Marie Ale
Lady Lichtenburg tilted her head as she returned home after finishing a simple errand. Erika, who had left the house not long ago, was already back, sitting in the living room. The sight of her silently eating sweets, her small shoulders trembling, was so adorable that the lady had to fight back a smile. It was one of Erika’s habits—she could never resist something sweet when she was angry. Since her daughter still hadn’t noticed her return, the lady simply smiled and decided to savor the view of her back a little longer.
I must be losing it. I must be losing it. I must be losing it!
Erika kept stuffing cookies into her mouth, her body shaking with fury. No matter how she looked at it, the memory was mortifying. She wanted to die from the shame. To think she had bowed her head to a commoner. And worse, she had actually apologized—in formal speech, no less. She could blame the panic after seeing all that blood, but her pride refused to forgive the act.
Still, her misunderstanding hadn’t been entirely groundless. The boy had worn a neat uniform, carried himself with a solid physique, and looked straight at a noble without flinching. Who would assume someone like that was a commoner? The way he had spoken casually to an aristocrat he had just met already set him far apart from any ordinary plebeian.
But what was that about…?
As the sugar calmed her racing heart, a new question surfaced. The warehouse floor soaked in blood. Schluss Heinkel’s exhausted face, as if he hadn’t slept in three days. What on earth had happened? There were no visible external injuries. So it couldn’t have been from a wound.
“Coughing up blood…?”
What other way was there to bleed without an obvious injury? To Erika, internal bleeding was the only answer that came to mind. Could he be suffering from an incurable disease?
“Wait a second.”
An incurable disease. And entrance grades that were impossibly high for a commoner. The moment those two pieces connected, Erika let out a soft gasp. She had heard a similar story once. Someone with no talent had awakened to magic late in life, displayed overwhelming power, and then died suddenly within a few years. They said he had sold his lifespan to a demon—trading years of life for magical talent.
What if Schluss Heinkel had done the same?
“That crazy bastard…”
It would explain the blood, the exhaustion, and how a mere commoner had taken the top spot. What had begun as a suspicion based on scant evidence quickly hardened into certainty inside Erika’s mind.
Hmm…?
Lady Lichtenburg, who had been quietly watching from behind, wore a mysterious smile. Coughing blood? Crazy bastard…? The more she listened to her daughter’s incomprehensible muttering, the deeper the lady’s concern grew.
All right. Schluss Heinkel. I finally understand that this guy is the biggest glass cannon among glass cannons. The fact that I have to maintain the top spot at the Imperial Academy for an entire semester still makes my head spin, but I’ve accepted it. The water’s already been spilled. With my knowledge and abilities as the author, I should be able to manage somehow.
…Or maybe not.
“By the way, Miss Marie…”
“Yes?”
I’m eating right now. No, calling it “eating” feels too crude. Let me rephrase. I am dining. A feast that could rival any royal banquet.
“Didn’t you say you only handled cleaning? Why are you also cooking…?”
The problem was that the person who prepared this meal wasn’t me—it was Marie. She had clearly told me she was just the caretaker. She was the one who said that if I wanted chores done, I should hire my own attendant.
“You collapsed so badly and still refused to be hospitalized. How could I possibly leave without feeding you? As a mother with a son of my own, I simply couldn’t stand by.”
“Ah… I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“If you’re sorry, then eat.”
“Thank you. I’ll enjoy it.”
Was this a mother’s heart? Even in a world full of schemes and conspiracies, someone this warm existed. I didn’t remember shaping such a character. Ah. That’s right—she wasn’t one I created. That made sense.
“My contract ends today. The school will likely open applications for attendants the day after the entrance ceremony. I’ll prepare some food for you, so make sure you eat properly until then.”
“Thank you so much.”
Ten thank-yous would never be enough for Marie. She had saved my life and was showing me this much kindness.
“Then I’ll be going.”
“Yes. Thank you for everything, Miss Marie. If you ever run into trouble, please contact me.”
“Asking a student for help?”
“You’re my benefactor. If I can be of any assistance, I’ll come running without hesitation.”
“Just hearing that is enough to make me happy.”
“……”
I wasn’t just being polite. Marie packed her modest belongings and left the mansion. Since she was a character I had never shaped, she would probably live quietly, without interfering in the main story, and die just as quietly. We would likely never meet again—unless I sought her out.
The feeling was strangely uncomfortable. Perhaps because she was the first person in this novel I truly didn’t know, she felt more real to me. While everyone else carried the strong impression of being fictional characters, Marie felt like an actual living person.
“How odd.”
Still, a sense of unease kept nagging at me. This world obviously contained parts I had never described—passersby on the street, the countless staff working at the Imperial Academy, and so on. But just because I hadn’t described them didn’t mean something absurd like a dragon flying over the school would appear. That would break plausibility.
Marie was definitely not a character I had created. My memory was a bit hazy, but I could still recall every single extra’s name, so I was certain. If she was someone I hadn’t described, there would have been no need to add the specific setting of her being the former caretaker of the single-person dormitory. It would have been enough to simply say the room had been left unattended until an attendant was hired.
That meant Marie hadn’t been added without reason. There was a purpose behind her inclusion—to preserve plausibility. And the clue to that reason was definitely somewhere in the novel I had written. Even though I hadn’t described her directly, there must have been a passage that hinted at her existence metaphorically.
When my thoughts reached that point…
“Oh, fuck.”
My brows furrowed and a curse slipped out. Marie Ale. The former caretaker of the single-person dormitory. I finally realized who she was, and the realization sent me sprinting out of the mansion.
I had no specific destination. Only the places Marie might have gone. Believing she had headed toward the residential area, I simply ran down the nearest alley.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Very early in the novel, I had written a brief description. The Trude Kingdom’s intelligence agency had planted a collaborator among the Imperial Academy’s staff. But once the person’s contract ended and they left the academy, they lost all value. They became a bomb that held no worth but carried the risk of leaking the agency’s activities. In the end, the intelligence agency had eliminated them.
If my guess was correct, that “person” was Marie.
Honestly, I couldn’t remember what I had been thinking when I wrote that. It wasn’t even foreshadowing, nor did it affect the later story. It was simply one of the countless useless details that had slipped in naturally while I was writing. And because of that thoughtless line, a person was going to die.
A character I had dismissed with a few words had become a living, breathing human being in this world—with eyes, a nose, and a mouth—and now she was going to be killed.
“Insane.”
Beyond the alley, the flow of mana felt ominous. A very faint magical reaction that an ordinary person would never notice was leaking out. I recognized it instantly.
A sound-and-sight dampening barrier. A low-grade ward that used a minimal amount of mana to block only sound and vision. I could already guess what was happening inside it, so I ran even faster.
“Mmph… mmph…”
“Shh. Shhh.”
“……”
The moment I rounded the corner, my entire body froze. There was Marie, a knife buried in her abdomen, face deathly pale as she groaned. And the burly man covering her mouth.
I knew his name the instant I saw him. After all, there was only one man in the intelligence agency with that much muscle. Field agent Iskandar.
“Who the hell are you… Ha. Shit. This is bad.”
“……”
One second. Our eyes met, and a single second of silence passed. I don’t know what my expression looked like. All I knew was that I was too furious to think straight.
“You’ll have to die too!”
“……!”
Iskandar yanked the knife free and charged straight at me. The blade thrust forward like lightning. I reflexively ducked, avoiding it.
“Guh!”
At the same time, his knee slammed into my solar plexus. My concentration broke for a split second and my vision went dark. When I recovered—
“You son of a—”
Iskandar was already on top of me, gripping the knife in a reverse hold and driving it down. I barely managed to catch his hand and guard, stopping the blade.
…No. I wasn’t the one who stopped it. If Iskandar wanted to, he could pierce my chest right now.
“Ugh! Urgh!”
“Sorry. I hold no grudge, but since you’ve seen this, you have to die. Any last words?”
What a load of horseshit. This crazy bastard. But thanks to him, I bought some time.
“…Guess not. Farewell, then.”
My hands began to shake. The balance of power broke, and the knife slowly descended. Just before the tip touched my chest, I muttered inwardly.
Selection and Concentration
Applied to: Strength
“Huh…?”
His face filled with shock. The knife stopped. No—it was actually rising now. A slender arm was pushing back a muscular one twice its thickness. On instinct, I pulled one hand free and drove my fist into his jaw.
Whoosh!
It happened in an instant. Even I had never seen my arm move that fast. The limb shot forward without leaving a trace. Nothing remained where his head should have been. It was simply gone.
I stared at the horrific sight, stunned for about three seconds. Then blood and flesh rained down from the sky.
“Ha… Haa…”
Drenched in red from head to toe, I shoved the headless corpse aside and stood up. For an ordinary citizen who had spent his life scribbling in a room, the scene was utterly surreal. I tried to process what had just happened—what I had just done—when I suddenly remembered Marie and rushed to her side.
She lay there deathly pale, as still as a corpse.
“Miss Marie! Miss Marie! Can you hear me?”
“Ah… Schluss… sir…”
Marie turned her head toward me. Relief that she was alive lasted only a moment. I checked her abdomen. Blood was pouring out in real time, forming a puddle. Even someone ignorant of medicine like me could tell the bleeding was fatal.
I pressed down on the wound with my left hand, putting my full weight behind it. But the blood refused to stop, leaking out around my palm. I needed something to compress it with. A strap, a rubber band—anything.
“Schluss… sir. It hurts…”
“Bear with it. You have to endure if you want to live.”
“Schluss… sir.”
“Stop talking. You need to conserve your strength.”
“Schluss… sir.”
“Please, just stop talking.”
Irritated, I looked back at her. In Marie’s hand was a watch. A small pocket watch that fit perfectly in her delicate palm. Why was she showing me this now…? I couldn’t see anything I could use to stop the bleeding. Should I carry her to a hospital?
“Will you… promise to give this to my son…?”
“You can give it to him yourself. Stop talking like you’re going to die.”
“Please…”
“Ha. Fine. I’ll deliver it. Happy now?”
“……”
“Miss Marie?”
“……”
A cold dread washed over me. The fountain of blood that had been surging past my hand had finally stopped. I turned my head. Marie lay with her eyes open, completely still. I gently placed my fingers on her neck to check her pulse. There was none.
In other words, she was dead.
With trembling hands, I closed her eyes. Suddenly, a documentary I had once watched came to mind. Even after the heart stopped, human hearing and the brain could remain active a little longer.
“Yes. I will definitely deliver it. To your son… I swear…”
I pressed my mouth close to her ear and whispered over and over. No matter what, I would carry out her last wish. Since she had saved my life, I would at least grant her final request.
“Fuck…”
Footsteps approached from afar. One person. I didn’t need to check who it was. The protagonist, Hurtlocker Siegfried.
I pried open Marie’s clenched fist and took the pocket watch. It was a plain watch without even a chain. With no time to grieve, I had to flee the scene immediately, leaving Marie behind.
*
I don’t remember much of what happened after that. I climbed over the wall, returned to the single-person dormitory, and washed Iskandar’s blood and flesh from my body. That was when I realized my right shoulder was dislocated and all my fingers were broken.
“You idiot. What kind of exercise turns you into this mess?”
“……”
When I went straight to the hospital, the doctor scolded me. Fortunately, no bones were broken—everything was just dislocated. They popped the joints back in and wrapped me in bandages.
After the treatment, I stepped out onto the terrace and leaned against the railing. My arm throbbed with pain.
“Haa…”
This was a world inside a novel. A fictional world. Not reality. I was simply going to reach the ending and return to the real world. Whatever happened in this messed-up place had nothing to do with me.
That was what I was supposed to think. Whoever died or got hurt here shouldn’t matter to me.
“Goddammit…”
But a person had died. She wasn’t a fictional character I had created. She was someone I knew nothing about. In a fictional world, a person who was not fiction had been breathing, living. The moment she died, the wall between novel and reality crumbled.
From now on, I could no longer see this world as mere fiction. And in my heart, a single raw emotion took root.
Hatred.
As ridiculous as it was, I had come to hate the protagonist I myself had created.