Me? (2)

Three days had passed since he sent the letter to the Saintess.

No reply had come.

Did it even arrive properly?

In truth, there was no way of knowing whether the letter had reached her at all. This was an era where the internet had never developed—an era where you could not send tens of thousands of characters with a single click.

They said it wouldn't even take a day, but I can't trust that.

What if the letter got lost, vanished, or went missing along the way? That would be the end of it.

The phrasing is something only the Saintess would understand anyway, so even if it's exposed, it doesn't matter...

The real problem was whether it had arrived. The best method would be to simply ask, but...

It was a little—just a tiny bit—scary. Not a lot. Just a little.

Tsk. Should I just have Dolf go find out?

The problem was the delivery company he had entrusted it to. If things went wrong, Dolf might die just trying to deliver the inquiry. If that happened, Evan would lose a good friend.

Evan was a cowardly man, timid and full of worries—a fundamental personality that had not been fixed even after possession. An instinct engraved into his very soul. As a man, the manly Evan would occasionally burst out. When his pride was wounded. Like right now.

If I'd just had a little more courage, I could've seduced the Saintess too, huh? Just seduce them all and boom! Become a harem protagonist.

It wasn't as if his face was that ugly. Tsk, or was it?

...Well, if there's still no reply after a week, I can just send another one.

...She didn't just read it and ignore it, right? Nah, no way.

Evan brushed aside the memory that had started to surface and turned his head. On the messy desk sat a bottle containing a green liquid he had just finished.

An intuitive name. An expensive potion made from materials that would have been nearly impossible to obtain if Evan had not been of the Alcarte Ducal Family's bloodline.

"Heh heh."

Evan let out a sinister chuckle. With this one thing, he could bring the second main ally over to his side.

"Dolf."

"Yes! Young Master!"

Dolf, who had been straightening the bedding, answered energetically. Evan held out his hand.

"Could you get me some letter paper and a fountain pen?"

"Yes! Who are you planning to send it to today?"

"I plan to send it to Sir Arthur Modriter."

A pause. Dolf's hand, which had been offering the paper, froze—as if he had seen a ghost. With trembling hands, Dolf hid the paper and asked again.

"T-to whom?"

"Sir Arthur Modriter..."

"Aaaaah! You can't!"

Dolf threw a fit in opposition.

"Sending it to the Knight of the Full Moon, Sir Arthur Modriter...! Y-Young Master, you'll be in real trouble!"

The Knight of the Full Moon, Arthur Modriter. He was the only Holy Knight belonging to the Full Moon Church, and...

"You know his infamous reputation too, Young Master! How widespread the rumors of the mad Holy Knight are...!"

A Holy Knight mad for power and blood. A lunatic who would lose his mind at the sight of a strong opponent, challenge them to a duel, and if he won, cut off their head to take as a trophy. That was Arthur Modriter.

Ugh! Who doesn't know that? I'm trembling just thinking about it now.

Of course Evan knew about him. He probably knew better than Dolf. He had even experienced him directly through the game. But there was no choice.

He's the main ally with the relatively easy conquest difficulty...

More precisely,

Fewer side effects.

Arthur was a madman, but a man of pure heart and loyalty. Once he recognized someone as a comrade, he would never harm them no matter what.

And the relationship between the Full Moon Church and the Sun Church isn't bad either.

The Full Moon Church was a religious order that worshipped the Moon God, as the name suggested—the complete opposite of the Sun Church. But perhaps because of their small scale, the relationship between the two churches was not particularly bad. The same went for the relationship between the Sun Saintess Adrianne and the Full Moon Knight Arthur. There had been several occasions where the two joined forces to defeat enemies.

Hoo. Calm down, Evan.

You can do this! This was the moment to push forward like a man.

"...It's necessary. Please don't stop me."

Tremble, tremble, tremble. Evan's hands shook violently. He quickly hid them behind his back. Dolf's gaze lingered on Evan's hands for just a moment. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Tears quickly welled up in both eyes.

"Young Masteeer..."

What the hell is he misunderstanding this as?

It was true that Evan's body was not in good condition, but constantly thinking of him as terminally ill was problematic. He had already gotten past that stage, okay? This was just because he was a little—just a tiny bit—scared...

"I'll somehow package the letter with nice words...!"

"No, just delivering it will be fine. The Moon Temple doesn't tend to refuse letters either—"

There was no all-purpose phrase for raising favorability. Instead, there was an all-purpose line that guaranteed the letter would be read.

Just like the phrase Evan had written to the Saintess, he did not know exactly what it meant. He simply wrote that it was not yet time. For Arthur specifically, it was guaranteed to draw aggro.

"Please send this."

"Yes..."

Dolf wiped his tears and answered in a way that tried to sound energetic.

"I'll be right back!"

"Yes, please."

Whoosh. Dolf vanished like the wind. Evan leaned back against the chair.

Hoo. Should I try making the next potion?

There were still many main allies left. Making potions was not that difficult. The always-present problems were material supply and potion manufacturing. But who was Evan? An alchemist—an extremely rare alchemist on the continent. Also a direct bloodline of the Alcarte Ducal Family. One of the few ducal houses in the Empire. Deeply entangled with the underworld, money was rotting away.

...Come to think of it, there shouldn't be any rumors about me circulating lately, right?

As deeply entangled with the underworld as they were, the children each had their own monikers or nicknames. Evan had one too. It was just so embarrassing he could not say it out loud. Ugh! Useless random thoughts.

I should stop by the study before making it.

Might as well take a walk while he was at it. Evan slowly rose from his seat. A golem he had prepared in advance approached him. He grasped the golem and infused it with mana.

Unlike the information about alchemists known only for potion-making, the reality was a bit different. By using mana, it was possible to understand, decompose, and reconstruct any object or material. The transmutation circle drawn on the golem in advance glowed.

Ssssss—

The golem shrank and elongated, transforming into the form of a staff.

At first, just doing this took a whole week.

If he had really been a genius, he could have finished it in a day. It was a regretful point.

Tap tap. Evan tapped the ground with the obsidian staff made from the golem. Nodding in satisfaction, Evan left the room.

Creak—

The golem clung to Evan's back—to the point where even the servants nearby were not allowed to approach. For security within the mansion, it was excessively thorough and strict. But Evan did not think much of it. Who knows? An assassin might suddenly come flying at him.

It was then.

"Oh, Brother?"

Ah.

A voice he did not want to hear. He held back the frown that naturally formed on his face.

"...What is it?"

"Is it weird for a little brother to greet his older brother?"

The one who called Evan from behind was a boy who resembled him just a little. Theodore Alcarte. His half-brother one year younger than Evan, and the somewhat beloved youngest of the Alcarte Ducal Family. He had officially become a knight this time, or so it was said. He had even opened his Aura Hole—

Isn't that talent a bit excessive for an extra?

Surprisingly, in this ducal family, aside from Evan and the Duke, there were no important characters. At best, they were all red nameplates—meaning NPCs that could be killed. Nothing more, nothing less. Even more of a cold-rice treatment than Evan, who had the title of "Boss" even if rotten.

"...What is it?"

"Ugh. Still using that disgusting formal speech? Why don't you just go back to your original personality?"

"...This has always been my personality."

But he would not create a fight. Not creating a dangerous situation itself—was that not what a true man was?

"Brother, I heard you sent a letter to the temple this time too? Why do you keep doing weird things?"

Grab!

Theodore tried to put his hand on Evan's shoulder but was stopped by the golem. The staff in his hand also tried to move but paused.

"Ugh...!"

As if his pride was wounded by that, Theodore's face flushed red.

"The shame of our family shouldn't keep trying to show its face outside. Hmm? Know your place, Brother."

Unable to touch him with his hands, he swaggered and spat "ptew" in front of him.

Ugh, I'm pissed.

Being ignored like this once or twice was one thing, but after multiple times, the anger was bound to boil over. Should I just go for it too?! Then Theodore's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thick forearms entered his vision.

At this distance, even a transmigrator is just an ordinary person.

Evan tried to put on as kind a smile as possible. Then he flinched.

...Ah, damn. My face cramped up.

His face stiffened rigidly. It was Evan's chronic condition. Cramps came easily—and it was not limited to any one body part. Especially his face cramped easily. Enough for the other person to misunderstand.

Seeing Evan's stiffened face, Theodore's pupils shook slightly. Lowering his hand, Theodore spoke with an expression full of irritation.

"Don't appear in front of my eyes, Brother. Then I might really just go and do something. Tch!"

After making a childish threat, Theodore stomped away with heavy steps.

I'll really get revenge later.

...Of course not me, but with the golem. It absolutely was not because he was scared. It was because it was more efficient. What. Why.

That evening, a letter arrived at the Full Moon Church.

Arthur, holding the letter, sat on a veranda where a cool breeze blew and moonlight shone well, tilting his wine glass.

Tak.

Glug glug—

He poured the liquor from a white bottle into an empty glass. On the rippling surface of the wine glass, Arthur's face and the Saintess's face were reflected at an angle.

"It's been a while, Arthur."

"It has been a while."

Arthur, having emptied his glass, spoke in a flat voice.

"What business brings the Saintess of the Sun here?"

"What business? I came to meet a 'comrade' preparing for the great cause together."

"We are not comrades. Our paths are just a tiny bit similar, that's all."

"Hehe. Isn't that the same thing?"

The Saintess, Adrianne, who naturally poured liquor into the empty glass, asked.

"So, is your great cause being prepared well?"

"It's not a great cause, but a small one. It's solely my own goal."

Arthur spoke while looking at the moon reflected on the liquor.

"Just a modest purpose of wanting to cut down that moon for the sake of my power."

"Calling that modest... Truly, a goal that suits the name of madman well."

A Holy Knight mad for power. More precisely—the Knight of the Reverse Moon who sought to cut down even the moon and make it fall. The only Holy Knight of the Full Moon Church, yet one who desired the moon's downfall. Arthur's goal that was only revealed in the DLC.

"The liquor doesn't taste bad."

Gulp!

Arthur downed the liquor in one go instead of answering. The Saintess, who had poured a small amount into her glass in front, looked at the letter.

"That letter is...?"

"I received it today. A potion that can fix my Aura Hole was enclosed."

"...!"

The Saintess was astonished. A potion that can fix an Aura Hole? Certainly Arthur was strong. With physical ability alone, he could tear apart a troll's neck and body. But he could not handle aura—because his Aura Hole was damaged. He had become much weaker than in his prime. But fix the Aura Hole? That meant...

That monster from his prime is coming back?

With just one potion? Who on earth made such a potion?

...Could it be?

In that moment, the Saintess recalled the letter and potion she had received three days ago. Had she not also received a potion that could slightly heal her own illness? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Was it sent by the same person?

"..."

Arthur looked down at the letter impassively. The potion that could fix the Aura Hole was surprising. But even more than that—

This phrase.

How does he know my plan?

The knight who would cut down the moon. However, now was not the time. That was correct. But Arthur had a reason he could not help but act hastily. The Shaman of the Full Moon Church—Arthur's only blood relative, and his younger sister. The time remaining for her continued to dwindle. The remaining time was roughly five to six years. His heart could not help but grow impatient. This single letter had reminded him of that. That it was not yet time.

...Yes. It is not yet time.

Arthur regained his composure. To cut down the moon, he needed to grow stronger. The top priority was restoring the Aura Hole.

I don't know how he found out, but I've incurred a debt.

Arthur's firm lips loosened. The second son of the Alcarte family—

It would be worth going to meet him once.

Meanwhile, the Saintess was looking at Arthur's letter while pretending not to. More precisely, the phrase written on the letter paper.

It is not yet time?

What did that mean? It was not hard to see. It was written large, as if to be shown—as if anticipating that someone would see it.

Don't tell me he anticipated I would come here?

Shudder! Goosebumps rose on her arms.

...Yes. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠There's no reason to write such a phrase so blatantly on the letter paper otherwise.

Then, did that mean Evan Alcarte had even anticipated that she would come here?

Since when has he been watching me? What's his purpose?

Speculations went in various directions, but no answer came. In a short time, the Saintess's eyes, who had briefly turned her thoughts, settled.

...Yes. Until I figure it out, I have no choice but to play along for a while.

She was a Saintess who had lived her whole life wearing a mask. What did it matter if she wore the mask for a few more years?

"I should send a gift."

"Me too."

The Saintess held out her wine glass and said.

"Let's do it together. After all, it seems we've been targeted by the same people."

"...Targeted by the same person."

Glug glug—

"That's interesting. Care to tell me about it?"

The next morning, Evan, who had been sparring with the golem set up as a guard, doubted his ears.

"...Theodore ran away from home?"

"Yes..."

"...He said he's going to repent and come back? Suddenly?"

The youngest of the ducal family. Theodore had run away for the reason of repentance.