Chapter 1 : Agnes Levadein (4)
Chapter 1 : Agnes Levadein (4)
"Seems like you've gotten close to Anya lately."
Deltain's head lifted.
The first thing that caught his eye was the interface.
<80 days remaining until the Demon Flower Extrias blooms.>
Deltain quickly dismissed it and looked at Agnes.
With that, he furrowed his brow.
"Who's Anya?"
Agnes's eyes blinked.
She stared at him with an unreadable expression, blinking for a long while, before suddenly bursting into laughter.
"Pfft, p-pfft...!"
"What are you laughing at? Do I need to know who Anya is?"
Agnes's laughter grew even more intense.
She laughed heartily for a long time, like someone who had just seen the funniest comedy in the world, before finally composing herself and continuing.
"You're so mean. You're always getting cookies from her, aren't you?"
"Ah."
Only then did Deltain realize who this 'Anya' person was.
"Your maid?"
"Maid? She's a friend who's been with me since I was young."
"Still a maid, though."
Deltain answered dismissively, his face still etched with annoyance, and continued the treatment.
But Agnes's chatter didn't stop.
"You didn't even know her name until now?"
"Do I need to?"
"You got cookies from her."
"I never asked for them. She gave them to me, so I ate them."
"Wow, you're such a jerk."
"If you're going to pick a fight, shut your mouth."
Deltain didn't have even an ounce of interest in the person named Anya.
It wasn't just Anya, either.
Every person, object, and honor that existed in this world held no meaning to him.
To him, only one thing was important.
Clearing this damn game to the end and returning to his original world.
And by doing so, reclaiming all the rightful rewards he had once held in his hands.
That was why he didn't remember.
To Deltain, successfully extracting this Demon Flower was far more important than the name of a servant like 'Anya'.
"Anya is going to be sad."
"So what?"
"I think she likes you."
"Plenty of women like me. You know? I still get over ten marriage proposals at my mansion every day."
"You're insufferable."
"What can I do if that's reality?"
Deltain didn't even blink as he spoke such arrogant words.
It couldn't be helped.
An unshakable confidence in himself and the pride of always having been in the winner's position.
That was synonymous with the identity of the person named Deltain.
"It's because I'm talented."
"You're quite narcissistic."
"I'm not particularly narcissistic. I'm just talented enough that it looks that way even when I'm stating facts."
"It's really unsightly how you act arrogant while pretending to be humble."
<Casting 1st-rank magic: Silent.>
Agnes's voice vanished.
She opened her eyes wide as if startled, then made a sullen face and poked Deltain's arm.
"I'm not lifting it."
When Deltain said that, she let out a 'hmph' sound.
Or rather, since there was no sound, she just displayed the gesture.
Deltain treated the now-quiet Agnes for a while.
She stared at Deltain's serious face for a long time, then suddenly thrust her head forward.
Hmph-.
Startled, Deltain pulled his head back.
Agnes's eyes curved beautifully.
Poke.
Poke.
Her index finger tapped Deltain's arm once more.
Deltain opened his mouth with a menacing expression.
"...If you pick a fight, I'll block you again."
Agnes nodded.
Her cherry-blossom-colored eyes twinkled as if to say 'trust me,' but it wasn't a light that gave Deltain much confidence.
Deltain let out an annoyed sigh and withdrew his mana.
"Wow. Is being unable to speak this frustrating?"
"Don't act surprised, it's not like you're the first person to experience it."
"I just wanted to see if you'd feel guilty if I reacted like this every time."
"If you pick a fight..."
"I'm not picking a fight."
Agnes stroked Deltain's arm, which had been holding her wrist, and said.
"It's a display of affection."
"...Damn it."
"It's not good for a Count to use such harsh language."
"And it's even worse for a Young Lady to use such lewd language."
Agnes laughed playfully and continued the bickering with Deltain.
Then, she added one more thing.
"So, when are you planning on making your 52nd failure?"
"Correct yourself. It's a mistake, not a failure."
"Anyway, when are you going to do it? You aren't just doing these treatments because you're afraid of failing again, are you?"
Deltain's pride was stung.
He glared at Agnes with burning eyes and opened his mouth.
"Don't give me that bullshit. You might not know this yet, but I'm a person who has never once experienced failure or defeat in my entire life. And that will remain the same in the future."
It was a voice filled with suppressed anger.
Agnes smiled slightly at that demeanor.
"Is that so?"
It was provocative.
Yet, because she was beautiful, it would be more correct to call that demeanor alluring.
Deltain felt his throat go dry for a moment, then struggled to shake off the sensation that had arisen and opened his mouth.
"Remember this."
"What?"
"I make mistakes, but I don't fail."
"Is there a difference?"
"There's a big difference."
Deltain smiled crookedly.
Following that expression, his burning golden eyes shone even brighter.
"Mistakes can be undone. And failure cannot. I don't make mistakes that can't be undone."
It was something he was saying to her, and also something he was saying to himself.
"Do you swear?"
"I swear. On my life."
It wasn't just words spoken in a fit of pique.
Deltain truly believed it.
All the hardships he had faced in his life were vicious, but none of them had been able to bring him to his knees.
Coming into this game, struggling with this Demon Flower—it would all be just a happening in the end.
In the end, he would be the winner.
"Treatment over. No special notes. I'm leaving."
Agnes watched Deltain rise from his seat, then smiled brightly and waved her hand.
"See you tomorrow."
"I won't...."
Deltain, who had reflexively tried to say 'I won't come,' furrowed his brow and corrected himself.
"...Right, tomorrow was a day I was scheduled to come."
"Idiot."
"Shut up."
Deltain left the room.
That day, as always, Anya handed Deltain a cookie, and Deltain, remembering her name which he had only learned today, left behind the words, "Thanks, Anya."
*
Although he had asserted it in front of Agnes, for Deltain, the current situation was quite hopeless in many ways.
He had been scouring ancient texts day and night to find information on the Demon Flower, and had repeatedly attempted surgical procedures using [Imagination], but no clear method had appeared.
Today was a repetition of that routine.
Deltain, who was sitting in the study flipping through books as usual, lifted his head at the presence he began to feel.
And he expressed his doubt.
"What is it?"
"It's a plant."
The butler, Gerhart, was there.
The old man, dressed impeccably in a black suit, pushed the flowerpot he had been holding in his arms onto the table and continued.
"I've recently taken up reading. They say keeping plants nearby brings peace of mind."
"Bullshit, I feel like puking just thinking about plants."
Deltain frowned.
As someone racking his brain over the Demon Flower Extrias, he didn't look upon this plant favorably.
Gerhart laughed softly and continued.
"Are things not going well?"
"Can't you tell?"
"That's all the more reason you should keep plants close. Would you like to look at this small sprout?"
"I feel like the sandwich I ate earlier is going to come back up."
"My, please keep it away from the flowerpot. It's a sensitive child, so it might hinder its growth."
"If only the Demon Flower were that sensitive, how nice that would be."
"All plants are sensitive. Even a slight change in the environment can make them lose their vitality."
"Bullsh...."
Halt-.
Deltain's body stiffened completely.
Gerhart's lips parted for a moment at the sight of Deltain beginning to behave strangely, but then he smiled gently and left the room.
He knew that whenever his somewhat special master showed such a reaction, a world-shaking event would follow.
Creak-.
The door closed.
And a short while later, an intensely blue light, bright enough to sting the eyes, began to leak from the tightly closed door gap.
*
<77 days remaining until the Demon Flower Extrias blooms.>
For about three days, Deltain postponed all his originally scheduled appointments with Agnes and devoted himself to research.
For him, there was no night or day.
There was only the progress of his experiments.
Intense hunger that made his body scream, thirst so strong his throat felt like it was burning, eyelids that felt like they would close at any moment, and a throbbing headache—none of these were a problem for him.
That was because they were things he had experienced countless times in his childhood.
He was standing on the path to victory.
With just that thrill, Deltain overcame all physiological reactions and completed a single spell.
<Completing custom spell.>
<Determining rank.>
<1%... 18%... 27%....>
At the end of about 70 hours of research.
He waited for the result with a nervous heart.
<...100% determination complete.>
The result, naturally for Deltain, was a success.
<Acquiring 3rd-rank magic: Drought.>
"Got it."
Deltain immediately got dressed.
"Gerhart!"
"Yes."
"We're going to the Levadein Duchy! Get the carriage ready!"
"It's too late...."
"Don't give me any excuses, just do it!"
Gerhart frowned for a moment, contemplating the fact that it was past 8 PM, but then reluctantly nodded.
"...I will send a telegram. Let us go."
*
Agnes was lying on her bed with her eyes closed.
If one were to ask if she was sleeping because it was evening... that was not the case.
This was sufficiently evident just from her deeply furrowed expression.
A clear form of annoyance.
That was what was etched on her face, and the reason for it was something the people of the mansion could easily guess.
After all, for her, who always lived a life that was nothing if not plain, there had only been one change recently.
The absence of Deltain Hebron.
It was a perfectly natural fact that he, having canceled all the appointments that had been set for the past three days, was the reason for her annoyance.
Anya, Agnes's personal maid, was anxious.
'...It's been a long time.'
She knew more about Agnes than even the Duke of Levadein.
As such, she knew that Agnes inherently disliked waiting, and that when something she expected was thwarted, she would erupt in an even greater rage than that.
Of course, there was no reason for Anya to worry about her rage.
Agnes was not a person with such a rotten personality that she would vent her anger on the wrong people, and as such, the only one who would have to endure that anger was Deltain Hebron.
'Count....'
There was only one reason she was feeling this much worry.
It was her affection for Deltain, who always ate the cookies and told her, 'It's delicious.'
The romantic feelings of a girl in her prime were turning into impatience.
Anxiety based on empathy was making her insides burn.
There was a gaze watching her.
The gaze, which Anya, who had been wiping the table, had failed to notice, was Agnes's.
Agnes, who had opened her eyes at some point, was taking in Anya's nervousness with an inorganic expression, much like a doll.
Tap.
Tap.
Agnes's hand was tapping on the blanket she was covered with.
Her lips were moving slightly.
However, she was not speaking.
She was choosing her words.
Inside the room where silence had settled quietly.
While Agnes had been lost in thought for a long time like that.
Knock, knock-.
The sound of a knock rang out.
Soon after, a voice welcome to both women was heard.
"I'm coming in."
The door opened before an answer could even ring out.
The one who entered through it was none other than Deltain Hebron.
"Hey, you, get out."
Deltain said that toward Anya.