Chapter 68
Chapter 68
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter Title: 068. Isolde - (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Isolde's talent as a mage had been revealed around the age of fifteen.
That winter was brutal.
Brutal enough that her father risked entering the lord's forest without permission to hunt and feed the family.
"Poacher scum, daring to defile the lord's woods."
Caught red-handed, Isolde's father was dragged off to a forced labor camp. Two weeks later, his frozen corpse was returned. Cause of death: hypothermia.
A few mountain rabbits. That was the price of her father's life.
With the breadwinner gone, Isolde's family had no future.
Paht.
Until a flame bloomed at the tips of Isolde's fingers amid the bone-chilling cold.
"A mage has appeared! In our territory at last!"
The world changed in an instant. The knights who had hauled her father away now came to stroke her head and press sponsorship funds into her hands. The lord himself visited, threw a festival upon witnessing her magic.
That winter, they never went hungry.
They even ate their fill of the meat that had cost her father's life.
"Isolde, you're our hope."
Hope.
Her mother spoke those words.
Her siblings laughed with full bellies. Isolde realized.
'I have to... be useful.'
At the very least.
For Isolde, magic was no object of study or exploration.
It was a means of survival.
Isolde had come to Erebos Royal Academy because her talent had proven exceptional.
"Miss Isolde, you know this assignment is worth a lot of points, right?"
"Yes. I do. I was planning to start preparing today anyway."
"Good. I'll be expecting great things."
At Erebos, Isolde had to claim the top spot.
Tuition was exorbitantly expensive. Full scholarships weren't enough. Only dominating as departmental valedictorian and posting overwhelming results allowed her to save money.
Even a mage's talent didn't last forever. Especially for someone like Isolde, whose gift wasn't hereditary—it could vanish in an instant, ending her career.
If Isolde lost her magic, her sponsorships, or even a single semester's scholarship... they might return to that hellish winter.
That would mean ruin.
Isolde didn't rely on talent alone.
"Charlotte, here's that reagent you asked for yesterday."
"Ah! Thank you! I don't know what I'd do without you, senpai..."
"Don't mention it. I hope it yields good results."
"Oh! Senpai, next week the first-years are holding a study group... Could you join as an advisor...?"
"Of course I'll come. Tell me the time and place."
"Yes!"
Being friendly with undergraduates across the board was all part of it.
A survival strategy. Goodwill became a shield; debts, insurance for the future.
"As expected of Lady Isolde. She can do anything."
"A commoner, yet more refined than any noble."
"She's even embracing those Ivory Tower weirdos."
She'd managed admirably so far.
Isolde had risen early to deliver reagents to her junior Charlotte, reviewed magic stone research data before lunch and handed it to a classmate.
Finally, she submitted her personal assignment to Everett.
"Isolde, you look a bit tired. Are you alright?"
Her advisor, Professor Everett Ruttinger, had sharp eyes.
He'd noticed she'd been brewing reagents late into the night.
"It's good to work hard, but take care of your health too. You don't need to push this much to stay valedictorian."
"I know."
She knew.
With the Ivory Tower fallen, she wouldn't lose her top spot.
Yet in one corner of her heart, disgust welled up at her own relief.
Happy that the Ivory Tower collapsed?
What kind of demonic thought was that?
"Isolde."
As Isolde merely smiled, Everett frowned.
"Go rest today."
"No... I have other plans later."
"..."
Everett sighed.
He knew persuasion wouldn't work on this cunning—almost sly—girl.
"Fine. Work hard, then."
"Yes."
Professor Everett Ruttinger forced a smile. Isolde returned a forced smile of her own.
Back in her dorm, Isolde chewed a cold sandwich. It tasted of nothing. But it was fine. Fuel the machine, and it runs.
Forcing down the sandwich, she picked up documents for the next class.
Then, on impulse, Isolde looked up at the full-length mirror.
She removed her glasses, facing her bare reflection.
"..."
A woman with hollow gray eyes stood expressionless.
Did others know why she wore glasses—not just for poor vision, but to hide those lifeless eyes?
"...Who knows."
Maybe that priest would.
Isolde smirked, gathered her documents.
The maids of Ophelia Hall were said to specialize in covert operations. In the game, their class was thief, not maid.
Now inside the game, I understood why.
Six hours on a rooftop overlooking the magic department dorms, shrouded in camouflage cloth, surveilling and eavesdropping with Helena. Her tenacity was impressive.
'...Definitely a stalker.'
Helena insisted she wasn't—claimed Elise was the stalker, fuming indignantly.
Who could believe her after seeing this?
Anyway.
"...I think that's enough."
Helena set down the enchanted telescope and listening device.
Beyond the dorm window, Isolde was heading to the Gray Tower, arms full of documents.
"...What to say. Yes. Not easy."
Helena voiced her modest impression.
It was true.
From waking early till now, Isolde hadn't had a single moment of leisure.
In six hours of watching, her hands never stopped working.
She'd even brewed reagents until dawn yesterday.
Four hours of sleep. Nearly twenty hours of relentless march. Could a girl barely past twenty pull this off?
'She's no Napoleon.'
Of course not.
"...I see why the young lady wants to collaborate with her."
Helena nodded.
"This Isolde woman is quite precarious. More than the previous young lady, perhaps. In terms of self-abuse."
"Yes."
Isolde was grinding down body and soul for academy life. Even a superhuman couldn't sustain a year and a half of this.
As someone who'd seen game-Isolde, this was shocking.
Why hadn't the game shown this side?
'Because it's a game.'
Data blobs only showed surfaces; her hidden struggles went unlit.
Shedding her self to fit others' molds.
Elise called it: Isolde was empty.
"...Empty..."
Which meant hollow. Vacant.
"Hm?"
A thought flashed.
[Kiiing...]
"Stay still, furball. I might boil you."
[Nng...]
"Ugh, seriously. Why are you clinging to me, spirit?"
A gray-furred spirit squirming against Helena's flat, hard chest.
Void.
Its name meaning "emptiness" surely wasn't unrelated to Isolde now.
I wasn't alone at the spirit contract site—Isolde was there too. Her spirit affinity wasn't bad. She had a spirit magic skill tree in the game.
So, hypothesis:
Spirits appear to humans matching their nature best.
Which meant...
"Void, were you actually here for Isolde?"
[Woof!]
Void hadn't reacted to my affinity.
Isolde's nature drew it.
And if she truly was precarious...
'Won't she turn this thing into a boss?'
Absorbing Isolde's negativity, Void could become the ferocious spirit from canon.
High chance.
I had to prevent that.
"Miss Helena."
"Yes."
"Let's prepare an operation."
Fortunately, two months until Act 4.
But Helena frowned.
"We have no pretext. Her state is precarious, true. But if she doesn't reach out first, it'd be meddling."
Fair point.
Elise, Sophia, Otilie—all came to me first.
Isolde's personality wouldn't show weakness.
So...
"Miss Helena, you know this?"
"What?"
"I'm a meddler by nature."
"..."
Helena stared, then smirked.
"Yes. You do seem the type."
"Right?"
"So, what's the plan?"
"First, plant a cheerleader by Isolde's side."
"Cheerleader?"
"Yes. Someone desperate for Isolde's attention and care... but who actually finds Isolde annoying."
"Someone rejecting the magic department valedictorian's favor? Such a freak exists?"
"Oh, they do."
Time for freak Otilie Kete von Ihen Dorp to step up.