Taking Off the Mask
The day of the banquet had finally arrived.
The festivities were not slated to begin until late in the afternoon, but the atmosphere throughout the Duke's Castle had been buzzing with excitement since the crack of dawn—though, naturally, that excitement was reserved entirely for the nobles who actually stood to enjoy it.
"...God, this is suffocating."
The moment I tugged at the uncomfortably tight collar of my formal doublet, the head maid glided over, her nimble hands promptly smoothing away the disarray.
"Please bear with it for just a little longer, Master Alzen."
"Do I really need to wear this damn thing right now? Wouldn't it make more sense to put it on when the banquet actually starts?"
"We have our duties to attend to as well."
"I'm capable of putting on my own clothes. Run along and do your work; I'll get dressed myself later."
"I cannot allow that."
"......"
Grimacing at her razor-sharp refusal, I collapsed back onto the sofa.
"Master Alzen. You will wrinkle the fabric."
"What, so now I'm not even allowed to sit down? Isn't that a bit harsh?"
"Haaah..."
"I'm the one who should be sighing here. Everil, be honest. Don't you think she's being a little unreasonable?"
"Eeeep?! Wh-What?! M-Me...!?"
Caught flat-footed by the mischievous question, Everil glanced frantically back and forth between me and the head maid, her face crumpling into a tearful pout as she realized she couldn't take either side without dooming herself.
"...Please refrain from teasing the girl, Master Alzen."
"It's just harmless fun. Right, Everil?"
"Y-Yes... of course..."
"Good girl. Here, have some cake."
When I pointed toward the slice of cake resting on the side table, her eyes went wide as saucers.
"H-Huh?! May I really eat that!?"
"Go ahead and eat as much as you like. It's far too rich and sickeningly sweet for my taste anyway. Good grief, I don't even want to know how much sugar they dumped into it..."
I nudged the dessert plate forward with a look of genuine disgust, but Everil merely stood there, gulping down mouthfuls of drool without daring to touch it.
"Ah, you're driving me crazy. Open your mouth, Everil."
"Y-Yes...?"
"I said open up. Do I have to repeat myself?"
"I-I'm sorry! Opening now!"
Startled out of her skin, she unhinged her jaw so wide she looked like she might dislocate it. I sliced off a generous forkful and slid it right past her lips.
"Mmh, mmmph...!"
"Good?"
"Y-Yesh...! It's so sweet!"
"Glad to hear it. Have another."
"Th-Thank you so much...!"
Her flushed, blissfully happy expression was quite endearing, so I kept feeding her one piece after another. Like a hungry baby bird, she snapped up every bite without hesitation, devouring the entire slice in the blink of an eye.
"You've got quite an appetite."
"Th-Thank you, Master Alzen..."
Belatedly realizing how she must have looked, she blushed crimson and ducked her head in embarrassment. I patted her softly on the crown, then reached out for the liquor bottle resting nearby.
"Master Alzen, please."
The instant my fingers grazed the glass, the head maid intercepted my hand.
"...Care to let go?"
"I cannot do that, young master. Please, endure it for merely a few hours. You will have ample opportunity to drink once you attend the banquet regardless."
"Ssshh... Haaah..."
I let out a long, shuddering exhale, barely managing to keep my boiling temper under wraps.
Pitora had tried to stop me from drinking once before, and back then, I had completely lost my mind and flown into a violent rage. But I was different now. Unlike the past, when I had bristled like a depressed hedgehog lashing out at everything in sight, I had finally come to accept this life rather than deny it. I no longer felt alienated, terrified, or disgusted by this world. In my own way, I was actively reshaping my perception to adapt.
"...Just one glass. That's all I want."
"No. Please exercise restraint."
The head maid firmly wrenched the bottle from my grasp.
"You son of a..."
I clamped my hand over my mouth before the curses could spill out, glaring at her with barely restrained hostility. "Cut the crap and hand it ov... I mean, wouldn't you kindly give it back?"
"I cannot."
"I'll kill—!"
Damn it, this is bad. At this rate, I was going to lose my cool and start trashing the room.
"Wendy."
"Yes, Master Alzen."
"Go take that back for me."
"...Would it not be wiser to abstain?"
"......"
I stared at her in disbelief, but Wendy simply tilted her head, looking genuinely puzzled. Then again, she hadn't been by my side for very long; it was foolish to expect her to react with the unhesitating obedience Muriel always showed.
"Everil."
"Y-Yes!?"
"Snatch that bottle back and I'll give you a gold coin."
"Th-That's... I-I am terribly sorry!"
"......"
I squeezed my eyes shut, burying myself deep into the cushions to endure this excruciating test of patience. Bear it. Just hold it in.
Maybe this was for the best. Frankly, it wasn't as though I were some hopeless drunkard who couldn't function without booze constantly touching his lips, right?
"Mmh, mmgh... fu—"
Smack!
Clapping a hand over my mouth before the filth could escape again, I hastily snatched up a cigar. If I didn't smoke something right this second, I felt like my brain was going to snap.
"...Don't tell me you're going to forbid this too?"
"That is permissible. However, please limit yourself so the scent does not seep into the fabric."
"As if that's even possible. Tobacco smoke clings to everything after a single puff..."
Grumbling under my breath, I flicked a flame to the tip and drew in a long, deep drag.
"Pffhhhuuuck... Ah, that's better. I can finally breathe."
As the rich nicotine hit the depths of my lungs and swept up into my brain a heartbeat later, the stifling tension across my entire body melted into a pleasant, languid calm.
"Right, then..."
In just a few hours, I would have to show my face at the banquet hall. Yet, ever since Berick's visit the other day, neither the Third Princess nor Greenjack had made a single move. Had she actually given up?
"......"
I found it hard to imagine the Third Princess letting anything go so easily. It was far more likely she was plotting something behind the scenes. The real headache was that I had no earthly clue what she intended to pull, making it impossible to prepare a countermeasure.
"Ugh, what a headache. She's an absolute pain in the ass."
According to the game's lore, the Third Princess possessed the greatest greed and the most decisive initiative among all the default heroines. While she fundamentally fell into the camp of good, she danced right along the precarious borderline of morality, meaning there was zero guarantee she wouldn't cross a line if provoked.
"Worry not, Master Alzen. I shall protect you without fail."
Stepping close to my side, Wendy met my gaze with an unflinching, valiant expression.
"......"
Truth be told, that was part of what made me so uneasy. It wasn't that I doubted Wendy's martial prowess, but having only a single guardian felt terrifyingly frail. The opponent was an entire syndicate—one that could comfortably be called the continent's foremost intelligence and assassination network. No matter how formidable Wendy might be, one person had clear limits, and an opening would inevitably show.
If only Muriel, Rebecca, or Cacciola had cleared their trial and emerged from the artifact, I wouldn't be burdened by such anxiety. What on earth were they doing inside that relic that was taking this long?
"Huuu..."
Exhaling a thick stream of smoke, I let my limbs go limp against the cushions.
It wasn't as though I lacked options entirely. I had an absurdly overpowered trump card at my disposal that could shatter the very balance of this world: the Demon King's Authority. If I used it to peer into the future, I could counter whatever underhanded plot the princess was brewing, effortlessly and cleanly.
"......"
Frankly, if invoking it didn't require groveling to that Demon King, I would have used it ages ago. But owing debts to that lunatic woman sickened me, and every time her power coursed through my mortal vessel, I could feel subtle, irreversible changes taking root within my body. The Demon King clearly had her own agenda in letting me channel that divine authority, which made me want to avoid relying on it whenever possible.
"Whatever... things will work out somehow."
Resigning myself to fate, I closed my eyes in silence. Even if the Third Princess didn't cause trouble, surviving a noble banquet required conserving every shred of stamina I had.
The banquet commenced in earnest following a brief opening address from Urtega.
Tables laden with every conceivable delicacy spanned the colossal grand hall, impeccably dressed stewards bustled beneath the dazzling glow of crystal chandeliers, and enchanting melodies drifted through the air. Set against a backdrop that screamed unimaginable wealth, the assembled nobility immediately dispersed to exchange pleasantries, cultivate connections, and pursue their private ambitions.
Inevitably, certain figures naturally became the gravity wells of the room.
The Third Princess, the Saintess, Urtega, Pitora... and, to my profound misfortune and regret, myself.
"Lord Alzen, I have heard so much about you. Rumors say you have gained the ability to peer into the past and future..."
"Word has spread that you share an intimate acquaintance with Her Imperial Highness. As it happens, our faction also aligns with the Third Princess's—"
"Is it true that you possess omniscient wisdom? Would you perhaps be willing to offer counsel regarding a personal dilemma of mine?"
"I simply must confirm whether the gossip holds merit. We hear the Saintess is residing within the ducal estate... is she truly an Incarnation of the Goddess?"
And so on, and so forth.
Scanning the crowded floor, I could spot several pivotal figures who had frequently appeared throughout the game's main scenario, but none of them approached me. Instead, it was an endless swarm of greedy aristocrats, their faces practically dripping with avarice as they pressed in to test the veracity, range, and depth of my alleged abilities. Setting aside the sheer revulsion it stirred, the barrage of simultaneous inquiries was utterly dizzying.
Exchanging hollow pleasantries, feeding them evasive answers, sidestepping intrusive questions, and shooting down dubious invitations...
By the time I had wagged my tongue raw, more than two hours had slipped away.
"Phew... Damn it all. There's no end to them."
Downing my glass of wine in a single swallow, I slipped away toward the terrace to escape the nobles still eyeing me from the perimeter. Pushing open the heavy glass doors to the open balcony overlooking the estate grounds, the crisp, rushing winds of the high tower instantly cooled the sweat on my brow.
The lighting out here was dim and gentle compared to the blinding glare of the ballroom, offering a much-needed breath of tranquility.
"...If I just hole up out here, maybe I can ride out the rest of the night unnoticed."
"I suspect that will prove impossible. You would certainly be discovered."
"Agh-holy-shit-blinker!?"
The voice sliced through the silence the exact second my guard dropped, startling me so violently that my heart nearly leapt straight out of my throat. My brain had tried to screech, 'Ah! Fuck me, you scared the shit out of me! Use a goddamn blinker before cutting in, you asshole!' but it had violently collapsed into an incoherent squeak instead.
"...You have a remarkably peculiar way of expressing fright."
"Y-You..."
Clutching my pounding chest, I glared at the figure who had materialized out of thin air: Nazareth Nemes.
"My heart nearly tore in half. What are you, an assassin?"
Despite the pointed barb, she merely regarded me with an unblinking gaze before curving her lips into a faint smile. Though she was a woman underneath, she was currently wearing the disguise of a mild-mannered, middle-aged gentleman, which made the coy expression look deeply unsettling.
"So, what brings you creeping around out here?"
"My, you do not use honorifics with me. Even looking like this, I hold the station of attendant to Her Imperial Highness."
"What, you want me to bow and scrape?"
Knowing full well who and what she actually was, I snorted in derision.
"...No. That will not be necessary. Please, speak as you find comfortable."
With that, she extended a brimming glass of wine toward me.
"I was planning on it anyway."
I took the glass from her fingers, but rather than taking a sip, I set it down squarely onto the stone balustrade.
"Cut to the chase. Why are you here?"
"Partly to exchange words in private, and partly to deliver a message from the princess."
"Treating an imperial decree like an afterthought, are we...? Fine, let's hear what she has to say first."
"Very well. You are commanded to present yourself before Her Highness's chambers tonight."
"...Is this her petty way of getting back at me because I told her not to come looking for me?"
"Precisely."
"And if I refuse?"
"Death shall arrive... slightly ahead of schedule."
A bright, effortless smile crossed her face as thick, suffocating tendrils of bloodlust bled into the open air.
"Stand down. Advance any further and I strike."
In a flash of silver, Wendy stepped into the fray, her longsword half-drawn from its scabbard as she leveled an icy glare at Nazareth Nemes.
"My word, what a fiercely devoted guardian knight... Though I have wondered for some time now: why does a Knight of the Dawn from the Holy Order stand vigil over a noble scion?"
The dark elf retracted her killing intent and tossed out the playful question. I took a steadying breath; the sheer density of her aura had locked my muscles rigid for a split second.
"Huuu... None of your damn business."
"How cold."
Shrugging her shoulders, she took a light sip from her wine and turned back toward the ballroom entrance.
"Lord Stanasila Alzen. This is your final opportunity. I urge you not to take it lightly, nor to decline."
"...Fine. Tonight. I'll show up."
"We shall await your arrival."
Once she vanished back into the warmth of the hall, only Wendy and I remained on the chilly balcony.
"Are you unharmed, Master Alzen?"
"Thanks to you, I'm fine."
I stared down at the wineglass Nazareth Nemes had offered, then tipped its contents over the edge, watching the red liquid vanish into the courtyard below with a weary sigh.
"I never expected her to sit through the banquet quietly and just summon me to her quarters later... I suppose I should appreciate the civilized approach, but it completely shatters the usual tropes. I'd prefer it if these people stuck to the standard script so I could predict what's coming."
"...? I do not understand what you mean."
"Ah, don't worry about it. More importantly... a final opportunity, huh?"
"I sense an ill omen. Do you truly intend to visit the Third Princess's chambers?"
"I gave my word, so I have to go. Who knows what lunatic stunt she'll pull if I stand her up..."
"...If that is your decision, I shall accompany you."
"Yeah. Please do. I'm counting on you."
And so, late into the night, I made my way toward the Third Princess's quarters with Wendy trailing closely behind.
For the record, the banquet hadn't ended. Far from it—the festivities were scheduled to drag on for at least another three days. Regardless, visiting the princess in her personal quarters was an entirely different matter from having her barge into mine. After sending word through her retinue, we were thoroughly disarmed before finally being permitted past the heavy doors.
"...Hm?"
The instant my foot crossed the threshold, an electric shiver shot down my spine, triggering every alarm bell in my instincts. A suffocating sense of impending doom washed over me, as though I had just walked straight into the gaping jaws of a monstrous beast.
"...Master Alzen. This is..."
Wendy clearly felt it too. Given her transcendent realm, her senses were undoubtedly far sharper than my own.
"It appears to be a trap. We must withdraw."
"...I think it's a little late for that."
Faint, razor-thin traces of killing intent hemmed us in from every conceivable angle, silently warning that turning back meant immediate execution. Curiously, while their presence pressed heavily against our spirits, our five senses couldn't pinpoint a single breath, shadow, or silhouette. Was this the stealth technique utilized by the assassins of Greenjack?
It was almost certainly rooted in the Shadow Arts... Impressive work, truly.
"Kh...!"
"Don't get agitated. Let's just head inside. What's the worst that can happen—we die?"
"...I shall protect you. Even at the cost of my life."
Seeing Wendy's eyes blaze with unyielding conviction and fatalistic resolve, I couldn't help but let out a bitter, helpless chuckle.
"You've arrived."
Stepping into the parlor, we were greeted by the Third Princess, her platinum-blonde hair cascading gracefully past her shoulders.
"I greet Her Imperial Highness."
I offered a perfunctory aristocratic bow, which she acknowledged with an effortless nod.
"Please, be seated."
Following her command, I sank into the plush sofa opposite her. A low mahogany table separated us, upon which sat a freshly brewed pot of steaming tea alongside a delicate tray of pastries.
"You aren't intoxicated tonight. How unusual."
"Is that really so strange?"
"Considering I have never once seen you sober, yes."
"Fair point. I exercised a bit of self-control on account of the banquet."
"My. A man who refuses to show restraint before an Imperial Princess suddenly reins himself in for a mere social gathering... Should I take that as an insult?"
"My deepest apologies."
I gave an insincere nod. Arpe let out a soft chuckle, took a delicate sip of her tea, and fixed me with an unyielding, piercing gaze.
"I shall cut straight to the heart of the matter, Lord Stanasila Alzen."
"By all means. Go ahead."
"Lord Alzen. Greenjack is an organization created by my own hand. The hidden mastermind pulling its strings—its true and sovereign master—is none other than myself, Galante von Kerkion Arpe."
"......"
Dropping an earth-shattering bombshell in such a tranquil, matter-of-fact tone... She really had a knack for this.
"...Haaaaah~"
Letting out a sigh deep enough to collapse the floor beneath me, I slumped back against the sofa cushions, tilting my head back to glare at her with complete, unvarnished insolence.
"Does your mouth sprout fucking thorns if you let things pass quietly and peacefully, you crazy bitch?"
"...Pardon?"
Even for someone of her calculating nature, such an obscene, insolent outburst had clearly caught her entirely off guard. The utterly dumbfounded, slack-jawed expression freezing her features was truly a sight to behold.