Survival of the Fittest (1)

Great Britain, London, Greenwich. Or, by another name, the private estate grounds of the Northern Covenant Syndicate.

This was entirely because the one who had seized de facto control of Britain had ordered the wholesale acquisition of nearby real estate on a massive scale.

By the end of March 1998, the expanding property zone had fallen almost entirely into the Syndicate's grasp, with only a handful of exceptions.

There were certainly stubborn souls who clung to their ancestral lands and buildings, but such a negligible number would soon be signing contracts one after another.

That was precisely the task Elze Constanze had been assigned—and she'd already received permission from her adorable niece.

"Now, look at the camera and state your name, address, and asking price."

"Y-yes… I, Eden Cooper, have agreed to sell 7 Guildford Grove, Greenwich, London, for 300,000 pounds…"

"Oh, and the date today, please. They said it's needed."

"Today is… April 8th, 1998."

"Good. This concludes a fair and flawless sale contract, correct? The funds will be transferred to your account shortly, so no complaints, alright?"

Elze Constanze was wielding a power granted to only two people—including herself—for something so trivial.

Of course, since the Northern Covenant Syndicate, her cooperative organization led by her adorable niece, was based in London, it was something that would eventually need to be done.

But if asked whether this warranted using Charm, even Elze herself would admit it was somewhat excessive.

It wasn't just "burning down a thatched cottage to catch a mouse"—it was more like "dropping a nuclear bomb to kill an ant."

Still, Elze Constanze was undeniably the right person for the job.

Having Syndicate members swarm in and forcibly evict residents would draw far more attention than drafting "legal" sale contracts within the bounds of the law.

She'd subtly twisted Eden Cooper's memories of the context before and after the contract signing.

It would be difficult for him to claim it was an unfair deal, and even if he tried to appeal to authorities, it would be meaningless.

After all, the British authorities were synonymous with the Northern Covenant Syndicate. The nearly 60 million people living on Albion's soil would never know this in their lifetimes.

"Constanze-sama, pardon me. It's getting late…"

"Oh my, already? Take your time."

Elze Constanze recalled the pact she'd made with her niece who had come to find her in Hamburg.

Since nothing had been written down on paper, it was more accurate to call it a pact than a contract.

The pact included her relocating from Hamburg to London, but it didn't explicitly include Elze as a member of the Syndicate.

Elze herself hadn't wanted to belong to any organization, and her niece had also promised to respect her wishes—

'From an organizational standpoint, it's understandable to hesitate about openly including a variable like me.'

Yerina—meaning Yerina Willoughby Bronska—and Elze Constanze were the only two beings capable of wielding Charm.

Thus, her adorable niece would always view her as a collaborator while simultaneously considering the possibility that she might turn enemy.

Elze herself harbored no ill intentions, but regardless of what Elze thought, such caution was inevitable.

In other words, Yerina was wary of someone who could potentially undermine the Syndicate's solid structure from within—a structure rebuilt by her brother-in-law and her niece herself.

Elze knew this obvious fact well enough, so rather than insisting she was harmless, she accepted the "constraints" her niece had placed on her.

'Well… it's inconvenient, but not unreasonable. In fact, it's good, isn't it? My adorable niece looking at me sideways with suspicion.'

What was good was good. And one of these constraints was reporting her whereabouts and activities to a Syndicate member every three hours, except during sleep.

"…Then, I'll take the photo."

"You don't have to say that every time. Want me to wink or blow a kiss?"

"N-no… it's really fine."

The Syndicate member ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠who had just said "pardon me" was the one enforcing the constraint.

She hadn't heard the details, but it seemed this person would immediately send photos and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reports of her activities to Yerina.

It was a constraint she could easily shake off if she wanted to. Using Charm, she could easily dismiss any number of Syndicate members clinging to her.

Yerina surely knew this, yet allowed it. Why?

Of course, Elze didn't want to risk her niece's displeasure by breaking the rules, so she had no intention of doing so.

"Alright, that's it. I'm free for the next three hours."

"Yes. There's no need to forcibly sell properties ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠using your abilities for now."

"Right. Good work. Come back later for more photos."

This was what happened immediately after completing what was, in every way, a legal real estate transaction.

After finishing this simple task, Elze Constanze returned to her house in Greenwich, London.

To be precise, a detached house gifted to her by her niece.

Though property prices in the area had been inflated due to the Syndicate's indiscriminate acquisitions, even accounting for that, it was a spacious and fine house worth at least a million pounds.

'Well… money isn't everything, but…'

It had been quite some time since she'd stopped worrying about money.

Having lived nearly two centuries, she couldn't have gone without savings. The balances in accounts opened worldwide for cover, secret safes known only to her, and gold bars buried in the ground—if all added up, it would amount to tens of millions of dollars.

But what mattered was that her niece had personally gifted her a house. Her sister was adorable, her daughter was adorable, so her sister's daughter was doubly adorable.

Anyway, Elze Constanze returned to the house and fiddled with her desktop computer.

Given her age, one might assume she wasn't familiar with computers, but that would be a grave miscalculation. She'd recently scored 3 million points in 3D Pinball, after all.

'…Why does anyone ask a lady's age in the first place.'

Today, she'd spent a full hour playing Pinball. She'd thought she might break her personal record, but the ball fell into the center drain at the last moment, leaving her just short.

Having cooled her head sufficiently, Elze shifted her attention to the next thing on her mind.

That was finding out what Yerina was up to in America.

Her niece, who had left London for Hong Kong with her subordinates, had now gone straight to America without even passing through London.

More precisely… Miami, Florida, if she remembered correctly.

'Ah, it's so hard to see her face.'

Still, Yerina consistently documented her activities in work logs. It wasn't specifically for Elze's sake—it was something she'd done before.

And Elze Constanze had indirect access to the Northern Covenant Syndicate's internal intranet.

Though not an official member, she was a closely affiliated collaborator, after all.

This part was genuinely for Elze's benefit.

Even though the Syndicate could have easily excluded her from their information network, they'd granted her a certain access level, allowing her to voyeuristically observe her niece's exploits via computer.

Of course, the content was slightly censored compared to what other high-ranking members saw, but that was fine. She could always ask about the redacted parts later.

"Hmm, what did she do today and where?"

From what Elze had checked over the past few days, Yerina had gathered considerable information in Hong Kong and Miami.

Especially the story about the Dragon's Head gang leader she'd met in Hong Kong's cramped residential high-rise chicken coops was something even Elze found astonishing.

The reason was that it resembled Elze's own unique magic, Nibelung.

To be more precise, since Nibelung was a broad-spectrum magic, it involved inviting enemies into a space reflecting Elze's own psyche within the dream world.

Unlike Elze's Nibelung, which lured enemies into the dream world and trapped them like flies in a spider's web, the fake gang leader was believed to have used shadows to create a separate subspace.

The gang leader had poured all his magic paths into that subspace, maintaining near-omnipotent abilities within it.

The fuel to sustain the space and refine his magic paths was literally powered by grinding up the souls of Chinese people supplied endlessly from outside.

To shatter that space, her niece had apparently tried every method imaginable.

It seemed she'd even faced a tough battle. Pavel Nikolayevich Choy, her trusted subordinate and head of the Syndicate's Security Department, had nearly been seriously injured, according to the logs.

But what surprised Elze even more was that the final blow against the gang leader hadn't been delivered by her niece.

'It certainly wasn't a misreading… they really said he was wearing actual armor…?'

Elze turned her attention to the freshly uploaded work logs from a few hours ago. The answer to her question was surely included.

After checking the photos displayed on her monitor, Elze couldn't help but chuckle.

The person in question was wearing attire completely out of step with the times, and this time, it was captured in fairly clear quality.

A medieval knight clad in crimson armor. At the dawn of the 21st century, one might question whether such a thing was even possible.

Nevertheless, the existence of the armored knight stirred some of Elze's memories.

Since armor wasn't exclusive to the Middle Ages, there was overlap with Elze's own era—a time when the Middle Ages, modernity, and the present coexisted strangely.

To reiterate, being old is different from being ancient. Such rude remarks should not be made.

The memory the witch recalled was from a time when Elze Constanze had not yet fully honed her magic paths to their current state.