
"Two sheets?"
"One for car, one for watch."
"Watch? Why a watch."
Yeriel eyed my waist.
"Your pocket watch is top-notch. Don't want it? Give it here."
"Entrust to my hardware store man. He'll handle it."
"Hmph. Fine..."
Tucking the designs, she paused turning away.
"But... I can really start the business? Won't flip-flop later? ...Right?"
"Fail, and it's the rod."
"...Who'd take it? Huh?"
She glared fiercely, then stormed out.
The next day.
Arriving at the Imperial University Tower, I submitted the final exam plan to the chairman, Ether.
"...Pretty ordinary?!"
She gawked at the documents.
"Worlds apart from last time!"
"Satisfactory?"
"Sure, but... no last exam's impact."
"Not as mundane as you think."
Dissatisfied, she filed it away and pulled another document.
"Oh. Your first policy chief approval—huge budget! Initial funding 10 million elne! Insane!"
"It'll pay off."
"..."
She eyed me suspiciously but muttered, Your mess anyway! and stood.
"Fine! Let's go! Time to ogle your guard knight Julie!"
"You knew."
"Knew? It's all over from here to Dadohae!"
I rode the elevator with her.
On the first floor, Julie waited. Likely with other Phairden knights posted at key points.
"Oh ho! Knight Julie! Radiant today!"
Julie stayed silent. I explained to the puzzled Ether.
"No talking on duty."
Ether smirked ominously.
"Is that so...?"
She sidled up to Julie, clearing her throat dramatically.
"KnightJulie!Longtimenosee!Glad2cya!2weeks?"
She rapid-fired.
"Normallyyou'drefusethismission!EvenonHisMajesty'sorders!Yetaccepted!Rumorsflyingwild!"
"..."
"Fullyreconcilednow?Oralready?Weddingonsmoothly?!"
"..."
"Amazing!Silencemeansyes!Profmust'vebeenworried—personallyguarding—"
"Enough! My ears!"
Julie's outburst drew my silent laugh.
Finals next week.
The undergrads, knights, tower mages—whole university on edge.
Libraries packed, diners now 24/7, mages studying, self-improving, eyeing rivals...
Today: notice for Deculein's Understanding Pure Elements final. 5 credits—worth the hype. Ifrin arrived 30 minutes early.
"Packed as expected."
140 of 150 debutantes already there, same idea.
Ifrin sat, studying while waiting.
3 p.m. sharp: Assistant Professor Allen entered. Classic Deculein aide.
"Hellooo~ This outlines the final. Take one—no losing it~"
Allen beamed, distributing sheets.
What test this time? Ifrin breathed deep, checked hers.
"...?"
Blinked. Flipped it. Peeked at others'.
Natural reaction—whole room did the same.
"Okay, head out~ Exam starts three weeks, Monday."
Allen exited. Ifrin's confusion lingered. Assistant gone—who to ask?
"...What is this?"
She glared at the blank paper.
Outside the tower, Sylvia scowled at her paper.
Blank. Utterly blank—how?
'Don't lose it' was the clue... but important? The test itself?
Walking, she spotted a mage.
Arrogant fool idiot parachuted Ifrin.
Lounging on grass, peering at her paper. Held to sun, twisted vertical, horizontal.
No luck—she crumpled it, shuddering like electrocuted.
"...Idiot."
Sylvia sneered disdainfully, passing—then a wicked thought struck.
That paper in Ifrin's hand.
Rip it?
Disqualified maybe.
"No."
She shook her head.
No guaranteed gain, and un-noble now.
Then.
Riiip—!
Paper tearing loudly. Sylvia startled.
Someone's ambush—target:
"Eeeek—?!"
Ifrin.
Neatly halved. Eyes bulging.
Sylvia laughed unwittingly.
"Wh-wh-what..."
Ifrin gaped, denying reality, gurgling.
"Whoaaaah—!"
Wild boar rage.
"Which, which—"
Sylvia pitied the fool amid amusement.
"Which bastard—?!"
Sigh. Why lounge by the tower? Mages exploit weaknesses coldly.
Sighing, Sylvia approached the idiot.
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