Chapter 91. Falling (1)
Chapter 91. Falling (1)
1
Last year.
There were two young ladies who had received epithets from His Imperial Majesty.
...Lady Sylvia Evanail, daughter of Baron Evanail.......
...A golden thread has bloomed in the center of a yellow garden.......
...From now on, people shall call you this.......
Lady Golden Thread Plum.
The heroine of this world.
...Lady Raviel Ivansia, daughter of Duke Ivansia.......
...A flower plated in silver so that she would not lower her head.......
...Child. From now on, the subjects of the Empire shall call you.......
Lady Silver Lily.
The villainess of this Apocalypse.
Daughters of noble houses typically received epithets at their debutante balls. The royal or high noble who hosted the debutante would bestow a new name upon them.
The prestige of a young lady's epithet varied depending on how exalted the giver was. An epithet bestowed by a baron and one bestowed by a count were on entirely different levels.
The most colorful of all, naturally, was an epithet bestowed by the Emperor himself. Receiving a name from His Majesty was in itself an honor for the family and a glory for the individual.
With two such young ladies attending the same academy, a massive storm was inevitable.
'Even so.'
I looked at the Crown Prince. The Crown Prince was holding my comrade, the Heretic Questioner, who had been cast in the role of Lady Golden Thread Plum. He was hugging him so tightly that the Heretic Questioner’s clothes were twisted around his fingertips like fish scales.
'Isn't that a bit too frivolous for the Crown Prince of a nation?'
Strangely, I didn't like it.
The Crown Prince and I made eye contact. I had been looking at him with a somewhat dumbfounded expression, so I quickly lowered my eyes. But the Crown Prince's gaze was strange too.
Contempt. Anger. Disdain.
Negative emotions lurked in his pupils.
"...So you survived as well."
Huh.
Was that directed at me? Since I was the only one meeting his gaze, it probably was. But his voice sounded like someone chewing spinach that was three days past its expiration date. It was unpleasant.
"Yes, Your Highness."
I mimicked the speech patterns I remembered from historical dramas.
"I have managed to preserve my life."
"You were fortunate."
"How could it be thanks to the fortune of a lowly servant such as myself? This too is the grace of Your Highness."
"......."
The Crown Prince's elegant eyebrows slid. I had just subtly jabbed at him, implying, [You staged that attack yourself, didn't you?] A guilty conscience needs no accuser—even an ordinary greeting would make him flinch.
"You speak excessively. Are you suggesting that my grace touches every event in the world? That you preserved your own life, that you protected Sylvia from the assassins' blades—all of that was your own luck. I offer my thanks."
Wow.
It sounded like he was stepping back and praising me, but if you listened closely, he wasn't. He was belittling it as my "luck," not my "skill." Surely not. I wanted to think surely not, but was the Crown Prince actually keeping me in check right now?
"Lady Golden Thread Plum is my master."
At that moment.
"And I belong to the young lady."
My mouth was moving before I knew it.
"Your Highness. How could one call it a matter of luck when a single sword protects its master? A tool has merely fulfilled its purpose. Please withdraw your excessive praise, Your Highness."
I was flustered. Really, truly, I had intended to mumble something vague and back off. What good would come of a fight between the Crown Prince of a nation and a family's butler? And yet my tongue wagged away on its own.
'Huh? Have I finally lost my mind?'
Just as my head was starting to feel slightly hazy, a voice came through.
[Your immersion in the character deepens.]
What?
[Your current Immersion Rate is 1%.]
What the hell?
"...Truly, you are eloquent enough to make me want to sew your lips shut."
While I was mentally repeating what the hell over and over, the Crown Prince's face twisted. Humiliation. Mortification. It was the face of a man barely holding back a curse.
If possible, I wanted to hurl a bucketful of curses at him too. Because seeing the Crown Prince's crumpled expression had left a strange sense of refreshment in a corner of my heart. The feeling of serves you right came before the thought that I should stop here. What the hell. This was insane.
"It seems baron-level noble houses these days select their servants by tongue rather than character. His Majesty would surely lament the state of the world if he knew."
Hold on.
Wait. You blond instant-noodle-looking Crown Prince of this world or whatever. Don't provoke me any further. Please, don't poke at [my] emotions. This, this stage is.......
"How could that be? Would there ever come a day when His Majesty's discerning eye grows dim? With Your Highness the Crown Prince having grown so splendidly and accumulating virtue day by day at this academy, I dare say His Majesty's heart must be most pleased."
In other words, it was a sneer meaning, your father would be delighted to know you've been hiring assassins—but that interpretation didn't matter right now.
I had realized the trap of this stage.
And I understood why the Paladin and the Count, the hunters who managed our Tower's economy and security, had been so powerless and failed to clear it.
'Those two seemed to get devoured by their concepts as time went on!'
[Your immersion in the character deepens.]
No.
[Your current Immersion Rate is 2%.]
This is insane.
"Hmph. Enough. Sparring with you in words is beneath my dignity. I will thoroughly investigate the truth of tonight's events."
"Is there anyone more trustworthy than Your Highness the Crown Prince at this academy? I can only entreat you with a sincere heart. Please uncover the mastermind behind the attack and make an example of them."
"Of course."
Ah.
So this was it!
This was the special feature of this stage!
The Crown Prince glared at me sidelong as he spoke.
"It seems someone other than Lady Sylvia was quite startled in the night. There may be more attackers lying in wait. I shall protect the young lady tonight, so you may consider yourself informed."
"Your Highness."
My tongue was evolving into an answering machine.
"Forgive my impertinence. It is precisely at times like this, when such an incident has occurred, that one must rest where one feels most at ease. My master will wish to remain in her private quarters as usual."
"...Are you saying she would not feel at ease by my side?"
"I apologize. I merely speak the truth to Your Highness."
Help me.
Somebody help me!
[Your immersion in the character deepens.]
[Your current Immersion Rate is 3%.]
Help me! Help me!
-Hey, you... what are you doing?
Sword Emperor, sir! No, Sword Emperor, sir!
-Eh, has this bastard gone crazy?
I'm really about to lose it, so please do something!
-Uh... what exactly do you want me to do?
I don't know. Just snap me out of it somehow!
-Hm. Are you sure it's okay for me to say some really fucking awful shit?
I don't care what you say, just snap me out of it!
-Ah, well then.
The guardian spirit grinned.
-Zombie. You seemed bothered by Viper. But whenever you get the chance, you act more cringe-inducingly than anyone, like the protagonist of Viper's delusions.......
Ah.
'That's enough. I'm awake now. Don't say another word.'
-Aye.
The guardian spirit's audacity in dropping a Viper joke snapped me back to my senses. What a shameless ghost. I said he could say anything, but he was really about to open a buffet of nonsense. Thanks to that, the Immersion Rate that had been climbing like crazy came to a screeching halt.
"......."
Meanwhile.
The Heretic Questioner, face buried in the Crown Prince's chest, was not normal either.
"......? Hm......?"
The Heretic Questioner tilted his head back and forth, shaking it. For the first time, I caught a glimpse of the Heretic Questioner looking "bewildered." The self-proclaimed and universally acknowledged number one lunatic. The pure natural psycho could not understand the emotion he was feeling right now.
Push.
Perhaps because of that, the Heretic Questioner pushed against the Crown Prince's chest. He pulled himself out of the embrace. The Crown Prince, who had been in a staring contest with me, looked at Lady Golden Thread Plum—no, the Heretic Questioner—in confusion.
"Sylvia. What's wrong all of a sudden?"
"Hm? ...Mmm? Oh?"
The Heretic Questioner tilted his head once more.
"How fascinating."
"What is fascinating, Sylvia?"
"Right now, I am feeling an unfamiliar emotion for the first time in my life."
The Heretic Questioner smiled brightly.
"My heart is pounding!"
"......."
"It's racing, my chest. Oh-ho. Aha. Indeed! Truly mysterious......."
The Heretic Questioner closed his eyes. Then he placed both hands over his chest. The Heretic Questioner—no, Lady Golden Thread Plum—wore a small smile. It was as if he were listening to beautiful classical music.
"The owner of this body seems to really like you!"
"S-Sylvia......."
The Crown Prince choked up. His face looked like rice soaked in a broth called emotion, topped with a side dish called gratitude.
If I hadn't hurried to stop my immersion, I might have felt jealousy at this exact moment, but fortunately—thankfully—that didn't happen. I had belatedly come to my senses.
"My lady."
I said "my lady" with emphasis. The Heretic Questioner opened his closed eyes and looked at me.
"Let us return to the dormitory. His Highness the Crown Prince has personally declared that he will uncover the truth behind the attack. The night is late, so you should return to your quarters and rest comfortably. Starting tomorrow, you must resume your daily life, must you not?"
We had not only our "roles" but also our "objective."
The objective of clearing the stage.
We could not forget that.
"Ah. Right. That's true."
The Heretic Questioner blinked. He had immediately understood my meaning. The Heretic Questioner took the hem of his skirt and bowed toward the Crown Prince.
"Thank you for your consideration. But I will return to my quarters with my servant."
"Huh?"
"Have a good night, Your Highness. I shall take my leave now!"
Abandoning the Crown Prince, whose face had gone blank, the Heretic Questioner turned away easily. And with light steps, he walked out of the warehouse.
Behind him, the Crown Prince cried out, "Sylvia! S-Sylvia?" but the Heretic Questioner simply walked down the corridor beaming. He didn't even look back.
"...This has gotten complicated."
I pressed close to the Heretic Questioner's side and muttered.
"Immersion. I never expected a trap like this. Damn it."
I had wondered why the Count and the Paladin failed, but now I understood.
"Ahaha."
The Heretic Questioner smiled a meaningless smile. Tap. Tap. Our footsteps echoed through the corridor, where moonlight cast pale shadows. The sound of footsteps resembled the beating of a heart.
"This is certainly a situation we did not anticipate. Death King, how much did your Immersion Rate rise just now?"
"It shot up like crazy to 3 percent. I barely stopped it."
"Impressive. I hit 10 percentage points right away!"
I was speechless.
'10 percentage points? 10%?'
I was stunned. He had spent just a brief moment with the character called the Crown Prince, and a tenth of his ego had been infected?
The situation was more serious than I had thought.
At this rate, even living an ordinary life was no different from walking through a poisonous fog. A poison mist that intoxicates you little by little, until by the time you come to your senses, you can no longer escape.
If you lose your grip.
You'll be devoured by this world's [Romance] in an instant.
"...This won't do."
I spoke. My voice was slow. Yes, I was tense.
Losing myself. The possibility that I might lose myself.
That was always the most terrifying thing to me.
"Let's set up a safety measure between us."
"A safety measure?"
"Yes."
I carefully touched the hilt of my dagger. The texture of the blue tape wrapped around my fingers. A sense of stability returned at the familiar sensation.
"Let's decide on a keyword. No matter the situation, no matter how serious, if one of us says this keyword, the other can snap back to their senses. For example, if I say [peach], you say [carrot]."
"Aha. A secret code for the two of us!"
The Heretic Questioner laughed.
"I agree! I've seen something similar in a drama. Then what words should we use as our secret code......."
Clack.
At that moment, the sound of heels came from the opposite end of the corridor. It was the sound of shoe heels striking the corridor precariously. Behind it, the heavy sound of many footsteps followed in a rush. One person was approaching with several servants in tow.
The moon shone.
Sharp shoes trampled the moonlight reflected on the corridor.
Hair as silver as the moonlight. Lady Silver Lily.
The duke's daughter walked toward us with her retinue. The villainess was frowning, angry about something. Her eyes glared at us.
"Ah."
The Heretic Questioner let out a short gasp.
"Death King."
The Heretic Questioner rose onto his tiptoes, lifting his heels.
And then he whispered into my ear.
"...I, it seems, dislike that woman."
Softly.
At a glance, it was the same voice as always.
"......."
I slowly turned my head and looked at the Heretic Questioner.
"Hm."
The Heretic Questioner spun around. The long hem of his dress swirled, creating a small whirlwind. The wind, carrying body heat, pressed against my chest.
"I'm curious, Death King."
Stopping with a tap, the Heretic Questioner spread both hands. He folded all his fingers except his index fingers—the only bare skin exposed.
"Ah, truly, I am curious."
Pressing both index fingers against the corners of his lips to push them up, he was smiling just as he always did.
"What kind of expression am I making right now?"
But.
His eyes were not smiling.
[Your immersion in the character deepens.]
[Current.]
[Your Immersion Rate is 4%.]