Moth to a Flame

The head butler of the Remington Count family guided us not to a reception room, but to a study that served as an office.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long. When you're forced to handle unfamiliar work, this time of year leaves you with no breathing room at all. I am Lidia Root Remington, the lady of House Remington."

The Countess of Remington greeted us in attire far too shabby for the mistress of a noble house. She was so frantically busy that her hair still bore the clear signs of having been hastily fixed only moments ago, and her hands were a wreck of ink stains and calluses earned from an unfamiliar quill.

— Hey, she really does look like she's been run ragged.

— Right?

Just how formidable a person was the Countess, that she could commit such natural, almost unconscious rudeness as if it were breathing? I was more than a little curious to find out. We had every justification on our side; even with the difference in rank, we had fully intended to press the matter point by point. Yet seeing the haggard face of a woman once called the flower of high society, I couldn't help wondering whether there might be some special circumstance at play.

"A pleasure to meet you, my lady. On the contrary, we are grateful that you made time for us in such a busy season. I am Aren Revan, here as acting lord of Viscount Revan's house. This is my younger brother, Edwin Revan."

Once the introductions were finished, my brother drew out the letter and handed it to the butler. The Countess moved to a seat with slightly unsteady steps, invited us to sit, then took the letter from the butler and began to read it slowly.

Is this an act?

Ink had soaked deep into the edges of her hands, leaving dark stains, and calluses covered fingers that had probably never held anything rougher than a fork and knife. Makeup tried its best to hide the exhaustion around her eyes, yet the weary look in them was still pitiful. If this was acting, the least I could do was play along.

That was how convincing it felt.

Click, click.

As the Countess slowly read the letter, the butler prepared tea with practiced motions. He set the tea set on the table, poured a fragrant cup, then withdrew behind her. She drank with smooth, elegant movements and returned to reading at the same unhurried pace.

It made a striking picture. I knew she was already in her late forties, and her body was a wreck from overwork, yet dignity still clung to her. She truly looked the part of the woman who, in her youth, had stolen the hearts of countless young noblemen.

Rustle.

Having finished the letter, the Countess handed it back to the butler.

"I had asked that any unscheduled meetings be postponed because of how busy I am. I never expected you would come in person carrying the letter. Had I known it was this sort of matter, I would have made more effort to hear you out…"

Does she really think that passes as an excuse?

The acting lord of a house had come calling, and that was the best justification she could muster? My brother seemed to share the thought; the hand hidden beneath the table twitched and trembled.

"How did you find Remington County? It is famous for its autumn scenery, but I hope even in spring it felt fresh and full of life."

"…What exactly do you mean by that?"

This time even my brother could not hold back. His brow twitched as he voiced his doubt. The Countess, in turn, looked as though she could not understand his reaction. The butler leaned in and whispered something into her ear.

"…What?"

The Countess's shoulders jerked. Her expression was one of pure shock, as if she had just heard something absurd. She narrowed her round eyes into sharp slits and glared at the butler. Then, remembering that guests still sat before her, she hastily composed her features, panic flickering across her face.

"Ah—this… what am I to do…"

She covered her mouth with one hand and blinked rapidly, the picture of mortification. The tips of the fingers hiding her lips trembled so hard it was visible to the naked eye. Flustered, the Countess rose from her seat, placed a hand over her heart, and bowed her head. Her golden hair, long enough to reach her waist, swayed with the motion.

"Everything that happens in this count's house is the responsibility of its lady. I bow my head and offer my apologies."

I glanced sideways at the butler. When our eyes met, he looked away with deliberate innocence. Those eyes told me everything. They were the eyes of a man who had done something less than honorable.

So this is noble society…

Ordinarily, when a count falls ill, a viscount or someone of equivalent rank becomes the acting lord. Yet here the Countess herself held absolute authority. She had been a noble daughter of the prestigious Root family, so I had assumed she was simply handling the lord's duties. Looking at the situation now, it seemed more like certain parties were trying to pull the pillars out from under the house.

They say a house with a death omen hanging over it…

If I had to express the present situation with knowledge from my previous life, it would sound something like this:

— A family of spirit users that can't even form a spirit contract? That's a sweet bean bun without any bean paste! A Guardian, equal in worth to a Chikorita, is the perfect match for someone like you!

An utterly outrageous insult. Sending a letter of condemnation from the count's house was, therefore, the most natural reaction in the world. But locking us in a waiting room for three full days and treating us like unwelcome nuisances—that did not seem to have been her intention.

In that situation, my blessing as a Guardian had erased every justification for the count house's rudeness. While under the Guardian's blessing, I had defeated twenty-three trainees that included someone a full five levels higher than myself. That lent real weight to the claim written in Viscount Revan's letter: that choosing the Guardian class was the result of a special secret that could not be revealed to outsiders.

In the end, the only result left standing was that House Remington had misinterpreted Viscount Revan's letter and locked its guests in a waiting room for three days.

"Please raise your head, my lady. I understand the circumstances well enough."

My brother seemed to have reached roughly the same conclusion. He wanted to show some consideration for her position, yet the fact remained that the count house had committed rudeness beyond imagination. Walking away empty-handed would create its own problems; word would spread that we were a house without honor, one that fled after being crushed by superior prestige and insulted.

Nobles held many rights, but an equal number of troublesome obligations always followed them around.

"Even so, the discourtesy was far too great. Our house wishes to offer appropriate compensation. If there is anything you desire, please name it…"

At the Countess's question, my brother's gaze slid toward me. Everything had begun because of me. And I was the one who had resolved it. The look in his eyes said: take all the credit.

"My lady. All of this stems from the Guardian blessing I received."

"Y-yes… I, too, thought only of the world's opinion and committed a grave discourtesy."

A crease formed between the Countess's brows at the phrase "the world's opinion."

"Yes. And so I wish to set the matter right."

She sent me a look that asked what I was truly after.

"Grant me the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠authority to enter the dungeons of House Remington."

In the game, the Silverion Kingdom appeared as a ruined nation field, so every dungeon in the vicinity could be entered freely. But the kingdom was still intact, and of course the dungeons of Remington County remained under the lord's control. The less profitable ones were open to the territory's people; the truly beneficial ones were monopolized by House Remington. If they permitted me entry, the three-month schedule I had planned could be shortened even further.

"What? No, that is—"

The butler began to protest, but the Countess cut him off with a short sigh.

"A dungeon… Very well. We shall do so."

The Countess who exhaled that sigh looked utterly exhausted and worn thin.

The place I asked to be guided to was the dungeon where a corrupted spirit appeared as a hidden boss: Dungeon: Aria's Forgotten Paradise.

It was a dungeon that, once certain conditions were met, summoned the hidden boss Aria the Corrupted Spirit. For a Guardian who was not a spirit user, the event itself held little value. The reason I had chosen this place was simple: it was one of the few dungeons that allowed a rapid breakthrough of the Guardian's weak stretch between levels 10 and 15.

In the game this country had appeared as the "Fallen Silverion" field, making it a freely accessible beginner dungeon. Now that the count house still stood strong, I had long since given up on it… yet with this, the calculation changed. Catching up to my brother's three years of progress would take only two months.

Was this the moment to say those words?

Lucky me.

"Ah, so you're the famous fellow who received the Guardian's blessing?"

Someone approached without a single footstep and spoke; my body went rigid.

"No need to be so wary, young friend. I'm Kaiden, deputy commander of the Remington Knights. I'm your guide."

The man who grinned while jabbing a thumb at his own chest had a far too easygoing air for a knight. His curly black hair was left uncut and wild, and a rough shave had left patches of stubble that only added to the casual impression. Yet beneath that exterior, a well-trained body radiated a presence that no lighthearted manner could fully conceal.

"I am Edwin Revan, second son of Viscount Revan. I look forward to working with you, Sir Kaiden."

"Drop it, drop it. Let's keep things light. I'm not much for that formal stuff."

Sir Kaiden laughed freely even as his eyes flicked up and down me in a quick appraisal.

"I heard you taught our little chicks some manners with nothing but a shield…"

He folded his arms, scratched his chin with one hand, and examined various parts of my body with open interest.

"Wow. Building a body like that at your age? Even our commander wasn't quite at this level back then… The muscle is a bit excessive, maybe, but is that accounting for the Guardian blessing? An iron shield is heavy, after all, so training the muscle in advance is the normal approach. Hmm…"

Sir Kaiden, whom the Countess had attached to me under the title of guide, gave a first impression of someone rough around the edges, yet his skill and eye for people were clearly solid. Having finished his personal assessment, he held out an enormous backpack. It looked like a seventy-liter pack on the outside, but space-expansion magic had been laid upon it. Inside were a week's worth of food and water, bedding, and every piece of exploration gear one could need.

Suddenly the hostility I had felt toward the Countess softened, and the suffering she must have endured flickered before my eyes.

Ah… she really might have been going through a lot…

When people are under enough stress, they sometimes make mistakes. Forced into the ill-fitting role of acting lord, hounded by political enemies in high society—anyone might slip. And accepting such things with magnanimity was also part of being a noble, was it not?

Ahem.

This place, permitted only to House Remington, looked at first glance like nothing more than an ordinary forest. Lush vegetation thrived, and even in the depths of winter a warm sun shone down on a world overflowing with life. The monsters that appeared, outside of certain zones, were not especially high-level, making it the perfect environment for raising the combat power of knight trainees and standing forces.

"Hah… huff…"

Having entered the dungeon with Edwin, Kaiden moved to a position a good distance away. On the head butler's orders he had come along as both guide and watcher.

I thought it was strange when they told me to follow a mere Guardian…

To Kaiden, Edwin was a type of human he had never encountered before. Guardians, lacking offensive power, were generally known to pair with other close-combat blessings. That information was decades old, but one thing remained certain: it was a blessing that sacrificed attack for defense.

Yet Edwin had asked him not to intervene unless he himself cried out for help. He had even added that night watch was unnecessary. Kaiden decided to interpret it as the young man needing the title of having cleared the dungeon by his own strength alone. Young people were allowed a little youthful bravado, after all.

Still, Kaiden's mouth itched with questions he could barely hold back.

Why isn't he using a sword? Huh? Why on earth not?

Before entering, Edwin had emptied the entire backpack and thoroughly checked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠every item inside—the practiced habit of a seasoned adventurer. Kaiden had therefore assumed that once inside, the boy would draw the sword packed within. Instead, Edwin began exploring wearing nothing but an iron kite shield.

Then they met a monster called a Reaper Mantis. Its razor-sharp forelimbs could shred human skin like paper. Because of that danger, the people of this world normally only faced them around level twelve. Even now, the sensible move would be to carefully withdraw, pull the sword from the pack, and fight with composure. With the skill to defeat twenty-odd trainees, Edwin might well be able to handle a Reaper Mantis.

That was what Kaiden was thinking.

"Ugh."

The moment combat began, Edwin took a blow straight to the waist.

The Guardian blessing saved him.

Should he rush in and rescue the boy before the barrier granted by the Guardian blessing shattered? Kaiden had already drawn his sword and settled into stance when—

Kiiing! Clang! Thunk!

Unlike that first helpless acceptance of the attack, Edwin now blocked the Reaper Mantis's strikes with practiced ease. Overhead slashes, sweeping cuts, crossing grapples—any of them carried enough power to kill if he let his guard down. Yet Edwin not only knocked every one of them aside with skill—

Thud!

—Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!

Sensing the threat in Edwin's counter, the Reaper Mantis's wingbeats grew frantic. Its attacks simplified, yet their speed climbed higher and higher, slowly herding Edwin into a corner.

This was genuinely dangerous.

The thought had barely formed when the match was decided.

Crunch!

The Reaper Mantis's right forelimb, swung to finish Edwin, buried itself deep in a tree. The blow had been delivered in a frenzy; the creature could not easily free the limb. The instant Edwin confirmed it, he drove his shield down onto the monster's neck without a second of hesitation.

Ah… so that's it…!

The Reaper Mantis had not cornered Edwin. Edwin had deliberately created the opening. Remarkable. If talent like this had chosen Warrior or Knight instead…

For a fleeting moment that regret flashed through Kaiden's mind.

Afterward Edwin continued exploring the dungeon with calm precision. Even though the dungeon was not a convenient cave layout but an open forest, he found his paths as easily as if he were walking his own front yard. He ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠still took one hit every time a new monster ambushed him—apparently his weakness against surprise attacks—but after that first blow the fights became perfect reenactments of the Reaper Mantis battle.

At this level, Kaiden had to give credit. The day would come when the Guardian class itself imposed a ceiling, yet the boy was a genius of the sort that appeared only once every few decades.

"Ah—hold on."

Five hours after Edwin entered the dungeon, Kaiden spoke to him for the first time.

"What is it?"

"You can't go that way. That's where the Man-Eater and Bespoid nests are."

A zone home to plant-type monsters called Man-Eaters and fist-sized wasp monsters called ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Bespoids. The recommended level was only fifteen, yet even people over level twenty avoided the place. It was a region of paralysis and bleed toxins, and Bespoids fought as a colony. Approach, and you would be swarmed by dozens, poisoned, then eaten alive. Like most insects they were weak to fire, so the usual method of clearing them was for a mage to bombard them from a safe distance. Naturally it was a zone that offered a Guardian, who possessed no such means of attack, nothing good.

Yet at Kaiden's warning, Edwin's face lit up as if he had just heard welcome news. He immediately began rummaging through the backpack House Remington had provided.

Is he finally going to draw the sword?

Kaiden watched idly—only for Edwin to pull out a torch and a lantern. The sun was still high in the sky; why on earth take out a torch and lantern?

"Hoo…"

Edwin drew a deep breath, the expression of a man who had made some grim resolution. Then—

Splash.

He poured the lantern oil over his own head and over the torch.

"What the hell are you—"

Fsssh!

Whoooosh!

"Gyaaah, kkieeeooorgh!!!"

"Urgh!"

It happened in an instant. Edwin, now ablaze, let out a monstrous scream and shot like an arrow down the very path Kaiden had forbidden him to take. He looked exactly like a moth diving into flame.