The Snowflower Festival (1)

"Young Master. I have brought your meal."

A new maid knocked on my door, announcing she'd brought breakfast.

Judging by the intimacy gauge hovering at 7%, she was the maid who'd rummaged through the ham of random gifts that had arrived on my birthday and helped herself to its contents.

Under normal circumstances, it should have been Camilla at my door — but the very fact that this maid had come meant everything was unfolding exactly as I intended.

"Just leave it there."

"Yes, Young Master."

Another night of sleep came and went, and morning arrived. Camilla, who would usually bring my breakfast like clockwork, was nowhere to be seen.

A week of leave granted to Camilla. A new maid standing in for her in the meantime.

This was the arrangement I had stipulated when I accepted her back into my service.

The vacation was to shut off that Dead Trigger for good. And my continued self-imposed confinement to my room? That, too, was for the episode waiting just around the corner.

As I pulled the breakfast tray in from the hallway, I discovered a small letter wedged between the dishes.

"An aristocrat...? Ah, no — it's Camilla."

Though she had renounced her title, the refined grace of noble breeding still bled through her handwriting. If I hadn't read the contents, I might never have guessed who sent it.

The letter itself was quite simple.

"Hmm. So the head maid got on Claire's bad side, and now she's in no position to give the maids any orders for the time being?"

It lined up perfectly with what the Status Window had shown me. I hadn't known Claire had flown into such a rage over it, though. Nor had I any idea she'd been coming by and groveling to Camilla every single day.

Kind of satisfying, honestly?

It felt like the second sister had taken a properly satisfying slap to the face, and my mood improved for no particular reason.

Beyond that, the letter was nothing but gratitude toward me and well-wishes for my recovery.

"She must have gotten up before dawn just to write this... She's more impressive than I give her credit for. Is that the kind of stamina you build working as a maid?"

No. There's no way that's how it works.

Being tired just makes you more tired — it has nothing to do with gaining stamina. As a Korean exam student who juggled part-time jobs without letting my grades slip, I can state this with confidence: this sluggishness is my problem, mine alone.

"Well... no wonder I've been sleeping so much lately. It's because of this."

Pathetic. Truly, hopelessly pathetic stats.

Compared to an average person, there wasn't a single stat that stood out as above the norm.

And they were dropping day by day. Aside from the immunity that inched upward with every meal, every last number on display was in freefall.

My endless sleeping and this leaden body — the cause had to be exactly this.

Thinking I should try a little exercise with this in mind, I'd actually attempted some push-ups, but...

"Yeah. Nope. Not going up."

Aside from discovering I was too feeble to even manage five, the stats I'd lost showed no signs of recovering. Meaning exercise alone wouldn't cut it — the system refused to credit me for effort like this.

Which meant... the answer was obvious.

Just like in the game, I would have to go to a place where stats could actually rise.

"And that place, of all places, happens to be a Prohibited Area... Go and I die. Ignore the stats as they keep draining and I also die. Absolutely brilliant. Truly masterful design."

Astonishingly, the stats kept falling, and if I failed to manage it, I'd be on a one-way ticket to a bad ending. The solution was to work out, openly and deliberately, inside a Prohibited Area. Except said Prohibited Area was a place you'd die if you wandered in carelessly?

The environment was so viciously malignant that complaints spilled out of me despite myself, my stomach turning.

"So the only real solution is this episode after all... Hmm?"

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

I'll worry about that later.

That door was about to open whether I granted permission or not.

Best to have a book open and look occupied.

"Lady Arina?"

"Hand it over and be on your way. I'll carry it from here."

After a brief exchange, the door swung open.

The maid, at a complete loss, bowed her head and retreated, while Arina fixed me with a glare brimming with displeasure.

I was minding my own business with a book when Arina, true to form, picked a fight.

"How does one stay in a sulk for four whole days, Karsein? You intend to keep up this petty stubbornness forever?"

After returning from my outing, I had flatly ignored Claire's visit as well.

A birthday ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gift, it turned out, was a remarkably potent weapon. And having learned of my own birthday embarrassingly late had handed me a degree of leverage besides.

But the moment I giggled and accepted something, that leverage would be spent. So I had waited. Waited for Arina to come to me.

A quick glance at Arina's intimacy gauge showed 9% — up a touch from 6%. Choosing option one right here would send it nowhere.

Much as I'd love to unload on her, option four it is.

I closed my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠book with calm deliberation and answered.

"What do you want?"

Arina stared at me in silence for a long moment.

Two percent gained.

For a stat raised by swallowing everything I wanted to say, that was a respectable bump.

"You really have changed. The old you would have flown into a rage the moment I walked in..."

Muttering to herself, Arina cleared her throat and came back around to her business.

"I hear Mother granted you a single day's leave for your birthday. Your wardrobe was prepared for it too, and I also heard that you wanted none of it. But as a birthday gift, that alone falls short."

She apparently agreed with me on that point, because she kept talking.

"Every one of us — myself included — forgot your birthday. The family convened, and the proposal came up that you join us for this year's Snowflower Festival. All that remains now is your decision."

The original Karsein would inevitably have caused some incident at the Snowflower Festival, which is exactly why they'd have left him behind.

But by taking the outing branch and massively inflating the return value of my birthday gift, I had earned myself the right to attend.

One small snowball, rolled from innocence itself, had gathered into something this enormous.

And yet.

In the end, not once did she say it outright — that this is her way of testing me.

Bearing the name of a gift, it was nothing of the kind.

Even now she was testing me, doubting me — how could anyone call this a present? Calling it surveillance would be closer to the truth.

The correct answer is one.

As the Status Window had already hinted, the birthday gift and the ban on outings were tied directly to this festival.

So why did it leave such a foul taste in my mouth?

I simply couldn't stand the way she wrapped her surveillance in euphemism.

With Arina watching, I turned my head back toward my book and answered with a barb in my voice.

"Fine. I'll attend the festival."

"...You."

"Anything else?"

Arina glowered at me with open displeasure, then let out a long sigh and left a final word behind as she walked out.

"See that you enjoy the festival without causing a single disturbance. Do that, and I'll see you receive a rather fine reward."

The instant the door closed, I shut my book.

"Unbelievable. A fine reward?"

Not so much as a birthday gift — instead, veiled threats about being watched — and if I play along, I get a nice little prize? The sheer gall of it took my breath away.

"What you all really want is to make sure I pass through this festival without causing a scene. That's the surveillance you're after, isn't it?"

Yes. Exactly what I was hoping for. If that's all it takes, I'll oblige — as thoroughly and precisely as you please.

I'll accept the birthday gift. I won't whine or make demands. I'll drift through the festival without so much as a ripple. Whatever method that requires.

Because all I need is to take what I want.

The Snowflower Festival had arrived again this year, as punctual as ever.

This year's edition was slated to be grander and more dazzling than before, so Flora — who lived for festivals — should have been brimming over with anticipation.

And on top of that, she'd be attending with her whole family. Didn't that mean she could stay out playing even later? Days like this came but a handful of times a year, if that.

"..."

And yet there she sat, as anyone could plainly see, unable to find a moment's ease.

When she could be having the time of her life. When she could stay out later precisely because her family was with her.

Instead, an unmistakable air of unease clung to her.

"Flora? Why are you shivering like that—"

"Eep!"

Flora flinched hard and drew in on herself, startled by Claire's sudden approach.

Claire's brow furrowed with concern.

"What's wrong, Flora? Are you really feeling ill somewhere?"

"O-oh, it's you, Claire. Um... n-no, I'm fine."

"I only asked because you're shaking so much."

Flora waved her hands in denial, insisting nothing ailed her.

Naturally, nothing truly did.

The problem is... over there.

Flora slid her gaze sideways and stole a glance at a boy some distance away.

Hair that had once ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠been blue, now faded past greenish-teal until it bordered on black. Eyes that had seemed like lapis lazuli once, but which time and growth had drained of their color as well.

Karsein.

"No issues with your outfit this time?"

"No."

Watching him submit to the inspection, she couldn't help but hear that day's voice echoing in her head again and again.

It was all nonsense. Complete and utter nonsense.

Such things could not possibly exist.

She had even asked her tutor, who had said no such thing would ever come to pass, and that Lady Flora should simply keep growing up diligent and well.

So there was no reason for it to weigh on her mind. None at all.

— Did you forget where I came from?

Karsein's face would not leave her — that smug, curling little smile he'd worn as he brought up his origins, as if looking down on her.

The moment they cast that commoner out of the ducal house, the family's peace would surely return.

That upstart wretch, so drunk on ambition he didn't know his place, coveting Brother Carn's seat — he was the one who had to go.

And yet an unthinkable thought crept in.

What if — what if casting Karsein out was the very thing that made it happen?

No. That could never happen. Never.

At most, it was a lie she told herself to dodge the situation for a little while longer.

Flora crossed the room to where Arina was speaking with Karsein, and tugged at her dress.

"Arina? Is it okay if I ride in the carriage with him today?"

Her index finger was pointing squarely at Karsein.

Flora Bagrand despised Karsein Bagrand.

The reasons stacked up past counting, but the simple proposition — that she despised him — never wavered. It was why her intimacy gauge climbed the slowest of anyone's, and even now, at a mere 3%, she sat dead last among the entire family.

And that Flora, of all people, had pointed at Karsein and asked to share his carriage?

Taken at face value, such a thing could not happen.

Why would anyone volunteer to be alone in a carriage with the very person they tormented with savage dedication? The request was a contradiction in itself.

But he answered with an easy smile.

"Sure, why not. Cramming five people into one carriage doesn't exactly make for a pleasant ride anyway."

As if he found her proposal entirely agreeable.