Shion (3)

Camille Esperand was standing outside the grand auditorium. I had no idea why, but it felt like he'd been waiting for me. Leaning against the wall, he tilted his head slightly.

"…You haven't left your room for over two weeks, and now suddenly what wind blew you out here?"

Suspicion glinted in Camille's eyes. But that didn't mean I was about to tell him the truth. I couldn't exactly say I'd been exploring this world that had dropped into my lap out of nowhere.

"Had some circumstances."

So I just left it at that.

Camille Esperand wasn't portrayed in a great light in the original story either. Not some irredeemably evil villain, but the textbook one-and-done antagonist driven by greed and selfishness. You shouldn't judge by appearances, but Camille fit the saying "he lives up to his looks" perfectly. Getting too entangled with him might just invite unnecessary trouble.

"I went too far last time. We're blood kin, after all—I got too caught up in the competition."

Yet the way Camille looked at me now was different from the original. It wasn't hostile or condescending; it was almost… pitying.

"So if something's up, tell me. I'm the eldest brother here, after all."

At a glance, he seemed like a caring older sibling looking out for his little brother. That was probably the image Camille aimed to project. His face wore a smile, but his words carried two layers of subtext.

I'm the eldest, and I'm above you. So don't get any ideas above your station—know your place.

…He must have wanted to give me a silent warning. But I had no intention of becoming the Esperand heir and taking over as family head. If Camille did it and handled all the hassle, I'd welcome it with open arms.

"If you've got worries, tell this big brother."

To his polished words, I flashed a cheeky grin of my own.

"Yeah, sure thing, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bro."

I said that much, but I had no plans to ever consult Camille about my problems. He didn't bother responding to my reply and simply withdrew.

After dinner, I returned to my room. I drew the curtains over the window and closed the door. It was nearing midnight, so no one was passing through the corridors.

"…Alright then."

There ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was something I needed to check now.

That mysterious message that had popped up earlier when I gripped the Glock.

"It definitely said my talent had awakened."

I drew the Glock from the holster at my waist. The familiar panel from the original game shimmered into view before my eyes.

There were no buttons like 'Yes/No.' Waving my hand didn't do anything either. What the hell is this? How do I close it?

The moment I thought that, the panel melted away into the air.

"Not touch-based, huh…."

I awkwardly withdrew my hand and focused on the keyword talent viewing. Sure enough, the panel reappeared.

As expected, it was controlled purely by my will.

I only had one talent: Sharp Shooter.

Focusing on it brought up another UI layered over the existing one.

A gasp escaped my lips before I knew it. Nothing less than a Unique-grade talent.

In this world, talents were more important than anything else. So many things were determined by whether you had them or not—the more, the better. But Unique-grade stood on another level entirely.

Unique meant exactly that: one of a kind. Only a single person in the entire world could possess it.

"…A talent that only one person can hold."

The Sharp Shooter talent bestowed upon me was something no one else in the world could ever awaken. Even if someone had something similar, it could never be the exact same Unique grade.

And crucially, it came with two sub-traits. Or three, if you counted the one marked with a question mark.

The last one unlocked after clearing the first main quest, so I'd find out then. For now, Telescopic Vision and Watcher's Eye.

Telescopic Vision was self-explanatory, but Watcher's Eye was a bit unique. Piercing barriers sounded useful, but I'd have to see it in action to understand the mechanics.

This must be the promised perk.

A Unique talent wasn't a bad special reward at all. Among the original story's main characters, only the protagonist had one.

"Hold on."

Then, could this work too?

A sudden idea struck me. I glanced around before acting. Naturally, no one was there. Just in case, I muttered under my breath.

"…Status window."

. . .

…Nothing. It just left me feeling awkward, like someone was watching. My sharpened gaze swept the surroundings.

The curtains were properly drawn. There was a tiny gap, but not from an angle anyone could peek through. And I'd whispered so quietly no one could have heard.

The moment I sighed in relief—

"Tutorial in progress… and system."

It really felt like a game. A stark reminder that I'd entered one.

More messages followed, as if guiding me.

A 'timer' appeared. Probably when it hit zero, the main story would kick off.

No official announcements had come out yet in the original story's setting, but roughly calculating, it matched the main plot's start date.

"…A little over a month left."

Once the main story began and the real game unfolded, peaceful days would end. This flow wasn't something I could stop just by wanting tranquility.

Get swept up in it, or ride the wave—those were the only options.

So what could I do until then? What should I do?

Only one thing came to mind. Maybe that's why the angel had possessed me into the Esperand family.

…Get stronger.

Adapt, grow strong, survive.

Starting tomorrow, my assassin training would ramp up in earnest. Getting stronger was non-negotiable. Being dragged along by the current? No thanks.

Fortunately, I had a talent. A one-of-a-kind Unique-grade one.

Not now, though.

I holstered the Glock again. It was nearly midnight. Using the training facilities this late felt off, and I sure as hell couldn't fire bullets in my room.

But think about it. My talent was Sharp Shooter. Not just shooting—accuracy correction for all activities.

…Then.

I picked up a dart. Target: the strikingly clear mountain range on the map. The tallest peak of Mount Ekbana.

The moment I gripped it firmly, the trait Telescopic Vision activated. The spot I needed to hit zoomed in like it was right in front of me.

…Any reason to hesitate?

It was just a test anyway. I threw the dart without a second thought.

Thwack!

Direct hit. The dart embedded perfectly in the tallest peak of Mount Ekbana on the map.

"Then…."

I picked up another dart. This time, aiming elsewhere.

Better to grasp my talent fully before real training began.

First, confirm the target. As expected, Telescopic Vision kicked in.

I raised my hand into throwing position.

But would accuracy correction apply even like this?

Whoosh!

I flung the dart toward the floor—completely different from my gaze.

I hadn't expected much. Even with accuracy buffs, there were limits.

Ting!

But instead of sticking to the floor, it rang out crisply and ricocheted.

The deflected dart suddenly bounced toward me.

"Ack!"

I instinctively reached out. But no way that would stop it.

At least brace for a hole in my palm—

Swish!

"……!"

The dart grazed my collar by a hair's breadth.

Still at full speed, it made my head spin. Yet Telescopic Vision tracking its trajectory perfectly was even creepier.

The dart kept going, using the wall as a springboard for another bounce.

Thud! Clang!

…It spectacularly shattered the chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Crash!

Still maintaining momentum, it stabbed straight into the map.

An unbelievable sight, even seeing it happen.

As the chandelier swayed and glass shards rained down, I carefully dodged the debris and approached the wall.

Right above the Esperand mansion's engraved 'E.' The dart had pierced exactly the spot I'd targeted on the map.

The uncanny accuracy made me think something was off—just then.

———!

Suddenly, my vision lurched. Everything shook and warped. The room heaved like I was on the verge of seasickness.

Probably not the room—it was me staggering.

I knew this symptom. The most common one from the game.

…Mana depletion.

A physiological reaction akin to 'exhaustion' when all mana in the body was drained.

I'd apparently infused mana without realizing.

Gripping a chair, I caught my breath. My churning vision slowly steadied.

I gritted my teeth and swallowed down the nauseating urge to vomit.

That's when the knock came.

Knock knock!

"Are you inside, young master?"

A voice from beyond the door. I hadn't called anyone, so probably a passing maid who'd heard the noise.

"I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠heard a loud sound. Is everything alright?"

…I needed to say I was fine. Unfortunately, no voice came out.

Before I could muster words, the doorknob turned.

Of course.

The door opened faster than I could lunge for it.

The tray in the maid's hands clattered limply to the floor.

"Ah……."

A sigh-tinged voice from the maid. Her eyes reflected the floor littered with glass shards.

"Y-Young master. Are you alright?"

She sounded concerned, but I could see her lips twitching unmistakably.

Telescopic Vision's performance was annoyingly sharp, picking up even that.

"I'm fine, but…."

No excuse for the situation.

What just happened was my own dumb stunt. Unavoidable, sure, but I'd dumped extra work on a maid in the dead of night.

"Sorry it's late, but could you clean this up—"

Right then, the dangling chandelier gave out and plummeted.

Boom!

Ting!

Shatter!

…A deafening crash, incomparable to before, echoed down the corridor.