The Story You Don't Know
Huh…?
Why am I showing up in the ending…?
“I’m just an extra—”
“Your role is finished now. Farewell, then, Laward.”
As Daywin murmured those quiet words, Ester snapped her fingers.
With that single, tiny motion, I was burned to ash.
“A pity you won’t get to see the new world. If you could, I’m certain you would have followed Him as well.”
The world was destroyed.
No.
It had already been over the moment the man who inherited the steel of Hasgard saved Ester.
Ending 29 had none of the usual infuriating narration, nor any service CG painstakingly drawn by the illustrator. There was only a city turned into a sea of fire, Ester’s ice-cold face, and Daywin looking down on Laward with contempt.
My lips wouldn’t move. I simply stared at the message window with empty eyes.
Seeing my own name floating there felt unbearably strange—like watching some grotesque ending credit where a supporting cast member’s name had been shoved in among the leads.
—Was the Death God Cult truly after the second son of Hasgard?
Words that had slipped past me not long ago rose one by one.
—Their goal might not have been “killing one,” but “keeping only one alive.”
—For something called the Five Lamps, I only ever saw four.
—You never met them. Thanks to you bolting straight into the hidden ending route. You never even ran into the villains I created.
Of course. This damned world always saved the most important information for last.
Only after living through the destruction. Only after regressing once.
One fact I now knew with absolute certainty.
Ending Preview Complete.
Returning to the selection screen.
Would you like to review the ending again?
“I’m… just an extra…”
No.
026
if.
I had sometimes wondered what I would have become if the place I reached while fleeing the assassins hadn’t been the monastery. If I had never met the Bishop.
Thinking about it again now, they weren’t even “assassins” to begin with.
The ones chasing me had been agents of the Death God Cult, not killers hired by a rival house, and they had never intended to kill me.
Anyway.
I had no learned knowledge and had done nothing but loaf around at home. Watching my family die one after another until I was the last survivor filled me with despair and shame.
Because I was the only one left, the Hasgard heirloom did fall into my hands—but I never even thought of using it for revenge.
If, at that moment, I had heard that the Necromancer could bring the dead back to life… what choice would I have made?
Twisted hope aside, I probably would have realized sooner that this was a game. And I would have naturally sensed that the world was doomed to end in a few years.
A world that would fall to the mastermind either way.
In that case, I would have—
“Joined the winning side.”
Thirty-one possible routes.
The protagonist won in exactly one of them.
There was no need to deliberate which side to bet on. Especially if the mastermind wanted me.
…Right.
What about now?
Do they still want me now?
Not the destruction of House Hasgard, but keeping only Daywin Hasgard alive.
Amelia’s guess had been correct. A clean, perfect answer with no room for debate and no partial credit.
Their goal might not have changed at all. Because they still hadn’t achieved it—recruiting Daywin Hasgard, the antagonist who would use the heroines to obstruct the protagonist.
“Hmm…”
But wasn’t that still true now?
I was currently approaching the heroines and doing everything I could to hinder the protagonist myself.
Whether it was his victory or his romance, interference was interference. As long as I reached the hidden ending by any path, that was enough. Once I crossed that finish line, I would leave the rest to the main cast and go home.
Then I wouldn’t need to fight anymore, and I wouldn’t need to preserve my purity to hold holy power either.
When that time came… yes. Only when that time came could I finally cast purity aside.
As long as I didn’t slip up and trigger something like Ending 29, there was no chance of failure.
While I was at it, I should note that Ending 29 had two conditions.
1. All heroines except Ester reach Favorability (99) with Laward.
2. Daywin Hasgard and Ester meet at least (1) time before graduation.
Just two.
And the second condition was already fulfilled. Meeting Ester while Laward was still an Academy student.
One trigger remained.
If I mismanaged favorability from this point on, Ending 29 would activate. Total incineration.
Every heroine needed to be driven away from Laward as soon as possible. Leave things half-done and a landmine ending was waiting.
Ester’s soulless expression and eyes still clung to my mind and refused to leave.
Raise her well and she becomes a saintess. Raise her wrong and she becomes a witch… was that it?
“Good thing I’m raising her properly…”
Still, now that I knew this ending existed, my to-do list had grown a bit longer.
Maybe I should head back for now.
“Lucia!”
The instant I called, footsteps echoed from far away. A brief tap-tap of sound, and then—
Whoosh!
She reached me at tremendous speed, just like when she had caught the butterfly earlier. Lucia’s physical prowess in this condition was almost a waste not to use. She was in such peak form I almost wished someone would pick a fight with her.
“You called?”
“Lucia. About earlier—when I asked you to pick out Houndry’s elites. Have you given it any thought?”
“That was something I was supposed to do right away?”
“Yeah. We need to hurry it up a little.”
“Everyone here?”
Forty Houndry members Lucia had gathered. I walked down the line, studying each face one by one. They stood at rigid attention, bodies tensed. Only their eyes moved, tracking me as I passed.
“I intend to entrust you with a very important task.”
Tap.
I stopped near the middle of the formation.
“It’s a mission that will take a long time. You’d do well to say your goodbyes to your families beforehand.”
At that, their expressions began to shift. Not good news, as expected.
“Whether you join the mission or not is your choice. You’ll have to leave your families, and frankly, it isn’t safe work. You’ll be risking your lives. But I promise the compensation will not leave you wanting.”
I turned my head and met Lucia’s eyes.
“Lucia.”
Thud—!
She set a strongbox on the floor. The impact popped the lid open on its own, and the Houndry men’s eyes bulged as if they might fall out of their sockets.
“Money collected by successive Karmas. In other words, my money.”
When I spoke again, those who had been gawking at the chest snapped their necks straight once more.
“But as you can see, there’s far too much for me to spend alone. Well? Here’s your chance to take a share.”
Gulp.
In the brief silence, the sound of someone swallowing was loud.
“I’ll say it again—the decision is free. If you feel even a little hesitation, leave. I need people who can focus solely on my orders. People who can give everything.”
I drew a breath and steadied my voice.
“Anyone who cannot leave their family, step back.”
The moment the words ended, a dozen or so men retreated in unison. More than I expected. Even thugs treasured their own kids, it seemed.
“If your life is too precious, or if you lack confidence you can protect it, step back as well.”
Shff—
Another dozen or so moved back this time.
“Then it’s you.”
I gave the strongbox a light tap and surveyed those who remained.
“The ones who will offer both family and life for this money.”
Eight out of forty. I had planned to form ten teams of four, but now there were only two. Still, far better than commanding half-hearted rabble. At last, a proper elite unit had taken shape.
I nodded in satisfaction.
Then the holy power overflowing from my hand transformed into dark, damp mana. I approached each of the eight remaining men and lightly pressed a thumb to their foreheads.
A mark of protection.
A one-use defensive buff with no duration limit. Rank A. Highly rated because it could carry someone through a single fatal crisis.
Press.
One by one, I pressed my black-mana-laden thumb again and branded the marks. The sigils stamped on their foreheads sank smoothly into their bodies.
When I infused the mana myself, the ones who had stepped back earlier cast envious looks. Too late now—regret was plain on faces that seemed to wish they had stubbornly stayed. That was how deep Houndry was steeped in counterfeit black magic.
“Follow me. I’ll explain in detail.”
“I thought I might find you here.”
The marquisate’s Second District. The teahouse Amelia frequented.
“Hasgard!”
Amelia lifted her eyes from the book she had been absorbed in and beamed. If I had been a demon, that eye-smile alone would have been enough to exorcise me. Lucky I hadn’t become a villain.
“What brings you here? And how did you know I was here?”
“Your Highness always moves according to plan. I knew this would be the hour you would be present.”
“Hmm. There could have been a better answer. That you followed the scent of flowers, for instance.”
“I’m not an insect.”
“Haha. Even if you were, I would still find you cute. You there—clear a seat so Hasgard may sit.”
She spoke to her escorts.
“You’ve begun keeping guards at your side.”
Probably not the previous ones. She had said she would have all their heads, after all…
“…Yes. It can’t be helped now.”
For some reason Amelia’s face looked melancholy.
“Still, assigning escorts means the royal family has at least acknowledged the Death God Cult’s—”
“Unfortunately, they did not believe me.”
“…I see.”
“No one believes the Death God Cult could rise again. They’re firmly convinced that a hundred years ago every last speck of dust was wiped out. Or perhaps they simply don’t want to believe it because the words came from me…”
After that, Amelia’s brows drew together slightly.
“They believe the purge a hundred years ago was perfect. Even my own brother. Hasgard, I told him he ought to thank you—but he still refused to believe it was the work of the Death God Cult.”
He ought to thank me? Something about that phrasing felt a little off.
In any case, it seemed obtaining help from the royal family would be difficult. For now.
But if even one person believed me, I could eventually win their support.
“And Your Highness?”
“Hm?”
“Does Your Highness believe my claim that it was the Death God Cult’s doing?”
Still—
Amelia’s movements halted, and she slowly looked up at me.
“Of course, Hasgard. I would never treat the one who saved my life with neglect. Even if no one else believes you—no matter what happens—I will believe you. I promise.”
“Then I have nothing to worry about.”
Once the second semester began, the game scenario would drop the “foreshadowing” that announced the Death God Cult’s revival. Even if no one believed me now, I could use that moment.
“But, Hasgard.”
“Yes.”
“If our conjecture is correct, you are in danger right now. No—your house is in danger. They failed to kill the second son, so won’t they look for the next opening? This is no time for you to be sitting here. Hurry back to your family and—”
“It’s all right.”
“All right? Have you made preparations, then?”
“That’s true as well, but first… as you said, he didn’t die.”
Yes.
He hadn’t died.
Romons Hasgard had been stabbed through the heart, yet Ester’s magic had brought him back. No one from House Hasgard had died.
In my previous life, everyone except me had died. Romons had only been the beginning; they fell one after another. The middle son of Hasgard, then Father.
The cause of the house’s ruin had been that Father—that House Hasgard—had grown weaker than ever before. The death of his second son had broken both body and spirit.
So.
“Right now, it’s all right.”
With no one dead, we were strong.
“I hear they failed the first job they were given.”
“I heard that too. Tried to kill him while posing as goblins at the Subjugation Festival or something. Honestly, whoever those bastards were, they were idiots. Why choose a method like that?”
“Right? They could’ve just broken into the house and killed them one by one…”
Shiiing—
The cloaked intruder quietly drew his blade.
“It’s this simple.”
He carefully gripped the sword and climbed onto the wall of the Hasgard mansion. Then he turned his head to help his partner up.
“Hey, what are you doing? Hurry and climb—”
That was when it happened.
“Wh-what…? Something’s weird…”
Creak, creeeeak.
His partner’s sword bent of its own accord—and then
Shunk!
plunged into its owner’s throat.
“H-hiiik…!”
The man already atop the wall sucked in a breath at the sight—
“Think about it. Why would they choose such a troublesome method?”
A voice came from within.
From inside the wall. Someone walked out from within the Hasgard mansion. He was clad head to toe in massive armor. Massive—or perhaps simply fat. Armor so bulky it looked like it would roll if you pushed it, clumsy and dull.
“Why go all the way to the Subjugation Festival, wait for the brothers to separate, and try to disguise the kill with a goblin’s axe?”
Despite the ridiculous armor, the intruder froze solid at the voice of House Hasgard’s head, Kalinder Hasgard.
“Because if they hadn’t mixed in some deception, I would have come running myself.”