Dead Trigger (4)

"I will no longer be paying my morning greetings to you."

Isabella's teacup wavered the instant the words left his mouth. It stopped midair, never completing its rise to her lips.

"Is that truly all you came to say?"

"Yes."

Karsein, who had already turned toward the door, swung back around and answered without a moment's hesitation.

"I heard you'd caught a cold."

So she had known about that all along, after all.

He could have brought it up and protested his innocence. But Karsein had already made up his mind not to.

"Ah. That. I apologize. I simply failed to take proper care of my health."

"...Taking care of your health."

"I suppose I'd been picking at my meals for far too long. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠So I've decided not to be a picky eater anymore."

Isabella's mouth fell slightly open.

"I will ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be more careful in the future. After all, even if I did show such behavior, what good would it do? It would only leave some poor soul bearing the blame for it."

Karsein opened the door again, his back still turned to her.

Having delivered his pointed replies one after another, he strode out as though there were nothing more to say.

"..."

Long after Karsein had left the study, Isabella sat staring blankly into empty space.

Though a mountain of work awaited her, the pen refused to budge in her hand—all because of that boy. For the first time ever, Karsein, who had always wailed that he was being wronged and spilled the grievances of the ducal house every single morning, had put the word apology to his lips.

When she'd heard that word. When he'd shown he wanted Camilla released.

For a moment, she had doubted her own ears.

She had fully expected him to snap and snarl that none of it was his fault, or to vent endless complaints about why Camilla had been let off so easily.

Granted, he hadn't always been nothing but shouting and tantrums. There had been mornings when they'd exchanged nothing more than a few flat words and he'd ended his greetings without incident.

But from that Karsein's mouth, an apology had come first. He had spoken of releasing Camilla, and had even gone so far as to meekly admit his own fault.

Something that never would have happened in the past.

"Has he finally grown up, I wonder?"

He was old enough now that it was possible. Perhaps something had happened to bring it about, or perhaps studying on his own in his room had matured him mentally as well.

Either way, there was good to be found in it. He was only a year younger than Claire, and the age of adulthood was drawing near.

"The Coming-of-Age Ceremony... Yes. It's about time he matured a little too."

Isabella rang the bell for her butler. Moments later, the old head butler answered the summons and entered her study swiftly, bowing his head with deep courtesy.

"You called for me, my lady."

"How do the preparations for Claire's Coming-of-Age banquet progress?"

"The servants are quite busy, but preparations are proceeding without any hindrance."

Her second daughter Claire's nineteenth birthday was approaching. In January, the month that passes through winter and welcomes the spring, Claire was to be reborn as an adult on the very first day of that month—New Year's Day.

"Good. I see."

Setting down her teacup, Isabella drew out a single report.

"Heron. Do you remember this day?"

"Hmm... That would be Lady Arina's Coming-of-Age, would it not."

It was a report that drew sighs from her lips as she read. Heron grasped Isabella's meaning at once.

"You intend to summon Young Master Karsein to Lady Claire's Coming-of-Age ceremony."

Isabella gave a small nod.

"If I recall correctly, my lady, you had originally resolved not to bring the young master."

"In all honesty, I am thinking the same even now."

And with good reason. At her eldest daughter Arina's Coming-of-Age, Karsein had already thrown one full-scale tantrum.

If he were to attend Claire's upcoming ceremony and cause a scene there as well... this time, the matter would not end with the ducal house's reputation alone bearing the cost.

"But this time, I do not know what to think. And that is why I find myself wanting your counsel."

"If my humble assistance is of any use, you need only ask."

"I thought for certain he would throw a fit when I told him Camilla had already been released... but he did not."

"Oh my. Young Master Karsein, you say..."

Just as Isabella had been earlier, Heron was visibly quite taken aback.

He had privately expected this morning's greeting to involve the story of how he'd been laid low by a cold.

That prediction had been proven completely wrong.

"Far from throwing a tantrum, he actually commanded that Camilla be released from the solitary room because she'd been wrongly accused, and even admitted that catching the cold was his own doing. On top of that, he announced he would no longer come to morning greetings that were nothing but a stream of complaints. It feels as though he became a different person overnight. I cannot fathom what has gotten into him."

Despite Isabella's words, Camilla was still locked in the solitary room.

Even if the evidence was insufficient, she remained the prime suspect, and there was still the matter of her past failures to properly serve Karsein.

The lie about Camilla having been released was told entirely to gauge Karsein's reaction.

In other words, the very fact that Karsein had come to her and held this conversation could be seen as the process by which he chose to claim his right to attend the ceremony.

The young master commanded that Camilla be released from solitary confinement?

The news was so difficult to believe that Heron's mouth hung open. He, who had never once let his composure slip as butler to the acting head of the duchy, had been shaken.

And yet—was this not a perfectly natural turn of events?

Heron smiled softly and offered a word to the bewildered Isabella.

"As I have said before, my lady, the young master is not of an ill nature. If he had been embraced with love, just as the young ladies were, this day would simply have arrived a little sooner."

"...Is that so."

"Yes. Speaking plainly, it seemed to me that a wall rose up between you once the chronic illness that plagued you disappeared. Your attention drifted elsewhere, and so what he received could not have been more different from the affection the young ladies enjoyed."

"He received... a different kind of affection, my daughters and Karsein?"

"That is how it appeared to me, at least. And so I believe that granting him an opportunity is, by rights, the proper thing to do."

Isabella sank deep into thought.

Truthfully, had Heron not offered those words, she would have set the matter aside, thinking only of precedent. With even more guests expected than at Arina's Coming-of-Age, she would have sought to keep Karsein away more safely, more certainly.

Simply because precedent existed.

But Karsein, too, was a member of the ducal house for as long as he remained within its walls. Even if he was not Isabella's son by blood, he was a fully registered adopted son.

That was why Heron judged it fitting to grant Karsein an opportunity.

An attitude that accepted one's own faults, and a generous magnanimity that considered the circumstances of others.

If Karsein was truly capable of extending such grace. If he had truly matured to that degree.

Then at the upcoming banquet for his second elder sister's Coming-of-Age, even a boy slandered with ugly nicknames among the maids deserved the right to come and go openly as one of House Vagrand's own.

Her deliberation running deep, Isabella slid the report back into its place.

"Release Camilla from the solitary room as Karsein wishes, and inform him that he is to attend the Coming-of-Age ceremony."

"Then the young master will also be in need of a maid, my lady."

"Ah, of course. Hmm... I suppose we might simply reassign Camilla to him."

Returning Camilla to her post as Karsein's exclusive maid. Two intentions lay mingled within that decision.

Heron caught both of them at once, just as he had before, and bowed to accept the order.

"Oh, and, Heron. Was there any particular news from the Theresia Marquisate?"

At the mention of the Theresia Marquisate, a flicker of bewilderment crossed Heron's face as he turned to leave.

"The Theresia... Marquisate, you say. I recall no news of any particular note, my lady."

"...I see."

So that was what she had been thinking—that the catalyst might lie on that side.

I beg your pardon, my lady. But I believe you have guessed quite wrongly.

Whatever emotions Isabella was entertaining, Karsein stood very, very far removed from them.

With Intimacy sitting at over 30%, I'd half expected something extra to happen.

There was nothing.

The morning greeting had simply been the worst.

My mood soured right along with it.

It wasn't enough that Isabella had dredged up memories of my past life—her blatant prejudice and preconceptions about Karsein were laid bare for anyone to see. Of course my mood couldn't stay pleasant.

Still, there was no need to waste actual emotion on things like this.

"Status Window."

Back in my room, I went straight to checking it.

Just as I thought.

Since the sound had played right as I'd walked out after finishing my conversation with Isabella, I'd already guessed the episode would clear.

First and foremost, the most important thing was that Camilla's release from the solitary room had extinguished the Dead Trigger.

The vast majority of bad endings visible in the early episodes were tied directly to Camilla, and once she was locked away, failing to free her in time sent her down a path to certain death.

Take the situation where her body would turn up tomorrow at this very hour—that was one of them.

How utterly wronged must she have been to resort to such an extreme choice? Even without saying a word, they would hold Camilla's funeral and grind their teeth in vengeance.

And in the end, Karsein... no matter which choice he made, he died a miserable death.

Miss the critical timing, and it was as good as being too late. So Camilla being freed from the solitary room now was the greatest boon among boons.

"But complacency is the enemy. There was definitely a branch where Camilla ended up leaving the ducal house even after this."

Careful. Then careful again.

"The maids' grievances were all because of Camilla anyway. The morning greetings are a past setting from within the game, so I seem to have handled that one well. They were just shackles to begin with."

One way or another, it seemed I'd safely cleared the dangerous episode.

Up to this point, these were the rewards I knew from the game.

But for me, having stepped inside the game itself, it seemed a rather longer receipt had arrived.

"Results beyond the choices, huh. So this is how Claire's Intimacy got that extra boost."

Had I simply followed the game's original script, Claire never would have noticed that I'd come out of a cold shower.

A trivial difference—but this proved beyond doubt that things could now tilt in my favor.

"...But what's with that question mark?"

Recognition was an in-game system that reduced the chances of Dead Flags popping up in conversations with the maids throughout the ducal house. But I'd never seen anything like that before.

I'd received something, yet I had no idea what it was.

"Sometimes clearing an episode hands you an item, but if you're asking whether I'm holding any items—no, it's not that either."

The only things in my room were the clothes I'd washed myself. The Memorials didn't count as possessions to begin with, and stats in the Status Window never rose this way.

There was nothing I'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠been given by anyone, as far as I knew. So what on earth was it?

Just as I was tilting my head in confusion—

-Knock.

From outside came a sound—whether a knock or something else, I couldn't tell.

Well, someone had definitely tapped on my door...

Is there anyone who would even come to my room?

No. Pointless to wonder. Whoever it was had knocked on my door, so I had to hear them out—whether they wanted to talk or had some business to deliver.

"Come in."

Waiting for the door to open, I kept my gaze fixed on it.

And then I was stunned speechless.

"...!"

"F-forgive the intrusion, my lord..."

-Ding!

Before I could even finish the thought, the Status Window flickered to life.

A short line of text had been appended to the reward window that had shown only "???" until now.

And then—

While my eyes were still glued to the Status Window, Camilla asked, in a voice thick with hesitation and worry:

"What... should I do, my lord?"

Even asked so directly, I had no ready answer for her.

My whole purpose had been to snuff out the Dead Trigger—never once had I seen a development where Camilla returned as Karsein's exclusive maid.

I had no idea who had intervened, or in what way, to attach Camilla to me as my exclusive maid. But what had already happened could not be undone.

I had to accept it.

But wait. This was definitely called a reward, wasn't it?

Which meant the reward I'd received was an exclusive maid.

This... this is a genuinely enormous reward, isn't it?

Anyone thinking conventionally might wonder whether the Dead Trigger had simply been revived instead. But it was quite the opposite. So long as Camilla never ended up back in the solitary room, I could avoid any number of bad endings.

It took only a moment's thought to arrive at the answer. Could I truly be certain that not a single other variable existed—one that would see Camilla cast out of the ducal house?

Unequivocally: no.

As someone who had played this game, I could say it with absolute certainty—no, I could not.

But what if she became my exclusive maid? Then the variables arising from outside would be blocked at the source. Becoming my exclusive maid meant severing every one of those other variables in one stroke.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

And so there was nothing to deliberate—a pure gain. You could call it a risk, taking on a maid again, but this was a risk I could resolve directly, within my own reach, with ease.

No. Beyond that—this might even let me establish a whole new plan.

Decision made.

I'd take it, for now.

"There's nothing I need from you today. Come back tomorrow."

"Tomorrow... you say, my lord?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow."

Not that it would make any difference—there'd be nothing for you to do then, either.