Just Bring Yourself
The drawing room of Count Holybell.
Even in its master's absence, the place had been kept immaculate. Andy sat in the elegant, dustless chamber, a fragrant steam rising from the teacup before him.
Across from him, a young count in his thirties savored his own tea.
"It's good to be back at the estate after so long. Well then—how have you found it, living here yourself?"
"I find it a peaceful and beautiful place. The view of the village from the mansion, in particular, left quite an impression."
"Doesn't it! The scenery. I think the same every time I look at it. Our ancestors chose the site remarkably well."
Earlier, after exchanging introductions in the kitchen, Duncan had taken Cream aside for a private conversation. Afterward, Andy had been summoned.
This was the first time either of them had laid eyes on the other.
The count set down his cup and regarded Andy steadily.
"I'm glad our tastes seem to align. I brought you here purely on instinct, and I find myself rather pleased."
"I'm honored."
"Ah, I can still picture that day. Something about it felt… almost as if I were under a spell. Yes—under a spell."
"…"
"I'd gone to the capital on important business. There, plastered on a wall, I saw your advertisement for a private tutor. That was how I hired you. Under ordinary circumstances, it would have been unthinkable."
So that was how it began.
Andy had woken up in this mansion without warning and pieced together a rough picture from the servants' talk, but hearing the full story left him with a strange feeling.
"Even now, it strikes me as extraordinary. Properly, one ought to carefully select a tutor of reliable breeding—and yet I decided based on a street advertisement. Perhaps it was the line on the paper that caught my eye: Can teach every subject.…"
"Haha…"
"Looking at you now, you have such an open, pleasant face—perhaps you do have a way of charming people. Or maybe it was heaven's will."
Heaven's will, indeed.
The person called Andy had never originally existed in this world. The author must have gone to some trouble to force him into Holybell Mansion.
If you can manage something like that, you might as well have paid more attention to Cream.
That thought was directed at the author.
If the personalities of the people around her had simply been rewritten to be warmer, Cream could have been made happy far sooner.
"…"
Even as he thought it, Andy shook his head inwardly.
If that had been possible, there would have been no need to go through the trouble of inserting someone named Andy at all.
Having experienced this world firsthand, he knew it was nothing like an ordinary novel or game program.
If the author could rewrite the content freely, without constraint, the way one does with a real novel or game, there would have been no reason to involve Andy.
A thought had struck him once before—
Sitting blankly in a swaying carriage, he had mused that this felt less like a work written with heartfelt creative passion and more like a simple description of circumstances—
…Could the 'author' who sent me here be something more like an observer?
He thought of this world's mythology.
In the beginning, God created the world; later, when it grew unstable, He split His own body to ensure its survival.
If that was not merely a novel's setting, but the actual history of a real world—
It fits rather well.
A strange certainty settled over him.
There were theories of multiverses and the like, after all. Modern-day Andy decided to keep an open mind.
A world beyond the Earth he had known.
A hypothesis: some godlike being who had witnessed that world's ruin had baited Earth in the form of a web novel, selected the Andy who fell for it, and entrusted him with Cream's upbringing.
The moment he considered the possibility of worlds beyond Earth, the idea settled in without resistance—as natural as breathing from the moment of birth.
Perhaps reading too many web novels had scrambled his brain.
In any case, Andy set the speculation aside and focused on the man before him.
Whether the hypothesis was correct, whether the author had given him his "spirituality" and Cream her "penalty," whether that penalty was far too cruel—there was much he wanted to ask the author, but this was not the time.
Duncan Holybell—one of the people who had turned Cream's stomach in the first timeline.
Learning that his end involved a splashy ocean voyage had been rather satisfying… though now that Andy thought about it, hadn't he gotten off a little too easily?
Either way, this was a man who had driven Cream to harbor that much resentment—a man who had done that much to deserve it.
Andy decided, for now, to observe.
Just as the present Cream was different from her first-timeline self, the count was a major character. Perhaps something about him had changed as well.
"I'll take that as a kind word. Thank you for the compliment."
"Not at all. Well then… I suppose I should ask the most important question."
Duncan adjusted his posture.
Having already guessed what was coming, Andy prepared his answer.
"How is my sister's education progressing?"
"Smoothly."
"Is that so? I'd like to hear from her teacher what sort of child she is."
"She rarely forgets anything she has heard once. She takes a deep interest in reading, and her comprehension when absorbing new knowledge is exceptional. The speed at which she masters arithmetic far outstrips her peers, and she steadily makes etiquette, history, and geography her own as well."
"Oh-ho."
"Above all, she takes genuine pleasure in learning itself. Among all the children I have taught, her scholarly talent stands at the very top."
At this stream of praise, the count nodded with evident satisfaction.
But Andy was not finished.
"However… there is one matter that concerns me."
"What is it?"
"From time to time, the young lady shows a darker side."
The count's brow shifted slightly.
"A loneliness, I suppose one might call it—somewhat heavy for a child of her age to bear."
"…"
"She never lets it show openly, but now and then her expression grows lonely and strained. As though she longs for someone's attention and affection."
"…"
"Books alone cannot make a fine person. If the adults around her would not spare her a warm word or a little care, I dare say she would grow into an even more splendid adult than she already promises to become."
Andy bowed his head as he finished. The count tapped the table lightly with his fingertips.
It might have been considered an overstep—but looking at his face, he did not seem angry.
Merely calm.
And his only remark was that none of this was particularly surprising.
"It seems the gutter water hasn't quite drained out of her yet."
"…"
"She didn't receive a noble's education from early childhood, after all… Hah… Had I known it would be like this, I would have brought her here sooner."
Cream was the illegitimate child of the previous count and a maid.
Lady Noryu, the previous count's wife, had driven out the pregnant servant—but after the previous count's death, when Duncan inherited the headship, he had brought Cream back alone.
Why had he brought her?
Not out of any noble desire to care for a half-sister.
"With common blood mixed in, it can't be helped. Still, that girl needs to understand—if she wants to wash away the disgrace of her origins, she must be far more outstanding than anyone else. This world is not so forgiving."
"…"
"To sit in a position of renown, to marry someone of renown, requires a commensurate effort. Only then will she bring glory to the family, don't you think?"
Cream was a tool of the Holybell family.
In a region where the linen industry was declining thanks to the new synthetic fibers developed by the Magic Tower, the count had prepared a piggy bank for his heir.
A pretty half-sister.
Reasonably clever, too.
Invest a little here and there now, and someday—whether she married into a wealthy house or secured a fine position—she would spit out far more money than she cost.
"She's a bright child, just as you say. Having been taken into the family, she ought to repay that kindness at least that much. For now she's still young, and you say her lessons are going well, so I'll leave her in your hands."
"…"
"And if, when she's older, I bring in additional tutors, don't take it personally. It won't be that I doubt your ability—simply a matter of educating her more efficiently. I had tea with her earlier. She's still a touch lacking, but she can pass for a noble young lady. Graceful and precocious. That would be your achievement. Keep it up."
As though the conversation had reached its natural end, the count took a sip of tea and exhaled. His manner was so thoroughly everyday that the arrogance in it was all the more arrogant for being invisible.
Before him, Andy spoke slowly.
"…Regarding these other tutors."
"Hmm?"
"Might I ask if Your Lordship has a plan in mind?"
"Of course I do."
Duncan cleared his throat once.
"A noble young lady has a great deal to learn. History and geography are a given, of course, and at least two foreign languages. Genealogy cannot be neglected either—she must be able to identify a bloodline at a glance from a family crest. For instruments, the piano and the violin; she should have a basic command of singing as well. One needs a specialty to display before guests, after all. And above all, knowledge of high society.
"…"
"The art of conversation that delights one's partner, the knack of dropping political remarks at just the right moment, how to choose flowers as gifts, how never to lose one's smile—even knowing games like poker or chess can please a man. I'll have her rise at dawn every day: academics in the morning, instruments and dance in the afternoon, etiquette in the evening, outdoor activities such as riding on the weekends. And twice a month, I'll arrange something resembling a ball so she can practice her dancing. That is where she must shine. We can hardly afford for her to make a blunder and turn the young lady of House Holybell into a laughingstock—so it will require careful attention."
"…There would be no days of rest."
"All of it is for the sake of making that child a proud member of the family."
Keep that in mind, and I look forward to your continued efforts—
Having received the count's farewell, Andy stepped out of the drawing room.
Managing his expression turned out to be surprisingly easy. Through the middle of the conversation it had been hard to endure—but past a certain point, a smile had actually come to his face. Was this how Cream felt when she smiled so brightly in this mansion?
As he left the drawing room, peaceful voices drifted from the entrance hall.
"When did you grow so tall? Truly… my goodness…"
"Grandmother, you're not well. Please go inside now."
"I simply want to look a little longer at the face of my only granddaughter. You've only just returned—must you rush off to the lord's manor this very moment?"
"As the future heir, I have to keep busy."
"Ah… really, when did you grow so much…"
A girl in uniform, her blue-purple hair—the same shade as the count's—tied up high. Mid-to-late teens, perhaps.
Before her stood a middle-aged lady with brown hair neatly drawn back. Her wrinkled, pale face looked frail, yet she was smiling with all her might.
Accompanied by maids, the two of them were chatting when they happened to glance toward Andy.
"Hm? That man is…"
At the girl's murmur, the maid beside her whispered something in her ear.
"Ah. That one's still at the mansion?"
The girl's tone was openly scornful.
Beside her, the lady averted her gaze as though Andy had never existed at all.
The face that had been smiling moments before went cold; she would have looked at porcelain or a painting with more warmth.
Andy pretended not to have seen them from that distance and continued on his way. They, for their part, seemed inclined to pay him no further mind.
He climbed the stairs and climbed them again, knocked on the young lady's new and comfortable room, and went straight in.
"Young lady."
"Welcome back, Teacher. Your impressions of a private audience with the head of the house… ah, I suppose there's no need to ask."
Cream, who had already finished her own interview with the count, gave a soft little laugh. It was the smile she wore when she was playing at being grown-up, and also the unthinking, innocent smile of a child.
"Isn't it hilarious listening to that man talk? The way he just grinds people down. Makes me wonder if we really share the same blood."
Her teasing, ticklish laughter somehow made it easier to breathe.
At present, Cream did not look particularly upset. Whether that was because she had never expected anything, or because she possessed the power to deal with them whenever she chose—
But Andy could not manage the same.
From the count's drawing room all the way here, he had felt as though he were suffocating.
"Teacher?"
She called to him.
In the sound of that word—Teacher—there was a nostalgia he could not name.
"Did you eat something bad? Or did that man say something to you?"
She had been packing the count's gift into an oak barrel; now she came scampering over.
Her cotton-candy-pink hair swayed with every step—
the only thing in this barren mansion that seemed to hold any life.
Andy bent at the waist to match her height.
"Young lady."
"It's not that I'm worried about you or anything. I'm just asking because I'm curi—"
"Let us leave this place together."
"…What?"
"We leave, and we live together."
Blink.
Cream's soft pink eyes closed, then opened again.
"What did you… just… say?"
Those large, round eyes closed slowly and opened again, gentle as a cat's.
To that girl, Andy spoke in a low voice.
"I will take full responsibility for your life."
"Uh, uh…"
"Meals, education—of course I'll continue those as I have been. And you needn't worry about money. Leave it to me; I'm the adult here."
"What are you—from the start, what…"
"I will make you far happier than living in a mansion like this ever could."
"Uh… eh…?"
"You need not think of anything at all. Just bring yourself."
"…"
Cream could not say a word.
