Promotion Quest (8)
Now the woman could never return to her homeland. Now she could never avenge her mother. She began to descend into madness. Or perhaps the madness had always been there, only now revealing itself. Her once-beautiful features took on a sinister edge, and her temperament grew more irritable with each passing day. Everyone found her unsettling and clicked their tongues, yet none dared treat her carelessly. Mad or not, she was still the emperor’s wife—the living symbol needed to claim the entire Kingdom of Magic. While many racked their brains over this troublesome issue, the cry of a newborn changed everything.
The woman, once consumed by frenzy, suddenly regained a gentle demeanor, as though she had become an entirely different person. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. They believed a mother’s love for her child had cured her madness. Thus, the tale of the second wife seemed to draw to a happy close. It would have been wonderful if that were truly the end.
“……Damn it, it’s so damn noisy.”
Chrome sat up, grimacing at the headache that felt like the aftermath of a brutal hangover. A massive flood of information had poured into his mind all at once, and the echoes still rang in his ears. That unpleasant fairy-tale-like scene from earlier was probably the princess’s nightmare… or something like it? It felt off for a nightmare, though.
“Indeed. Scenes of invaders trampling the palace and maids whispering that she was insane hardly seem like the princess’s own memories. It was as though we were viewing everything from her mother’s or grandmother’s perspective. Of course, dreams aren’t limited to what the dreamer has personally experienced, so we can’t rule out the possibility that it’s simply a product of her imagination.”
“…You came in here too? And why is your body crackling like that?”
“Only you were granted entry. Even if I’m connected to you and composed from your memories, I remain an unknown entity.”
“Meaning?”
“The Wi-Fi connection is poor.”
“Wow, hearing a term from my past life after so long really brings tears to my eyes.”
After muttering that line—whether sincere or sarcastic, it was hard to tell—Chrome looked around. The floor was pristine marble, the walls adorned with ornate murals, and massive pillars stood throughout. It was unmistakably a palace. When he experimentally touched the ground, the hard texture and cold chill made him frown. The level of detail was far beyond what he had expected; at this rate, it was indistinguishable from reality.
Though filled with questions, he couldn’t afford to sit and ponder them.
“What do you intend to do?”
“Well, first I need to find the princess—shh.”
At the sound of approaching footsteps, Chrome reflexively hid behind a pillar. In the distance, two maids were walking toward him, chatting.
“Did you hear? Lady Laila has already learned over twenty spells.”
“Is that impressive?”
“Of course! She’s not even ten yet. And she learned them all just by reading books, without a proper teacher.”
“But what’s the point? She’s going to marry into Morian anyway. What good will that do her?”
“Who knows? Maybe she’ll be recognized for her skill like Prince Lucas and catch His Majesty’s eye.”
“Oh, come on, that’s—”
Chrome stared in disbelief as the two maids continued their nonstop gossip from the moment they appeared until they vanished from sight. Even if people badmouthed their superiors behind closed doors, was it really acceptable for palace maids to gossip so openly? What if someone overheard? Even the servants of House Midas hadn’t been this undisciplined. And that wasn’t the end of it. Every other maid he encountered afterward was either criticizing Laila’s mother or spreading unsavory rumors about her.
—They say Crown Prince Dominic lost interest in his wife long ago and hasn’t visited the palace since the child was born.
—The empress may look composed on the surface, but she’s apparently so harsh in educating the child that the tutors are at their wits’ end.
—There was an attempt to separate Lady Laila from the empress to prevent any negative influence, but it fell through when the empress tried to harm herself.
“…If the maids in the real palace were actually spouting this kind of stuff, it would be complete chaos.”
“That’s not the case. Look closely at their faces.”
“Huh?”
At the pebble’s words, Chrome focused his gaze. At first glance, they seemed like ordinary faces with nothing remarkable… Wait a second.
“……They all look exactly the same.”
He had been too absorbed in their conversation to notice earlier, but upon closer inspection, every maid’s face was identical. Even accounting for the same uniforms and hairstyles, having two identical faces walking side by side was unnatural. Moreover, their movements themselves felt subtly grotesque. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what was wrong, but they didn’t feel quite human—like the uncanny valley effect deliberately used in horror films.
“The palace’s quality is so high that it’s easy to be deceived, but this is still a dream. It’s only natural that the characters within it are influenced by the dreamer’s perception.”
Chrome fell into thought at the pebble’s explanation. In other words, the “dreamer” perceived the maids as indistinguishable, gossiping, incompetent, and monstrous beings. And this perception belonged to the princess herself? It didn’t quite match her character, even if it was from her childhood.
“We’ve seen enough of the other areas. Only the central section remains. The princess is likely there as well.”
At the heart of the palace, what awaited them was not a lavish reception room or a cozy bedroom, but a vast pond. In its center rose an island-like plot of land upon which stood a single pavilion. The only connection between the island and the shore was a wooden bridge that, while elegant, also seemed designed to keep outsiders at bay.
Inside the pavilion were a young girl still carrying the air of childhood and a beautiful woman. Their atmosphere, however, could hardly be called warm or affectionate.
“I’m so glad, truly glad. Laila. This mother of yours is overjoyed.”
The woman’s expression was gentle, and her voice overflowed with maternal affection.
“Ever since the great Magic Queen first raised her banner, Morian has always been a noble kingdom of magic. The fact that you, who carry that blood, were born blessed with magical power is the most certain proof of all.”
The woman stroked the girl as though handling something precious.
“Though traitors currently occupy the throne, one day you must reclaim it. As my daughter, you will surely succeed. Isn’t that right, Laila?”
The girl nodded obediently.
“Yes, Mother.”
“Good. That’s how it must be. We must never forgive the traitors who mingled with those filthy imperial dogs. We must wipe them out completely, without leaving a single seed behind. Do you understand?”
“…Yes, Mother.”
Satisfied with the answer, the woman—whose golden hair matched the girl’s—suddenly asked, as if remembering something.
“By the way, how is the spell I taught you last time?”
“Ah, well, that is……”
The girl stiffened as though she had committed a grave mistake and began to stammer.
“…I’m sorry. I haven’t fully mastered it yet.”
“Huhu, that’s all right. Even if you’ve received the memories, using them is another matter. Go on, try it.”
At the woman’s encouraging gesture, the girl hesitated briefly before carefully drawing up her mana. In response, particles of light gathered around her, coalescing into the shape of a large sword. Anyone with sufficient knowledge of magic would have been stunned. This was not standardized ranked magic, but a custom spell—one so advanced that most mages wouldn’t even dare attempt it. Yet a girl who appeared to be in her early teens was manifesting it, albeit clumsily.
The fully formed sword of light traced several arcs across the pond at the girl’s will before sinking into the water. Trembling from tension and concentration, the girl looked up at the woman expectantly. But the emotion on the woman’s face was neither admiration nor approval. Her expression was ice-cold, her eyes filled with contempt and irritation.
Realizing the woman’s gaze was fixed on her hair, the girl finally understood her mistake. Her hair, which she had always kept the same golden color as her mother’s, had reverted to its original blazing red.
“……Laila?”
“I-I’m sorry, Mother. I’ll do it again, I’ll try again……”
The girl frantically tried to change her hair color back, but her mana refused to obey in her panic.
“Laila, Laila, Laila…!”
The gentle atmosphere from moments ago vanished without a trace. The woman, now openly radiating madness, approached the girl and lifted her bodily with both arms.
“You are my daughter, aren’t you?”
With those words—half question, half demand—she hurled the girl toward the pond. Or rather, she tried to.
“—Fuck, what a grotesque sight.”
A young man suddenly appeared, intercepting the girl. He glared at the woman with undisguised disgust.
“Lay off the child abuse, you old hag.”