Because It's More Fun (2)

‘My thinking was too naive.’

Lancel swallowed bitter regret inwardly at the thought of those ten-plus years he'd tossed away without meaning. Thinking back, it made sense. Rodnis was a prosperous metropolis, but it wasn't a gentle world where a fifteen-year-old girl could survive alone. The spirit Pina, visible only to her, was just a flying nagger and probably couldn't offer any real help. His head throbbed.

Better to fail outright than waste a decade like this.

As that thought crossed his mind, a familiar birthday spread appeared before Lancel's eyes.

"Happy eighteenth birthday, Lancel Dan—"

"I'm heading to the capital. You're gonna try to stop me anyway, so grab your sword and come out quick. No time to waste."

"Huh?"

His heart raced. If he cut out the unnecessary delays, he could shorten the trip to the capital to about half a month. Taking the fastest horse and just one servant, Lancel arrived at the capital as if fleeing from something. It was exactly on the nineteenth day.

"Gone again?"

"Pardon?"

The servant stared quizzically at Lancel, who was gazing blankly into empty space. Once more, no game system screen appeared before him.

Another ten years.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"This is driving me insane."

At this point, Lancel was convinced. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fact that no game screen appeared when he first entered the capital was proof that the ending was already locked in by then. The game had ended long ago. Death endings were the prime example. What remained afterward was just a world without its protagonist.

Rodnis, the ever-vibrant capital teeming with endless incidents and drama, went on without Marygold—the one who was supposed to live in it.

Of course, it would be weird if the game system stuck around intact after the protagonist Marygold died.

Ha.

Honestly, it was a shock. When he first opened his eyes as Lancel Dante, he'd assumed he was the protagonist. Self-indulgent? Wouldn't anyone transmigrated from the 21st century into a medieval world of swords and magic think that?

But an extra? Me?

What had he been living for over the past hundred years? He had no grand destiny to fulfill, no great evil to defeat. There was just the utterly insignificant Lancel Dante.

Because he was a side character. An extra.

So that's how it was. Yeah, that makes sense. No wonder it felt off. There was just nothing to do. Hell, I even wrote that damn seafood travelogue because of it.

Instead, it was a relief. The endless regressions, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dogshit empire, the cursed imperial family, wars, crimes, madness, revelry, famines, tragedies, agonies—they weren't his problems.

He hadn't screwed up. It wasn't his to fix.

Because this world's protagonist was

Marygold.

What did she even look like? His memory was fuzzy now. He'd know when he saw her, probably.

…

"Happy eighteenth birthday, Lancel Dante! On a day like this, why the hell do you have such an unlucky face?"

"Must've inherited it from my parents."

"Come to think of it, your mom did have that affair."

"I heard she was from the eunuch line."

"…Did I say that?"

"Who knows."

Having witnessed the exact same death ending twice now, Lancel didn't rush. He wasn't frustrated or disappointed. He decided to chalk it up to getting the bad luck out of his system and take it easy. His time was infinite anyway.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

And after dying twice already, it's not gonna happen again, right? Just take it slow.

…

"…."

The fifteen-year-old girl Marygold. Dead again.

4.

Lancel Dante, back at eighteen, asked the old steward before him.

"Steward. Have you ever heard of a family called Marygold?"

"The Marygold family…."

"The count's house from the eastern empire that's gone now. The Marygold family."

On the darkening balcony of the manor, Lancel was sharing a bottle of liquor with the Dante family steward.

"…."

The steward fell silent for a moment at Lancel's casual question, his face flushed from the alcohol.

"A nostalgic name."

When he finally spoke, a faint, bitter smile played on his lips.

"Don't be too curious about that family, young master. Just know they were a noble house that vanished in disgrace."

"Disgrace?"

"Yes. Disgrace."

Lancel stared into his glass before speaking.

"So it wasn't just some house burned down in the war."

"That's the common tale."

"How much do you know, steward?"

"Not just me—no one knows more than what I just said. And knowing more wouldn't do you any good."

It sounded like he was skipping parts, but Lancel chose to trust the steward. He wasn't the type to lie about something like this.

"Just popped into my head. Pretend I didn't ask."

"Of course, young master."

Lancel set aside any thought of pressing further and tilted his glass.

Yeah, figures. The Marygold family's backstory wasn't detailed even in the game settings.

Aside from the occasional flashbacks to Lady Marygold's childhood memories, it barely appeared in Fallen Lady Simulation. All that was known was that they were a prosperous count's family in the eastern empire, annihilated in a single war.

Lancel set down his glass.

"I'm heading to the capital tomorrow."

"The viscount will object."

"No problem. I beat him in the sparring hall, and he gave permission."

"…I'll have your things prepared."

"Not curious why I'm going?"

"Any aspiring knight dreams of life in Rodnis."

The steward smiled kindly and added,

"Conveniently, a capital-bound train passes through in two days. It'd be a detour, but if you're not in a rush, you could take it."

"A train…. How long to the capital?"

"The one coming now? About four months."

"Four whole months."

Of course he was in a hurry. With Lady Marygold—the blowfish who could drop dead anytime—it wouldn't hurt to get there sooner.

But maybe because he'd wasted time so many times already, Lancel felt oddly relaxed. Whether he rushed or dawdled, three experiences had taught him the futility of it all.

"Train sounds comfy, though."

"I'll book a cabin. Leave it to me."

5.

The capital-bound train pulled into the station on the open plain. It was a bit advanced for a medieval setting, but he'd seen it so often it didn't feel strange anymore. His sister, the game maker, had brushed off historical accuracy with, "Trains can totally be in a romance fantasy!" And honestly, she wasn't wrong. If it existed, it existed.

"Wait long?"

A man in uniform stepped out of the first car. A middle-aged fellow with a distinctive mustache.

"Baron Rocks of the Imperial Railway Company. Heard the Dante house has a son fresh from his coming-of-age. Sturdy-looking lad, just as they said."

"Lancel Dante."

"Lancel, fine name. Long journey ahead. Hop on. Second room in car two is yours. Any issues, tell the guards right away. We'll handle most requests."

He pointed to the sleeping car reserved for nobles. Inside: lavish furnishings, liquor, fruit, and a bedroom spacious enough for luxury solo travel.

Slower than a horse for various reasons, but undeniably comfortable.

"Not bad."

Lancel unpacked roughly and flopped onto the bed. Great facilities, but four months here? Eating boring meals and killing time would turn torturous eventually. If he had any other choice, he wouldn't take the train.

Politely put, it was a wandering train; bluntly, a damn slow caterpillar.

Short routes and class-prioritized passing were the culprits. No train overtook the imperial train, then church trains, imperial army trains—and only at the end came this Imperial Railway one.

Most in general cars were traveling merchants hitting villages with stations or folks needing long-distance carts and escorts but short on cash. Nobles in the luxury cars? Moldy ones like Lancel with time to burn.

I'll just master wasting time at this rate. Time's plentiful, but still….

He closed his eyes on the bed. Felt the train leave the station.

"…!"

Lancel felt his body freeze solid.

What the hell was this? Had his time-wasting skills hit superhuman levels, skipping four months in a blink?

No way. Lancel held his breath at the scene materializing before him.

She's here.

His hair stood on end. Marygold. He didn't know why she was on the capital-bound train, but she clearly existed here.

Thirty years. Thirty whole years. The time it took to see this screen, to share space with Marygold.

Lancel sprang from his seat on reflex. Bolted from the room.

Marygold would be traveling as a commoner now. Definitely in general seating.

"Sir Lancel? Do you need something…."

"Out of the way."

"Wha— Y-yes, sir…."

Pushing past the guards trying to stop him, Lancel shoved through the train cars without hesitation.

"Sir Lancel, this area isn't for nobles…."

"Don't interfere."

He flung open the door to general seating.