Something Has Gone Wrong

Good character art? You bait the hook and take a bite.

That was my personal philosophy for living in the world of mobile games. If the game seemed decent enough, buying the monthly subscription was just a given. Which is to say, this particular game was more than worth splurging on the newbie package.

This one's actually fun?

The tutorial story was solid, the UI was clean, and the monetization model was surprisingly player-friendly. Glancing around, I found that a good number of CBT players had left positive reviews as well. And most importantly of all, the artwork had landed a direct hit on my tastes.

Nice. Monthly subscription first.

Next step: dive into the community and read up on strategy guides. Popular enough to prove its hype, the announcement board had several must-reads for newbies pinned to the top.

One of them caught my eye.

[For the Newbies Who Started Because of the Artwork]

"Same as me."

The moment I saw the title, I clicked on it without a second thought. Something about recognizing a kindred spirit made my trust level shoot right up.

The content was richer and more packed than I'd even expected. Character tiers, hidden pieces for every region, the locations of secret legendary-tier items, all the dungeons and their rewards. I especially appreciated that the author had even summarized each character's backstory in brief.

The character story summaries went on and on. By the time I'd read through it all, it was somehow already 11:50 at night. I considered browsing the comments too, but decided to save them for later. Between work and overtime tomorrow, my playtime was scarce enough as it was.

Clear Region 1 fast and build up my roster first, it said.

Planning to catch up on the rest of the guides tomorrow, I launched the game.

"...Huh."

In an instant, everything before my eyes flooded white, then plunged pitch-black. This was the very thing you only ever saw in novels—

— There he goes again, lol

The comments left by a man who would never see them.

All hell was breaking loose over there.

Everyone was hurling abuse at the author of the guide.

Tragically, the man who'd written that guide would never see any of it.

Only his ownerless phone remained, rolling forlornly across the floor.

Fahrenheit County had no shortage of things to boast about.

There was the Count, one of the Empire's most capable men. There was his eldest daughter, who had followed in his footsteps to become a knight brimming with promise. And then...

"...And of course, there is the young master as well."

Alia's remark, delivered as she poured my tea, forced me to lower the book I was reading.

"Me? Why am I suddenly part of that lineup?"

"Because you spent a truly enormous sum of money helping boys and girls in unfortunate circumstances, my lord? Here, see for yourself."

I took the newspaper Alia held out to me.

Heizen of Fahrenheit County. A true noble scion of our era who emptied his own coffers to aid boys and girls who had lost their families. A model orphanage that even the Empire has praised in admiration. Mmm. Good title, good content, too. Who wrote this article?

"Please refrain from asking questions you already know the answer to, my lord."

"If this hadn't made the papers, I was ready to tip off another outlet myself. One that tried to bribe me, no less — promising they'd write a glowing article in exchange for hush money."

Thankfully, that particular journalist was a professional who delivered what he was paid for. It was genuinely a shame that a few dim-witted mercenaries occasionally pulled dine-and-dash stunts, though. In this world, plenty of people would happily hunt down deadbeats like that — for a fee.

"Excellent, excellent. Behold, the paragon of noble kindness."

"Are you aware, my lord, that a rumor is also spreading? That you built the orphanage to exploit the children there."

"Pfff!!"

I sprayed the coffee I'd been mid-sip all over myself.

What the hell? Why?

Perhaps reading the outraged expression on my face, Alia elaborated.

"Because otherwise, there would be no earthly reason to help that many children."

"I'm spending my own money to help them. What exactly is the problem?"

"A noble must never suffer a loss, my lord. A loss is the fall of one's pride and honor alike — and a man who has lost both can no longer be called a noble at all."

Sadly, there wasn't a single flaw in Alia's logic. In fact, something remarkably similar had happened just recently.

"You should have let him win."

"The guy couldn't play the game. What was I supposed to do about that?"

"Even so, you should have let him win."

"He kept challenging me without even knowing the rules of chess. What choice did I have?"

"At the very least, you should not have worn that smile after winning."

Feeling a little wronged, I shot back and asked what exactly had been wrong with my smile. In response, Alia curled the corners of her mouth into — as she claimed — an exact replica of it.

"...Okay, that's pretty insufferable."

"You were extremely insufferable, my lord."

Fine. I'll admit that flashing that provocative smile was my mistake. But I couldn't hold back the tea-bagging meant for some clueless punk poking a veteran player. The fact that he was pathetically bad at chess only made the urge to mock him that much stronger.

A few days ago, there had been the Founding Day Eve Ball. With my sister swamped by knightly duties, I'd attended in her stead.

"He's the one who poked the hornet's nest first!"

It was a chess game taking place in one corner of the ballroom. I'd always enjoyed the game, so I'd quietly slipped in and had myself a grand time. I was about to wrap things up and rise from my seat when a new challenger appeared. I tried to shoo him off onto someone else, but when he taunted me right back, my patience snapped.

My soul may be Korean, but there is no force in this universe that can make me sit still after hearing 'you're bad at games?'

The result, as I said before, was a massacre — an overwhelming victory capped off with a full tea-bagging session.

The problem was that the guy on the receiving end happened to be the second son of Duke Castiel's household.

"The second son of Duke Castiel is a man of remarkably vicious temperament. He forgets kindness, but he never — ever — forgets a grudge. The moment he believes he's been made to look foolish, even in the slightest, he is certain to take his revenge. That is precisely why so many people went out of their way to lose to him on purpose."

"Sounds like a certain someone I know. A human courtroom."

"I'm afraid I don't follow, my lord?"

"Oh, you'd know her if you saw her."

The difference, of course, was that the duke's second son possessed zero talent for hiding his rotten personality. The similarity was that either way, anger them and they come at you with their eyes blazing.

"The duke's second son will absolutely attempt revenge against you, my lord."

"Hmm. That's a little scary, actually."

Fahrenheit County was indeed a place on the rise. But as with everywhere in this world, there was a hierarchy here too. When Castiel sneezes, Fahrenheit catches the flu.

"How far do you think he'll go?"

"In my assessment, he will likely attempt a direct attack upon your person, my lord."

"No, I mean how far. Socially? Status-wise? Or all the way to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠physical harm?"

"Knowing what a petty, narrow-minded man he is, most likely—"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

At the sudden voice, Alia and I both turned around.

A girl with sparkling blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Pointed ears poking out at her sides, unmistakably elven. The first target of my foolish charity work.

"Arka?"

If you run into the event where a blonde, blue-eyed half-elf girl is wandering around, recruit her. No exceptions.

As I recalled, I'd wasted about two full years after transmigrating chasing nothing but dead ends. I'd burned through half the fortune I'd scraped together by following those very strategy guides. At this rate, I was headed straight for the title of 'that noble who just wanted to build an orphanage.'

Just as I was starting to wear down, the girl from the guide had finally appeared before my eyes.

"Did I hear that correctly just now, Lord Heizen?"

"No, Arka. It's nothing at all. Right, Alia?"

"Quite right. Lady Arka, the young master speaks truly."

Despite both my and Alia's deflections, Arka's expression turned strange.

"Arka? How much of that did you happen to hear?"

"...The part about an attack upon Lord Heizen."

Did I just worry her for nothing by yapping without watching my mouth?

"It's all ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠right, Arka. This is something I need to handle myself."

"I could help you."

"I really ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠appreciate you saying that. But I'm fine, Arka. Truly, I'm fine."

Smiling, I placed my hand atop Arka's head. When I gently stroked her hair, her face flushed a deep red. I'd half worried she might swat my hand away in disgust, so I was quietly relieved.

Unbidden, the memory of my first meeting with Arka surfaced. A girl who had lost her entire family and drifted from place to place until she appeared before me. When I offered her food, she'd panicked, insisting she'd have to give me her body in return. Forget strategy guides and everything else — she was just too pitiful for words.

So I told her I expected nothing from her in return.

"Why?"

"Because sometimes the world has kindness that asks for nothing in return."

"Liar. There's no such thing."

Instead of a thank-you, she wore the expression of someone who still couldn't bring herself to believe me. So this is what I answered her back then:

"There will be now. You've met me."

The face Arka had made at that moment is still burned into my memory.

"Are you truly all right, my lord? I want to help too."

"This needs to be handled quietly. If it spreads around, it'll just give me one more headache."

Whatever happened, this had to end between me and Duke Castiel's second son. If it spread any further, it would escalate into a battle of pride between entire houses.

"Quietly... I see. Understood, my lord. I understand completely."

Wait — did Arka's eyes just flash for a moment there?

Or was I seeing things?

"Thank you for understanding. Oh, that reminds me — Alia. Don't we have any cookies for Arka?"

"Of course, my lord. I prepared some separately."

Alia held out the cookie tin. The sweet aroma drifted all the way over to us.

"..."

But Arka showed no intention of eating any. Strange. She didn't dislike cookies, so why...

Oh.

She never eats them unless I'm the one handing them over.

I plucked a cookie from the tin and held it out to her. Only then did Arka smile and accept it.

"Thank you, Lord Heizen."

The way she nibbled at it in tiny bites looked exactly like a little squirrel. Good heavens — someone this adorable and this precious, and she's just a side character? Maybe transmigrating isn't as bad as I thought!

One week later.

"Ugh. What in the world is all this fuss over some trash game and its sloppy dev."

I had finally managed to secure an appointment with Duke Castiel's second son. First thing after greeting him would be a formal apology. Maybe I should even throw a few chess matches for his sake?

"Lord Heizen."

"Hey, Alia. What do you think — kneeling all the way down feels like a bit much, no?"

"I don't believe that will be necessary."

When I asked what she meant, Alia held out the newspaper.

"The second son of Duke Castiel has died, my lord."

...What?