Awakening (4)
But I didn't do that.
To be recognized as a member of the nobility in this world, one had to satisfy a number of conditions, and for nobles of Count rank and above, an Academy diploma was among the essential requirements for succeeding to a title. So I had behaved myself at the disciplinary hearing, accepted the punishment without protest, and kept expulsion at bay. In a world where the class system still held firm, noble status was the sturdiest pillar of support a person could have. I wasn't about to kick that away with my own two feet.
And that, I supposed, was what had piqued Iris's curiosity enough to come looking for me. The way I had conducted myself at the hearing was the polar opposite of the thuggish behavior I had always shown.
In the original story, Iris had been the one to call off the engagement, sick of my delinquent antics. This time, perhaps she had come hoping against hope to give me one more chance. For all that her appearance suggested a certain coldness, she was a deeply warm and considerate person at heart.
I had agonized at first over what to do about my connection with her, but seeing as her family had been the ones to raise the matter of breaking off the engagement, it seemed we were destined to part ways regardless.
In the original disciplinary hearing episode, there had been one other heroine indirectly involved besides Patricia Austin.
My fiancée, Iris Robinet.
She was one of the most pivotal figures in I Became an Overpowered Academy Knight — a heroine who, throughout the original story, served as the unshakable backbone of the protagonist's party. Without her, there would have been no center of gravity to hold that band of strong-willed personalities together. And without that, the protagonist's party would never have been able to resolve the countless incidents that unfolded across the narrative.
But unlike the original, I had not been written out. If our relationship continued, the bond between Eugene — the protagonist — and Iris could veer wildly off the course I knew. And if that happened, the future of this world as I understood it might change in ways I could not predict.
Of course, by now all of that had become a pointless worry.
But those emotions that had surged up earlier — what had those been? Why on earth had I said such vicious things? Having heard words like that, Iris must have been feeling a misery beyond anything language could capture. The funnier part was that I hadn't felt particularly good saying them, either.
The truth was, my current state felt less like reincarnation and more like some kind of possession. The memories of my previous life, which had suddenly awakened a few hours ago, had a stranglehold on my train of thought. Naturally, my behavior and way of thinking were aligned more with that past life of reading novels and playing games than with the aristocratic existence I had lived in this one.
And in my previous life, I could count on one hand the times I had ever gotten angry at someone. I had never once thrown out deliberately mocking words. That made the violent emotions I had felt earlier all the more incomprehensible. Perhaps the memories of this life and the last were beginning to mix, little by little. After all, I was bound to the original protagonist by a bitter feud, and my personality in this life was, to put it mildly, less than admirable.
Looking back through my memories, I think I was quite fond of Iris.
It made sense, if you thought about it in ordinary terms. The young lady of a distinguished house, beautiful beyond words, with a gentle, sweet disposition besides — how could anyone dislike a girl like that?
But this uncultured bastard... I had no idea how to properly express affection. Whenever I met Iris, my idea of appealing to her was to boast about my family's wealth, or to proudly recount how I had harassed commoners. All the while completely failing to notice the way her smile grew colder with every word.
"Hah..."
The Class B dormitory. I had set the servants to packing my things and sat for a moment, lost in thought.
"Of all the people I could have reincarnated as, why this guy..."
If it was going to be like this, wouldn't it have been better to be born as someone whose name wasn't even mentioned in the original? Or if my memories had just come back a few years earlier — hell, even a few months.
I couldn't remember everything with perfect clarity, but I had a decent grasp of the original story's flow and the locations of the hidden items. Even if I had been born a serf instead of a noble, I could have overcome all of it with that knowledge. If only I had remembered my past life before the incidents started unfolding.
"Still, I suppose I should count myself lucky I at least dodged the worst of the worst..."
That much was true. If my memories had come back even thirty minutes later, I would have gone on a rampage exactly as in the original, injured other students, and been expelled on the spot. I wouldn't have been able to inherit the title. Returning to the territory would have left me with no real influence. And then, over the years of major incidents to come, I would have lost every foundation I had to stand on.
Things looked peaceful enough for now, but this world, if you had to classify it, was a fairly bleak one. Demons, demon worshippers, fiends, monsters — threats to a quiet life were everywhere you looked. The protagonist's party would handle the big events, sure, but I couldn't just sit on my hands and leave everything to them.
I needed to find my own way to survive. In that sense, a sixty-day suspension could even be an opportunity. If I could go home and lay some groundwork during that time, I could use my knowledge to weather the coming disasters with as little damage as possible.
Yeah. This isn't the worst. Not really.
Shifting my perspective like that, I felt a good deal calmer.
A short while later, the servants reported that my luggage was packed. I told them to call for a carriage. It was time to leave the Academy and return to the estate.
"I'm sorry, Iris."
Late one night, Count Robinet had come to Iris's room, knelt down to meet her eyes, and after looking at her for a long while, spoken those quiet words.
Iris had merely rubbed her sleepy eyes and stared blankly. It would be a long time before she understood what her father had been apologizing for.
The meeting had begun in the early afternoon and stretched past midnight. Its conclusion: in exchange for accepting House Reed's support, the family would agree to a betrothal between House Robinet's beloved second daughter — Iris Robinet, whom the entire household cherished beyond measure — and the heir of House Reed.
Iris had been fifteen years old.
"It'll be all right, Ari."
The Countess Robinet spoke to Iris as she was being dressed and adorned.
"I was matched with your father for political reasons too, you know. But look — we've been married more than twenty years, and we still get along so well, don't we?"
As the Countess said, the marital harmony of Count and Countess Robinet was famous; there wasn't a soul in the neighboring lands who didn't know of it. And Iris, too, believed that even if it wasn't the romantic meeting from a storybook, she would surely find someone she could cherish and who would cherish her in return. Yes. Someone like her own parents.
"Ari. A great deal rests on your shoulders."
Regret was written plainly across the Countess's face.
"House Reed may not possess the tradition and history that we do, but they are a family expanding their influence through the south at a remarkable pace. The current head is a man of considerable ability. If this growth continues, House Reed could, within a generation or two, become a name known throughout the Empire."
She sighed, then went on.
"So Ari, try to get along with your fiancé as best you can. You needn't have what your father and I have. That's simply how affection works. Once two people spend enough time together, feelings that weren't there before have a way of taking root. That's the nature of human hearts. So even if he isn't to your liking, be patient. Give it time. You may find yourselves growing into something deeper..."
When she finished speaking, the Countess stood behind Iris, placed her hands on both of her daughter's shoulders, and stroked them gently. It was a careful touch, one that seemed to carry an apology.
"I'm sorry, Ari. I wanted you to meet someone you loved and marry him... and now I'm sending you away for the sake of the family..."
"Mother..."
"If we ever recover our standing in the future, and if by then you still don't care for your fiancé... I promise you, no matter what price we have to pay, I will bring you home..."
"..."
"I'm so sorry... my daughter."
"Hh... hic... hh-hhk..."
At the lakeside on the empty academy grounds, Iris was crying.
"How... how could he say those things to me... hic..."
The vicious words Edwin had spoken still circled through her mind. It had been a devastating blow. She could swear she had never, in all her life, been subjected to such humiliation.
There was not a single person in her family or on her family's lands who didn't like her. From the butler to the guards at the front gate, from the coachman who drove the carriage to the women weeding the fields — anyone who saw her would break into a bright smile and treat her with warmth and kindness. It had been the same at the Academy.
The only person in this world who treated her so harshly, who made her feel so wretched, was one.
That delinquent, Edwin Reed.
"Hic... hh... waaaah..."
The sorrowful weeping grew louder and louder.
Where had it all gone wrong?
Before meeting Edwin, she had vaguely imagined a handsome, refined young heir. He had turned out to be the exact opposite of that image. Arrogant and self-centered, his body gone soft from a complete lack of self-care, plump and fleshy. Not a scrap of refinement to be found, and every time he opened his mouth it was either a boast about his family's wealth or contempt for those of lower rank.
She had been terribly disappointed at first, but Iris soon steeled herself and changed her mind. Weight could be lost. Refinement could be acquired over a lifetime. They were both still young, and the days left to learn and grow were as numerous as the stars in the sky.
She had heard that Edwin had lost his mother, the Countess Reed, not long ago. It was no wonder his personality had gone so far off the rails. How enormous a shock it must have been, at such a young age. If someone stood beside him and held him up, he would surely shake off the trauma soon enough and return to who he truly was.
Iris had reached that conclusion and resolved to be patient, recalling the words her mother had given her before the betrothal ceremony. Feelings that weren't there before have a way of taking root. That's simply how people are.
Years passed, but Edwin showed no sign of improving. No matter how she coaxed and soothed him, he would snort and ignore her. His weight, far from decreasing, only piled on day after day.
There was already a famous anecdote about a maid of House Reed who, getting up in the middle of the night for a drink of water, had seen Edwin's silhouette, screamed that it was a monster, and fainted on the spot. The maid had been expelled from the household the very next day on charges of insulting her master — and even that was only after she had spent the entire day begging Edwin.
Faced with a man who refused to change, Iris grew steadily more exhausted. Enrolling at the Academy and mixing with her peers had restored some of her vitality, but the days she was obligated as a fiancée to meet Edwin left her more drained than ever.
At the Academy, Edwin had fallen in with people of his own caliber and begun running wild as if the reins had been cut. Eventually his luck ran out, and he was hit with a heavy punishment: a sixty-day suspension and a class demotion.
Even so, he had answered so meekly at the disciplinary hearing that she had wondered, just maybe, whether he had felt even a sliver of remorse for his past misdeeds. That was why she had come all the way to the academy grounds to find him. The faint hope she had harbored had already been smashed to pieces, leaving not a trace behind.
All that remained to her now was a trampled sense of self-worth, a disillusionment with the life she had lived, and anxiety about the future ahead.
"Hic... waaah... waaaah..."
The young lady of a count's house — always so confident, so full of grace — was nowhere to be found. In her place was only a girl pouring her sorrow out with her whole body.
Though it had been her own family that demanded the broken engagement, Iris had fully intended to do everything in her power to stop it. Edwin wasn't exactly to her liking, but she had believed it was her duty all the same. And Edwin had kicked that consideration of hers aside like a worn-out shoe.
"You bastard... you absolute bastard... how could you do that to me... hic..."
Faced with the injustice of her reality, Iris's grief only swelled further.
As Iris sat there crying for a long while, a sound came from behind her — the soft rustle of footsteps on grass.
For a moment she worried about someone seeing her in such an unsightly state, but she quickly changed her mind. Let them look, if they wanted. Her life was already in this sorry state. Having someone see her cry wasn't going to make it any worse. She decided to focus on letting her sorrow out.
Rustle. Rustle. The sound of footsteps on grass receded, then drew closer, then receded again. Perhaps they were agonizing over how to conduct themselves. The footsteps wavered back and forth like that for some time, until at last, as if the person had made up their mind, they drew steadily closer from behind her.
A clear, bright voice, with something warm in it, addressed Iris. No longer able to pretend she hadn't heard, she had no choice but to lift her bowed head and look at the speaker.
What her tear-blurred eyes found was a handsome boy with golden hair glittering in the sunlight and fresh, vivid blue eyes.