The Induction Period (3)

“Hah, hah...!”

Another day of training, beginning with the same relentless certainty as every other.

I had entered Day Four, but with a body this weak, it was still beyond me. As always, I found myself trailing at the very back of the pack.

And yet.

“Hey, Bruce. You'd better watch out—he's catching up to you.”

“The hell...! When did HE get all the way back here?!”

“Haha! I'll pass you before the sun's up.”

“That's a load of crap. I was just pacing myself!”

The steadily climbing stats had brought me close enough to tail the very heels of the slowest apprentice knight—a position I'd never so much as brushed against before.

Though, of course, that only lasted a moment.

My breath still caught in ragged gasps. The ragged panting refused to adapt, and their training intensity kept bearing down on me like a weight I couldn't shake. But the strange sensation of growing healthier with every lap told me this state needed to be sustained. Those stats would find their use soon enough, too.

Still, it's far too early. I've found the key, but I can't turn it yet...

I'd run the full length of the Training Grounds and watched closely—back in the game, even if you obtained the key at this point in the timeline, it simply couldn't be used. I'd never bothered to wonder why before, but after days of carefully training alongside these men, I thought I was beginning to understand.

I must not use it.

For now, waiting a little longer—waiting calmly—was a judgment that was right a hundred times over.

“...Tch!”

A knight pulled ahead. No—not one knight. An entire pack of them.

That clicking of the tongue was unmistakably aimed at me. A few of those clustered bodies had deliberately jostled me in passing, pretending it was nothing more than an accident.

-Ding!

Ah. No good.

The instant I collided with them, a choice window sprang up. The contents were predictable. Options ranging from why are you shoving through like that to an apology that wouldn't be worth a grain of salt.

The wise move was simply not to react at all—even if I could see this.

I'd have to be out of my mind to say something like that.

On the third day, Isabella had come. On the fourth, Arina. Thanks to that, an extra set of watching eyes had been added to the grounds, and the knights' behavior couldn't afford to grow any bolder than it already was.

And so, the group morning run ended.

By the time the choice window had faded, Arina was walking toward me.

Feigning blindness to her approach, I slipped away toward the Outdoor Water Station. The faster my steps became, the faster the footsteps chasing me grew in turn. The choice windows kept popping up, as if to say turn around and face her already—but I ignored every single one and kept walking.

Finally, Arina planted her hand squarely on my shoulder and asked, blunt as a blade.

“The training seems far too intense. Why on earth are you pushing yourself so hard? It's senseless.”

-Ding!

At that, the old window vanished and a new set of choices appeared.

When I turned my head away, Arina's expression made it plain she found my conduct utterly distasteful.

Well, the feeling was mutual. These options were every bit as distasteful as she thought I was.

Option one made no sense at all—why on earth would I be considerate of Arina? Option two was at least an attempt at an insolent shrug, maybe to sour her mood, but that alone seemed unlikely to repay the suspicion she'd once shown me. It still boiled down to being a nuisance. Which left option three...

I don't feel like just talking. Maybe I'll give this woman what she's actually asking for.

After all, this development only existed because I'd raised the Intimacy stat—meaning there was no Dead Flag waiting here.

I turned around and snapped to attention.

“Were you here to issue an order, my lady?”

“What?”

“You must have sought me out because you had instructions to give.”

“An order? You...?”

Arina's eyebrows rose. She knew perfectly well.

She knew exactly what standing I was speaking to her from.

“I am currently a trainee of the 1st Knight Order, undergoing my Induction Period.”

Then, shifting from attention into a formal salute.

Blatantly, unapologetically so.

Arina seized both my shoulders at once and wrecked the pose entirely.

“Trainee? You're my brother.”

“One must follow the Training Grounds' rules while on them, my lady.”

“Karsein.”

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

She was clearly not pleased in the slightest; strength gathered in Arina's grip.

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

“Don't carry the joke too far. It's not that I object to you going through the trainee process here—but don't wield the knights' etiquette as a weapon like this.”

Arina hammered the point home: she had come not to see trainee Karsein, but Karsein Bagrand.

I had wanted to draw that line, but apparently it couldn't be drawn just yet.

That'll have to do, then.

If this kept escalating into a genuine confrontation, there was a real risk—just as in the game when Intimacy was low—that she might simply order the knights to drag me off to the ducal residence. A few more words, and my Intimacy with her could actually drop.

“So. Why did you come?”

I splashed water over my sweat-soaked face at the water station and answered with practiced indifference. I already knew the reason and had no need to ask—but among the options that had flickered up, this was the only one that looked even remotely acceptable.

“...To see how the training was going. That's all I came to check on.”

“Not to spy on me in case I cause a scene?”

Arina's brow creased at once. Because of that incident, of course.

“It's nothing like that. The knights have some rather ugly customs here. I came to keep watch over them.”

“Ah. Is that so.”

“Here.”

Having washed the sweat away, I shut the tap—and Arina held something out to me. A towel.

“I have my own.”

“The knights' towels are coarse. They'd do a fine job of ruining your skin. So use this.”

-Ding!

Before the option—[ (Accepting the towel) I'll make good use of it. ]—had even finished rendering before my eyes, I ignored it and brushed straight past Arina. I fished a towel out of my pouch of my own accord and wiped my face with it, and at the sight of me, Arina let out a quiet sigh.

“I said this before—the training is far too excessive. I'll speak to Mark. Tell him to ease up.”

“Don't bother.”

-Ding!

The answer left my mouth before the chime had even sounded.

“If you're thinking of me at all, don't come again. Including this sort of thing.”

“...”

Arina had been carrying something with her from the moment she'd appeared at the Training Grounds. That towel included, it would all be things meant to help me get through the life of a trainee.

But I wanted no further help. Not from any direction.

“A knight showered with personal favoritism by the firstborn daughter of House Bagrand. No one would recognize a thing I earned. I've said enough—I assume you understand.”

With that, I severed the conversation, impressing upon her once more that I was not, at present, the Prince of House Bagrand, but a trainee bound by the rules of the Training Grounds.

Unable to bear it, Arina's brow creased again, just as before.

And what followed was exactly as I'd predicted.

“Karsein. It seems you can't even remember why I lost my temper with you.”

The bait I'd thrown—and she took it, beautifully.

The second round of choices.

[ 3. Don't bother. ] had been, in my honest opinion, a genuinely satisfying option.

“I told you clearly back then, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠didn't I? That I hated seeing my sincerity trampled like this. Yes, suspecting you was my fault—but this is a separate matter.”

The light in her eyes had changed somewhere along the way.

And against this Arina, I had no choice but to deploy the third round of choices.

Day Four. A set of bonus options, born of meeting Arina after having raised her Intimacy.

And here, I chose—

“Ha. Here we go again.”

“What?”

“From where I'm standing, you're the one making my life harder. Did you already forget?”

The worst possible option. Deliberately.

Arina had poured a great deal of care into Karsein when she designed this plan.

After her eyes had all but rolled back at the sight of that torn certificate, she had opened the relationship with accusation—baseless, immediate suspicion—and her conscience had never once sat easy since. So she had resolved to do better.

She'd dredged up the fragile memory that he had once loved going to the Training Grounds, and planned to lift his mood by supplying whatever the training would demand of him.

“Ha. Here we go again.”

But hearing that—

“From where I'm standing, you're the one making my life harder. Did you already forget?”

Hearing that her attempt to help had only made things worse—that the words rang directly in her ears—

anger was the only thing that could rise.

“You really are...!”

Arina cut herself off there.

“Fine. That was foolish of me. There was no need to extend consideration to a fool who insists on making himself miserable through brutal training.”

-Flutter.

The towel slipped from Arina's hand and dropped to the ground, flung away like something worthless.

“I've endured the knights' training myself, so I know full well how punishing it is. Which means I'm rather curious to see how long you last. Go on, then. Go get properly humbled.”

She who had come mere moments ago to look after her brother now spat cruelty at him in return, and spun on her heel. Her fiery red ponytail—so unlike her—whipped violently with every uncharacteristically furious stride.

Left standing alone, Karsein turned his gaze from Arina's retreating back to his Status Window—

“Well, well. Would you look at that? So this fellow gets all this special treatment from the first young lady, does he?”

But only for a moment. An uninvited guest had arrived.

There he is.

Karsein swiftly took stock of the man standing before him.

Orange bangs jutting out like spikes. Freckles packed densely across both cheeks. A swaggering gait and conduct that radiated pure street thug.

Pick out the major features I'd seen in the game, and there was no mistaking who this was.

Bruce, was it.

The laziest, idlest of all the apprentice knights—a piece of trash who had simply paid his way into the Bagrand knight order.

That was the Bruce of the game.

“What're you scowling at? Hey. You know how many years apart we are in seniority?”

The words out of his mouth were every bit as cheap as his swagger.

Men like this existed everywhere. Why—just look at any group, any crowd, and you saw them often enough, didn't you?

If Arina had still been here, he'd have slunk off without a peep.

Which was precisely why I'd been forced to pick a terrible option and send her on her way. Not that I minded. I knew full well how this breed operated—all bluster and then, seeking out only the ones weaker than themselves to torment.

Unintimidated by the empty seniority flexing, Karsein answered with his chin level.

“What's your business.”

“What's my business? You little shit. You don't honor your seniors now?”

Bruce's hand shoved hard against Karsein's shoulder.

“You're the only one getting all these perks, aren't you? The Induction Period is supposed to test everyone fairly—but what do you call it when you're borrowing outside muscle like this? This is fraudulent induction. Prohibited conduct, by order of the knight order. Hmm?”

Once became twice, and by the third shove Bruce was laying out his case, shoulder-checking Karsein with each accusation.

“The others would be going out of their minds with how unfair it is, right? Some people breeze through induction with someone backing them from behind the scenes, and some people clawed their way in through a brutal competition at the trials. You damn well know it's a crooked setup, don't you?”

Then Bruce plucked the fallen towel off the ground, shook it out with a snap-snap, and folded it neatly.

“So this is confiscated, hmm? I'll turn a blind eye to your cheating.”

Going by his words alone, you'd think he was policing misconduct—but his behavior was laughably transparent.

He just wanted the expensive-looking things, plain and simple.

And it stirred up old memories.

Back in school, the eldest daughter of the household had shown up one day, out of character, and handed me her stationery.

Hah. Perfect timing, really. A thug whose eyes light up at other people's money, and a situation that mirrors the old one almost exactly?

Once again, the blood ran cold.

faced with a situation that matched that unpleasant memory with an almost eerie precision, Karsein couldn't help it—he laughed.

“Khek. Khekek.”

Laughter burst out of him without warning.

And it grew, little by little, louder and louder.

Loud enough to reach the ears of Bruce, who was already gloating over his haul of fine, high-grade towels—while in that same interval, Karsein changed his plan.

Right. I might as well teach him a proper lesson while I'm at it.

The greed-drunk street thug.

Or the family member whose greed had stirred the pot and invited this mess in the first place.

Either way, the answer was the same: both of them could go to hell.