Because It's More Fun (1)
“What do you think?”
“Eh, just okay.”
That day, even as he gave a curt reply to his sister's question, a whirlwind of doubts was churning in Lancel's mind. On the surface, Fallen Lady Simulation was your standard romance fantasy life sim. But it had a very peculiar system.
“Isn't everything supposed to be way more random than this?”
“Why? Weird?”
“...Isn't it kinda off that there aren't any fixed events at all? Logically speaking?”
“Could be.”
“The harvest festival happens some years and not others? The swordsmanship tournament's every five years—why'd it skip? And the rebels just pop out of nowhere with zero warning.”
“That's what makes it fun. The unpredictability, the variables.”
Everything random. No set plot progression.
“I'm seriously asking—what's with the Demon King? A setup like this having a Demon King?”
“It has to! Demon Kings are cool.”
“What even is he?”
“Some kinda dark entity or whatever.”
“...”
Every reason was so simplistic.
“Unexpected characters, unexpected fun, unexpected encounters, unexpected twists, unexpected endings! How great is that?”
“...Yeah, it's definitely full of surprises.”
It was a game full of surprises in every way. He didn't even want to nitpick the bizarre mishmash of medieval and modern elements in the setting. It wasn't the kind of game that cared about historical accuracy anyway. The fact that over a million citizens somehow crammed into the imperial capital of Rodnis? Just another hilarious mountain in the peak of absurdity—he glossed over it. Wars breaking out constantly across the continent like it was no big deal, monsters and bandits jumping you the moment you stepped outside the city walls, rebels and crime syndicates and mercenaries and con artists crawling out of every corner of the capital. And yet the imperial palace was in a nonstop whirl of parties and festivals. It was all part of the game, so it worked.
His one burning question?
When the hell does this protagonist get her happy ending?
Even scanning through the ending list called the Album of Memories, every single one left a bitter taste. At least, that's how it looked to him. Marry a prince? It'd still end hinting at impending doom.
“That's what makes it more fun.”
More fun?
“Hm.”
Let's head to the capital.
Thinking back, there had been plenty of chances to go to Rodnis in past loops. The continent's top educational institution, the academy, was there, for one. Most social season events happened in Rodnis too, naturally. Any knight with a name worth dropping would head there for the swordsmanship tournament... or rather, to meet the ladies gathering for it. Lancel hadn't exactly been free of invitations from them. If anything, they'd stuck to him like glue.
So why had he holed up in the countryside?
Conversely, what reason was there to go?
Even back when the entire continent praised him and erected statues in his honor, he'd lived and died on the battlefield. Festivals, high society, tournaments, romances with ladies? He couldn't have cared less. Ambition for promotion or marriage? Not really. Over the past century-plus, the total time he'd spent in actual relationships? Generously, maybe five years. And even that was fake dating without so much as holding hands. Marriage? Never crossed his mind. In his third loop, when he'd reached the pinnacle of knightly fame, he'd turned down an imperial princess's proposal.
For the record, contrary to the rumors back then, his manly functions were perfectly normal.
But now I have to go to the capital.
He knew this world's secrets now. Finally, he had a reason to head to Rodnis.
“Happy eighteenth birthday, Lancel Dante! You look like you swallowed a bug—way too serious for you.”
“Father. Now that I'm an adult, I'm heading to the capital.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You're not skilled enough yet to play around in the capital. I won't let you tarnish the storied Dante family name.”
“Perfect, then. Grab your sword and come outside. Your son'll teach you a lesson.”
“Kuhuhu. Fun. I'll show you myself that the blood in your head hasn't fully dried yet. Once some hot stuff spills out, you'll get the picture.”
Exactly three sword clashes later, the Viscount Dante lay flat as a frog.
“I'm going to the capital.”
“I'll write you a letter. Someone there should put you up.”
The next day, Lancel boarded a carriage bound straight for Rodnis. Just some pocket change and three servants traveled with him. After a grueling month-plus journey, he crossed Rodnis's walls.
“...?”
Nothing appeared before his eyes.
“You've grown a lot since I last saw you, Lancel. Please make yourself at home here—treat it like your own.”
“I'll think of you as a father figure, Lord Ivil.”
“Sounds good. Viscount Dante sure raised his son right.”
“So well that he's bedridden right now.”
“Give me a break on that.”
A middle-aged man with a plump, glossy face and black hair clasped his hand. He had the typical look of a well-off capital noble. Baron Ivil Shen. Baron in name only—his position in Rodnis was basically that of a merchant. People whispered he was “the most successful stablehand.” He bought quality horses, groomed them up, and sold them to nobles, proudly owning massive stables. To Rodnis's extravagant nobles, a well-bred horse was like a luxury item. Baron Ivil Shen had cashed in on their desires to rise as a nouveau riche.
“Money really is the best.”
“Right? Even if they call me a stablehand, owning a swanky place like this keeps the grin on my face.”
“Fair enough. Let me apologize right now for the prejudices I had coming in.”
“Now I gotta hear what they were.”
“Not something to bring up on a good day.”
“Viscount Dante really raised his son right.”
“I hear that a lot.”
Baron Ivil Shen handed over the entire top floor of his three-story mansion before vanishing with busy steps. Lancel mentally upgraded him from countryside nouveau riche reeking of horse dung to wealthy, convenient merchant.
A month.
Since arriving in Rodnis, Lancel had spent nearly a month lounging like a total slacker. Hungry? Call a servant for food. Bored? Wander the capital to kill time. Having a diligent merchant for a host was a perk for a freeloader—no need to feel awkward when he was always out.
But the Shen household servants, used to nobles being busybees, seemed to find Lancel a bit odd.
“No work for him. And he's a noble.”
“Slept in bed for two straight days.”
“He's a knight, but I've never seen him train. What's his deal?”
Overhearing from afar, Lancel just smirked.
Live over a century yourselves. You'll master killing time like a pro.
Of course, he wasn't doing this for fun.
Why hasn't she shown up?
Fallen Lady Simulation. No trace in the capital for the past month, no matter how hard he searched. Even scouring every nook and cranny, all he saw was Rodnis's bustling streets.
“How long do I have to wait?”
Two months. Three. Four. A full year passed like that.
Lancel stared blankly at the flowing time.
When the hell does this damn game start? Did I miss something?
That evening, over dinner—the first in ages with his host—Lancel brought it up to Baron Ivil.
“Ever heard of the Marygold family?”
“...!”
The Marygold Count family. The protagonist's house in the game. By the start, they'd completely fallen into obscurity, but any noble would know the name from their heyday.
Baron Ivil's eyes bulged; he glanced around warily.
“You've heard too, then?”
“...?”
Lancel blinked at the sudden whisper. Not the reaction he'd expected.
“That woman caught poaching outside the capital... turns out she was a Marygold daughter.”
Lancel lifted his teacup to hide his agitation.
“World's full of surprises. The mighty Marygolds turning to ash overnight was shocking enough... but their last bloodline going like that?”
“So, when's she getting out?”
“Out? What're you talking about?”
Baron Ivil whispered even lower.
“They already hanged her ages ago, thinking she was a commoner. Don't breathe a word elsewhere—bad for noble rep if word spreads.”
Poaching meant the noose. Nobles could weasel out, but a fallen lady? No one to vouch for her status. Prison guards wouldn't buy her claims.
So this loop's world is post-protagonist? Already gone?
—Unexpected twists, unexpected endings! How great.
And so.
Ten years passed.
Finally, Lancel laid eyes again on the game system screen he'd longed for.
[Playtime: 0 years, 29 days]
— Marygold has died.
— No marriage partner.
— No achievements.
[Bad Ending 8. The Framed Marygold]
— Ending added to the Album of Memories.
— Restart the game?
“...What the actual fuck...”