Night of the Imperial Capital - 3

Those words had been the absolute truth.

Perhaps the meeting had only come about because the nobles had forced it. The Emperor had never planned to receive us at all after we arrived exhausted in the dead of night. Nobles, after all, were creatures who refused to believe in anything they had not witnessed with their own two eyes. That was why, in the game, they had always seemed like people who did not believe in the gods.

It bothered me. Just a little. Only the slightest bit.

Not because I myself held any particular faith. I had no real desire to offer prayers to the being who might very well have been the culprit responsible for stuffing me into this body. But in a world where mythic figures still lived and breathed — figures recorded in history, figures who had walked the same era as these people — the act of denying them simply sat wrong with me.

The Four Seasons series had a proper predecessor. And of course, once I became an adult and started earning my own money, I had played ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it. The outdated, eye-searing, shoddy graphics had been nothing short of torture, yet I had still been captivated by the characters of that earlier work. The pasts of the countless figures and companions who had died in Four Seasons, the birth of the myths, the Holy Kingdom's first encounter with the original Saintess — all of those stories had been endlessly compelling. And so the idea that these people would doubt the existence of the gods left a bitter taste in my mouth. It felt like an insult to every character who had ever lived in that past.

Anyway. I was being far too emotional about it.

When the Emperor granted us leave to depart, we hesitated, reading the room — but the Hero turned on his heel without the slightest hesitation and strode out, so Jerome and I had to hurry after him in short, quick steps. I was, after all, a high-ranking figure from another nation; Jerome was my attendant; and the Hero was one of the vanishingly few Superhumans-in-waiting left in the world. The place we arrived at, therefore, was an enormously large single residence.

From the outside it looked ordinary enough — just a solitary door set into a corridor — but the interior was an entirely different matter. The Emperor was a mage, and this palace was his workshop. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Miracles of that scale were well within his means. And fortunately, there were three rooms!

Hmm-hmm~

A little hum of satisfaction rose inside me. At last I would be able to sleep comfortably in a private room. Of course, sleeping was not on tonight's agenda — but still. We exchanged our goodnights. You know the sort. Good night. Sleep well. Yes. You too. And then I stepped into my private room, shut the door, and locked it.

With that, I was free to roam the black market tonight. Who would dare wake a sleeping Saintess? Well — fairy-tale figures like the Hero or some prince would manage it just fine, of course. Ahaha.

First problem: the room was two stories up. That was a bit of an issue. All right. I was the Saintess, so I would believe.

I can do this.

Faint starlight seeped into my body, and my senses expanded. It was night, yet it felt like morning; it was a second-story drop, yet it felt no higher than a single stair. Instinct told me so. I would be perfectly safe ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠jumping from here.

Good. I flung open the elegant white window, and moonlight and starlight spilled in, faintly brightening the room and driving back the dark. I was still the Saintess, still dressed in the white nun's habit that advertised me as a high-ranking cleric wherever I went. This was a guest suite, so spare clothes ought to exist somewhere. I approached the wardrobe standing alone in the room and examined its contents.

A black hood. A black robe. Black clothes. A black nun's habit…

Everything was black!

What on earth was wrong with the Emperor's taste? The game had never mentioned anything like this. I let out a small internal sigh and changed into the black hooded garment. The female body was still foreign to me, yet somehow the motions of changing clothes came with a familiar ease. Why? It did not seem serious enough to warrant deep thought. Better not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Dressed in the black hood, I looked into the mirror. The only time I had properly seen my reflection since the possession was in the bathroom, covered in blood — so honestly, I felt on the verge of slipping into full narcissism.

…What? I mean, she was pretty, wasn't she? A little self-love was good for self-esteem. Yes, I knew perfectly well that this was rationalization. So what?

Anyway. Time to go. The night of the Imperial Capital awaited.

The black hood gave off a completely different impression from the nun's habit, and it suited me remarkably well. I was not about to defend the Emperor's peculiar all-black aesthetic, but the design was better than expected. Stealing the clothes after killing the "Spring" that would rise in the Imperial Capital did not seem like such a bad idea either. It was a thought that sat at a considerable distance from anything a model Saintess ought to be thinking — but as long as I was satisfied, what did it matter? I had already decided to live selfishly, efficiently, for myself alone. A small deviation, I told myself, was something I was allowed to grant myself. Call it a sinner's rationalization if you like.

My destination was the black market. The black market was a holy land of every kind of treasure — random goods, and for reasons no one could explain, even boss drop items and dungeon-clear rewards. Depending on your luck, it was a newbie's hope for breezing through the first playthrough. Ordinarily, the proper approach was to wait until the early game had passed and you had saved up some money before visiting. But in this strangely realistic world, I was the Saintess. What did that mean? It meant my travel funds were overflowing.

I pulled the black hood over my head and slipped into the dark back alleys. First priority: dealing with the presence trailing me. Hmm. Who could it be? Same black hood as mine — the entire body looked pitch-black. I could not make out a face. Even with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Physical Enhancement dramatically boosting my ability to sense presence and see in the dark, this presence was like a heat haze.

…Starlight?

I had, without thinking, mistaken that filthy human for starlight. Instant disqualification as a Saintess. There was no way a man who stalked a lady had received the blessing of starlight. No matter how strange the gods might be, that was a stretch too far!

He seemed to be watching me from the rooftops, so luring him into a closed space where he would have no choice but to look at me in a straight line appeared to be the best way to expose him. Right — into the black market itself. I had to act as though I had noticed nothing. I walked the way I always walked, letting my footsteps tap-tap naturally against the ground.

At last I reached the darkness of the Imperial Capital that blotted out even the moon and stars of the sky: the black market. Everyone inside seemed to be a criminal with something to hide, all of them wrapped in black and concealing their faces — perfect cover for me to blend in. Under normal circumstances, catching him, revealing his identity, and killing him would have been the more peaceful option for my peace of mind. But I had no idea how strong the enemy was. This was an event that had never appeared in the game. I was terribly weak when it came to situations that refused to follow the expected script, so honestly, I wanted to run away like a coward. I did not even really know how strong I myself was. A character whose entire job was standing in the back line spamming heals was never going to have her combat power properly represented, was she? I had done nothing wrong. Not a single thing.

Anyway. Time to visit one of the hole-in-the-wall shops in the black market. At last — the shop I had been looking for! In the game, whether through game logic or not, the map had always felt smaller than it should; reality, as expected, felt far more expansive. Finding the place had been genuinely difficult. It absolutely was not because I had a poor sense of direction. I was not directionally challenged, and I prided myself on having above-average memorization skills.

I opened the door of the dim little shop I had finally found and peered inside. What greeted me was the shopkeeper, face hidden behind a gloomy robe. Ah — good to see you again after so long. I had run into him often enough in the game, after all. Not that I had ever actually seen his face.

"Welcome."

That rich, earthy voice welcoming a customer was deeply familiar. I started to write something on paper, since I could not speak — then stopped. Exchanging notes would only make me look more suspicious. I casually ignored his greeting and began browsing the merchandise. With a bit of luck, a useful item — or something that could adjust the Erosion Rate — might turn up. I decided to examine everything carefully.

…Why is this here?

Among the items available for managing Erosion Rate, this one was generally considered one of the more usable options. But was it truly the right choice? With no other method available, I found myself picking up the notebook as if entranced and handing it to the shopkeeper. He named a price in that same rich voice; I passed him the gold coins and left the black market at once, the peculiar leather-bound notebook in hand.

It would be best to wait until I got back before using it.