A Generous Donation
Watching his expression shift second by second whenever I teased him was truly rewarding. The sight of his face flushing bright red as he frantically stopped me when I reached for the buttons at my throat had been quite the spectacle.
For what it was worth, I considered his decision to confide his "amnesia" only in me a sensible move. Arthur had racked up more than enough enemies as it was; if word leaked that he had lost his memories, there was no telling how many threats would come crawling out of the woodwork to exploit the opening.
At any rate, the assassin coming tonight wouldn't be able to harm him. As had been the case in the previous loops, Arthur’s physical capabilities were surprisingly high. I had downplayed it earlier as being slightly above the Academy average, but where else would the original Arthur have racked up marks when he was entirely estranged from his studies? Showered with immense attention and investment from his father, the Duke, Arthur's physical stats sat comfortably in the Academy's upper echelon thanks to a relentless intake of precious elixirs.
Unless one belonged to high nobility wielding overwhelming political clout, entering The Academy required clawing through brutal competition. Ranking among the top there meant his physical prowess was more than formidable in the wider world. With stats like that, so long as he stayed awake, he could at least scream and mount basic resistance. That would draw the servants running into the room, and the assassination would be foiled on the spot. Add my presence into the mix, and the assassin would inevitably cut his losses and retreat.
The only pity was missing out on the physical evidence the assassin would have mistakenly left behind. I needed that leverage to extract a handsome sponsorship from Lady Olivia.
While Arthur sank into despondency over his inability to cast magic, someone arrived outside the window.
The assassin.
Just as I expected, the intruder took one glance through the glass, realized the target was alert and accompanied, and immediately turned on his heel to flee.
"An assassin really did come..." I said, feigning mild shock.
"See? I told you so!"
"How on earth did you know this would happen?"
"Actually... I have the power to see the future."
His sudden blurt threw me for a brief loop. Passing off regression as precognition is an exceptionally tricky con to pull off. Yet here he was, on merely his second loop, spilling it to someone he had barely started speaking to properly today.
He was astonishingly naive.
"Then how about guessing what I have in my hand right now? If you get it right, I'll believe you." Clenching a fist around a pinch of magical herb powder from my pocket, I stared at him expectantly.
"Uh..."
"You must have simply overheard a rumor somewhere. Regardless, I shall keep watch tonight. Please feel free to sleep if you are weary."
As expected, he had no answer. If it were me, I would have deliberately regressed to a thirty-third cycle just to nail down every detail and earn absolute trust. Or, if he balked at such extreme measures, he could have feigned being a fortune teller who could only perceive broad currents. He was unmistakably green.
Then again, I wouldn't have brought up foreseeing the future in the first place. Having to reset to square one and repeat every single action with clockwork precision just to make a prophecy come true was a surefire recipe for a nervous breakdown. Besides, experience had taught me that even if the overarching framework of events remained intact, the butterfly effects stirred up by minute deviations were maddeningly unpredictable.
Reassured by my offer to stand guard, exhaustion caught up with him, and he climbed into bed to sleep.
While he rested, I cracked the window open and gazed out into the night. Even beneath the pitch-black shroud of darkness, the city's heart beat at a sluggish crawl. Watching the dense sprawl of factories in the city center belch out their relentless, pallid smog filled me with a sudden, hollow ache.
I found myself wondering just how long that boy would manage to endure before he finally broke.
Morning broke. An assassin who has been spotted once does not return on the same night. Having calculated as much, I had dozed off to catch a little sleep myself.
When the time arrived for him to wake, I roused him.
"Young Master, His Grace returns today. You must rise quickly and prepare."
Arthur sat up, raking a hand through his disheveled black hair. "Wait... the Duke...?"
"His Grace is scheduled to return today after concluding his business in The Capital. Ah, it seems you truly have forgotten everything."
In truth, I had deliberately withheld this information until now. Watching his face contort in bewildered distress the moment he opened his eyes was a delight in itself.
"For your information, His Grace was exceedingly furious with you before his departure, so I advise you to mind your conduct with utmost care."
At those words, his entire body stiffened like a board.
I hoisted him forcefully out of bed and urged him forward. "For now, let us get you washed."
Having guided him to the bath, I used the spare time to begin assembling my 2nd Circle.
Tamping the powdered herb from my pouch into my wooden pipe, I gathered mana at the tip of my finger to ignite it. Thick white smoke billowed in curling rings, and the circulation of mana throughout my body began to dull and stagnate. Inhaling it so frequently had made me realize that Chervil carried a distinct addictiveness. Of course, the more one breathed in its fumes, the faster one's body deteriorated, but setting that mortal toll aside, it was a remarkably flavorful smoke.
Right as I was breathing in the fragrant smog while forging my Circle, a soft thud echoed nearby.
Turning my head, I saw Sally collapsed onto her knees, huge tears brimming in her round eyes.
"Uuu... Aria, I'm so sorry... It's all because of me..."
"Hm? Nothing happened. You don't need to worry."
I gave her a nonchalant look. She undoubtedly assumed I had spent the night sleeping with Arthur. Since we were bound to work together going forward, clearing up this sort of misunderstanding seemed only right.
Yet Sally wept harder, shaking her head in utter disbelief. "B-But... you had to suffer such terrible things because of me... and now you're even smoking tobacco..."
Her teary gaze remained glued to the pipe between my fingers.
Why does she insist on misunderstanding even when I explain it to her face?
Pulling the red-eyed Sally into a soothing embrace, I searched my memories. Come to think of it... before I transmigrated into this body, the original woman named Aria had never touched a pipe, had she? Well, it wasn't my personal reputation anyway, so it hardly mattered.
Thanks to the servants bustling about since dawn, preparations to welcome the Duke's carriage were complete. The Duke likely couldn't stand the sight of Arthur right now. After all, one of the primary reasons he had traveled to the Capital was to clean up after Arthur's drunken debauchery. He had visited the family of the noble lady whom Arthur had insulted while intoxicated to offer apologies, and called upon the household of Arthur's fiancée, Lady Olivia, to smooth things over.
And today, Lady Olivia and her father, Marquis Edvern Winter, were scheduled to arrive at the estate alongside Duke Croft.
A guard came sprinting with word that the Duke’s carriage had reached the estate gates. The servants set aside their duties and lined up before the main entrance to await its approach. Arthur, who had barely finished dressing in time, took his designated place just in the nick of time.
The ornate ducal carriage rolled through the estate's main gates. As dictated by rank, Duke Croft stepped down first, followed by the Marquis.
The glance the Duke cast toward Arthur was freezing cold. Under that piercing stare, Arthur seemed to visibly shrink.
Lastly, Lady Olivia Winter disembarked from the carriage. She looked around with a faint air of bewilderment, as if finding something unexpected—and then her eyes locked onto Arthur, widening in absolute shock.
"H-How...!"
"Ah, my apologies for forcing you to lay eyes on that wretched boy the moment you arrived, my lady," the Duke said, clicking his tongue in misinterpretation of her reaction before glaring at Arthur. "I shall discipline him thoroughly. Let us reconvene at the luncheon banquet. Arthur, follow me to my study at once!"
With the Duke sweeping away, the two guests were escorted to the drawing room by a servant. I volunteered for the duty of serving refreshments.
Upon entering, I found the Marquis comforting his shaken daughter as he accepted the tea and passed it to her. She murmured to her father that she wished to get some fresh air alone in the garden for a moment, and the Marquis granted his permission.
I guided her out to the courtyard garden behind the manor.
"You may leave now."
She dismissed me curtly. But I had no intention of obeying.
"Pardon me, but you seemed quite flustered when you first arrived. Might I ask what troubled you so?"
"It seems my words are difficult for you to understand. I said I wish to be alone. Step aside."
Ignoring her frigid dismissal, I leaned in and whispered in her ear: "If it concerns Young Master Arthur and a certain crow..."
Before the sentence was even finished, her hand snapped out, grabbing me by the collar. The violent motion sent her pristine white dress rustling and her golden hair swirling through the air.
"You... What are you?!"
"My, but I haven't even specified what happened yet," I murmured, offering her a faint smile.
Her expression turned venomous. Just as I expected. Despite her surname being Winter, she had a fiery temper and was utterly incapable of concealing her emotions. Still, to react like this over a mere verbal jab without a shred of physical evidence...
Piecing together the stunned horror she showed upon seeing Arthur alive with the knowledge from my previous loops, I was confident I could bleed her dry.
"Those crows certainly have been troublesome pests lately."
"W-What do you want?!"
Leveraging my prior knowledge that this was the work of the Crow Guild, the young lady looked practically desperate to offer me a generous sponsorship.
"Our Young Master is rather deeply offended, you see. However, he mentioned that if you were to show a suitable measure of sincerity, he might be inclined to look the other way."
Blackmail like this always worked far better when backed by someone with real standing rather than an ordinary maid acting alone. If a lowly maid tried to extort a noble on her own, the noble could simply hire someone to slit her throat. Sorry about that, Arthur... That's just how the dice rolled.
"Ugh... That filthy piece of trash..." Lady Olivia gritted her teeth in disgust.
After a brief, agonizing hesitation, she hastily scribbled a location and time onto a slip of paper and shoved it into my hands.
After all, didn't I need an emergency fund just in case? I could be fired from the ducal estate at any moment, or find myself in desperate need of quick cash. Given that I forced my magic through inherently unstable means, I would undoubtedly need funds for medical treatment if things went awry. In this body, lacking any family or backing, there was no realistic way to drum up large sums for treatment.
Besides, this city was a bottomless pit of expenses. From respiratory ailments wrought by coal smog and industrial pollutants, to sudden plagues, to the exorbitant cost of toxic mana herbs.
I felt a microscopic twinge of guilt toward Arthur, but when an opportunity to rake in free money fell straight into my lap, why on earth would I refuse?
"A pleasure doing business with you."
Leaving the seething noblewoman behind, I strolled back into the manor with a contented smile playing across my lips.