The Snowflower Festival (2)

It would have been a truly strange sight to behold.

Flora, who despised Karsein more than anyone, and Karsein, who had been tormented by her time and again. And yet here the two of them were, riding alone together in a carriage.

A tepid silence hung in the air as the carriage rolled out of the estate.

"If you've got something to say, spit it out."

It was Karsein who broke the silence.

"You're not seriously planning to ride all the way there like this, are you? If there's something you want to say to me, I'm the only one here, so there's nothing to be shy about. Just say it."

As if the girl who bathed in her family's love would ever want to share a carriage with Karsein. He knew all too well just how much Flora hated him.

That was exactly why he'd prodded her along, coaxing her mouth open so she could get to the point.

And Flora obliged, without hesitation.

With a contemptuous little snort, as if to say she wasn't impressed at all.

"That's what this is about, isn't it? You're trying to worm your way into our family's good graces again."

That single remark told him everything he needed to know about why she'd come, and Karsein let out a dry chuckle.

"Good graces? You think anyone wants this to have happened?"

"You didn't want it? Then how did you end up going to the Snowflower Festival with us!"

"You think I wanted to go either?"

Who would want to be dragged along under the pretense of a birthday present that was really just surveillance? Karsein himself had no particular desire to attend some festival.

But—

"Liar! You lied to Claire-unnie and Mother, so they're dragging you along as a birthday present, that's all!"

Flora wasn't about to believe any of it.

"Your birthday? It's been buried and forgotten every single year until now. It wouldn't have mattered a bit if it had passed unnoticed this time too. And unless you told them yourself, how would Mother and my little sisters even know?"

Through Flora's eyes, Karsein was a creature that must always remain apart from the family.

He deserved no attention whatsoever.

He was nothing but a wicked schemer trying to tear her family apart.

And so, clutching the hem of her skirt, Flora cried out.

"Maybe your filthy lies worked this time, but there won't be a next time. At the festival, I'll be the one stopping you. I won't let you lay a single finger on my family."

Someone like you could never be one of us.

I'll make sure you never receive a shred of attention.

I'll stand in your way myself, so no one wastes a moment's notice on a lowlife like you.

"My sisters and Mother. And even Father's place—you won't get a single thing from any of them!!"

Flora panted, working to catch her breath after her bravado.

This had long since left the realm of conversation.

It was bullying, it was berating, it was a warning from someone who desperately craved Karsein's isolation. Perhaps it was something even worse than that.

Having vented her tirade to her heart's content, Flora flashed a nasty, mocking smile.

As always, she expected Karsein to lunge at her in retaliation. That was how it always went.

And if that drove a wedge between him and the family again—

If he ended up confined alone to the ducal estate while the rest of them enjoyed the Snowflower Festival—

That alone would be satisfaction enough.

"...!"

But Flora could no longer muster that spiteful smile.

Not a hair was out of place.

The head resting crookedly on his propped hand didn't so much as twitch.

He simply met her gaze with an endlessly cold look, his expression utterly unchanged, as if nothing she'd said had registered at all.

Karsein was just quietly listening.

Then, without warning, a scornful curl tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"I told you before, didn't I? That I've always been made to feel this kind of unfairness."

At that mocking remark, Flora swallowed a ragged breath.

"I never meant to do it in the first place. It was never me. And yet every time, I ended up becoming the trash. This time is no different, is it?"

Suddenly, that day came flooding back.

The day he noticed the Kelvia fruit and left the table without finishing his meal.

The day she went to find him directly, convinced he thought she was the culprit.

The day she stood in his room and screamed that she was the one being wronged.

Those words—!

"I never once asked to go to the Snowflower Festival for my birthday, you brainless little brat."

Gulp.

"What... what are you talking about?"

Tense to the very last thread, Flora had learned from experience that she needed to hear Karsein out.

But at that very moment, the carriage came to a stop.

They had arrived.

Karsein flashed that chilling smile once more and opened the door ahead of her.

Then, assuming the posture of an escort, he said—

"Don't worry. I know you want to throw me out of this house, but there's really no need to try that hard."

It was as if he'd seen straight through to the heart of her.

"You mean you won't say anything to Mother or my sisters?"

"Right. I have no intention of taking anything from this house. Heirlooms? Money? Clothes? Jewels? I don't need any of it. And—"

—not even that.

Hee-hee-heeeng!

"Whoa there, boy! What's gotten into you today?"

The rest was swallowed up by the sudden whinny of a startled horse, and Flora never heard it.

"Aren't you getting out? Or would you like to climb down from this tall carriage all by yourself, without my help?"

"..."

Strangely enough, Karsein's answer didn't ring false to her.

I don't think the question of truth or lie is what matters here...

Karsein today was unsettling.

Excessively so.

"Come on, come on, hurry up! If you're that late, you'll have less time to play!"

Claire cupped her hands around her mouth like a megaphone and shouted from a distance.

Perhaps because of the squabble in the carriage, the other three had gotten out first and were waiting.

At her call, Flora came hopping and skipping after ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her sisters—then pointedly turned her back on Karsein, as if hiding from him.

"Now that everyone's here, let's head in."

Isabella took the lead.

Karsein walked at the very rear, checking the numbers floating before his eyes.

Quite a few of them have climbed.

A rise in the whole family's intimacy—so the belated birthday really had been a miracle cure, and not just something that worked in games alone. He was fairly pleased that a few of the numbers had climbed even higher, since he'd taken direct action himself.

And when he opened the status window, the other stats had been set considerably high as well.

If it's like this... even if a few points drop during this episode, I'll be fine.

Meanwhile, the family was passing beyond the festival grounds and heading toward a building.

When people think of a festival, they imagine wandering freely through the fairgrounds, playing to their hearts' content.

But one thing must not be overlooked: the Snowflower Festival was an annual event of the imperial family.

Precisely because it was hosted by the crown, the nobles were required to enter the main hall and complete a set schedule before anything else.

That was why they visited this place first.

Right. An episode would never pass this easily.

It wasn't just the festival itself.

This place was subject to the episode as well, which meant "without incident" extended to this gathering too—no trouble could be stirred up here, as it was simply an extension of the festival.

As they followed Isabella along, the nobles began to take notice of the Bagrand party one by one.

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

If the common folk reveled under the imperial family's patronage, they were hardly the only ones enjoying themselves.

This was a social arena where the nobility gathered.

For Karsein, it was nothing short of a tiger's den.

Trailing behind his family, they arrived at a grand hall.

The nobles, clustered in little groups chattering ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠away, turned their gazes in unison at the announcement of the House of Bagrand's entrance.

"As expected, Bagrand is Bagrand."

"Such flawless dignity—it is artistry in itself."

"I do wonder what tremendous service they will one day render the Empire."

Every manner of praise flowed from the nobles' lips.

All but one person's.

"But why is that lowborn one here...?"

"Shh. They'll hear you."

"This is a disaster. And here I thought this festival would be the most enjoyable yet... or is it a dud?"

Voices of unease and contempt came pouring down upon Karsein.

Unable to bear watching it, Arina drilled the warning into him one more time.

"The moment your audience with His Majesty is over, you can go straight out and see the streets. Just bear with it until then."

"I don't care."

"Hoo."

It seemed the warning hadn't taken root. Arina sighed and tried again.

"You haven't forgotten, have you? What I said about rewarding you if this goes off without a hitch."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it."

Arina's eyes were still full of distrust at his indifferent response, but for now, the audience came first.

Walking the length of the corridor, they came within sight of the great chamber, and Claire turned back ahead of the others, heading toward the hall.

"Go make yourself some friends out in the hall, why don't you. This will be over quickly."

Permission to enter the audience was granted to only two people.

That is, it ended with Isabella and Arina.

And so Flora and Claire each went off to find ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠their own friends.

Karsein was left alone.

Alone, in a den packed full of jackals.

The choices began to appear.

Here they come.

The jackals who had been hoping and waiting for exactly this moment—the moment he'd be left alone.

Right now, there was no one to protect him.

Even if they set upon someone standing brazenly in their midst, no one would raise an objection.

Even if they lost something in the process, what they gained would be far greater.

Because Karsein's very exit from high society would be a public good.

Personal rewards would follow, too.

The mere presence of Karsein in this place was enough to sour the tempers of nobles from houses of considerable rank or power.

And so, rewards awaited.

For whoever devoted themselves to driving out the uninvited guest of this gathering.

For the honorable soul who took the lead in bringing the hammer down upon the lowborn.

For stepping up against someone from a nameless house with no title to speak of, the compensation would be enormous.

That was the information he'd gleaned from checking the Memorial in the flowerpot.

"Ugh, insufferable. You actually came back? What nerve."

"What are you here for? Come to give us presents?"

"If it's this kind of present, I'd be truly grateful. Keh-heh."

As he leaned against the window, the nobles came swarming over with snickering grins.

The men fully intended to show it through action.

The women only watched from the sidelines—or so it seemed—but behind their faint smiles they were already imagining how they'd spread the tale afterward.

And on this side—

A choice appeared.

Every conceivable choice appeared all at once.

He already knew from experience which ones were Dead Flags, and a few looked like they might get him through the immediate situation.

But every single one of them was a wrong answer.

In Episode III, failing to avoid the incident meant he'd had to choose one character to seek out; this time, he had to choose which incident to face.

Which meant that no matter what, Karsein was fated to meet the incident head-on. And yet—

If I bend the constraints of the choices, just a little... that's a different story entirely.

He glanced around. Even from a distance, that head of pink hair was easy to spot.

A slight commotion would surely make her look this way.

As for the blonde side...

That one's a dead end no matter what.

Good.

Then I'll hold out just like this.

In that state, I gave them absolutely no reaction, no matter what they spat at me. Number four—silence.

And so roughly ten minutes passed.

"You little bastard. Why aren't you reacting today?"

"Say something, will you? You filthy mold-eating gutter rat?"

Finally, the scene I'd been waiting for arrived.

"Hey. Enough of this. Move aside."

"What are you going to do?"

"Take a few hits and his mouth will open, won't it?"

The largest-looking brute in the group stepped forward.

He rolled his shoulders around in big circles, practically advertising that he was about to throw a punch.

The choices appeared right on cue, and I intended to pick number two.

All right. Now all that was left was for the punch to fly—

Whump. Thwack.

"Wh-what the—?! You blocked it?"

It was so slow that my hand moved on pure instinct and caught the guy's fist before I'd decided anything.

What is this, a joke? It's not just weak—it's slow, too...

Was it because I'd gotten into so many scraps back in the modern world? The question drifted through my mind for a moment.

The sheer amount of force packed into that arm was absurd, but I understood it quickly enough.

Slow and clumsy was the norm here.

Think it through: Karsein's health was poor, granted, but that hardly meant he was good at fighting.

In other words, these kids' bodies were just as unfit for combat as his was.

They were pampered noble children, after all.

Prize darlings who had never thrown a punch anywhere in their sheltered lives.

Karsein, meanwhile, had grown up brawling in the slums. He'd lived a life of hardship utterly beyond comparison to these soft things with their greedily protruding bellies, chubby cheeks, and double chins even at that young age.

Which meant... to him, a punch like that probably didn't even register as a punch. Even without any real fighting experience.

So that's how this body managed to knock nobles flat on their backs... it actually works.

The question resolved itself in the strangest of places.

"You son of a—!"

He pulled his fist back and hurled it again.

Eep. I nearly blocked that one on reflex too.

Watching that sluggish hand, I ducked the punch quickly, before I could pick the counterattack option. After dodging him a few times, the brute was winded, panting as he shouted.

"Hey! Somebody hit this peasant for me!"

Since he couldn't manage it alone, they began piling on together.

Pride abandoned somewhere along the way, all they could think about was beating down the irritating pest in front of them.

But why on earth should I be the one taking hits?

Getting struck by fists this sluggish would be the real humiliation.

So they swarmed me all at once, and the circle tightened bit by bit—but I was not the one running out of steam.

All I did was dodge, and they tired themselves out on their own, overextending exactly as I'd expected.

"Uh... uhhhh?"

Nobody had touched him. All I'd done was step aside.

The potbellied one's body tipped over. The future was obvious, plain as day.

Flailing alone, he crashed into the wall with a dull thud and then went sprawling head over heels.

Having toppled forward face-first into the wall, his nose looked broken—blood was streaming down in a steady line.

"You... you bastard...!"

Something was trickling down his face; of course he'd have to reach up and check.

The moment he realized it was his own blood, his face contorted at me in pure fury.

In any case, everything had gone exactly the way I wanted.

"Everyone! This bastard hit me—he hit me!!"

After all, the fool had just delivered his own checkmate.