Charlotte Eshrelt (5)

The voice had struck her alongside a violent headache. The memories of another self, burrowing deep into her mind, should have belonged to her and her alone.

Yet he had sought her out directly in this very place. At the time, she hadn't even possessed the presence of mind to puzzle out how or why.

When the suspicion first took root that he had come knowing everything, anxiety seized her. When concrete proof turned suspicion into inescapable fact, terror swept over her like a tempest.

Yet how did she feel now?

"I... I already realized it back in the infirmary. But I just couldn't bring myself to say it out loud to you, Senior..."

The change was palpable.

Now that the heavy dregs trapped beneath the surface had been poured out, her voice rose through her throat clear and unburdened. Her bitten lips no longer choked back suppressed emotions; instead, a faint, bittersweet smile touched them as she recounted each detail. From her tear-soaked eyes, anxiety and fear no longer spilled forth.

She was finally laying bare the truth she could never confide to anyone—and doing so directly in front of the very person it concerned.

"...After hearing all those terrible things I said, don't you resent me?" Charlotte asked, having laid everything on the table.

At her hesitant question, Junon let out a soft chuckle and reached out, gently patting her head.

"Would scolding you change anything?"

The voice that had echoed in his ears upon setting foot in the Principality this semester. The vivid scenes that had rushed before his eyes. And now, the confession Charlotte had poured out, retracing the cruel words she must have spoken in that past timeline.

Even just listening to it, none of it was easy to swallow.

Snapping back at her with a bitter 'So what do you expect me to do about it?' wouldn't change a single thing. Besides, just as Goden had said, Charlotte understood her own mistakes only too well. She was a clever girl—clever enough to trace the discrepancies in the flow of money, deduce the existence of an underground gambling parlor, and single-handedly gather the evidence needed to build a case.

Scolding a girl like her would be entirely the wrong answer.

"Even if I scolded you, it wouldn't undo what happened, Charlotte."

There was no reason to remain shackled to the emotions of the past and treat the present as an exact replica. Lashing out in petty vengeance would only brew a larger catastrophe down the line, culminating in the ruin of the Principality.

He reminded himself of it again and again: the point was to seek change and reshape the future.

"All that matters to me is preventing that same ending."

"What... ending?"

"The Principality. How desperate things were back then... you know, don't you?"

Junon glanced sideways at her before shifting his gaze toward the academy, casually glossing over the specifics.

"I don't remember that far..."

"Ah... really? Well, that's just how it was. Academy students were dropping out left and right because they didn't have a copper to their name, scrambling for whatever living they could find."

"So that's why you went to the Octagon to earn money..."

It was a calculated evasion. Having seen Aris's reaction, Junon knew full well that these girls only possessed fragmented pieces of their memories. Charlotte, missing the full picture, could only wonder what he meant.

Telling her the unvarnished truth would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠only hurt her more.

Just today, he had watched her sob uncontrollably beneath the crushing weight of her guilt. Laying everything bare right now would be no different from shifting the blame squarely onto her shoulders. Viewed from another angle, what Charlotte had said back then had stemmed from concern for his safety, not malice. It was her own desperate wish that he would flee with his life intact, even if his pride took a beating. He had no intention of letting her know that her wish had ended in his hollow, senseless death.

"Besides, in the old days, you only ever addressed me with that stiff, distant 'you,'" Junon teased, "and now you call me 'Senior' without missing a beat, huh?"

Charlotte stiffened visibly.

"Th-That's because back then... I mean..."

She flinched, her tongue tying itself into knots. While she had tossed around titles like 'Senior' quite naturally with everyone else, she had stubbornly refused to drop that stiff, formal distance with Junon.

"I know, I know. You were embarrassed," Junon said with a grin. "Embarrassed that you cried your eyes out in front of me and ended up getting a piggyback ride, just like today."

"Ugh... ngh..."

As if he had struck the bullseye down to the exact syllable, Charlotte buried her blazing, flushed face in both hands. In truth, her mortification wasn't entirely about the present. She simply couldn't fathom why her past self had ignored a perfectly normal title like 'Senior' in favor of such an awkward, standoffish form of address.

As she hid her face, Junon chuckled quietly, which only made her blush burn hotter until she buried her head completely between her knees.

At times like this, changing the subject was the only salvation.

Charlotte deliberately steered the conversation away.

"The money you handed over will be distributed gradually to those looking for honest work. But... what do you plan to do from now on, Senior?"

"Hmm... who knows? Work hard and graduate from the academy, I suppose."

"Not that. There must be things from your memories that weren't resolved properly. If it were me, I would have tried to win money at the gambling parlor instead."

It was a sharp, probing question. He couldn't afford to overlook the fact that she was a merchant to her core—a sharp businesswoman adept at piecing information together to seize advantages and produce results. While she might not match Senia's uncanny psychological warfare and silver-tongued ability to read an opponent inside out, the sheer breadth of Charlotte's network, information gathering, and analytical acumen was nothing to scoff at.

Right now, she possessed the critical information that Junon remembered the past and that a certain outcome had unfolded. If he handled this clumsily, even he could find himself backed into an awkward corner.

"I don't have any grand desire to pile up mountains of gold and become rich. Truly. And as for what comes after... to be honest, I'm still figuring that out myself."

"...Then you haven't decided on anything definite?"

"Right. Except for one thing."

"What's the one thing?"

"That I won't be returning to Tembris. In fact, that's the real reason I came looking for you."

It was the exact same declaration he had given to Aris and Erika. He was drawing a firm, impassable line between himself and Tembris.

Two past precedents had turned sour, but this one counterexample might serve as a positive precedent. Now came the moment to state my business.

"That I won't be returning to Tembris. In fact, that's the real reason I came looking for you."

If I made it abundantly clear that I had no intention of joining Tembris, Charlotte would be able to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠voice my stance to the others. That would be enough. Just as he had done with Cain, Goden preferred to persuade and reach a mutual agreement rather than dragging members into the party against their will.

If I expressed an unyielding refusal, even a man as stubborn as Goden would take a step back and let it go. And that would mark the end of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my entanglement with Tembris.

There was no need for me to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠butt into the lives of those who would one day be hailed as the final pillars of the Ardellion Grand Duchy.

"...I, see."

"What? Does that sound strange?"

"No... it's not that..."

Charlotte hesitated, an uncharacteristic pause. For a girl raised in the cutthroat world of commerce, hesitating like that meant she felt entirely uncertain of her footing.

"Did someone mention something about me?"

Startled, Charlotte slowly turned her gaze toward me. Seeing the look in her eyes before she hastily dropped them back toward the ground, it was clear that words really had been exchanged.

"During the festival held at the start of this year, the topic of recruiting you came up."

"Me? Who proposed that?"

"Senior Goden. He brought up the fact that you're a frontline vanguard from a commoner background in the lower classes, and he even pointed out your recent performance, asking everyone what they thought."

I had assumed none of the members I'd encountered so far would have ever suggested my name. Yet Goden—someone I hadn't exchanged a single word with in this timeline—had wanted to scout me since back then?

Goden never personally singled out someone for recruitment unless he had seen their abilities with his own eyes. Michel, the very first person he approached, had been accepted because she caught his attention, and the other members were only brought into the fold after passing a series of bizarre tests.

Damn it. That means I must have caught his eye somewhere... What happened before then?

Charlotte had specifically mentioned the festival at the beginning of the year.

Wait. Before the festival...

The replica phantom duel overseen by Professor Denise. Out of that massive crowd of spectators, there was no reason Goden couldn't have been among them.

Ah, dammit... Is that why he came all the way to the infirmary to pitch an offer?

I had gone into that duel with the explicit mindset of thoroughly dominating the match, so it would have left quite an impression. There was no more definitive way to catch someone's eye.

"So what came of it?"

"...It wasn't accepted."

Once the party grew to four or more members, Goden would have put matters to a group vote. If everyone had agreed to recruit me, I would have faced a massive headache... But thinking back, Erika had walked up to me on the day of the festival and slapped me across the cheek without preamble. Right. Someone had opposed it.

Then why bring up this conversation now?

Even if I had caught Goden's eye, someone had voted against it, and Erika's vehement opposition would have rendered the matter dead in the water anyway.

"Out with it, Charlotte."

"Pardon?"

"There's something else you want to say to me after bringing all that up, isn't there?"

Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before opening them. Desperation practically radiated from her.

"Even if... even if you and I aren't on the same team... if something painful happens like today... may I come find you and cry?"

Good grief. Why make such a fuss over something so obvious? I had no idea how someone running an entire merchant guild could bungle such simple arithmetic.

"No one thinks it's strange for an underclassman to keep in touch with her senior, Charlotte."

Though, of course, we'd have to keep it an absolute secret from the rest of them.

The trial regarding the suspected involvement with the Octagon was settled. Lifting the burden of guilt from Charlotte after her cryptic remarks, and delivering my firm refusal to join Tembris, was also done.

Now, it was time to step back into the flow of time and pursue other changes. Time to plan for the next crisis.

Up until now, incidents like the Tbeshar subjugation and the underachiever mana rampage had been matters I could intervene in and resolve with my own two hands. But I couldn't guarantee the same for what lay ahead—even knowing the cause, the progression, and the precise toll of devastation it would ultimately inflict upon the Principality.

"Still... at least I'll be able to handle it a little better this time around."

I glanced down at the gift resting in my palm. The business card bearing the name Charlotte Eshrelt would provide more than enough support to patch the holes in my preparations.

'If you reach out to this number, it connects directly to my private line, so the rest of the team won't hear a whisper of it. Whenever you need help—no, please, you must contact me, Senior.'

The total shutdown of the gambling parlor and the Octagon was merely a stopgap measure, intended to preserve the fighting strength of the current third-year frontline vanguards and support casters.

"Your delivery has arrived!" a courier called out.

"...Arrived already? I certainly hope she isn't running a sweatshop."

Tearing open the packaging revealed a single glass bottle filled with a clear, shimmering liquid. Adhered to the glass was a small sticky note, written in what was unmistakably Charlotte's handwriting.

After that day, I had gathered intel and asked Charlotte in advance to procure this Mistellis Solution. Other countermeasures had already been laid in place as well; with this, I had done everything within my power to prepare.

This bottle was the cornerstone to subduing the coming swarm of rats.