Fainting
Fainting
I couldn't see anything in front of me.
The feeling of someone strangling my neck.
Even as my breath was being cut off, my body wouldn't budge, frozen like a frog caught in a snake's gaze.
Even with my vision obscured, I could feel the dampness.
Something was definitely flowing from my forehead.
Rain? No. It felt thicker and stickier than water. This was probably blood.
So blood was running down my forehead, and something I could not identify had me restrained?
I groped through my memories to try to sort out the situation.
I remembered talking with Esteban in the reception room, but everything after that was blank.
Had I been attacked in the mansion?
By whom on earth?
Could the craftsmen have staged a revolt?
Oh no. I had been overworking the craftsmen for ages. I could not exactly deny the charge.
I had completely overlooked how tightly they had been banding together since Kroon arrived. This was my fault as the boss of a sweatshop.
"Ugh... I'll switch you to a six-day work week, so let's compromise here..."
My mouth moved, so I barely managed to get the words out.
But no answer came, so I strained my ears just in case.
-Snore... snore...
The faint sound of deep sleep.
Only then did I realize something was strange.
And when I put all my strength into my unmoving body, it began to respond little by little.
I laboriously lifted my eyelids just a crack.
What entered my eyes then was a chubby little foot strangling my neck.
"...Ada?"
Even when I called her name, Ada stayed fast asleep with her head pressed against my forehead.
I realized that what was flowing down my forehead was Ada's drool.
Wondering what on earth was going on, I barely managed to raise my creaking body.
It took some effort to lay Ada carefully beside me without waking her.
"Alain!"
I must have been out for a long time. Raising my voice even slightly made it crack and sent pain through my throat.
"You’re awake, Master Rupert!"
"What on earth happened? My memory's hazy."
Alain opened the door and came in immediately at my voice.
Alain let out a sigh of relief at seeing me awake and rushed to my side.
Alain, who had been frantically checking whether I was okay, finally calmed down at my question and answered.
Alain’s explanation was so rambling that it was hard to follow, but I gathered that I had fainted while talking with Esteban—and that overwork was the cause.
"The Count gave strict orders that you are not to leave this room until you recover, Master Rupert."
"Ah... haah, I suppose it can't be helped. But why is Ada here like this?"
If she was going to sleep, she could have slept comfortably in her own room. Why had she tried to assassinate me?
"Well... when Lady Ada saw you collapse, Master Rupert, she insisted that she could wake you up, so..."
Indeed, who in our house could stop Ada?
I thought as I looked at Ada lying on one side of my bed.
"Big Brother... poison apple..."
She was mumbling something incomprehensible, whatever dream she was having, and pursing her lips like a blowfish. It was so cute that I found myself poking her cheek.
Anyway, I needed to get back to work now.
The Saintess would be visiting soon, so I had to prepare the sacred painting and storyboard Volume 5 of Iron-Blooded Alchemist. I had a mountain of work.
And I had to keep producing picture books steadily, so I needed to plan those in advance to make them without falling behind.
My body still wasn't moving properly, but I felt like I could get around if I drank a bottle of Vitality Potion.
"Alain, bring me one bottle of Vitality Potion."
"No. Monk Manuel has already given his diagnosis."
"What diagnosis on earth?"
At my question, Alain began listing the doctor’s orders one by one.
First, confiscation of Vitality Potions.
Second, prohibition from entering the workshop.
Third, at least 10 hours of sleep per day.
Fourth, one hour of physical training every morning.
What were these absurd, vicious conditions?
If a person slept that much, what difference would there be from a bear?
Prohibition from the workshop? I had a mountain of work to do right now. That was nonsense.
The morning exercise was just as ridiculous. Exercise was supposed to be a token gesture you made to reassure your body when you were already on death’s door from living like this.
And above all, banning Vitality Potions was something I absolutely could not endure.
There were countless things I disliked about this world, but if I had to name the single best thing in it, Vitality Potions won by a mile.
Were these not truly a gift bestowed upon humanity by a goddess?
That scorching kick made every energy drink or stimulant I had ever tried in the modern world taste like plain water.
And maybe it was just my imagination, but drinking it even improved my mood. It was truly no different from a divine beverage.
And they were banning it?
This was tyranny. I tried to argue with Alain right away, but my body wouldn't cooperate, so it ended as a futile attempt.
This Rupert bastard was still a teenager, yet his body had collapsed to this extent.
The original me had pulled all-nighters in high school, gone to school, finished evening self-study, come home, played games on the computer, and still made it to school the next day.
This body could not even survive a schedule this mild? And that was with top-tier working conditions where a cleric came by to heal me.
"Alain... how could you... betray me."
"This isn’t betrayal, Master Rupert. Right now you absolutely need rest."
"I have to make volume 5 and draw the sacred painting, so there's no time to rest..."
"Master Rupert, you don’t need to do any of that. Nothing will go wrong."
At Alain's words, I was struck speechless.
Nothing would go wrong? How could that make any sense?
If a serialization deadline slipped by even one day, the editor’s messages and readers’ angry comments would flood in immediately.
'Ah, come to think of it, there's no editor here, is there?'
Suddenly, I realized that I had never deeply considered why I was drawing so desperately and frantically.
At first, it was to make a gift for Ada.
Then it was to revive the finances of the declining family with it.
But now I could buy Ada a ton of toys, and the family's finances had recovered to the point of being even more solid than when we were wealthy before.
Why had I been drawing so hard?
'It was just fun.'
Thinking back, at some point the money had stopped being the point. I simply enjoyed making picture books and manga.
Like those school days when I showed friends the practice comics I'd scribbled in my notebook like a joke and watched their reactions.
I wanted to show people the things I made as soon as I possibly could.
I had been a reader too. I knew how badly people could want the next chapter, and that was probably part of why I kept pushing.
'Is it because I slept well and woke up? These are things I hadn't felt before.'
Only now did it strike me that I had been running like a racehorse all this time.
A racehorse running the track with its vision narrowed to look only ahead.
I looked at the sleeping Ada.
Alain, who had been watching my actions, quietly spoke to me.
"Master Rupert, you are now the heir of House Somerset."
"Please remember that to everyone in this family—not just me—you are someone we must protect with all our strength before you are ever the author of those books."
He was right.
How could someone who couldn't even make the people around him happy make readers happy?
The only family members left in House Somerset were Father—Count Bradley—Ada, and me.
Because 'Richard Somerset,' the eldest of the family, had been missing for so long that everyone thought he had died in the war.
In this situation, if I didn't just collapse but actually died, there might come a time when Ada, still so young, would have to take responsibility for the family.
That was something that must never happen.
I made up my mind.
I would start exercising again, which I had abandoned because it was annoying and hard, and build a healthy body like the knights of this world.
And after the breakneck pace I had forced on everyone, the craftsmen had to be exhausted too. They could exercise with me.
Once everyone working for House Somerset was healthy, our productivity would actually improve.
Wouldn't that be the best ending, satisfying both the people around me and the readers waiting for the works?
Once I finally sorted out my thoughts, I felt relieved. Alain brightened when he saw the change in my expression.
"You finally understand, Master Rupert!"
"I'm sorry, Alain. I've caused you too much worry all this time. But don't worry, I understand everything now."
At my words, Alain wiped the tears welling in his eyes with the back of his hand as if moved.
Come to think of it, Alain was getting on in years too, so he should exercise with me.
***
"I'm telling you, they're definitely going to save Nana!"
A man standing in the waiting line said loudly, and many people agreed with him.
"Right. The author is human too. Surely he wouldn’t leave Nana with an ending like that?"
"The protagonist brothers are definitely going to use the Gold Transmutation Stone to save her! If not..."
Even if it means going to prison, I'll punch that author in the face!
He swallowed those words, but the people there naturally predicted the unspoken follow-up.
"Anyway, what do you think Volume 4 is going to be about?"
"Won’t it be the protagonist fighting Skal? That damned western native! What did Nana ever do to deserve being killed?!"
"Hmm... if I’d been turned into a chimera that hideous, I might’ve preferred being put out of my misery."
Grab!
The collar of the man who uttered that last remark was seized in an instant, and the flustered man looked around, feeling murderous glares from all directions.
"Hey, punk... take that back."
"I take it back!"
Smack!
The instant he took it back, the hand released his collar and the murderous glares around him eased. The man let out a breath of relief.
Lately, some of the most fanatical <Iron-Blooded Alchemist> readers had started policing what other fans were allowed to say about the manga.
There were several forms of this policing.
One rumor claimed a man had remarked in a tavern, “Isn’t the Flame Alchemist useless when it rains?” and was later found unconscious in a back alley. The group had become that vicious.
So other readers sarcastically called those people the Iron-Blood Guild, but since that faction was quite powerful, they couldn't do it openly.
A surprising number of nobles belonged to the Iron-Blood Guild, so most people preferred not to provoke them.
That was the atmosphere in the line waiting for <Iron-Blooded Alchemist> Volume 4.
Sales finally began, and some people started reading the books right on the spot.
Those who had gathered in groups and shared the books they had barely managed to obtain let out exclamations and screams as they finally finished reading.
Just as they were about to finish their reading with joyful hearts.
They discovered a single line of text written on the last page.
-Due to the author's health, the release date for volume 5 has been postponed.