A Belated Birthday Gift (5)

Evening was creeping in before long.

Once the contract was signed, Harnie had prioritized simply being seen strolling around together, so we hadn't gone any further than that.

Though to be honest, most of the time had gone into soothing her as she fumed over the fact that we didn't just need to look like lovers — we needed to look like the genuine article...

Either way.

The contract engagement had been concluded, clean and neat.

"I think this is enough for today, Harnie."

"I was just about to say it's about time I headed back myself."

"Is that so."

She still wasn't over being angry, huh.

Well, given that this whole mess was thanks to the bomb I dropped, I supposed I had it coming.

"I understand if I'm not to your liking, but let's not forget we each have our own objectives here."

"You don't need to tell me that."

Exhaling a huff of heat, Harnie abruptly held out her hand.

"What are you doing?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The carriage. You're supposed to escort me when I board it."

"Weren't you against physical contact?"

"No, well — this kind of thing you just do! It's basic courtesy between noble couples..."

She stared at me as if I were the most absurd creature she'd ever encountered.

Confronted with this situation, I faced a very grave crisis indeed.

...Damn it... Escort? What even is that?

Aristocratic etiquette, the unspoken customs of lovers in this era — none of that was going to register with a modern man.

For a Korean who'd never once managed a trip to Europe, this scene alone was already drowning me in crippling awkwardness. And on top of that, I was supposed to perform the proper etiquette?

That's medieval-noble formalities you're talking about! Back home, all I know how to do is a nice respectful Korean bow and a hearty "Bless you"!

Sweat trickled down my back. Maybe when I got home I should skip the newspapers and the studying of current affairs and economics, and hire an etiquette tutor instead.

...Anyway.

Just as I stood there floundering, Harnie tilted her head, then raised her outstretched hand to cover her mouth and asked:

"Hold on. Karsein. Don't tell me you actually don't know how to escort a lady?"

"...That's correct."

"Wha — really, truly?"

-Nod.

At my immediate, unhesitating nod, Harnie seemed briefly stunned.

"Ahahaha."

Then she burst out laughing.

Wearing the loveliest smile, no less.

"Is it really that funny?"

"Oh — I'm sorry. It's just that I never expected that reaction at all."

She kept laughing in front of the carriage until tears had actually welled up in her eyes.

Wiping them away, she asked:

"You never learned etiquette at all?"

"Nope. Not really."

"I see."

The real Karsein probably would have learned it.

But I'm not him, so I never did.

At my admission, she took my hand and guided me toward the carriage's step.

"The carriage step is a little high for noblewomen, generally. They're wearing long dresses, so the hem gets in the way too. That's why you have to stand in this position so they can climb up. Extending your hand means 'take my arm.'"

"Like this, you mean?"

"No — not gripping tightly like that. Just four fingers. I hold your thumb myself and put my weight on it as I climb."

Oh. Even a complete layman like me could follow that explanation. It was surprisingly clean and clear.

"Hand goes here. I'll be pulling my weight to get up into the carriage, so holding it just slightly above a lady's waist makes it easiest for her to steady herself as she steps up. You see?"

"Mm. I follow."

Beyond that, she walked me through the variations — how to escort someone of higher rank, the way servants address nobles; how to receive an elderly guest; and how to attend to a fiancée.

Harnie explained each case of escorting in meticulous detail.

And since the opportunity had conveniently presented itself, she gave me practice time as well — even drilling me on helping a lady down — until every step was firmly etched into my memory.

"You pick things up faster than I expected? And you're even being considerate enough to make it easier for me to climb."

"We practiced plenty while learning. I got the feel for it. But — are you alright? You've spent extra time on my account."

"If I'm to be escorted properly next time, this much investment is worth it, isn't it? After all, whose fault is it that I've become a fiancée who spent months in secret rendezvous, exchanging whispered love?"

"..."

Tsk. Reaping what I'd sown — I had nothing to say in my defense.

"Anyway, I really must be going now. I'll decide the next schedule myself and send it to you, so don't you worry."

"Understood. Go on ahead."

I watched until the carriage had vanished entirely from sight, and once I'd confirmed the sun had more or less set, I made my way toward the Bagrand ducal carriage.

Of course, I wasn't heading straight to where it was parked.

I had business of my own to attend to first.

Just as I was rummaging through my pocket to check how much money I was carrying, I realized I'd forgotten something.

"Ah?"

A purple handkerchief tumbled out of my pocket.

"Ha. I forgot to return it."

But the carriage was already long gone... Oh well. Nothing to be done about it.

I'd just give ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it back next time.

"..."

Camilla kept checking the coachman's movements again and again. Glancing at the time, she would briefly pull out a slip of paper. Then, after checking the time once ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠more, she'd take out the paper again and write something on it.

Such behavior, naturally, was for the purpose of reporting to someone.

And Camilla was in a position where she knew only too well who would be receiving those reports.

The clock wound back.

To when her master, Karsein, had ordered her to prepare for his outing.

While waiting for him, Camilla had crossed paths with a certain someone.

"The person standing there — don't tell me that's Camilla?"

"...Head Maid."

Emma, the Head Maid.

Her superior, whose temper had grown terribly short these days.

"So it really was you, Camilla? I heard you managed to leave solitary confinement on a stroke of luck — so why haven't you shown your face to me even once since?"

"..."

"Well. No matter, I suppose. I can't imagine how such luck worked in your favor, but your duties remain exactly what they've always been."

Swallowing down the words she longed to spit out, Camilla held her silence.

At that, Emma drew a fold of cash from her sleeve and held it out for her to see.

"You'll be willing to move for the duchy's sake again, won't you?"

Emma couldn't have cared less how Camilla had been freed. For a woman who moved when money was pressed into her palm, this kind of advance payment was the perfect instrument — a means to strip away hesitation and harden her motive into resolve.

When it came to dragging Karsein's reputation through the mud and erasing his presence in order to restore the duchy's honor, there was no one better suited for the job than Camilla.

"It seems he's about to go out. I'll have the groundwork laid, so don't you worry — just go. All I need from you is a report of what you did while you were out. I'll have a word with the coachman as well."

Emma stepped close, pressed the money firmly into Camilla's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hand, flashed a silk-smooth smile, and returned to wherever she belonged.

In each of Camilla's two hands, she now clutched things that pulled in opposite directions. In one, the hood Karsein was to wear; in the other, the cash Emma had pressed upon her.

The two could not coexist.

Camilla was trapped in a position where she had to choose one: follow Karsein, or follow Emma's orders and take the dirty money to carry out the deed.

And so, she hardened her heart.

-Crunch.

Camilla crumpled the money pouch in her left hand and shoved it into the inner pocket of her maid's uniform.

Time passed, and the appointed hour drew near.

"Marvin, sir. We're running a bit behind schedule — would it be alright if I went to fetch Young Master Karsein myself?"

"You, personally, Miss Camilla? What for?"

"Well... that's the order I was given in advance, you see."

"Hm. Well, I suppose. That girl does take separate reports to two different people, after all. Go on, then."

Marvin didn't seem particularly concerned.

Camilla thus left her post without a hitch, and was able to carry the items to the meeting spot Karsein had specified.

When Karsein arrived, his meeting with Harnie concluded —

"You've come, Young Master."

She received him without letting a flicker of it show on her face.

Just as I'd ordered, Camilla stood waiting, everything prepared.

"You've come, Young Master."

When the difficulty of an episode was less "challenging" and more "an outright war," the free-action time the game granted you was never generous.

Time to clear episodes, to gather information in advance and dodge Dead Flags — at best, a few scant minutes.

Claire's Coming-of-Age Ceremony episode had been exactly like that. The time I'd had to gather information amounted to barely ten minutes, and only by setting foot in a Restricted Zone and braving the danger to do it.

And even that included every minute I'd scraped together by waking at dawn. Which made the free-action time I'd earned through this outing branch all the more precious.

Everything I asked to be prepared is here.

The sketch map I'd had Shayden draw for me in advance. A hood to conceal my face. A bag that would hide the shape of the goods, plus assorted odds and ends.

This would do.

The problem is the horse... I've never ridden one of those things in my life.

-Snort.

...No, wait. "Loathed" was probably the more accurate word.

In the game, I'd traveled by horse, just like this.

Back in South Korea, the public order was good — walking home at night, worst case, meant running into some unsavory character. But here, there were bad endings where you got butchered on a night street.

That's why I had to cut the travel time. To reach that place before the sun set completely.

But...

-Snort, snorrrt.

Damn it.

Honestly, I was terrified. Sure, in books horses were the favored transport of soldiers and generals, but ordinary people? Not so much.

Cars. Taxis. Buses. Bicycles. Kick scooters. I ached for modern transportation with a desperation bordering on madness.

-Ding!

In the middle of my mental turmoil, the Status Window popped up on its own.

At this point, there was nothing for it. My only option was to throw caution to the wind and try mounting the damned thing — a horse I'd never even ridden on a school trip to Jeju Island.

Swallowing a surge of irritation, I moved to close the Status Window — only for it to brazenly throw fresh text up before my eyes again.

I dismissed it several times over, and finally the System outright laid down the law.

Uh? Whoa—what?

There was no resisting the System or any such thing. After flashing that single, solitary choice at me over and over, my body simply began moving toward the horse of its own accord.

And then, with the ease of someone who'd done it a thousand times, it mounted the horse.

...Huh?

The mounting itself had felt like someone else's body doing the work, but once I was up in the saddle, there was no strange sensation whatsoever.

And contrary to all the terror I'd been bracing for, the animal turned out to be remarkably docile.

When I took the reins myself and guided it a few steps, the horse understood my intent perfectly and moved as directed. It wasn't even that hard...? Was this the game system's doing?

No — whatever the reason, it doesn't matter. Right now I need to focus on getting there on this thing.

Only by securing that item could my Dead Trigger be fully defused, after all.

Then, all of a sudden, Camilla called out to me.

"Um... Young Master?"

"What is it?"

"Would it be alright if I came along with you?"

"With you? Do you even know where I'm going?"

"No, but... wherever it is, taking me with you would surely be a help."

Hm.

I didn't see how bringing a maid along to that place would help anything.

Where I was headed was no ordinary merchant's shop, after all.

But when Camilla lowered her voice and spoke, my thinking shifted somewhat.

"The coachman seemed to be keeping watch over your movements, Young Master."

Someone was watching my range of movement.

Which meant someone at the ducal residence had sent a pair of eyes to track me.

If there was any chance of drawing suspicion —

If I needed to slip past that suspicion —

Going with Camilla was the safer bet.

It's not like it sits entirely easy with me, but...

That didn't change the fact that it was the right call.

"Do you have something to cover yourself with?"

"I brought two hoods, just in case."

"Good enough. We'll ride the one horse."

"..."

"What? Is there a problem?"

"Well, it's just..."

In that instant of Camilla's hesitation, a chill crawled up my spine with uncanny clarity. Shrinking into herself, as if embarrassed, she lowered her head.

Ah. Don't tell me.

You too?

"I-I'm so sorry. The thing is... I don't know how to ride a horse..."

Somehow, my bad instincts never missed.

Put me on the horse with you.

I didn't need her to finish the sentence to know where it was going.

At that moment, the Status Window appeared again — no, a choice forced upon me by the System.

[ 1. Travel by horseback. ]

My body moved on its own once more. Dismounting with practiced grace from the horse I'd so smoothly climbed aboard, it helped Camilla up into the saddle.

"Up we go."

Having done it once, it really wasn't difficult.

Thanks to the System, I could ride at all — which meant I'd make it back before sundown.

By the time I'd gotten used to the horse, my destination had come into view.

8th Street. It was home to Ohela Boutique and a fair number of other respectable establishments, but stepping off this bustling thoroughfare, the destination was hardly the sort of place nobles frequented.

Paradoxically, though the busy street ran right alongside it, a mere twenty paces' remove was enough to plunge you into a district of crushing disparity. This was the very spot Shayden had marked on that map he'd drawn for me, worry plain on his face.

Setting foot here meant staying sharp at all times.

"Young Master, this place is—"

"Shh. Don't use that title here. It draws eyes for no reason."

"Y-yes, sir. Then what should I call you?"

"Just keep it at formal speech. Nobody here will care beyond that."

"Understood."

Even at a glance, more than a few faces here wore a menacing air. The moment I announced myself as a noble, I'd become a target of every eye in the district.

And then... everything I carried would be stripped from me. Just like the bad endings I'd met in the game.

If I hadn't come by horse, I'd have been cutting this far too close on time.

The sun looked about to drop at any moment.

I needed to finish my business quickly and get out of here.

Following the sketch map, a shop that looked perfectly ordinary came into view.

"Welcome, welcome."

A man in the middle of tending his goods shot me and Camilla a sidelong squint.

Camilla, as I'd instructed her beforehand, kept her gaze firmly away from the shopkeeper's eyes.

The shop's interior was shabby and dark. The lighting was so sparse that unless something was strictly necessary, you couldn't see it at all — a far cry from any ordinary establishment where goods changed hands.

Because this place was, for all intents and purposes, a Black Market.

-Ding.

I'd nudged the episode forward a bit, but the choices didn't appear to have changed at all.

Relieved, I browsed the goods this way and that, then pointed a finger at what I'd come for.

"This one. This one. And that one too. Ring it all up together, will you?"

"Hmm. Give me a moment, will you."

The proprietor tapped away at his abacus and tallied the price in short order. I already knew what it should cost, so I simply paid in advance and waited. Except—

"Hey, this is short. All told, it comes to 1,700 Pecels."

What?

The price was off. In the game, it hadn't been anywhere near this.

"Excuse me. I'd like the itemized breakdown."

"You came all this way and now you're suspicious of my prices?"

"No. I need to know which items carry the higher value, that's all."

"Hmph... well. If that's all it is."

Without a word of complaint, the shopkeeper began writing the prices down on paper.

Everything else matched what I remembered. The figures were exactly as they'd stood in the game, and when I pressed him on a few other items just to be sure, I got the same answers each time.

All except one.

...Of course it had to be this one that ran over.

The price of the medicinal herb — the one that already commanded the highest quote — was 200 Pecels steeper than it had been in the game's main storyline.

The only thing different from back then was that I was trying to buy it a little earlier in the timeline. Who'd have thought it would throw the price off by this much?

"For the record, I don't haggle."

I knew. The moment you attempted to bargain with this shopkeeper, you'd never be able to trade here again.

Nothing for it, then.

I would have to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sell off the odds and ends I'd brought along just in case, because I had to buy those items.

Right at that moment.

A hand reached in beside me and let a fold of cash drop.

"I'll cover the 200 Pecels."

The one paying the shortfall was none other than Camilla.