035. Inheritance Loop 1, Lancel's Shadow Game (3) 5. "From the Secret Organization Dark Hood Devoted to the Great Lancel Dante..."
"From the secret organization Dark Hood, devoted followers of the great Lancel Dante…."
Dark Hood. What a ridiculously clumsy name.
Lancel let out a scoff as he read on through the letter.
Listen closely. I know it's hard to believe, but I am a longtime follower of Lancel Dante, and I know all about your future.
Lancel Dante is not someone meant to settle for this much! Wasting your talents and abilities lounging around in some rich noble house, idling away your time—it's like eating bread without jam.
But don't worry, Lancel Dante. I'll take care of everything for you. From now on, I'll grow this secret organization Dark Hood strong and mighty, supporting you with all my power to make you a great noble powerhouse that even the Empire can't touch.
By the way, our group currently consists of 30 members and 5 executives.
Starting tomorrow, I'll send a letter every night. I'll report our organization's achievements daily, so please reply whenever you can. Oh, and if there's anything you want, just write it in your reply. I'll do anything for you. Just trust me. Your life is about to peak, Lancel.
—Dark Hood's Leader, 'Lemon Verbena'
"…."
Lancel stared at the end of the letter for a moment before neatly burning it in the lantern flame.
"Time for bed."
The next morning, Lancel spotted Marygold pacing restlessly around him.
"Why do you keep pacing back and forth?"
"Huh? Oh, it's just… um… nothing…."
She retreated, mumbling dejectedly under her breath.
"…Why isn't there any reaction at all…."
He wasn't sure exactly, but for someone who'd received a letter from the secret organization Dark Hood, his utterly normal demeanor seemed to have disappointed her quite a bit.
What kind of reaction do you expect, then?
Lancel wasn't so cold as to ignore Marygold the regressor's quirky antics entirely.
But not knowing what reaction someone who'd "received a letter from a secret organization" was supposed to show, he simply continued with his breakfast.
Marygold's pouty lips puffed out as she occasionally shuffled into the corner of his vision.
….
Thump!
Thump!
Thump!
That dawn, Lancel awoke again from deep sleep. The culprit was a crow pecking furiously at the window.
It was around 3 a.m., probably.
If you're gonna send it, send it early. Why so late at night?
Yawning widely, he opened the window. The crow fluttered in, wings flapping, and he quickly snatched it with his hand.
Caw! Caaaw!
The crow, eyes covered as if anticipating something, began trembling pitifully.
"I won't poke you."
He brought the letter tied to its ankle back to the lantern.
Yes, it's Dark Hood. I understand a sudden letter like this might be hard to believe. But Dark Hood is real. We're a powerful force in this empire truly devoted to Lancel Dante! This isn't a joke. Please believe us!
But I'll admit it. If a letter like this came suddenly, even I'd find it suspicious. It was my misjudgment. A rare mistake, very uncharacteristic of me.
So, as proof of our organization, let me show you. In your reply, order us to do anything. Yes, give us a command. We'll do anything.
—Dark Hood's Leader, Lemon Verbena.
She seems pretty disappointed, Marygold.
It looked like she'd taken Lancel's reply from the day before as some idle prank tossed by a bored person.
In truth, he hadn't been entirely free of such thoughts, so it was hard to deny.
Lancel glanced at the crow now perched on his shoulder, then back to the letter.
"Hm."
Interesting?
Lancel grinned and quickly picked up his quill pen.
What should I write to really throw Marygold off?
Let's keep it simple for now. No telling what might happen if he pushed too hard.
He scribbled a short reply in the blank space at the bottom of the letter.
Bring me the jam they sell for lunch from the bakery on 12th Street in Rodnis. That's it.
….
"Agh!"
The next day, Lancel saw Marygold tumbling down at the mansion entrance with a clatter. The jam jar she'd been clutching rolled across the floor, spilling its contents everywhere.
"Nooo! My jam!"
"Mary! Where have you been?!"
"J-just a quick errand…!"
"What's that on the floor? You spilled it all! Clean it up now!"
"Y-yes, sir!"
She blew it.
Even this simple request was too much?
Caw!
"Huh?"
But that dawn, unexpectedly, the crow tapping at the window had a string in its beak. A string wrapped tightly around a jam jar.
Lancel brought it inside and quickly opened the lid.
This is….
Not the scent of jam from the 12th Street bakery. One taste, and a strangely familiar flavor hit him. She'd clearly filled it with her own homemade batch.
The requested jam, delivered. Will you believe in our existence now?
—Dark Hood's Leader, Lemon Verbena.
Shameless.
Lancel picked up his pen.
Fine, I believe you. You really are my follower.
The crow on his shoulder flapped its wings and flew off, looking satisfied.
Send one bottle of fruit liquor made from apples. Hard to find around here.
The next day, the crow brought fruit liquor.
There was a stray dog that hung around the garden sometimes—can you bring it to my room?
The next day, Lancel received a puppy in his pocket.
What clothes would suit me? Something nice, please.
The next day, Marygold's familiar flew in, struggling with four outfits in its beak. Surprisingly, they all suited him well.
By now, Lancel was getting into it. This ridiculously clumsy secret organization—probably just Marygold solo most likely—was faithfully fulfilling his requests.
With a I wonder if she can do this? thought, he wielded his quill.
Bring me one gold coin. I'm in a bind without money.
The next day, the familiar appeared with a gold coin of unknown origin in its beak.
Caaaw!
As he took the gleaming gold coin, even Lancel couldn't hide his growing bewilderment.
Where the hell did she get this?
As far as he knew, Marygold had spent the whole day holed up in the mansion. Working a bit, napping in hiding—nothing out of the ordinary.
So how? If anything, maybe she'd found it somewhere in the mansion, but that didn't make sense either. Baron Ivil Shen, the miserly money-grubber, was meticulous with finances. No way he'd drop something as precious as a gold coin.
He quickly unfolded the letter.
One gold coin as requested! This is the power of our secret organization! We can get as many as you need!
Lancel stroked his chin.
She's more capable than expected.
What to call it.
Less a secret organization, more like a convenient errand runner?
Well, strictly speaking, Lancel was the one who'd turned Marygold into that, but judging by her actions so far, she was just a handy gofer.
Far from the grand, secretive group she'd apparently wanted.
Lancel had the crow take the gold coin back and sent it off—with instructions to return it where it came from, since who knew its source.
Surely there aren't really dozens of members?
….
No way.
6. "Come to think of it, the capital's been buzzing lately."
"Pardon?"
"The imperial ball."
At Baron Ivil Shen's words, Lancel set down the meat he'd been about to eat. It was dinnertime.
"No idea what wind's blowing, but they're opening the entire palace for the harvest festival in two years. For a young, promising noble like you, Sir Lancel, it's gotta be great news, right?"
"In two years…."
Marygold's seventeenth birthday had just passed recently. In two years, she'd be nineteen—plenty old enough for the "marriage ending."
"You'll participate, of course, Sir Lancel? They've led to marriages plenty in past imperial balls, haven't they? A bit dated, but still."
"Yeah, sure."
"Hook a fine lady and bring her to Viscount Dante. When else would you take a shot at those precious noble ladies? Right?"
Baron Ivil Shen was already fired up, as if it were his own affair.
Marygold, refilling his glass beside him, perked up her ears. The words "imperial ball" clearly piqued her interest too.
It is an opportunity, for sure.
An opportunity.
To make Marygold the empress.
In this world's nobility, "marriage" was merely a tool for building alliances. They picked advantageous partners and forced unions half the time. Lancel's own engagement to Lady Iceford—one of the empire's three beauties—in a past loop had followed that flow.
But the imperial ball was different. Proposals were actually possible there.
Two people could form an engagement purely by their own will, right on the spot. Astonishingly, it was an unwritten rule in the capital's noble society.
Lancel already had a hunch why such a custom existed.
Too many game scenes like that. Breakups or proposals, anyway—romance fantasy events set at the imperial ball….
As a result, this imperial ball remained the empire's last bastion of romance and idealism.
The imperial family would attend, naturally.
If I get Marygold in there? Isn't this a total reversal in one shot?
How to snag a prince could come later. The key was securing the chance.
Yes. The imperial ball wasn't a frequent event. Across his hundreds of years of loops, this was only the third time. A rare opportunity indeed.
"Can any noble attend?"
"Of course. A person of your stature, Sir Lancel—why wouldn't you get in?"
"What about commoners?"
"They can't even get close, obviously."
"What about in between?"
"Entry would be possible, I suppose."
Between noble and commoner. The honorary title of "quasi-baron."
"…So how does one become a quasi-baron, exactly?"
Baron Ivil Shen looked puzzled at the question but opened his mouth at Lancel's urging.
"First, a donation of at least 50 gold coins…."
"And?"
"And a ton of recommendations from nobles… then around year's end, the palace grants the title… But why the sudden interest…?"
Money and connections, reviewed by the palace for approval. In short.
"Hm…."
"Hmmm…."
For some reason, Marygold was pondering alongside him from the side.
That very dawn, Lancel immediately began writing to Marygold's alias, Lemon Verbena.
This is sudden, but recommend one person for Dark Hood's executive position. There's a maid named Mary in this mansion where I stay. She obeys my words well, so make sure to include her in the organization. Get her the quasi-baron title as fast as possible and send her to the imperial ball. It's all for the organization, so don't overthink it. That's it.
Will this work?
Lancel himself was a bit unsure, but no choice. Only two years left. Somehow, he had to get Marygold into the imperial ball within that time.
….
"…Young Master Lancel… to me…."
"Pardon?"
Marygold stared blankly at the letter she'd received.
"He wants to… propose… to me…?"
"What are you talking about, this early in the morning?"