The Induction Period (2)

All the while she had been tormenting Karsein, Flora had never once trembled with anxiety.

To be precise, there had never been a reason for her to.

A stray beggar dredged up from the slums, taking the place of her dead brother? That could never be allowed to happen—could never be accepted, no matter what.

And so she denied it brazenly, again and again. How could someone like him be her brother? He was nothing more than a slum rat that wandered in off the street, she declared firmly, refusing to acknowledge him as anything else.

"Flora! How could you say such a thing to your own brother!"

Yet thanks to her mother's unraveling mind, it was Flora who somehow always ended up on the wrong foot.

The mother's love she had received in abundance as the youngest daughter had been stolen wholesale by that beggar—and worse, the boy was now even encroaching on Karn's place.

Her mother's ears stayed shut no matter what her two older sisters said. Whether anyone raised their voice or not, the slum boy was, bit by bit, truly becoming Karn Bagrand.

And she was supposed to just stand there and watch it happen? Unbearable.

Who do you think you are, tearing our family apart?

Who do you think you are, imitating our brother?

You're nothing but a commoner who crawled in from outside.

She had wanted to spit those words in his face a hundred times over, but she could never quite force them past her lips.

And so the swamp of her resentment deepened, day by day.

Then one day, Flora happened to overhear the maids talking.

"Seriously. Why should we be waiting hand and foot on a commoner like that? If he were one of the young ladies, fine—but honestly, his clothes and blankets are too good for him as it is."

"What can you do? Everyone thinks the same. But... what are you doing right now?"

"What does it look like? I'm making sure his food tastes like garbage. Ha!"

With that, the maid dumped a whole fistful of salt into the meal meant for Karsein.

"Hey! What if you get caught?"

"Caught? As long as you keep your mouth shut, nobody's catching anything."

"I mean... fair, I guess."

"Honestly. You're not seriously thinking of groveling to the young master now, are you?"

"...And why would I ever?"

Her fellow maid hesitated only for a moment before falling in line, cleverly mixing the seasoning into the food.

It was pure chance that Flora had overheard, but she came to understand that people who thought this way were far from few. And that, as long as no one caught them, they could slip Karsein these little torments whenever they pleased.

Wasn't that a truly perfect method?

From that day on, Flora began laying hands on Karsein's food. She watched him cough himself purple from too much pepper, gulp down glass after glass of water because the soup was too salty, and scrunch his whole face up at sour, acrid flavors—and every time, a satisfaction beyond words welled up inside her.

And then.

What was strange was that no matter how often he protested, not a shred of evidence ever surfaced. She didn't know why, but she figured it was all working out for the best.

Even after ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all this, her mother—her mad, broken mother—kept shielding Karsein.

Every single time, that beggar would argue back and shout.

And the more he did, the angrier Flora grew. She stopped at nothing—not just food anymore, but other things too. Bolder. Bolder still.

She spared no means of tormenting him.

Then Isabella's mind returned.

And when Flora realized that with her mother cured, no one in the duchy had any right left to shield Karsein—

she did not let that golden opportunity slip away.

Afterward, the duchy returned to its proper state. Flora could proudly claim that she had delivered justice—protecting her family from the slum boy, protecting the duchy, protecting Karn's place.

And yet.

Lately, doubts had begun to creep into those actions of hers.

Along with an unpleasant feeling she couldn't quite name.

"Lady Flora? What's the matter all of a sudden?"

He was the knight Flora had sought out just a short while ago. Walking side by side down the promenade, the knight pulled off his own coat and draped it over her shoulders.

"You should have said something if you were cold. What if you caught a chill?"

"..."

She wasn't cold. The winter wind was nothing her clothes couldn't hold off—they were hardly thin—and the cozy shawl over her shoulders guarded against the chill on top of that.

In truth, it was warm enough that she didn't need a coat at all.

Even so, Flora felt reassured.

As expected of Sir Theo.

Theo Ramstair.

A knight of the 1st Knight Order, currently a probationary knight only steps away from full ordination.

But there was a reason Flora trusted him to this degree.

Because to her, he was the most special person of all.

He had entered the duchy as a knight carrying the noble standing of a baron's son, and when Isabella once scolded her, he had soothed her—and day after day, he had empathized deeply with her troubled heart.

Ever since, whenever Karsein was the cause of her distress, Flora would go find Theo.

Every word out of his mouth was a gem.

He scratched her itches exactly where they itched, and served up words that cleared the blockage from her chest, swift and satisfying. He always, always left her feeling content.

And he was doing it now, too.

Was he not worrying so tenderly over his lady's health even at this very moment?

If you asked who she trusted most after her own family, it would be a contest between her wet nurse and Theo—so greatly did he hold Flora's confidence.

Sir Theo might actually know the answer.

Gazing steadily up at him, Flora resolved to lay bare the inner turmoil that had kept her tossing and turning—not for hours, but for days.

"Um, Sir Theo. There's something I've been struggling with... would you listen?"

Theo answered with an easy, smiling face.

"As much as you like."

That was what she had come here to ask, of course—but being around Theo always put her at ease.

So she opened up about everything, without holding back.

From what she'd done to Karsein in the old days, down to this strange, nameless feeling she carried now.

Not in full detail, but in rough strokes, she talked it through.

And then she came to the heart of it.

"S-so, I wanted to ask what you think, Sir Theo. Because it feels like... like maybe I did something wrong..."

What did he think of all this? What was this feeling, and how could she make it go away? That, in truth, was what Flora had wanted to ask from the very beginning.

Theo smiled with his eyes and gently took her hand.

"Lady Flora. That was never something you did wrong."

Morning of the fourth day—past the third—came creeping closer.

My whole body ached as usual, but I took comfort in the fact that the induction period had quietly crossed its halfway point.

No—in truth, you could say I'd already gotten past the hardest stretch of it.

Compared to the grueling three days behind me, things were about to get considerably easier.

Just as the status window displayed, the knights were treading carefully now that Isabella had caught wind of things, their movements noticeably slowed.

And of course, it wasn't only Isabella.

That choice—whom the knights should answer to—cost me a sliver of Recognition, since it meant wielding the authority of House Bagrand.

Because of that risk, Karsein had to refrain from outside activity beyond training as much as possible; but in exchange, during the training period, he would receive his greatest allies.

That was exactly what this episode's progression window was showing me: the family's aid.

After all, I had witnessed Mark's bow and gone so far as to save face for the knights—the remaining training days would be no trouble at all.

Day three: Isabella.

Day four: Arina.

Day five: Claire.

One by one, as if on rotation, the family would come to find Karsein.

No matter how much they despised him and wanted him driven out.

No matter how badly they wanted to declare that a man who had cut down a fellow knight had no right to stand here.

No matter if they'd been ordered by someone to chase him away.

So long as the masters of House Bagrand were watching, none of the knights could act rashly.

"But where in this game does anything go that easily?"

"If they handed me everything, the difficulty wouldn't be what it is."

Isabella went without saying, and Arina or Claire would immediately side with me if those bastards tried anything underhanded.

But Flora was the sole exception.

That thoughtless little brat was wrapped up in a paranoid delusion that I'd come to steal her family, and with her mental age so low, she was more likely than anyone to become my enemy.

Ironically, it was the same structure from beginning to end.

This was an immutable scene—one that would not change no matter how many times I rewound the branches or picked different choices.

Just as Episode V had opened with Flora, so too would it close with her.

And with that, a certain understanding fell into place.

Episode V itself—both its beginning and its end—was bound to Flora Bagrand.

A fate I was destined to face sooner or later.

A contradictory trial imposed on Karsein, who was required to build Intimacy with every member of the family.

Which meant—the heart of the last remaining one, Flora, had to be turned.

As I cleared through this episode and recalled a certain scene, a hollow laugh escaped me all on its own.

A thoroughly repulsive scene, that much was certain.

"...Still, from where I'm standing, I suppose I can make use of it."

Having finished sorting it out in my head, I needed to get moving.

As if refusing to let me hole up in my quarters a moment longer, the status window was dictating my next steps.

From here on, it was my turn to face those bastards—just as the Karsein of the game once had.

Thud, thud.

So he finally showed up.

Leaning against one wall, waiting on my visitor, I swung the door open without hesitation.

"Pardon the intrusion, my lord. The door ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was—oh."

The timing of my opening the door overlapped with Mark's voice.

He plainly hadn't expected the door to open on the first knock, and blinked at me in surprise.

I suppose it would seem strange—a noble lord's son, awake and alert this early in the morning.

But what can I say?

Between school, part-time jobs, and studying on top of it all, I never exactly developed a habit of sleeping in.

And conveniently, the choice had just popped up, too.

Seemed like as good a time as any to use it.

"Calling me 'my lord' instead of 'trainee Karsein'—I take it you have something rather urgent to discuss?"

"...Yes. That's right."

Mark didn't deny it.

I closed the quarters door and stepped outside, as if to say, go ahead, try me—and he squared his shoulders before speaking.

I had already guessed what was coming.

"Why did you not say anything?"

Ding!

The moment Mark's question landed, the choice appeared.

I answered the choice as though it had been laid before me—correcting the question Mark had left hanging.

"You mean to ask why, even after my mother came to the training grounds, the knights went on harassing me and let it all slide. That's what you want to know, isn't it?"

"...!"

"It's nothing much. If I explained, I'd get thrown out of the training grounds. Or am I wrong?"

"You are wrong. If the Duchess had caught on to what was happening, the ones driven out wouldn't have been you, my lord—it would have been the knights of the 1st Knight Order who tormented you."

I smiled thinly and threw the question back at him.

"It's been barely three days since I said I would follow the rules of the training grounds. And you expect me to break that declaration with my own hands and accept being restored as the young lord of House Bagrand?"

Absurd.

"Keep your half-baked test to yourself. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠You're the one leaving me alone because there's something you want to know."

"...!"

"The fact that I was even accepted here was closer to being handed a chance than anything else. Am I wrong?"

Mark swallowed hard.

His lips twitched, but no tidy answer came out the way it had earlier.

He let out a long breath, then looked me dead in the eye and spoke.

His bearing was utterly different from before.

"I still cannot forgive you, my lord. No—I cannot, full stop. I trust you understand why."

"I do."

"Every last one of us in the Order remembers the day you cut down Radiel. And so—!"

Mark's fist clenched tight.

So tightly that his hand blanched white to the very fingertips.

He pressed on, voice unbroken.

"This time, do not run away. What Radiel tried so desperately to hide from me. What truly happened that day—when the time comes, you will lay it all bare before me, every last detail."

He bared his uncontrollable fury to me without a moment's hesitation.

At this exact moment, the choice was asking whether I would punish Mark.

But if I were ordered to spit out such a thing while looking at that face, I might just curse the game's developers out loud—demanding to know how they could offer a choice like this.

And so—I would never break this promise.

Not even if I weren't truly Karsein Bagrand at all.

"I promise. When the time comes, I'll tell you the truth of that day too."

"..."

Only then did Mark unclench his jaw and, bit by bit, smother the anger down.

As he turned to leave, he drew a heavy breath and handed me a few items—comfortable things to carry along on a sick visit.

"Radiel wishes to see you, now that word has reached him that you came to the training grounds. It would do no harm to pay him a visit once."

With those parting words, Mark brushed past me and strode down the corridor without a backward glance.

I couldn't thank him just then. No—come to think of it, the same went for everything else I might have said.

I had simply chosen the option because I wanted to take on the sub-episode, after all.

Once my talk with Mark was over, I went to fill my canteen as the progression window directed.

I think it was around here.

How I wished I had Karsein's actual memories. The training grounds I had only ever seen as pixel sprites were far too vast to map by wandering them in person.

Still, I seemed to have found my way well enough. Piecing together the backgrounds and landmarks from memory, I could roughly guess where I was.

As I reached the spot where water could be drawn, the voices of knights drifted over from nearby.

"I swear my body's gotten so heavy lately."

"That's what happens when you drink like a fish."

"Oh, come off it. I train properly, don't I, you brat?"

I had to be careful.

Even this simple errand would put me face to face with the knights if I didn't time it right—and if the ones taking orders from Emma started stirring things up on the training grounds, a fight would break out before I knew it.

Then my Recognition would keep sliding.

And in my current situation—running a sub-episode with Mark's protection frozen—that would leave me in a very awkward spot indeed.

I waited, dragging my feet a little, until the knights moved off.

Slipping through the gap, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I quickly filled my canteen, then splashed water around the area here and there.

Damn it. Where is it?

Normally, drinking water in the game brought up a "Drink" button—but this time, a "Use" button had appeared instead.

When Karsein pressed it, he splashed water around this area and obtained an item.

But really... this blasted game.

I keep saying it every time, but—

Now that it's reality instead of pixels, everything's way too spread out!

No help for it.

I'd just have to splash every stone pillar in the vicinity.

And so I bustled about for a good four rounds.

Then, from behind one of the pillars, a hidden key revealed itself.

"...There it is!"

At long last, the item-acquisition message I'd seen so many times in the game had appeared.