Chapter 212
Chapter 212
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 212
Chapter Title: Orlando's Performance
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The launch ceremony ended thirty minutes later.
Next up was the celebratory banquet at the imperial palace.
Creeeak—thud—
[Whooooaaah….]
The massive roar from a hundred thousand people gradually faded behind us.
My friends looked as if they’d just accomplished some grand feat.
Before we could even catch our breath, Ulrike slapped my back and shouted.
“Hurry! Run!”
“…….”
“Haha, it’s starting soon. We’ll run out of time just changing costumes.”
Chellingen said with a laugh.
I could understand why they were acting this way.
The play was starting in thirty minutes.
Our club had been selected as the top team at the arts festival and earned the chance to perform at the imperial court. Today was that day.
“It’s fine. We already did our makeup on the way up, so we have plenty of time.”
The theatrical makeup had been a hassle, so I’d gone with my twenty-first-century style of standing in front of a camera. Because of that, it seemed Chellingen had no idea what I’d done.
In any case, this was the last chance to rack up favorability points today.
‘I figured I’d need to go this far just to hit 10,000.’
10,000? Please.
It was 50,000 now.
I shoved aside the favorability window still popping up in front of me and thought.
‘Might as well go for 100,000.’
Why not? The system kept shoving these windows in my face—after the initial shock, it was actually kind of fun now….
Only 10,000 of the 100,000 launch attendees were staying for the play, so I just needed to get the remaining 50,000 points from those 10,000 people.
Five points each would do it. Even from -5, that’d bring them to zero.
‘Once this is done, I’m free.’
I’d just finished the last proposal, so there wouldn’t be any more for a while. Once the banquet ended, it’d stop showing real-time favorability windows too.
‘That aside….’
I dismissed the window and looked at Elias.
Elias, who should have been as excited as Ulrike, was calmly lost in thought.
The reason was obvious.
The cheers from those not aligned with the emperor weren’t ordinary.
This was Elias’s first official appearance since resolving the contaminated mosquito incident at the Federal Council in October. He’d shown the emperor and crown prince the support he’d built up, so he couldn’t feel at ease.
Our eyes met, and Elias gave a small smile.
Not his usual undignified, playful grin.
I nodded in response and looked ahead again.
After crossing one corridor, an attendant approached.
“Excuse me, Lord Ascanien.”
Ulrike, realizing we were heading to the waiting room, grinned and said.
“I can’t wait! Your Rosalind was so real last time—I’m thrilled to see it again~”
“Me too.”
Heike Ainsidel said flatly, as always.
At that, I glanced at Narke. He was looking back and forth between me and the others, starting to grin mischievously.
“It’s a secret.”
I’d asked Narke to keep it that way, and he nodded.
He kept promises well enough.
Reassured, I turned—only for an unwelcome notification sound to ring out again.
Ding—!
〈 Chapter 6. Act Righteously and Fear No One 〉
Proposal 3: Raise Eschet favorability by +12 within the time limit (0/12) (167 hours 59 minutes 59 seconds)
* Route 1 — 〈 Chapter 6 Special Reward 〉
* Route 2 — 〈 Proposal 4 〉
* * *
“It’s a secret.”
With that to Narke, Lucas turned and followed the attendant.
Twenty minutes later.
Ten minutes remained until the play began.
‘What?’
What’s the secret?
Ulrike sat in the seat assigned to Eschet’s group, chin in hand, inside the performance hall. The heat from ten thousand people filled the three-story theater.
“I hope it starts soon.”
“Yeah.”
From the seats behind, reactions full of anticipation from our schoolmates hung in the air.
They all had the same reason: getting to see Lucas act again. Even though it was the same “As You Like It” from before, Rosalind’s image lingered so vividly that just seeing it again was exciting.
‘Too bad we can’t bring cameras.’
She’d taken one photo last time, but after hearing the vicious rumor—whether true or not—that Lucas had stormed the photography club and torn up all the film from that day’s play, she couldn’t ask about the photo she’d taken.
Not like she could give it to him anyway; taking it would’ve been pointless.
Finishing her thoughts, Ulrike turned to Leo beside her.
“Class rep, did you see Lucas’s play before? You must’ve seen Faust, obviously.”
“Yeah.”
Leo, who’d shown zero interest throughout, answered curtly again.
‘So stoic.’
He turned icy the moment Lucas came up, like a different person.
“How was it? His acting is amazing, right? Rosalind felt so real….”
“First Rosalind over 180 cm I’ve seen.”
At Leo’s sarcasm, Ulrike forced an awkward smile, inwardly fretting over the team’s future.
Then, the auditorium lights went out completely. The hall was plunged into darkness.
‘Whoa.’
Her heart raced.
Ulrike suppressed the urge to grab Julia on her other side and gush, instead glancing around with what she thought was dignified poise.
Elias was as quiet in the palace as ever when not messing around with Lucas, Julia and Narke looked pretty expectant, and Leo had been stone-faced the whole time.
No surprise there—he didn’t like Lucas.
‘But we’re teammates now~ Treat him a little warmer.’
His temperament couldn’t be helped, and he didn’t seem to hold Pleroma views either. Plus, hadn’t they said even that was better now?
Yet he still looked so displeased.
‘I’ll cheer properly at the end so Lucas doesn’t feel down.’
Spotlights hit the curtain. The imperial crest appeared briefly, then vanished.
It was really starting. The scattered whispers died completely.
Tension hung in the silence.
The curtain rose without stage lights.
A voice rang out.
[Adam.]
“…?!”
Ulrike’s eyes widened.
‘Wait.’
Did I hear that wrong? That’s Orlando’s line, the male lead.
But the voice in her ears was Lucas’s.
Click—
Lights came on, pink eyes gleaming beneath.
‘Whaaat?!’
Not Rosalind this time. He was on stage for Orlando’s scene.
‘No way, he was female lead before—now male lead?’
Did he memorize two scripts? Why not Rosalind again?
Ulrike fixed her gaze on Lucas’s hair as she wondered.
Beyond the role, something else stunned her.
His hair was ashen gold.
Dark blond was common here, but seeing a friend who’d been black-haired daily with a change felt fresh.
The actor playing his servant—along with Lucas, who’d been looking somewhere beyond the audience—spoke.
[As I recall, Father willed me 1,000 crowns in his last words. He asked my brother Oliver to raise me well. If you seek blessings, that is.]
Ulrike’s mind reeled in confusion as Lucas’s clear voice echoed.
[But who could have known? That it was the start of my misfortune.]
Standing apart from the servant student, Lucas now faced the audience, raising his voice. His emphatic gestures carried a subtle nervousness.
[My brother sent little brother Jaques to university—they say his grades are excellent. Meanwhile, he keeps me tied to the house like a country bumpkin. To be precise, abandoned and neglected. Is this fitting treatment for a gentleman of my standing?]
Orlando turned from the audience back to the servant to finish.
Lowering his eyes, he muttered.
[I’m no different from an ox locked in a stable. You know the horses my eldest brother rides get better treatment than I do. They’re sleek from good feed, hired expensive riders to train them. And I, his brother…!]
I?
Despite having seen the play once, Ulrike focused entirely on Orlando.
His muttering built to rising agitation, then paused. His gaze returned to them, grievance overwhelming as he confronted the servant—strength draining from his posture.
In a voice devoid of anger or sorrow, emotionless, he said.
[Just growing under my brother with nothing to show for it. Livestock scavenging trash bins get better perks than this.]
‘Whoa.’
Orlando’s chilling voice and gaze pierced her; Ulrike shuddered involuntarily, snapping her leaning body upright.
She held back the urge to clap. Having seen another Orlando before, the thrill hit harder.
‘The first-year who did this part last time was way angrier.’
Lucas’s Orlando built emotions seamlessly without breaks.
She’d thought it good then, but now she saw differently.
Strong emphasis shifted earlier, drawing out focus with calm words—making Orlando’s feelings richer. Not just injustice and sorrow, but vengeful anticipation for what came next. Despite no lines hinting at it yet.
Early on, such attempts could feel disjointed, but his unwavering volume prevented mishaps. He knew exactly where the line against excess lay.
“I get why our school’s drama club got picked for the palace.”
A whisper from behind, rude but audible.
Ulrike inwardly agreed, diving back into Orlando’s lines. He maintained the prior tone with subtle shifts, no sharp emphasis.
[He gives nothing, yet eyes even what nature bestowed on me. No family treatment—he eats with his servants, raises me vulgarly to crush my noble nature. Adam, it grieves me. The spirit I inherited from Father rebels against this slavish treatment. I can bear it no longer…. Though for now, I know no way to escape, good or otherwise.]
[There, young master. Your brother approaches.]
The servant’s line snapped Ulrike back.
Not that the student’s acting was stiff—it just pulled her from Orlando’s soliloquy effectively.
Orlando gestured the servant to stage’s edge.
[Come, Adam. Stand there. Let’s see how my brother insults me.]
She’d thought Rosalind suited him perfectly, impossible to imagine otherwise—no other role would fit.
Wrong.
‘Every time, he owns the best-fitting role anew.’
This time, an intense commanding presence gripped harder. His lines dominated, drawing even background roles in. Others’ acting faded.
Only traces of Lucas Ascanien remained; before her was Orlando. Not the role— a noble youth fleeing to Arden Forest from his brother.
Ulrike locked eyes on Lucas.
Questions piled up to ask later.
* * *
Favorability +95,410 achieved!
Favorability +95,420 achieved!
Favorability +95,430 achieved!
The play was truly the perfect tool.
During lines, a single 300-point spike sent chills down my spine—what were they seeing?—but ultimately beneficial.
Of course, now another problem arose.
After curtain call, back in the waiting room, I read the white text before me.
Proposal 3: Raise Eschet favorability by +12 within the time limit (1/12) (167 hours 59 minutes 59 seconds)
‘Is this a joke?’
I thought I’d escaped favorability hell….
Out of seven teammates, I needed 12 points from six.
Someone gave 1 during the play, but 11 remained.
12 seemed easy, but no.
‘All teammates are already positive.’
Even Ulrike Claist, with little prior connection, was positive. Not the type for surprise 1-pointers.
I hadn’t checked Narke, Leo, or Elias’s since this year. Didn’t want to quantify close friends’ attitudes. Felt a bit guilty.
Plus, theirs were likely maxed—irrelevant here.
‘…So target low-value ones first: Julia and Ulrike….’
Mid-thought, despair hit.
Target? Friends?
No. Too habituated.
I slapped my cheeks, took deep breaths.
‘Get closer to Julia and Ulrike first.’
Problems there too.
If theirs were +5, my max reachable was +7-8. Lower now meant weekly max +5.
Human hearts aren’t math; zero doesn’t mean easy 10 points.
Doubtful on squeezing 11 from them, but….
‘I’ll try….’
A hollow laugh escaped. Winning teammates felt harder than the masses.
Changing while lost in thought, final goodbyes to clubmates, out—familiar black clumps appeared.
“Huh.”
“Lucas! You were total Orlando! For real!”
Ulrike clapped like a seal, eyes sparkling before me.
Top target—no, person to befriend—right there. Surprised she clapped like that too.
Elias grabbed my shoulder suddenly, teasing.
“Luca! You should’ve told me~?”
“It was fun. Should I join drama club too?”
Narke grinned. Elias seemed back to his playful self.
Ulrike waited for them to finish.
“That’s why you told Narke to keep quiet~ Even not Rosalind, it was awesome! Loved it so much I wanna see it again.”
“Yeah? Thanks.”
Smiling as I replied, reality crashed.
I’d slipped into acting unconsciously.
Narke, spotting my favorability ploy, turned away stifling laughs.
‘If you’re gonna laugh, give points and laugh….’
Suppressing that, I smiled at Ulrike.
En route to the banquet hall, she chattered nonstop beside me.
Good for bonding.
Just before doors opened, Ulrike’s hand on my shoulder.
“Lucas. We agreed to drink till banquet’s end—you in?”
Perfect. Needed proximity for points.
But prior commitment first—befriending Ulrike later.
“Ah, gotta stop somewhere briefly.”
“Somewhere?”
“Yeah. Drinks after.”
* * *
Sun set during play; palace dim as before.
At crown prince’s palace gates, I told guards.
“Here to see His Highness the Crown Prince.”
They eyed my hair suspiciously, stared at my eyes, then stepped aside.
“Welcome. Enter.”
They’d been warned of Lucas Ascanien.
Eyes as ID tool? Laughable, but irrelevant.
Like before, blue-qi palace servantless.
Solely my boot heels echoed in silence; I scanned, headed stairs.
Doubts lingered.
‘Why add an Ainsidel to the team?’
Abraham’s Pleroma ties meant knowing of mage Ainsidel there.
Likely blood kin—despite family failing proof… Jeremiah logic: ancient matrilineal Ainsidel possible, or distant branch too remote for photos, explaining lack.
Snatch kin to threaten Ainsidel. Normals don’t enjoy kin harmed for them.
‘Pleroma has emotions.’
That congressman Pleroma exemplified.
Pleroma Ainsidel’s Werner Strauch death obsession, urging me to become Strauch—strong attachment to own.
Thus, blood kin Heike prime leverage.
Assuming Heike-Pleroma Ainsidel closeness… Abraham might know more.
Or second: Heike’s ‘unconquerable’ as sign he’d out-evil Adelbert later.
Abraham might know hidden dangers.
Library doors wide open.
Unlike before, white muslin curtains billowed.
I knocked adjacent room door.
Creeeak—
It opened itself.
Crown prince, reading, looked up, eyebrow raised.
Now in lounge wear, not earlier finery.
Scanning me top to bottom, he muttered.
“Suits you.”
“…….”
“Thought so earlier, but not the place. Closer to your eye color—better than uniform.”
Not casual flattery. Judging by tone, he’d tailored Eschet clothes too.
Seeing him stare at my tie, I casually removed it, pocketed.
“I see. How long will you keep me standing?”
“…Hahaha. Sit.”
Servant wheeled in tea trolley, poured, left. Crown prince snapped fingers; door shut.
“Like that hair color?”
“What’s to like or dislike? Just a color.”
“Just a color…. I used federation flag hue never worn before for you—pity no reaction.”
He’d customized uniform too.
About to ignore lazily, he continued obligingly.
“Using Eschet’s palace entry to boost rep. Those 100,000 will chatter about you all night. Fine spread.”
“Indeed. I think so too.”
“Giving’s rewarding when pleased. So, what’d brother say on results?”
“…….”
Nothing.
Brother sent three-page letter.
No other action.
Getting it, crown prince smiled.
“Much to worry over. Pity from my concerned view.”
Not chit-chat time.
Enough indulgence.
“Why bring Heike Ainsidel here?”
“Too abrupt? Week since last—share updates first.”
“Regretfully, none worth sharing with Your Highness.”
“Wounding.”
Is it?
Staring silently, he met eyes.
“Thought demote Ulrike Claist to 7th, bump Heike Ainsidel to 6th—but score-fixing rude.”
Hm.
Admitted.
He brought Heike Ainsidel.
“Plus, advisory head hates kids in peril—so better add than subtract for me.”
“Not words before advisor head.”
“No, milord.”
Shaking head, clasped hands, sank into sofa.
“Six-member team: vacancy means five handle Pleroma, redeem berserk—tough. Prep seven for one drop, still manage level 4 berserk safely.”
I shook head, smiled.
“Assuming vacancy. Sounds like Your Highness plans one.”
“Precisely. You know?”
Tapping chin, continued.
“The surname’s issue. ‘Ainsidel.’ Pleroma Osnabrück diocese bishop, no?”
Knows Ainsidel.
I watched silently.
Observing my blankness, he smiled.
“As expected, you know. Like I can’t abandon getting you in hand, can’t pass clan kin. 7th place? Adding one spot easy.”
Crown prince mused.
“Fine bait to catch Pleroma’s bishop.”
Bait.
Like my earlier thought.
“I don’t want Pleroma ruling world, milord. We’re allies there.”
“You wouldn’t. Planning your own church.”
No retort, just grinned.
“As you know, Heike and Pleroma Ainsidel unequal talents. Same unique ability means similar mana, shared blood kin. Distant possible happenstance, but aside….
His eyes gleamed interestedly at me.
“Why Pleroma keeps bishop Ainsidel?”
“…….”
“Memory-reading unique ability. That’s Ainsidel’s value. Think Pleroma passes same ability?”
Sipping tea, rolled cup base on table.
“You know I handle blood.”
“So.”
“Maximize resources? Blood control not commonplace.”
“Use you then?”
Eyes left cup, to me.
“Yes.”
“…….”
“All merits to you. You doubted same ability in Ainsidel clan too—curious why, but won’t ask.”
Observing, continued.
“As is, Heike Ainsidel bishop or not, destined for Pleroma clutches. Willing or not, letting him loose spells ruin. So….”
“Get to point.”
Predicting next.
His methods, ability: one possibility.
Golden eyes gleamed eerily bright in gloom. Marco’s memory child eyes overlaid.
“Bring me Heike Ainsidel’s blood.”