The Indigo-Blue Remedy (1)

“...”

The ceiling I saw when I opened my eyes was a different color from the one before. An unfamiliar ceiling, one I'd never laid eyes on until now. This place was probably not the ducal residence.

The agonizing pain from before was gone, of course, and my body had returned to normal — I could move freely. My voice and vision showed no problems either; the dizziness, the headaches, and even the bone-deep chill had all melted away without a trace.

Every symptom had subsided, which was a blessing — but the true blessing was that this wasn't the ducal residence.

“Haa.”

It was maddening that I'd had to endure that whole ordeal because of a single line of backstory — I wanted to curse the game's creators for it — but even more than that, I hated that it dredged up old memories.

Back then, that terrible bout of sickness hadn't gone away even after my family returned from their trip.

Chillingly, this pain had been exactly the same.

Headaches and dizziness were the bare minimum. My muscles ached so badly I couldn't even speak, and there was nerve pain on top of it. My vision blurred until I could barely see, and crawling outside had been just about the limit of what I could manage.

And the chills that grazed against my bones never let up, steadily chilling my blood cold.

Literally, it was no different from what I'd just experienced here.

After days of drifting between unconsciousness and sleep in that bed, when I finally woke from a deep sleep...

The family had come back from their trip, and it was the second sister's nagging that had found me first.

Thinking back on it now, it had been an absolute nightmare. I couldn't leave the house for a while after that, so my part-time jobs naturally fell through, and the progress on my plans took a steep dive as well.

Even now, just remembering it made my head shake on its own.

I let out a sigh and muttered, “The silver lining is that, unlike back then, the second sister isn't here nagging me.”

My mood was filthy, but I'd take whatever comfort I could in the fact that things hadn't hit rock bottom.

As I pushed myself up in bed, I heard footsteps approaching.

Who could it be?

Definitely not Harnie.

Since this was Rusmayer, maybe Barak?

Or perhaps the physician they'd paid to bring in from another territory?

Either way, I figured it didn't matter.

But then.

The moment the door opened, I couldn't stop myself from cursing inside.

“Oh, you're finally up, you dim-witted fool.”

Damn it. That sons of a bitch creator.

***

Here I'd been thinking, thank God my family didn't know about this situation.

And what? A sub-episode suddenly gets promoted to a main episode?

On top of that, if I failed, I'd be hauled off to the ducal residence with my deal torn up — which was as good as a Dead Flag.

It meant Karsein losing everything he had and spiraling into the worst possible outcome.

That was the most commonly seen bad ending in Chapter 2.

Which meant I absolutely, had to clear this episode...

'How the hell am I supposed to know any of this?!'

My head was already starting to throb.

All right. Calm down.

I needed to stay calm and extract information.

“Dim-witted? What kind of thing is that to say to someone who just woke up from a good sleep?”

It risked rubbing her the wrong way, but it was the best choice for gauging the situation.

After all, as far as anyone could see, I'd merely just gotten out of bed.

At that, Claire's eyebrow twitched.

“Oh, please. Slept well? You think that's something you get to say to me?!”

...Huh. Was that not it?

Her tone made it sound like sleeping was somehow a crime.

No. That couldn't be right. That makes no sense whatsoever.

And if that wasn't it... then don't tell me—

“You've been asleep for THREE DAYS straight! And you're seriously going to tell me you 'slept well,' you brain-dead idiot?!”

“...Three days?”

“That's right. Three whole days! What, did you sleep so well you thought only one had passed?”

So that was it.

She was angry because it hadn't been one day, but three.

But — three days of sleep on my end, and the second sister was the first thing I laid eyes on when I woke.

...A bitter taste crept into my mouth. Not a single thing about this was different from that disgusting past.

I hid my irritation as best I could and asked, “So? What is it you want to say?”

Claire's eyes flinched for an instant, but only for an instant. She swept her pink hair back, took a seat in the chair, and fixed me with a ferocious stare.

“You. Did you sneak off to the Imperial West or something? Why on earth would you be infected with Dipeshan Syndrome here — a place where it never spreads?”

So she starts digging from there.

At the very least, this confirmed that Claire knew about Dipeshan Syndrome. And the one who had examined my condition and cured me wasn't a resident of Rusmayer either — it was...

'Claire. I'm certain of it.'

Had she come looking for me precisely because of that sub-episode?

If ever there was bad luck, this was it.

Several evasive options popped up one after another, but I decided it would be better not to lie.

“I did go.”

“Ha — are you insane?! Why would YOU go to a place that dangerous?! Weren't you the one who went to the West before and came back beaten half to death?!”

Another clue surfaced.

The fact that I'd been to the West before.

I didn't particularly feel like explaining why I'd gone there.

But then—

“Hey, Karsein. You're hiding something from me right now, aren't you?”

The moment Claire glared at me with those sharp eyes and called me out,

“Spit it out straight. What is it you're hiding?”

Since this had never been a main episode before, these were obviously options I'd never seen.

And yet, somehow, I felt like I already knew the answer.

“...Yeah. I am.”

“...!”

This was a question meant to sound me out.

Just like the second sister had once done to me.

And so, with that fresh certainty, the words spilled out of me in a steady stream.

“I became the lord of Rusmayer deliberately. And you've seen the illness related to Dipeshan Syndrome yourself, so you know — but to be precise, it was the Marquisate of Aepheros. I went and met the Yarik People — the ones you imperials sneer at and call savages.”

“Wait, then you...! You're the lord of Rusmayer that...”

“Why. Were you planning to tell me that meeting the Yarik People was a mistake?”

“...That's not what I meant. It's just...”

“Right. It would seem strange. Even the news that I'd suddenly become lord of Rusmayer would turn heads — and then I go and visit the West, a land devoured by demonic energy, and strike a deal with the Marquisate of Aepheros on top of it. Of course you'd wonder why I'm doing all this. Isn't that so?”

Claire hesitated for a moment, then told me to keep talking.

Apparently I'd visited the Western region in the past as well, but with no information on that, those options weren't available to me. Fortunately, the right choice for this moment did exist.

“All of this is so I can take the trial to be granted a territory at the Eastern Noble Conference.”

A moment of silence.

And within that silence, a massive earthquake was tearing through Claire's blue eyes.

“Are you out of your mind, you idiot?! What makes you think you can take on a territory again after the reputation you've earned?!!”

Claire shot to her feet, her voice soaring.

“You have NO talent for managing a territory. You saw it yourself last year! Shatren was thriving, and it collapsed in a single stroke — how am I supposed to accept you taking another one?! Enough with the crazy talk!”

This time it was an avalanche of it — that I'd lost my mind because I wanted to get branded by the Imperial Family and become the laughingstock of the nobility. Claire roared herself hoarse, veins standing out on her neck.

Even so, I paid it no mind and answered calmly.

“When you came here, you assumed Rusmayer was a territory barely better than a slum. Am I right?”

“Why are you bringing that up out of nowhere?!”

I said nothing.

I simply kept my gaze locked on Claire.

But in that instant, the fury that had been standing up in her simply drained away.

Turning her head with measured calm, she began looking out at the territory visible through the window.

A long, weighted silence hung in the air.

There had to be a great deal visible in that view. Claire ran a boutique of her own, after all, and she was a noblewoman who had actually governed a territory under the Imperial Family's trials.

And in the meantime—

Something near me was glowing.

A Memorial.

I'd assumed that with a new episode, one would be hidden somewhere — but I never expected it to be that object.

“...Wait here a moment.”

Claire, perhaps having decided to examine the territory's condition closely on my word, stepped outside.

I could have simply made the final choice based on my own experience — but information was always better in abundance.

“All right, then. Let's see what else you got up to.”

There had to be a reason this Memorial appeared at this very moment. Surely it was connected to the situation at hand.

***

Rustle, rustle.

The pages of a book turned rapidly in Karsein's hands.

Even as sweat poured down his face, his hands never rested — because even while flipping through a thick botanical encyclopedia, there was something he absolutely had to do.

“It was definitely, definitely in here...! With just this, I could prove it to the Shatren Territory...!”

Shatren Territory.

The most fertile land in all of Bagrand, and the territory Karsein currently held under the Eastern Noble Conference — and it had been struck by an all-too-rare crop failure.

Not only were the harvest cycles stretching longer, but the quality and quantity of the crops they did bring in were plummeting as well.

Fortunately, Karsein had discovered the truth by burying himself stubbornly in books. Diagnosed like an illness, this was still the incubation stage — and if measures were taken in advance, the land could easily be restored to what it once was.

Arguing exactly that, Karsein issued a single order to the people of the territory.

But the moment they heard that order, a far worse blight descended.

Ironically, the very instant Karsein lifted a hand, catastrophe struck.

From that day on, the people of Shatren no longer trusted Karsein.

No matter how he pleaded with them not to be shaken by the failing harvest before their eyes, their answer never changed.

Karsein Bagrand.

The notoriety attached to that name ran far too deep.

The people, who claimed to have lived in Shatren for decades, swallowed whole the rumors that had spread in secret not just among the nobility but among the commoners as well, worshipping their own bitter experience like gospel.

And so, despite being the very lord entrusted with governing that land, Karsein had his counsel flatly dismissed.

But he did not give up.

He kept searching for some way to act.

And so he combed through botanical encyclopedia after botanical encyclopedia.

And found the thing Shatren so desperately needed.

'If I can just find this and bring it back...! Shatren can be saved!'

With his hopes inflated to bursting, Karsein set out for the West.

Demonic beasts swarmed the land, and it was an herb that grew only in that blighted environment saturated with demonic energy — but surely, if he had it, they would believe him.

However.

“Rot-forsaken imperial filth! How dare you set foot in this place!”

“Get out of here, now!”

The frontier of the Empire.

In this land where a single tribe made their home, nobles were despised.

They were a people much like the Yarik — treated as savages.

Which meant that Karsein, a noble, could never be a guest here.

“Guhk—!”

“We told you to get lost!”

“Damn imperial dogs!”

“Just this — just let me make this one trade! I ask for nothing else. I'm begging you. I don't care if you drown me in money, just—!!”

Even though he refused to retreat, lowering himself and pleading.

Their fury toward the nobility would not die down, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it all came crashing down on the hapless Karsein.

Then, abruptly, a man stepped forward and stopped the beating.

“Did you just say, with your own mouth, that you wished to trade?”

“...I did.”

Beaten black and blue, and still Karsein nodded.

That was how badly he needed this thing.

Confirming that the fire in Karsein's eyes was still alive, the man asked at once, “What you need is the Rohea Seed. Offering to trade for it leaves me curious. What do you intend to use it for?”

“Sowing it into the soil of a territory.”

“The soil? It can be used for that?”

“I read it in a book. If you don't cultivate the seed as a crop but simply scatter it in the earth, it releases mana into its surroundings. I thought that by exploiting that property as a fertilizer, it might even change the character of the soil itself.”

At a usage none of them had ever heard of, every head tilted in puzzlement.

But the man seemed to sense, if only dimly, that the light in those eyes was genuine.

“Very well. We will trade.”

“R-really?”

“On one condition — we set the terms. Unlike you imperials, what we want isn't money.”

The man who introduced himself as Count Lilpeten promised to send the seeds to the ducal house as soon as he could secure them. In exchange, he asked that their standing be changed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— the standing of people who, within the Empire, were not treated as imperial at all.

From Karsein's standpoint, it was a windfall.

There was nothing he couldn't manage, either — prove the seed's effect by sowing it, and Count Lilpeten's position could be transformed overnight. They would become the ones who revived Shatren, a territory of House Bagrand itself.

And so the deal was struck.

And Karsein returned home carrying hope in his chest.

Yet for all the hope he carried, his appearance was hardly that of a man whose bargain had succeeded. The marks of a brutal beating could not be erased.

When he arrived at the ducal house, those marks became his undoing.

“What on earth have you been running around doing, Karsein, to end up looking like this?”

“C-Claire...”

“No. 'Running around' doesn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cover it. You clearly went and brawled with nobles, didn't you? Whatever. Come with me.”

Of all times, he had to run into Claire while sneaking in.

His wound-covered body was treated by Shayden straight away, but Claire demanded to hear every last detail of what had gone wrong, and Karsein found himself unable to hide a single thing he'd done.

“The Western region? Isn't that the place corrupted by demonic energy? And you went there and have to take THIS medicine?”

“That is correct, my lady... but as long as it's taken properly, there should be no serious...”

“Ha. Enough. The answer's obvious, isn't it? This idiot snuck off and is holed up with House Lilpeten.”

Claire's eyes rolled back in fury.

“Listen. You're beyond saving. I'm reporting every detail of this to Mother.”

“Claire, wait...! I didn't sneak in. It was for the trade...!”

“Fall flat on your face and save it for someone who cares, you moron!”

Still, from Karsein's perspective, he'd figured this much was a mercy.

There would be an uproar, certainly — but the deal wouldn't be severed.

The seeds would arrive soon from House Lilpeten, and if he used them in front of the territory's own people, the results would show immediately. Once he'd proven himself, he could simply say he'd stopped by there again to purchase more — the justification would write itself.

He waited only for his body to heal, taking his indigo-blue medicine day after day.

But the next day, Karsein received a letter.

The words House Lilpeten written across it sent a flicker of unease through him.

When he opened it, something enclosed dropped out.

It was the Rohea Seed he so desperately needed.

“It's... rotted?”

Count Lilpeten had said it plainly:

If a rotten Rohea Seed is ever delivered, it means the trust between us has been severed.

In other words, this letter declared that the deal with Karsein was over.

Unfolding the letter with dread coiling in his gut, Karsein realized the situation had spiraled to the very worst.

Claire, leaning against the wall as she watched, sneered at the sight of him — then snatched the letter away and read it through.

“Well, well. That little rat Count Lilpeten is talking trash to YOU now?”

Claire clicked her tongue.

“Don't even think about trading with nobles anymore. I'm sick to death of you coming home beaten black and blue every single time — from now on, you get my sister's approval before you make any deal.”

“Claire, you... what did you do? What on earth did you DO?”

“What did I do? I gave those bastards who look down on Bagrand a very clear warning, that's all! And you're really going to crawl off and get pummeled half to death by some nobody nobody's ever even heard of?!”

From now on, every trade with the nobility would pass through inspection, she declared.

And especially House Lilpeten — the ones who had crossed the line this time — would never, ever be traded with again.

Claire drove the point home like a sentence of doom.

'Then... that means...'

The Rohea Seed could be grown by no one but House Lilpeten. And if trade with them was now impossible... then what would become of the Shatren Territory?

Despair took root in the young Karsein's eyes.