The First Step, At Last

With this, I can finally take the first step.

It had been the same when I escaped that house—self-reliance always demanded money in the end. There was no getting around the need to put food on the table one way or another, and the funds required to do that were a universal constant, in any world at all.

So the first step out of the Bagrand Ducal House was no different.

Even in a place like this—nothing more than a tsktsk-made game—money was an absolute necessity if Karsein was ever to stand on his own. In truth, back when I actually played the game, the future had never once come into view without first getting my hands on money.

Then how does one acquire money here?

It starts, quite simply, with this territory of Rusmayer.

Raise a certain character's intimacy past a set threshold. Complete a handful of sub-episodes for the territory's residents to stockpile their trust. Only after elevating Perception into a reputation grade and grinding the rank up to a certain point do they genuinely begin to accept you as their lord.

Only once Karsein, as lord, could collect taxes from them would a private treasury come into being. That was the funding method I had discovered.

The commands issued by a lord require a rank of C. They only become possible once you climb from F—the lowest possible—up to at least C, and my current rank had reached B by completing this episode. More than sufficient for putting the plan into action.

First, I handed Barak the money I had squeezed out of Hemnon.

"Spend every last coin of this by the end of today. You're to purchase foodstuffs, daily necessities, and even repair materials for dealing with the demonic beasts—all of it from other territories."

"All of this... in a single day?"

"That's right. Even if it means dragging every resident of the territory along, you buy everything."

"Might I ask... for what reason? This sum, spent carefully, could sustain us for months..."

Barak was no fool.

He had tended this territory for years. A man who couldn't manage such simple arithmetic would never have held the position of village chief in the first place.

No—come ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to think of it, this territory might have survived at all precisely because of this man.

But the situation now was different.

"The moment word of this reaches the other territories, they'll try to isolate Rusmayer all over again."

"...I beg your pardon?"

"The instant they learn money has landed in your hands, they'll scramble to manipulate the market prices. Then this money amounts to nothing more than dust scattered into the wind."

Worse, Rusmayer was the weaker party—forced to purchase its goods from other territories. Forcing a sudden shift in prices would deal damage to every neighboring territory, but since they were nobles, they could simply give the money back to control public sentiment.

Which would leave Rusmayer, once again, holding the empty bag.

"The only way to prevent that is to spend it all in a day. The same goes for after we start collecting tolls. Let go of any notion that you can keep buying at fair prices from the places you've always traded with."

"But that's impossible... We're a territory that can barely sustain itself. We need steady trade to survive..."

"That's exactly why you need to make contact with a new village."

"A new village?"

I pointed with my finger, answering Barak's bewilderment.

"Right there."

"But that's just Wagloo Mountain. There doesn't appear to be anything there..."

"You're not seriously suggesting we make contact with the villages on the other side of that mountain?"

"You knew perfectly well, so why ask."

At that, the residents exchanged troubled looks.

"My lord, circling around that mountain is beyond us. The demonic beast zones are far away, granted, but we cannot possibly cross that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠treacherous terrain to fetch supplies."

"Even if it means swallowing our pride, wouldn't the tolls serve us better?"

"If all else fails, we could always raise our own tolls."

On the surface, none of that was wrong.

But respond that way, and the other side would have nothing to lose—in fact, they'd be delighted. The nobles only needed a passage secured; the more isolated Rusmayer became, the harder our own lives would grow.

Pushed far enough, they might go as far as severing trade with Rusmayer altogether.

So there was only one answer.

"You were once the Village of Sculptors, weren't you?"

"How did you know that, my lord...?"

I tipped my chin toward Camilla.

"I see. Camilla told you... but what difference does it make? We can no longer carve."

Gloomy expressions settled over the residents. Even in the midst of it, Barak pressed on with visible effort.

"We can barely keep ourselves fed as it is. From simple trinkets to the interior ornamentation of buildings, regardless of size or shape—the buyers of such work are almost exclusively nobles. And those sculpting brands are now entirely monopolized and run by the nobility themselves. On top of that..."

Barak let out a long sigh midway and continued.

"Sculpture is an art form, and art follows trends. The work can vanish overnight. For Rusmayer, where the livelihood disappeared in the blink of an eye, there was no choice but to set it aside."

"Hmm. And what if even that was something the nobles intended?"

"...Pardon?"

"The word has spread that Rusmayer's history and tradition run so deep they look down upon noble art itself. How do you imagine those arrogant lords felt, watching craftsmen of that caliber selling their carvings for mere pocket change?"

Naturally, every one of those arrogant bastards would have seethed.

Just knowing that things far beneath them were handling the same quality of work would be enough to make their blood boil.

"That's why the nobles tried to wipe you from this land completely. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠This territory's history, its traditions—they wanted to bury the very fact that sculpture ever existed here."

"That can't be..."

"And it wouldn't stop there. Even I knew of Rusmayer's sculptors—so it's entirely possible they did it to conceal how far they'd fallen behind."

"..."

Beneath a heavy silence, anger took hold of the residents.

Not simply because their livelihood had been taken—but because a craft that carried generations of tradition had been buried for so petty a reason.

To those people of Rusmayer, I offered a single new possibility.

"That mountain is a solid mass of bedrock. So then—────."

The residents were stunned speechless.

Some must have felt they were hearing something utterly absurd. Some might have clicked their tongues, asking if that could even work. Some may have outright risen in protest, declaring that I was just as mad as everyone said.

But not a single one of them opened their mouth against me.

After a rapid round of deliberation, the only words that left their lips were:

"...It sounds entirely feasible."

They answered that it could be done.

That night, instead of returning to the ducal estate, I stayed in Rusmayer.

Clearing out the demonic beasts and applying pressure to the nobles would complete the "Refuse to Yield" episode. But I still had to weigh two things carefully: the game's viewpoint was fixed solely on Karsein, and by pulling this episode forward, other variables might have shifted.

I wanted to watch a little longer—which is why I chose to return in the morning rather than at night.

My observations turned up no real problems.

Thanks to the B-rank reputation, no one complained about my orders, and I saw with my own eyes Barak persuading the residents to procure as many goods as possible from other territories. As for the tolls, the nobles wore sour expressions, but once it became known that this was Karsein's territory, they couldn't act carelessly. The demonic beasts launched one raid, and it was soundly repelled—this time, the spoils were stacked up neatly as well.

The security situation was the one thing that left me uneasy, but if it truly came to that, sending a few ducal knights over would settle it.

Either way, it ended on a satisfying note.

It resolved far better than the original route, and this episode could never be settled in a short span regardless.

With the time coming to head back to the ducal estate, I was able to return with an untroubled mind.

Except for one question I couldn't shake.

The Snowflower Festival.

I still had the ring I'd obtained that day. The Wederos Kingdom ring—the token I wore to prove beyond doubt that Harnie and I were lovers.

I had assumed no one would care.

I'd thought this territory would take no interest whatsoever in such things.

Yet contrary to my expectations, there had been an old man who spoke as though he recognized the ring.

It was as I was tidying up the room, preparing to set off.

An old man had come to see me.

I told him he could look all he wanted.

And the old man was astonished.

The old man was stunned a second time.

Before I could even ask what he meant, he begged for a moment's patience and hurried off somewhere in a fluster—returning with Delphina in tow.

The old man handed Delphina ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a scroll inscribed with the appraisal spell, and she cast it exactly as instructed.

Once the appraisal circle took form, the ring began to shine brilliantly.

Before long, a sigil was inscribed in the empty air.

The old man stared blankly at the pattern and murmured.

After that, he could only repeat how such a thing could possibly be, how utterly impossible it all was. I could ask no more. The old man, mumbling as though his soul had left his body, soon trembled all over and fainted where he stood.

I was told it was simply from the shock... but it weighs on me.

Given that the word genuine was used, are there counterfeits among these Wederos Kingdom rings I won as a prize?

And what on earth was that about an adverse reaction?

I still don't understand.

◆ Wederos Kingdom Ring

To my eyes, it appears as nothing more than a single item, displaying no description whatsoever—

-Ding!

By then, the carriage had arrived at the ducal residence.

The moment I stepped down from the carriage, the status window popped up, and the familiar event-trigger text scrolled into view.

This event was always going to happen anyway. Every time Chapter 2's episodes were cleared one by one, late returns or overnight absences were inevitable—I'd simply have to bear it.

The real question was who would come out to greet me.

"So you come home only after morning's fully arrived? Hey, just where in the world have you been? And if you're going to spend the night out, the least you could do is say so! What is this, making the whole family worry sick?"

There stood my second sister, arms crossed, eyes glinting with displeasure.

Of all nights for an overnight absence, it had to be Claire.

What rotten luck.

In overnight-absence cases, Claire was the one who devoured the most intimacy while forcing the most troublesome choices upon me.

The small consolation was that her intimacy was high. Let her shave a little off—so what.

"What I do and where I do it is none of your business."

"Excuse me? What did you just say?"

"That's my line. You never spared a scrap of concern back then—why are you so insufferably nosy all of a sudden?"

The harsher the choice, the more intimacy it burns. But since Karsein's initiative, stamina, and time are drained less, this option was the better play.

Well... this isn't a game anymore, so I'd better brace myself for a beating from Claire too.

Just as I'd predicted, my second sister's face twisted savagely as she marched toward me.

"Karsein. Watch your mouth. Worrying about family is now 'meddling' to you?"

"It's the truth, isn't it? Nothing but pointless meddling. Or—oh, is it that thing you actually want to lecture me about?"

"That—! You disappear for a whole day without a word, and this is the attitude you come back with?!"

-Ding!

"You truly don't see us as family. Not even a fingernail's worth."

"Think whatever you like."

With that, I brushed right past Claire.

That status window that had just popped up—well, it was surely just Claire's intimacy dropping. Nothing worth checking.

Since the ugly affair at the ducal estate had been entirely Flora's doing, Claire too had felt far from easy about having berated Karsein so harshly.

Disciplining Flora was only proper, of course.

But the feeling lodged in a corner of Claire's heart refused to dissolve easily. When Flora asked what they should do, she hadn't been able to offer an answer either.

It was in the midst of all this that word came: Karsein had gone out.

What terrible timing.

She'd meant to meet him and talk things through a little more—and of course he'd gone and left the estate.

Still, he'd return soon enough.

He would come back to the ducal residence in time, and she would talk to him then.

Yes. At dinnertime.

That would be best. He'd surely be hungry when he returned, so she'd have food ordered and prepared in advance. And with the Eastern Noble Conference right around the corner, she had things to say about Shatren Territory as well.

And that money of his draining away to Shatren every month... no, I'll tell him to stop repaying it.

Claire had been sending her own personal funds to the parties responsible for the incident known as the Shame of Shatren, quietly smoothing things over.

Any time the territory so much as came up, Karsein was all but guaranteed to be slandered—so this time, she planned to tell him outright to stay glued to her side throughout the Eastern Noble Conference.

And if Flora said she was truly sorry, Claire would accept that too, fully. Karsein had changed so much, after all.

With a heart somewhat heavy, yet also resolved to brush it all away a little more cleanly—

Claire waited for Karsein.

But the hours passed, and he did not come home.

For some reason, he hadn't arrived even by the dead of night. The servants reported hearing nothing, and the butler merely shook his head.

The only one who held even the faintest clue was Tasha, the head maid. Even she was away on an important matter with Camilla, Karsein's personal maid, and could offer only word that the overnight absence had been confirmed.

Who knows how many times Claire pressed her—are you certain? Only after hearing Tasha reassure her again and again did Claire finally retire for the night, and even then she slept fitfully.

Morning arrived.

With the clop-clop of hooves, Karsein descended from the carriage.

Claire spoke, as though she'd been waiting for exactly this.

"So you come home only after morning's fully arrived? Hey, just where in the world have you been? And if you're going to spend the night out, the least you could do is say so! What is this, making the whole family worry sick?"

She'd decided to start with the scolding. He hadn't revealed his destination, hadn't told anyone in the household—he'd worried them half to death, after all.

But the scolding would end there.

She didn't know what he'd been off doing, but scolding alone wasn't what she'd intended.

And then—

"What I do and where I do it is none of your business."

At that single line, all the warmth in the air turned to a chill so cold it seared—

And instantly, heat burst into bloom inside her chest.

"Excuse me? What did you just say?"

"That's my line. You never spared a scrap of concern back then—why are you so insufferably nosy all of a sudden?"

Insufferably nosy?

The moment those words landed, a strange fury flared up in her toward Karsein.

"Karsein. Watch your mouth. Worrying about family is now 'meddling' to you?"

"It's the truth, isn't it? Nothing but pointless meddling. Or—oh, is it that thing you actually want to lecture me about?"

Once her anger began to run, there was no reining it back in.

Just like always. He was getting on her nerves again.

"That—! You disappear for a whole day without a word, and this is the attitude you come back with?!"

He'd caused the problem in the first place.

He'd worried them all to the bone.

And now he dismissed a family's worry as worthless meddling—it made her sick, made her blood boil.

So she raised her voice yet again.

"You truly don't see us as family. Not even a fingernail's worth."

The moment those words left her mouth, sharp and seething, Claire felt the air itself freeze solid in an instant.

A mistake.

Words that must never have been spoken carelessly.

Take it back—take it back right now...!

"Think whatever you like."

When Karsein answered as though it meant nothing at all—

-Snap.

In that instant, Claire felt something sever inside her mind.

The fire in her gut died out.

It was as though a bone-deep cold had swept in and swallowed her whole.

At that single utterance—think whatever you like—delivered without a flicker of expression.

Claire could only stand there, dazed, watching Karsein brush past her.

She didn't reach out to stop him.

No. She couldn't.

Not the slightest urge to snap back at him or strike him, as she always had, stirred in her at all.

This creeping, uneasy, strangely formless feeling that had come upon her without warning made her chest feel as though it were being crushed.

What... what is this feeling, exactly...?

-Ding!