The Crumpled Report Card (1)

Several days had slipped by since my trip to Rusmayer.

One wordless outing that stretched into an overnight stay — Claire had stopped me over that, and that was the end of it. With the Eastern Noble Conference looming just ahead, not only Claire but even Arina and Isabella had left my room alone. It was a busy season for everyone. As nobles, and as Bagrands.

For me, though, it was a fire burning under my feet.

In this branching path, the moment Karsein obtained his territory had appeared as nothing more than a simple message. Once you picked a choice, no detailed management instructions ever surfaced. A window of a few buttons, a few calculations crunched out in your head — that was all it took, so there was never anything to touch.

In other words, this was a scene that never existed in the game.

For someone like me, facing territory management not as a game but as reality, this was a period where any number of variables could spring up.

"Whew. To think I have to solve all of this myself."

Even checking the documents one by one, ticking off each item, my head was spinning.

Episode III: Proof as a Lord could only be cleared by satisfying four conditions in total.

First, defeat the knights of Count Modrich and expose their abuses to the villagers. Second, free the territory's people from the threats of the neighboring nobles. Those two were already done.

The rest, however, were the problem.

Isolated Rusmayer had to find new trading partners, and naturally, that meant going over Mount Waglu rather than toward the nearby territories. Which was why a road-building project through the mountain was set to begin.

After all, so long as a road was laid over that mountain, trade with other territories could flow freely.

But unlike back then, when a single tap of a choice button had solved everything, I was now the one who had to carry the project out myself.

And then there was this:

Condition four, which I could have dismissed as practically meaningless, pressed down on me all the harder.

Every conceivable metric had crowded its way onto the status window. And at the very bottom, the overall achievement rate — the figure that would judge whether I satisfied the condition — sat mired in the single digits.

In a word: to satisfy conditions three and four, I had to make this project succeed. This monumental undertaking — breathing life back into Rusmayer — had to be carried out by my own two hands.

By any sane measure, it was impossible. How could Karsein, the boy who never even received proper lessons in a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠noble household, revive a dying territory? He had never been taught, never been allowed to learn. He had swung a sword, yes — but the one and only time he'd ever been entrusted with a territory, it had become the Shame of Shatren, the worst catastrophe in which a single fief was ruined under a noble's watch.

And that Karsein was supposed to revive a territory? Before the Eastern Noble Conference, no less? The man must be out of his mind. I couldn't even fathom how the game had resolved it. I had no inkling of what had happened in that playthrough — and yet apparently he'd pulled it off. Which only made it more absurd.

But then again.

With a full stock of modern knowledge, it was something I could at least struggle through.

"Young Master Karsein."

Camilla arrived right on cue.

"Come in."

"Pardon the intrusion."

She was the person I felt least burdened by in all of Rusmayer's affairs — and the one who knew the territory best. And at present, she was also the maid carrying out the tasks I'd assigned her.

One look at her face and I can tell.

There was no need to ask how it went. My guess, it seemed, had landed square on the mark. Otherwise, Camilla — who had managed Rusmayer for so long — could never have worn that expression.

"Just as you said, Young Master, Mount Waglu is structured around one massive bedrock jutting high into the sky, so the domain of the demonic beasts doesn't extend deep into it."

"I knew it."

"The survey found that the beasts are mostly concentrated along the outskirts — the areas circling around our village. With a fence put up there, the route should be serviceable as a passage."

"If you've surveyed that much, the exploration must have gone ahead — which means you've made the schematics I asked for too, right?"

"Yes. The villagers who carried out the survey put them together quite meticulously."

She handed me three drawings. Each one charted the hardness of Mount Waglu, divided and marked from the front and from the side.

The moment I laid eyes on them, the corners of my mouth curled upward.

"Camilla. The existing road construction is scrapped. Tell the villagers to stop as well."

"Yes— I beg your pardon?"

It wouldn't have been strange for those words to come out of Camilla's mouth — the plan to carve a road through Mount Waglu had been shared with her alone. She echoed the question, worry plain on her face.

"Young Master... forgive my impertinence, but I must ask why. Even if we pushed this project forward now and began trade with the other territories, it would already be too late... and yet you're canceling it because..."

She didn't finish the sentence, but I understood exactly what she wanted to say.

"I understand your worry. Things were already tight as it was, and now I'm scrapping even that — you must think I've lost my mind. But I'm not withdrawing this project on a whim. I have no intention of abandoning Rusmayer. Not in the slightest."

"Then... I dare to overstep and ask — why cancel it?"

"Because I'm short on time."

"Time, you say?"

"The reason I became lord of that territory in the first place was to earn the right to attend the Eastern Noble Conference. Push this project forward, and it'll drag on far too long."

If I canceled this project, Rusmayer Territory was finished. Worse, it might well become a second Shatren — and that infamy would settle squarely on Karsein's name, with the very real possibility of an irreversible catastrophe unfolding. But more urgent than any of that was time itself.

Lose the right to attend that conference, and it's an instant bad ending.

Shatren Territory was nurturing its hostility toward Karsein by the day. I had no way of knowing when, where, or how I might die. In the game, there had even been a bad ending where, if you neglected this thread carelessly, Karsein was killed by one of the villagers.

So I had to cut the timeline down. By any means necessary.

"Well... I hadn't planned on revealing it yet, but I suppose it's fine with just you, Camilla."

"...Yes?"

I drew a long, deliberate line across the schematics. Then, with a flourish, I held out the document lying beside them for her to see.

Camilla stared at the two of them — and in that instant, she sucked in a sharp, involuntary breath.

"Shhh. You understand, right?"

There was nothing more that needed saying.

Good heavens...

Camilla left Karsein's chamber with her head bowed, feeling as though a great hammer had just come down on her skull.

Even the plan itself — carving through Mount Waglu to build a road over to the other territories, in consideration of Rusmayer's plight — was not something one could attempt lightly. It was the kind of choice that only emerged from studying Rusmayer inside and out without missing a single blind spot.

But revoking that plan was an even more unthinkable move. One wrong step, and Rusmayer would become a second Shatren, turning its ruin on Karsein's head — so it seemed, at least.

And yet Karsein had not bent his resolve. He had presented the grounds for it. He had constructed a formula from an angle no one could have imagined. To a problem demanding satisfaction of two conditions and a slashed timeline, he had simply produced the answer.

Walking the corridor in a daze, Camilla turned that conversation over in her mind again and again. Then, all at once, a sound snapped her scattered focus taut.

—Clap!

Tasha clapped her hands right in front of Camilla's absent eyes, jolting her awake.

"Camilla. Your mind is somewhere else entirely."

"...!"

It was her mother — Tasha. But here, she was not a mother. She was the head maid. Tasha raised her voice and rebuked her sternly.

"I don't know what conversation you had with the Young Master, but you are his exclusive maid. What are you to become, letting your attention drift like this?"

She was her own daughter — and precisely because of that, Tasha could not take her into her arms. She had to scold her all the harder.

Camilla finally came to her senses and bowed her head.

"I apologize. I will conduct myself properly."

"Good. Do nothing that would burden the Young Master, Camilla."

"I will keep it in mind, Head Maid."

Thanks to that, Camilla's head cleared at once, and she set off straightaway to carry out Karsein's instructions. Camilla, in one direction; Tasha, in the other — walking toward Karsein's chamber with a heart full of worry.

Knocking on his door, Tasha spoke.

"Young Master Karsein. I know this is a busy time, but you are being summoned."

Not long after I'd sent Camilla off, word of the summons arrived from the head maid, Tasha.

In truth, I'd been waiting for it. I knew roughly when it would come.

An event called Extravagance is Prohibited — which told you at a glance it was about money. It wasn't limited to Rusmayer, necessarily, but ever since Chapter 1 was cleared, Karsein received a considerable sum of money every month. And upon entering Chapter 2, whichever main episode you pursued, that money always came into play — triggering this event.

You could call it the system's way of warning the player that when big money flowed in, a penalty of equal proportion would follow.

What a contradiction. You'd think being a noble would at least let you spend money freely — and they've blocked even that.

Well. No use complaining. I had to go. I couldn't simply ignore the event, and the only way to confirm through its tooltip at what spending threshold the penalty kicked in was to play through it.

I dressed and stepped out, telling the bowing Tasha that I was on my way now.

"Young Master? Where might you be headed?"

"Arina called for me, didn't she?"

"No, Young Master. It isn't Lady Arina — it's the Madam who summoned you."

"...Mother is?"

I tilted my head. In the original flow, the summons came from Arina, not Isabella. If ducal money had been spent, Arina — who handled the finances — was bound to notice, and from a game-design standpoint it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠made perfect sense: the scene where Karsein's extravagance gets called out, with choices popping up right on cue.

But here, a summons from Isabella...

Well, whatever. Worry about it after clearing the event.

"Where am I supposed to go?"

"She asked to meet you at the rear garden. What shall be done about the attending maids and valets?"

"Leave every one of them behind."

One could never be too careful. If word of Karsein's "extravagance" reached the other family members, it would color their impressions negatively, one way or another. It was better to order Tasha — someone friendly to Karsein — to hold that line.

Tasha, following my instructions, dismissed all the maids and servants, and so I made my way to Isabella alone.

And before long, on the path to the rear garden, an object came into view, glowing brilliantly.

"A Memorial... here of all places?"

I had no idea what kind of Memorial it was. But I would need it — one way or another.

The world before my eyes flickered.

My location hadn't changed. The rear garden, where I'd been standing — where a woman was spritzing water over the plants she tended as a hobby.

It was Isabella. A Isabella somewhat younger than the woman of the present.

"Moooom!"

A girl came dashing toward her mother, hair flying behind her.

"Flora. How many times have I told you — run like that and you'll hurt yourself."

"Heehee! No I won't!"

Isabella arched her brow in wordless exasperation — there's simply no managing this child — and stroked her youngest daughter's golden hair. Flora then drew back a step and presented something to her mother.

"Ta-daa! Mom, look at this? I got sooo many right!"

"Fufu. You studied hard, didn't you?"

"Uh-huh! So I brought it to show you!"

Flora still had a gap-toothed lisp, her words not quite forming properly — and yet how adorable, that she'd come all this way just to show it off. Isabella, a smile brimming, pressed a light kiss to her youngest's forehead.

"Will you work just as hard next time?"

"Yeah! Heehee."

In the meantime, two more sisters came walking up. Isabella had grown younger — and so had the two of them.

"My, my. I suppose our youngest likes showing off to Mom even more than to her big sisters?"

"Honestly, Claire. If you wanted to show yours off too, you should have just said so."

"Wh-what?!"

—Rustle!

"Ack! B-Big Sis!"

"Claire also attended Madame Dorothy's lessons so diligently this term, and this is the result."

"I'm proud of you. Madame Dorothy's lessons are quite difficult."

"Oh, come on. This isn't why I brought it..."

Claire crossed her arms with affected indifference and looked away. Watching her, Arina and Isabella traded soft smiles.

"Arina. What about you?"

"...Yes?"

"You studied just as hard. Praise ought to be handed out evenly, after all."

Resigned, Arina held out her report card as well. Being the eldest, her wrong answers were conspicuously few.

"Big Sis barely got anything wrong at all!"

"Wow. And here I thought you'd swiped my report card and swapped it for your own. Honestly, Sis."

"That's not it. From now on, you should be getting everything right, with none missed at all. Your past work was the shortfall."

"Humility is fine and good, Arina, but hard work must be recognized. That is only proper."

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

"Yes. I will improve further, Mother."

At that, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Arina too gave a brief nod of satisfaction.

It was a warm, convivial scene. The whole family gathered, each modestly revealing their report card — as heartwarming as the sunlight pouring down from overhead. That was the kind of gentle, tender warmth that flowed through the rear garden.

But where there is light, a shadow must also exist.

From one shaded corner, a boy who could not join them quietly slipped away from his place.

To a spot where he could not be seen. To a shaded corner that no one knew.

He began, in secret, to dig into the earth.

When the boy finally released the strength clenched in his small hands, the object fell limply to the ground.

What he had been gripping so tightly — it, too, was a single sheet of paper. No different from the ones his sisters held.