Remnants (2)

The Robinhood family was notoriously insular.

That insularity was a direct consequence of how they had cultivated their power.

"In the past, our house survived by selling out our fellow nobles to the Emperor," Stan said. "We guaranteed our own safety by informing on their crimes."

"They were guilty, so they died. Simple as that."

"Perhaps. But their crimes may not have warranted the total annihilation of their bloodlines. You know what kind of man the Emperor is, do you not?"

Well, he had a point. The reigning Emperor was an unhinged monster who had clung to life for over a century. Across raw martial might, political authority, and bottomless wealth, his power was utterly overwhelming.

"At any rate, that is merely the story of how our house expanded."

Frankly, there was nothing terribly unusual about it. No matter the era, there was always a group that operated like that.

"And so our family survived as informants for the imperial throne," Stan continued. "We dug up intelligence on others, investigated them, and, when deemed necessary, assassinated them. Personally, I had no complaints about living that way."

"And let me guess—you started regretting it all after meeting Emily?"

"No, I still have no complaints. Nor do I harbor any regrets."

"Well, aren't you a shameless bastard."

How could a guy who had been murdering people since childhood say something like that with a straight face? Did ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he possess no sense of guilt whatsoever?

"What else was I to do? It is far too late for me to nurse regrets over the past. If I had gone mad from guilt, would I be sitting here pouring my heart out to you?"

"Fair enough. A healthy dose of shamelessness is good for one's mental health."

I had to hand it to him. If you wanted to stay sane in this world, that was how you had to live. Besides, the Robinhood family had simply eliminated the Empire's enemies to survive, so it wasn't my place to cast stones.

"And then, one day, Emily appeared before a shameless creature like me."

"How poetic."

I offered a perfunctory nod. Now that we had come this far, there was no slipping away until the story finished. I had no idea what useful advice I could possibly give, but to Stan, this was clearly a grave dilemma.

"She was fiercely curious, always running around full of boundless energy."

"Boundless... energy?"

Was the Emily he was talking about a completely different person from the Emily I knew? Or was this bastard Stan such an extreme shut-in that anyone walking on two legs looked hyperactive to him? Otherwise, there was no universe where anyone could describe Emily as 'lively.'

"Well, that was before her curiosity completely consumed her," he explained.

"Ah."

"Her curiosity grew out of control, and somewhere along the line, she became an executive of Ex Machina."

"...Well, at least the cause and effect are clear."

I suppose nobody could excel at everything at once. Emily had traded her outgoing personality to fuel her insatiable scientific curiosity. Let's just go with that.

"Even so, I—and the rest of our house—intended to give Emily the absolute best," Stan murmured. "We allowed her to do whatever she pleased and bought her everything she ever asked for."

"And?"

"And yet, before we knew it, Emily had stopped smiling."

"Hmm..."

"Where did we fall short? What did we do wrong? None of us could figure it out. That is why I am asking you. Since you are one of the rare people Emily has shown an interest in, I thought you might understand something we missed."

"Right. I understand completely now."

To sum it up in one sentence: you guys were making a fuss over absolute nonsense.

"First, let me ask you one thing. When did Emily join your household? Early childhood, right?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"Then the answer is obvious. It really is your fault. All of you are to blame."

"..."

"Who do you think a kid learns from? Everyone around her was walking around with gloomy, deadpan mugs, so naturally she ended up the same way. Would it have killed you people to smile once in a while?"

It wasn't rocket science. As the saying goes, 'touch pitch and you shall be defiled.' When a child is surrounded by stern, grim, uptight killers, her face is bound to freeze up, too. Children mirror the adults around them.

"Instead of just showering her with one-sided affection, you should have tried actual communication first."

"Could it truly be something so trivial?"

"Of course it's trivial. Why make it sound like some grand tragedy?"

I supposed from his perspective, it felt like an insurmountable problem. He probably had no normal people around him to point out the painfully obvious. But really, it was that simple. Hadn't I just resolved his crisis in five seconds flat?

"...Even if we happen to be the mortal enemies who destroyed her parents?"

"Wait. Hold on. Stop talking right there."

Nope. Absolutely not. This was the exact breed of cursed backstory that a sensible bystander should never, ever hear.

"I have zero interest in listening to your gloomy family drama," I warned.

And I certainly had no desire to get dragged into it.

"Emily is a brilliant child," Stan went on, blithely ignoring my protests. "It is entirely possible she figured it out long ago."

Why was my life endlessly infested with stubborn bastards who completely tuned out other people's boundaries?

"I told you earlier, did I not? Our house survived by turning informant on other noble families."

"..."

"Emily's house was no exception. Acting on the Emperor's secret orders, we extracted intelligence and handed it over. As a result, Emily's family was completely wiped out."

I genuinely had no idea there was such history behind them.

"Even our family elders likely never imagined matters would escalate to that extent," Stan said. "None of us dreamed that so minor a crime would be inflated into high treason."

"Inflated?"

"Embezzlement. And over a grand total of three gold coins, at that."

Three gold.

It wasn't pocket change, but it was nowhere near the kind of catastrophic sum that justified the extermination of an entire noble house—unless, as Stan said, someone deliberately blew it out of all proportion.

"One of the head of household's retainers had a family emergency, and the lord lent him the money to resolve it. That was where the trouble began."

"How does lending an employee money turn into embezzlement?"

"Absurd, is it not? The situation was so urgent that the lord simply handed over gold sitting in an official office drawer. In the chaos of the moment, he merely forgot to replenish it from his personal funds, and that single oversight triggered the avalanche."

"And what happened to the employee who borrowed the coins?"

"By the time he resolved his family crisis and returned to repay the debt, the purge had already begun. And the moment he stepped foot back in the capital, he..."

"Vanished without a trace, I take it. To ensure the fabricated crime stuck without any inconvenient witnesses."

"Hmm..."

Stan, who had been speaking in a bitter, self-deprecating tone, suddenly fixed me with an intense stare.

"How is it that you grasp these sordid mechanics so thoroughly?"

"Watch your mouth, you bastard. Don't look at me like I'm some seasoned conspirator. I just happen to have a functioning brain and caught on immediately."

"For someone claiming a superior intellect, your placement in Class F—"

"Shut up and get to the point! Are you going to keep derailing your own confession?"

His deep-seated hatred for me was apparently blinding him to the fact that I was doing him a massive favor by sitting here listening. Keep poking me, buddy, and see if I don't walk out this second.

"Well, there is little more to recount. A venerable, historic house vanished into the dustbin of history, and out of a lingering sense of guilt, our family covertly smuggled Emily away to preserve her life. Ah, there is one more detail. That incident is also the primary reason our house threw its support behind Her Highness Lobelia."

"Did you assume Lobelia wouldn't repeat the bloody mistakes of the past?"

"No, it was far simpler: the figure we originally gambled on betrayed us."

"Huh?"

"The architect who inflated that three-gold shortfall into a treasonous purge was none other than Second Prince Loki."

Wait, there was that kind of connection?

I couldn't recall anything like that coming up in the original game. Then again, virtually all imperial royal events in the game revolved around Lobelia, the protagonist. Or perhaps it was deep background lore buried in item descriptions or dialogue trees I skipped. I was never the type to complete an RPG to one hundred percent...

"And so, at times, terror grips me," Stan murmured, his voice dipping low. "What if Emily already knows the truth, and that is why she looks upon us with such cold detachment...?"

So he did regret it after all.

Stan had boldly proclaimed that he felt no remorse for the past, but listening to him now, that was pure bravado. He had merely constructed a wall of cynical rationalization to protect himself. Deep down, he was drowning in guilt and regret.

"How... how can we ever atone to Emily?"

"Hmm..."

Finally, the reason behind Stan's suffocating overprotection of Emily clicked into place. I had assumed he was just an unhinged freak with a sister complex, but there had been a genuine, tragic reason behind it.

Was this what made them part of the protagonist's inner circle? To think that the very first word to cross his mind in this predicament was 'atonement.'

"All right, looks like I'll be generous for once."

I had no idea whether Emily actually knew the Robinhood family's dirty secret. Nor did I know all the bloody details of the crimes they had committed. But there was one thing I did know for certain.

"Allow the great Oracle to enlighten you," I said solemnly. "In the future I saw, the two of you remained a harmonious family to the very end."

"...You are not an Oracle."

"And yet you're well aware that I know glimpses of the future, aren't you?"

"..."

"That lingering doubt is precisely why you came to me in the first place. So take it from me. In the future I witnessed, you fought endlessly for Emily's sake, and Emily fought just as fiercely to protect you."

Fearing things that haven't even happened yet is human nature. But I could state with absolute certainty that his worst nightmare would never come to pass.

"Well? Feel like that helped?"

"I loathe to admit it, but..." Grimacing, Stan drained the rest of his coffee in a single gulp before answering, "...it is of some slight comfort."

"Then what's with that hideous ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠scowl?"

"I am disgusted with myself for feeling a shred of gratitude toward you."

"You really are consistent to a fault, you bastard."

We parted ways shortly after without exchanging many more words.

...Wait a second. Did this ungrateful punk really just settle the score for all that premium life advice with a single cup of cheap coffee? You're dead meat, Stan. Next time I set foot in your manor, I'm going to ask Emily out on a date right in front of your face. Just you wait—I'll show you what it looks like when the person you hate most does the exact thing you hate most.

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was still busily stewing in petty spite when I arrived at the Cradle Alchemy Workshop.

"Hm? You're actually here today."

"It was you?!"

"Why the sudden shouting, Professor Georg?"

"Did you touch the reagents in the back storage room?!"

"Yeah. Were they off-limits or something? If so, you really should have slapped a 'Do Not Touch' label on them."

Either way, definitely not my fault.

"No, it's not that! You were supposed to be down in your hometown, but when the materials went missing, we thought a thief had broken in!"

"Aha. So you were terrified you'd get chewed out for negligence."

"Exactly! But now that I see it was just you, make sure you draft an expense report later."

"Come on, Professor. If you're that worried, why not just forge a fake report like you always do?"

"Oh, I have no problem doing that."

"Of course you don't."

Maybe it was because I had just heard about an entire noble house being wiped out over a measly three gold coins, but Professor Georg's casual attitude sounded terrifyingly perilous.

"If a thief really had broken in, I was worried it wouldn't end with a single incident," Georg muttered defensively.

"Since when did you care about workshop security? It's not like our locks were ever up to standard anyway."

"You clearly don't know what's been happening lately. Over the past few weeks, roughly half of the faculty and student body have been purged."

"Huh? Why?"

I didn't recall any major enemy raids happening after the last incident. Did people get assassinated while wandering outside the Cradle? But Cradle students and faculty weren't the type to drop dead so easily...

"The Chairwoman personally scrubbed the Cradle from the inside out," Georg whispered, looking around nervously. "Turncoats, traitors, and foreign spies were swept away in droves."

"So you were just terrified of getting dragged into the bloodbath by association. Man, you really are a scaredy-cat."

"It was an imperial decree from the Emperor himself."

"...Should we look into upgrading our door locks to the latest magitech model?"

"I already put in the order."

An imperial decree completely changed the calculus. With the mad Emperor involved, one could easily get swept into the execution grounds over a trivial accounting error.

"You lay low for a while too," Georg warned. "If you keep blowing through rare materials like water and catch someone's eye, you'll end up six feet under."

"Relax, Professor. As long as we produce undeniable results, no one can touch us, right?"

"This brat didn't listen to a single word I said."

Well, to an outsider, my bravado might have looked like baseless arrogance, but I actually had the goods to back it up.

"Take a look at this before you lecture me. I finally figured out the synthesis method for combining the Firebird's Heart and the Frost Giant's Blood."

"What?! How could a runt like you figure that out?! Wait—if that's true, we don't have a second to waste! Yohan, fill this out right now!"

Professor Georg frantically reached into his robes and whipped out a document.

Was it an achievement report? Well, if we submitted a breakthrough like this, the academy administration would surely overlook our reckless expenditure of research grants as acceptable collateral.

"...Wait. Isn't this a University Application Form?!"

"Yup!"

Without hesitation, I drew my sword.

I thought he had been behaving himself lately, but he had gone completely raving mad again. Did this lunatic already forget Princess Lobelia's explicit warning? Then again, expecting sound reason from a madman was my own fault.

"Hahaha! Sign the contract quietly, Yohan Damus!"

Professor Georg whipped out a syringe filled with a suspicious, murky fluid from his pocket. Great. What brand of experimental poison was he planning to inject into my veins this time?

Still, taking down Professor Georg was well within my capabilities. He was virtually the weakest link among the entire Cradle faculty. As an academic with zero combat aptitude, me beating him was only natural.

The only reason I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had fallen for his schemes in the past was because he had caught me off guard with airborne paralytics. But the situation was different now. The workshop door was wide open, and there was no unidentified gas wafting through the room.

"I'm not the same man I used to be, Professor."

There was zero chance of me losing.

"I know! You're a brilliant talent now! Exactly the kind of indispensable asset our workshop desperately needs! Jabir!"

"Yes, Professor."

"Here is the junior who will be joining you! Pin him down so he can't move!"

"Music to my ears."

Stepping out from Professor Georg's shadow was Jabir-sunbae. The chimeric morningstar in his grip—complete with its grafted living eyeball—gleamed with unsettling malice.

"...Wait a minute."

If Jabir-sunbae was jumping into the fray, that changed the math entirely...!