A Tiny Crack

Having handled the follow-up developments correctly, the results spoke for themselves. Flora, who had come looking for me, went back without getting what she wanted, and the early crisis of Episode V passed without much trouble.

After that, I sat straight down at the desk and picked up my pen.

The contact issue was the problem.

"Moving to the Annex won't be much of an issue in itself... but it could get awkward if a letter from Harnie arrives in the meantime."

As far as sending letters went, there was no real problem.

After all, a letter had caused a whole incident just today, so the maids would be keeping a closer eye on my belongings from now on.

But if Harnie's correspondence reached me while I was staying at the Training Grounds, things could get a little more complicated on my end.

"The moment I set foot in the Training Grounds, I have to go in prepared to pull the Dead Trigger entirely. If I half-ass it and walk out..."

Naturally, I would end up the star of a bad ending.

Just as skipping Claire's Coming-of-Age Ceremony in Episode III resulted in a bad ending stamped right onto my record, so too would I inevitably die in Episode V if I never entered it at all.

In other words, a time limit existed.

There was, however, one small difference from Episode III.

"Just as I thought. In the game I never noticed it, but... since it doesn't pop up even as time passes, I'd say it's certain."

As I studied the Status Window carefully, I discovered something odd.

The most troublesome thing about this game was its forced progression.

When choices appeared, you had to pick one of them; when an episode branch was designated, a specific action was required. The same went for completing episodes themselves.

That coercive quality—forcing certain actions to occur—was precisely what shoved Dead Triggers or Dead Flag choices down your throat, which was what made it so difficult.

The textbook example was Episode III: Claire's Coming-of-Age Ceremony.

In Episode III, a time limit had been attached from the very start.

A choice asking whether I would attend Claire's Coming-of-Age Ceremony hung on the screen the whole time, along with a message directing me to move to a certain location.

In the end, I had to see the ceremony through.

Somehow, I had to be present at that place—even if I tried the trick of keeping my distance from her seat.

But what about now?

Nothing.

I could tell that no instructions demanding any particular action had appeared.

No message ordering me to head straight to the Training Grounds had popped up.

In other words, the episode was in progress, but there was no need to proceed with it immediately.

I didn't have to go to the Training Grounds right away.

Which meant that, for the time being, I'd been granted one of those rare windows of free action time.

"In that case..."

Couldn't I put this time to a little more use for myself?

First, I set the pen moving.

"To Harnie... hmm, I'll just write that I have a schedule and won't be able to see her during this period. And the rest—Camilla, was it?"

It would be wise to send the news to Camilla as well, who'd just finished a week's vacation.

Imagine coming back to work only to find your master suddenly vanished. What else would she think?

"She's a dutiful girl, so she's not likely to raise hell, but you never know. Better she not hear it from the duchy at all, seeing as the house avoids so much as mentioning the matter."

I nodded to myself and kept the pen flying.

The writing was done.

I couldn't exactly pin both letters on a maid right this moment, so passing them along to Heron would do fine.

"Hmm. Time remaining..."

I still had free action time left.

Granted, even free time had its dangers—my stats would keep draining, and I could end up meeting that bad ending called Health Deterioration. But judging by the rate of decline, I figured I could spend about a day without any trouble.

"Then the next task is obvious."

I threw on some decent clothes and stepped outside.

Immediately, the maids flinched and began studying my expression.

Looks like Claire really laid into them.

Ding!

Seeing choices pop up on top of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it all, it seemed she hadn't just scolded them—she'd shredded them to pieces.

Does she not know the meaning of moderation?

Clicking my tongue inwardly, I ignored the lot of them and chose Response 3: silence.

How to react to the maids, it asked.

When an unfamiliar development appeared, there was no reason to take on unnecessary risk.

Besides, if I so much as said one word to them, I had a feeling my Recognition would plummet.

So I walked the corridor, collecting anxious glances at every turn, until I arrived at my destination.

A zone with a danger rating attached.

Just in case, I circled the surrounding area first—thoroughly checking whether anyone might be watching nearby.

Fortunately, since no one knew what might come out of Karsein's mouth, the servants actually seemed to be avoiding the place.

With the check complete, I stepped straight into the Danger Zone.

A clock-shaped timer appeared, and the seconds began to tick away.

I had no intention of staying long, so forty seconds was plenty.

"Who...? Could it be, Lady Flora?"

As I approached the barred door, a woman inside the solitary cell shifted her gaze toward me.

"You were waiting for Flora, I take it? Sorry to disappoint."

"...!"

The moment she realized that the visitor was not Flora but Karsein, she shot to her feet with eyes that looked ready to burst out of the cell.

Yes. The one I'd come to see was Emma.

"What business brings you here?"

Emma, visibly brimming with things she wanted to say, bit them back and spoke.

My mouth itched to let loose.

"Still can't manage a proper bow, I see. Emma."

At that single line, Emma clenched her teeth.

"You expect a greeting in this situation? Thanks to you, Young Master, an innocent woman sits locked up in here as we speak."

Was it so unreasonable, then, to be asked for pleasantries in the midst of such an injustice?

Well, I'd expected exactly that reaction.

"Pfft."

"...! Are you laughing at me right now?"

"No. I'm laughing because it's funny."

This time I laughed at her openly, without bothering to hide it.

Emma's eyes began to redden with fury.

"You framed me for a crime I didn't commit, Young Master—that is why Lady Claire locked me in here!"

"How absurd. Claire ordered you confined because you did something that deserved it."

"What sophistry is this? That remark was perfectly justified! Given how much trouble you've caused, Young Master, it is only proper to be strict about your excursions!"

Emma shrieked at the top of her lungs.

Maybe it was time to land a blow at this point.

"Deserved it, my foot. You'd already committed a crime against the duchy regardless."

"Ha. More of this nonsense—"

"Wasn't there an embezzlement scandal circulating through the duchy lately?"

Emma, who had been shouting at full volume, arched her brows for an instant.

"Quite the story, isn't it—talk that someone had been embezzling duchy funds from the territory. And wasn't there a certain someone who came into a sudden windfall at exactly that time?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

"Why not? I hear Emma's been buying herself some expensive dresses lately. Suspicious, wouldn't you say?"

"Hmph. I have nothing whatsoever to do with that. Unless, of course, you dislike me so much, Young Master, that you'd invent stories out of thin air?"

She insisted she'd bought those dresses with money earned through her diligent work as Head Maid.

That it was all ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for the sake of preserving the dignity of House Bagrand.

That was Emma's argument, anyway.

Time for one more strike.

I threw out a hook that only I knew about.

"Is that so? I hear some of the duchy's knights suddenly replaced their entire equipment all at once. Another coincidence, is it?"

"Yes. They must have worked terribly hard. They may simply have saved their wages well. What business is that of mine?"

Perhaps she wasn't quite the fool I took her for—Emma didn't take the bait.

But I could simply force her mouth onto it.

"Cut the crap. Did you really think I wouldn't know that the money that should be allocated to me every month from the duchy has been sitting in your hands, padded into those men's pay?"

"That is Lady Arina's responsibility, is it not?"

"Managing the funds may be Arina's job. But bookkeeping and allocation rights belong to the Head Maid. Fudging the records wouldn't be any trouble for you at all, would it?"

"What in the world are you—"

"That month before last, when you had to dip into the territory's funds in a hurry. You punched a rather convenient hole in the ledger, didn't you?"

Emma's confident face changed in an instant.

Hooked.

Her expression, frozen stiff as ice, had hit the mark dead-on.

"D-don't spout nonsense! I have never once erred in my accounting!"

The ledger would show no problems.

Argue it well enough, and she could paint me as a man chasing delusions.

However.

Right now, Emma was locked in a solitary cell.

Which meant there was no way to verify it at this moment.

That alone was enough.

And just like that, the time limit was up.

I left her with exactly one parting line.

"Whether you erred or not—that's something we'll only know once the truth comes to light, won't we?"

"Stop with the bluff! Come to light—what exactly is supposed to come to light?!"

▶ Leaving the Danger Zone! ◀

She kept shouting something at my back, but I didn't turn around to see her face.

I didn't need to. The screaming alone told me everything. That woman had to be absolutely terrified right now. My performance—the picture of confidence—had sunk its teeth in deep.

That was how an information gap worked.

Even when someone bluffs to your face, if you have no way to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠determine whether it's real or not, how could you not be anxious?

Stay anxious. Stay desperate. Go on, Emma.

Before long, that desperation would carve a tiny crack, and her mistake would rise to the surface.

All I had to do was wait, calmly and patiently, for that moment.

Hm?

Having finished provoking Emma, I'd returned to my room intending to start preparing for the move to the Annex.

But to my surprise, Heron was waiting there before me—and not alone, either. Several other servants stood with him.

The moment Heron confirmed my arrival, he waved the other servants away.

"Is something the matter?"

"Young Master. Regarding your request to prepare for the move to the Annex... it appears the request has been denied."

"Denied?"

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

"...Yes. While you were away, Lady Claire objected, saying it was absolutely out of the question."

According to Heron, the Annex had no maids or attendants assigned to assist me, and no furniture had been set out either—it was, in its current state, unusable.

She pulled it all out on purpose, of course.

I snorted and answered as if it hardly mattered.

"Doesn't matter. I'll carry whatever belongings I need myself—all I have to do is show up, don't I?"

"But, Young Master..."

"Tell her not to worry. I can handle the cleaning and the laundry myself."

If the grounds for denial were nothing more than minor inconvenience to daily life, that wasn't a grounds for denial at all.

At that, Heron let out a long, deep sigh.

"Even so, I'm afraid you will not be able to stay there, Young Master."

"Why not?"

"Lady Claire has declared she will not be receiving guests for the time being, and has had the Annex boarded up entirely."

"You've got to be..."

First all that fuss about how I couldn't move to the Annex,

and now she'd deliberately nail it shut so I couldn't go at all?

"She did say she would not prevent you from going to the Training Grounds. However, she asked how her brother could possibly reside in such a place, and ordered the Annex nailed shut nonetheless."

Ugh, for crying out loud.

Nailed shut means stay out entirely, then.

The servants, judging by their appearance, had just finished doing exactly that.

"U-um, Young Master. Perhaps it would be best to simply give up on the Annex as your residence."

Heron was sweating in streams, quite unlike himself.

It seemed the Annex was truly unusable in this state.

"Haah. Fine. You're dismissed."

"Will you not be going to the Training Grounds?"

"I'm going tomorrow."

Because if the Annex was off the table, I'd need to give some thought to where I'd be sleeping.

It's not like I'm out of options. I'll just slip one more letter into the pile headed to the Training Grounds.

And so, I resigned myself to burning one more unplanned day.

Evening gave way to the deep of night.

Into the silent solitary cell where one person sat confined, a small set of footsteps echoed.

"Who's there?"

The moment the stillness broke, Emma asked reflexively.

"...It's me, Emma."

"Oh—Lady Flora?"

At the sight of her most beloved youngest lady, Emma's face bloomed and she sprang up at once.

"To come all the way to this wretched place... you'll catch a cold, my lady."

"It's fine. I layered up properly."

"Still, my lady. I'm quite alright, so please hurry back."

That was what she said—but nothing could have pleased her more.

For to Emma, Flora was the savior who could soothe this gnawing anxiety.

After that, Flora held out a sumptuous dessert, and she and Emma exchanged the usual pleasantries.

Then, quite suddenly, Flora asked.

"...Hey. Nanny. Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, my lady."

Emma swallowed her dessert and nodded with a bright, sunny face.

Flora hesitated, then asked her question, unease written all over her.

"Everything I've been doing until now—it was all for the family, right?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What I... what I did to Karsein."

Emma set down her dessert, eyes going wide.

"Why, of course, my lady! That lowborn, filthy creature is a monster who came to destroy this duchy!"

It was the same words she'd heard every time.

"What could a man who groveled in back alleys possibly want? All he thinks of is swallowing the duchy whole with those filthy feet of his—just like the rest of those common rabble!"

Threatening the duchy.

Defiling the duchy.

Dragging down the duchy's honor.

"He is a scourge, my lady. A scourge who covets young Master Carn's place, who means to devour the duchy and line his own pockets by any means. No—worse than a scourge. A demon!"

A demon who would even target the family's places.

That was what her nanny, Emma, had always said.

"...That's how it is, right? Karsein came from outside. He came from the slums."

"Yes! Whatever he may have said to you, do not waver, Lady Flora. It is all sophistry, all lies, nothing but the most insidious sugar-coated poison. Remember that."

After repeating the warning again and again, Flora nodded.

"Yeah. Don't worry."

She would never, ever be taken in by lies and sophistry.

She said she wouldn't fall for the sugar-coated poison.

And yet.

For all that she said it aloud, Flora's doubt refused to disappear.

Was what I did really right? Because Karsein... doesn't seem to want anything at all?

That question, she could not bring herself to ask Emma.