Who Are You?

"The spirits I sent out with the skeleton grandpas just reported in! They said the intact animal carcasses were bugging them, so they went and wrung every last neck? ...Yo?"

It was early morning on the day of the event.

Yulia spoke while rubbing her still-sleepy eyes.

She delivered the news as if it were nothing more than a casual aside, but in truth it was an enormous crisis averted.

Reinhardt's lieutenant was a warlock. We came within a hair's breadth of the Imperial Palace basement filling up with monsters.

At this point in history, the Empire still found the very concept of a warlock thoroughly unfamiliar. But anyone who had ever read the original novel's description of the warlock class would know exactly what that gimmick entailed: transforming intact animal carcasses into monsters.

And Reinhardt's lieutenant, Sefirot, happened to be a warlock from the elven kingdom. The mere fact that she had dumped animal carcasses ready for conversion into the palace basement was confirmation enough.

At the very least, today is not going to go smoothly.

My older sister the Empress had told me that as long as nothing special happened, I could forget about the whole secret-escort business and simply enjoy the event. But that "nothing special" was looking awfully likely to explode in spectacular fashion today.

I absolutely could not afford to let my guard down. Since I had no idea what might break out, I needed to keep my senses razor-sharp from the moment we arrived at the palace—

"I'm all dressed, Aslan. It's not as uncomfortable as I thought it'd be. ...Yo."

"...!"

The door swung open, and Yulia appeared, gathering up a skirt long enough to hide her shoes.

Her hair was gathered and left cascading down her back, secured with a bright floral ornament. And to put the finishing touch on it all, she wore thin, sheer gloves through which her skin faintly showed. Even her slightly awkward hand movements—clearly still unused to the texture of the gloves—only completed the picture.

For a moment I felt as if I had been struck square in the chest; my breath caught in my throat.

"Is this the first time you've worn the full set?"

"Mm. Yeah. The maids swarmed all over me for the clothes and the hair and the ornaments—they really worked hard for a long time. I felt a little bad. ...Yo."

"It suits you beautifully. Each piece was pretty on its own, but all together they harmonize perfectly and bring out your looks."

"H-heh. You think sweet talk like that is going to make me happy? ...Yo?"

A little laugh escaped her before she could stop it, and she turned her head to hide the corners of her mouth that kept climbing upward.

When I said she was beautiful, I hadn't meant only the splendid exterior they had dressed her in.

Putting on attire of the highest formality demanded endless care and time—all of it supplied by the labor of servants. Noblewomen who had been waited on since birth never even registered that fact. But Yulia's soft heart had immediately thought of the trouble she had put the maids through, and that was more beautiful than anything else.

She lived in a noble house, enjoyed a noble lifestyle, and occupied a station that was noble in all but name—yet inside, Yulia was still exactly the commoner she had once been. Her heart had not changed in the slightest.

Watching her left me so warm and content that holding back a smile was genuinely difficult.

"That goofy grin of yours. It's kind of creepy. Charlotte and I just assume you're in a good mood, but other people get the wrong idea. ...Yo."

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"I know. That's why I plan to keep the smiling under control when we're outside."

"Don't do that. Can't you just smile a little less suspiciously? ...Yo?"

"Like this?"

"Eek! That's even worse!"

"..."

The instant I tried my hardest to produce a gentle smile, the active skill Evil Laugh lit up and Yulia recoiled in horror.

I was speechless.

Active skill, was it? Then why did it auto-trigger the moment I so much as smiled?

"...I can't seem to control it properly."

"It's weird. Every now and then—very, veeery, extremely rarely—Aslan smiles in a way that isn't creepy."

"When was that?"

"I don't know. I can't remember exactly when, but once you made a smile that wasn't creepy, and the memory of how not-creepy it felt is still stuck in my head. ...Yo."

"..."

So a non-creepy smile from me had somehow left her feeling bad. She really did have a talent for saying hurtful things without a second thought.

Still, the way she put it suggested there had been at least one occasion when I smiled without triggering Evil Laugh. I simply had no idea when that had been, or under what conditions I could smile without the skill firing. Given that it had only happened once by accident, ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the condition was probably something impossible to meet in ordinary life. And since Yulia herself couldn't pin down the memory, figuring it out was going to be no easy feat.

Someday the conditions would line up again by chance. With my head already aching from black-magic research, I decided not to waste effort hunting for a way to smile without looking evil. As long as Charlotte and Yulia understood that my laughter carried no sinister intent, that was enough. Other people's misunderstandings no longer particularly bothered me.

"Stay right there, Charlotte! You still have to finish dressing!!!"

"Aaaah! Nooo! I don't wanna anymore! Spending thirty whole minutes just putting on clothes is insane...!"

At that moment—crash—a tremendous racket and pounding footsteps reverberated through the entire mansion.

Yulia sighed without a word, as if she had fully expected this.

The thudding footsteps grew louder and louder. Then the door was flung open ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and a tearful Charlotte barreled straight into me. A shock like being hit by a truck slammed into my midsection.

"Ghk—!?"

"Mister, help me! The maid ladies are bullying me!!!"

"Bullying, my foot! Get back here! We still haven't gotten your tights on!"

"..."

Charlotte clung to me for dear life, clearly with no intention of letting go. A moment later the maids arrived, panting, each clutching one leg of a pair of tights. They wore the grim expressions of warriors about to face a formidable foe.

I didn't need to ask what had happened. Being dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn, scrubbed in a rush, and then forced to sit still for nearly an hour while being fussed over was pure torture for a girl who wanted nothing more than to run around and play. Judging by the snack bags still in the maids' hands, they had tried every bribe in the book to keep her still—until the breaking point arrived and Charlotte made her escape.

"Misteeer! Help me! I hate tights so much, but the maid ladies keep trying to put them on me!"

"..."

"Mister?"

"..."

Charlotte called for help in a bright, confident voice. But when I stayed silent for a long moment and the maids visibly relaxed, she finally sensed something was off and lifted her head to look at me.

"Ah... Mister? You're not...?"

"Of course you have to finish getting dressed."

"Aaaah! Mister, you traitor!"

"Whew. My lord, if you would."

I clamped my hands around Charlotte's arms and legs and accepted the tights the maids handed over. Charlotte thrashed and climbed all over me in a desperate bid to escape, but I had zero intention of letting go. With her monstrous strength she could have pried my grip open without breaking a sweat—yet she didn't, clearly afraid of hurting my hands. Even as tears welled up and her voice wobbled on the edge of a full-blown sob, the idea of injuring me to get free never even crossed her mind. It was almost endearing.

"Waaah! I hate tights! The way they cover my whole legs feels gross! And when I run they bunch up and crease and I hate that toooo!"

"Won't your bare legs get cold?"

"It's summer—how is it cold...?"

"Just accept it already. You know perfectly well that until these are on, the maids, me, and everyone else are never giving up."

"..."

She still wasn't convinced, but she seemed to resign herself; Charlotte went limp and sprawled out in a perfect starfish. A wise choice. When Yulia sauntered past giggling, Charlotte's face immediately soured.

"For what it's worth, Aslan picked clothes that are easy for you to move in. If you really hate the tights, want to trade with me?"

"I do! I want a dress too! The super-long ones look annoying, but if I hold them up with my hands I bet I could still run fine!"

"Really? Even like this?"

"...!?"

Yulia casually hiked up her skirt, revealing her legs. From her shoes up, smooth calves sheathed in white knee-high socks came into view. Shock and horror flooded Charlotte's face.

"Those are knee-highs! Those feel even worse than tights...!"

"So. Still want to trade?"

"I-I'll take the tights..."

Only then did every last scrap of complaint vanish from Charlotte, leaving her meek as a lamb. Thanks to Yulia's supporting fire, getting her changed became considerably easier.

Just as Yulia had said, a fair amount of thought had gone into Charlotte's outfit. Forcing a full, voluminous dress like Yulia's onto her would only have made Charlotte miserable; she would have hiked the skirt up with both hands and dashed around creating an undignified spectacle. It wouldn't have suited her style in the first place.

So for Charlotte we had chosen a ballet-style dress. The short skirt would let her move freely, and the form-fitting leotard flattered her slim figure. But with a skirt that short, bare legs would have ruined the whole ensemble's cohesion. Tights were the only thing that completed the look.

"Lift your leg for a second, would you?"

"Uuuugh. I really, really, really hate this..."

I took hold of Charlotte's calf and raised it; her leg folded up until it was nearly parallel with her torso. Even so, she showed not the slightest hint of pain or discomfort. All that constant exercise had certainly made her flexible. I wondered if Silvia was this flexible too.

"You'll get used to the tights soon enough."

"Really...?"

"Of course."

I gently gathered Charlotte's wriggling toes, stretched open the mouth of the tights, and guided her adorable little foot inside. After carefully checking the orientation so nothing would twist, I pulled the fabric up in one smooth motion—shhhhk—the pleasant sound of tights sliding along her leg. I kept going until the toe end caught and resistance set in, then worked my way back down, smoothing out every crease and twist with careful fingers. The other leg received the same treatment.

"Now I finally understand why Yulia freaked out the first time they put knee-highs on her..."

I wiped away the single tear that had gathered at the corner of Charlotte's eye, and that was that. The long, chaotic process of dressing Charlotte was finally over.

"Phew. At last. Now we just wait for Yuri to arrive."

"But Dame Silvia still isn't here? ...Yo?"

"Silvia? She'll show up on her own just fi—"

I was about to brush it off when something suddenly clicked. I had been assuming Silvia would simply appear in her usual work uniform. I had completely forgotten that today she was scheduled to arrive as my companion.

Come to think of it, I remembered authorizing the expense when she asked me to cover the cost—but I had never actually checked what she picked out. She wasn't going to show up in something hideously bizarre... was she?

My pupils were already starting to shake with anxiety when—

"My apologies for the delay. The outfit took longer than expected to put on..."

"Wooow! It's the knight lady!? For real?"

"Ooooh..."

"..."

⚡ EVIL GOD NOTICE ⚡

Evil God 'Kali' is utterly flabbergasted.

The door ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠burst open with force. Along the corridor, the line of maids froze with their mouths hanging open. Accompanied by the sharp click of heels, a figure so striking that every gaze was helplessly drawn to her stepped into view.