Yustia Banquet (9)
Zeke wiped his face, consumed by self-loathing.
He'd been so absorbed in probing the area around her heart that he'd unwittingly laid hands on Soy Spoon's body.
Hah, she must be cursing me out six ways to Sunday. Damn it.
"Tsk."
Zeke clicked his tongue.
With two eyewitnesses, denial wasn't really an option.
Serena and Iriel.
'It wasn't on purpose.'
He muttered the excuse to himself, but the train had long since departed. No chance it'd reach them now.
Truth be told, this wasn't the real issue.
'Anyway, what the hell do I do now?'
Zeke had charged ahead this far with the goal of seeing the romance novel through to its conclusion.
But if the ending required the heroine's death...
Every justification, every reason to help her, evaporated.
A hollow emptiness washed over him, all tension draining away.
'It's not like aiding Soy Spoon's death will send me back to Earth.'
Even so, saving her? He shook his head.
100%
That meant precisely this.
A fate of death, already sealed.
One that could never be altered.
And shouldn't be...
Causality.
"!"
Zeke's eyes flew wide as the thought struck him.
'Wait. What if we dodge the ending death altogether?'
There was one person who'd come perilously close to 100% death.
On the Dave Continent, cursed by that lunatic, the Sage's Bard, with the world's malediction.
Zeke Clayman.
None other than himself.
The bastard's power was the ludicrous ability to manipulate causality.
He saw Zeke as an obstacle to his world-ending scheme and showered him with endless curses, driving his death probability infinitely toward 100%.
Back then, how many crises had Zeke survived?
Every instant was a razor-edge gamble.
In that state of near-inevitable doom, the impossible happened.
A dragon's rotten tooth plummeting from the sky.
A familiar mushroom mutating into lethal poison.
A botched spell from a century-old wizard detonating the moment Zeke passed nearby.
It felt like strolling through a minefield of anti-tank explosives.
Every step triggered a 'coincidence' meant to kill him.
His side became the deadliest place in existence; even the Saintess had to abandon him, leaving Zeke to roam alone.
Yet Zeke plunged deeper into enemy territory.
To drag at least one more foe down with him, even in death.
Sunken eyes gripped the sword hilt tight.
Like a moth to flame, he charged and swung.
Swinging until blood and sweat soaked him indistinguishable.
Beyond reason, into pure instinct.
Every moment a choice teetering on the cliff's edge—one slip, and straight to oblivion.
Zeke endured that absurdity through superhuman intuition, verging on the divine.
That experience of saving the Dave Continent and returning to Earth.
Perhaps this was much the same.
Defying a tragically impossible conclusion.
No guarantees, but worth the shot.
'Super senses. Teach them to Soy Spoon...'
But was turning her into him the right call?
Becoming a Slayer Ghost meant a living death.
If she couldn't control it, she'd devolve into a mass murderer.
Sealing it deep away, as he had, required the Saintess's aid—impossible without her.
Zeke groaned, clutching his head.
'Huh? Wait, she's a berserker?'
Zeke bolted upright.
"The heroine's death probability hits 100% at the ending. So up till then, she could be totally safe."
"I feel shitty."
Iriel spat the words, visibly irked.
"Elise, bread?"
"Uh... I don't have any on me right now. We'd have to head back to the bakery?"
Iriel, who wanted nothing to do with Zeke at the moment, tsked in annoyance.
Then, as if inspiration struck, she clapped sharply.
"Elise."
"Yeah?"
"You don't have a dress for the banquet, right?"
"Eh, the banquet?"
Soy Spoon, who'd never planned on attending the Yustia banquet, hesitated in reply.
"Sigh, leave it to me. You're sticking with me till my mood lifts."
"Yeah?"
Iriel already felt a twinge over not yet setting up a new bakery for her.
When moods soured, shopping was the cure.
Dolling up ragamuffin Elise into something pretty? Bound to be fun.
Heh, least to be my follower, she oughta know how to primp.
Of course, Zeke ogling her chest rankled,
but Elise's quick thinking had soothed Iriel's ire.
"Not a bad idea coming from you. What's the occasion?"
Serena nodded along in agreement.
Ehh? Huh?
While Soy floundered, Iriel and Serena hauled her toward the shopping district.
They made for a boutique specializing in noble attire.
Soy squirmed, feeling out of place in such finery.
C-can I even step in here? Feels like security'll boot me...
Worries unfounded.
Serena and Iriel's faces were entry passes; Soy got the noble treatment on their say-so.
"Lady Yustia, Lady Yohayden, welcome! And welcome to you, young miss."
The clerk, rigid with nerves, bowed at ninety degrees.
Serena's brow twitched.
"Yustia first? Elise, this dump's no good. Out."
"Elise, they've got eye for style here. Browse freely."
"I-I don't know the first thing about clothes..."
Soy stammered, eyes wavering.
"Oh?"
Serena and Iriel's lips curved slyly at her words.
"Hrm, banquet's in a week, so no bespoke—ready-mades it is."
"Right. Let's see who dresses Elise best."
"You're on, flowerbed. Heh heh heh. Daring to duel my fashion sense."
"Gonna bawl when you lose?"
Soy trembled, ominous vibes prickling her skin.
"No way! That doesn't suit Elise at all. The white one's she's got on now is perfect."
"Shut it, flowerbed. What do you know? She's warm spring tones. See how it vibes with her light brown hair, that beige."
"Hah, those silver eyes scream white. That's your tacky style—why shove it on Elise?"
"T-tacky!? News to me. Yank those flowers outta your hair first."
This was the umpteenth round; the two duke's daughters sniped at each other's tastes, bickering fiercely.
Cheeks gaunt from the ordeal, Soy had swapped outfits countless times already.
Soy eyed her mirror reflection.
Pretty...
A girl in pristine white, standing awkward and unaccustomed.
Didn't feel like her at all.
This dress was dazzling, gorgeous—beyond anything she'd dared dream.
How could she dream what she knew nothing of? To a destitute commoner, such garb was pure extravagance.
A hearty meal mattered more.
Since Lamieli, I've done so much I never could before.
Savoring the novel thrill, she twisted this way and that, admiring the dress.
Then her gaze snagged on the price tag.
Crack.
Soy froze solid.
Screeech.
Her head jerked like a buffering vid.
"Th-that, um..."
Soy swallowed hard, mouth dry.
Iriel and Serena chimed in.
"Right, Elise? You love the one I picked."
"Nuh-uh, white's the winner. Check the mirror. Perfect, yeah?"
"B-both are way too pretty, but..."
'No banquet plans, doesn't suit me. Can't take something this pricey.'
Before she could string the logic together,
the duo surged ahead, snatching up both dresses.
"Yeah, sigh, you want 'em both. Hey, this beige one."
"We'll take the white."
"Y-yes, right away."
No, why twist it like that!!
The abrupt Yustia-Yohayden visit had the boutique staff sweating bullets as they wrapped the purchases.
"Ah, no, that's not..."
"Accessories next. Mine'll outshine for sure—pick wisely."
"Bet it's another gaudy red gem."
"What's wrong with red?!"
Still sniping, they yanked Soy along by the arm.
Dead-eyed as a corpse, Soy trailed.
Uwaaaaa...
They hit every swanky shop in the Lamieli district.
Dresses, necklaces, bracelets, rings, shoes—to hair and beyond.
Hours later.
Soy Spoon, head-to-toe makeover complete.
Midway, bags too bulky to lug, they'd summoned help to ship it all to Hilais Bakery.
"Whew, shopping hits different—stress gone!"
Serena stretched, face cleared.
Frugal by habit, she didn't mind spending.
Just perpetually swamped.
"Hmph, now you're almost passable. Leaps and bounds. Dress still sucks, mind."
Iriel scanned her approvingly, nodding.
White dress radiant as spilled light, ruby necklace like a rose at her throat.
Silver headband crowning her head.
Serena pushed for flowers; Iriel vetoed hard.
Compromise: delicate floral filigree.
"......"
Serena and Iriel hummed, appraising the revamped Soy.
The slovenly, makeup-ignorant girl, done up proper? Devastating impact.
Shimmering silver eyes under fractured sunlight.
Glossy hair, oiled to shine.
Yielding curves, silken skin, gentle vibe.
Soy fidgeted, fussing her short locks.
Even that evoked a bashful noble miss, delicately reared.
"This is... a bit much."
"Mmm..."
Then—
"Elise."
A thick, low voice cut in from behind.
Soy Spoon whipped around.
"I-Instructor!?"
"Took a while to track you down."