Chapter 4

The next day, the manor was a hive of activity from early morning.

Specifically, for two soldiers in particular.

Both were the men who had witnessed Kazuki’s actions the day before. Kazuki had decided that involving as few people as possible was the only way to ensure a strict gag order for Clara’s rescue, so he had asked Norman to identify individuals who could be trusted with a secret.

Norman’s answer had been "yes." While that was fortunate for Kazuki, the soldiers likely felt otherwise.

Summoned by Harold at the crack of dawn, they had hurried to his room in fear and trembling, wondering what they had done wrong—only to be blindsided by a detailed plan to save a servant.

As they struggled to wrap their heads around the situation, one reality was seared into the hearts of the two soldiers and the carriage driver: if this plan failed or was leaked to a third party, their lives were forfeit.

Driven by that fear, one of the soldiers was currently huffing and puffing as he scurried to fulfill a mountain of orders. The other was likely running himself ragged across town at this very moment.

The only one with a moment of peace was the driver, who had no role until nightfall.

"H-Lord Harold, I have purchased the items..."

"Stash them in the underground dungeon before anyone sees you. Once that’s done, take a horse and scout the route to the highway with your own eyes."

"I haven’t brought a horse yet, sir..."

"Then borrow one from the stables. Just see that it doesn't return with any suspicious injuries. Have it back before sunset."

Relentless. Truly Spartan.

In Kazuki’s defense, he was quite panicked himself and lacked the mental bandwidth to be considerate of those around him.

Once he confirmed the soldier had headed for the stables with a twitching face, Kazuki resumed his magic practice.

He was working on the low-level spell Flame Column. According to the original story, this was the magic Harold used to murder Clara. While the truth of the spell's name was never explicitly stated in the game, the prevailing theory among players who had watched the cutscene was that it was "probably Flame Column," so he had decided to stick with that.

The name was secondary, however; the real issue was the spell's pathetic output.

At first, his chanting was hampered by embarrassment and a healthy dose of skepticism that he could even use magic. To his surprise, he succeeded on the first try. He was initially thrilled, but a closer look revealed a pillar of fire less than forty centimeters high and about as thick as an aluminum can.

In the original story, the pillar was large enough to easily engulf an adult woman, and in the battle sequences, it looked to be at least two or three meters high.

If this body really belongs to Harold Stokes, I should be able to do this, Kazuki thought.

He wasn't actually planning to burn Clara to death, so he didn't technically need that kind of firepower. Even during the "execution," he had no intention of letting the spell get as out of hand as it did in the game’s cutscenes.

That said, since he was letting Clara escape, he couldn't leave a body behind. He needed the "fact" that he had incinerated her with such heat that not even ash remained. To that end, Kazuki spent the day practicing his magic while simultaneously scorching the ground, tree trunks, and leaves in his training area.

He worked in a forest clearing where the trees grew thick. He repeated the tedious labor with painstaking care, ensuring he didn't accidentally start a forest fire.

"Phew... this should be enough."

Even in a monologue, his arrogant tone remained. It seemed this was simply Harold’s natural way of speaking.

Setting that aside, he had finished disguising the area to look like a burn site. He judged that if he put on a flashy show with a pillar of fire tonight, everyone would assume the body had been cremated instantly.

Honestly, he was terrified. His anxiety was through the roof.

He was the one deciding whether a human being lived or died; there was no way he could be at peace. Even if they were just game characters, Kazuki had spoken with them and felt their emotions. To him, they were human. He couldn't see them as mere icons anymore.

No matter how much he prepared, he would never be able to tell himself "it's definitely going to be okay."

But in a way, that anxiety was a blessing.

He had somehow wandered into a game world and was currently possessing a character. Under such unprecedented circumstances, staying sane was a challenge. However, because Kazuki was currently facing a visible, life-or-death crisis, he had to devote all his mental energy to solving it. He had no room to worry about anything else. It was a form of escapism, but it provided a much-needed mental stability.

Is this really enough? Is there a flaw in the plan? Is there anything else I’ve missed?

Kazuki continued his meticulous preparations until the sun dipped below the horizon.

---

The night of the full moon arrived.

Led by a soldier, Clara arrived in the moonlit forest. She wasn't wearing her maid uniform, but rather everyday clothes that would blend in with the commoners in town—clothes Kazuki had ordered the soldier to buy earlier that day.

"Um..."

"Silence."

He snapped at Clara’s anxious voice. Kazuki’s nerves were still frayed.

A heavy silence lingered for a long time. Kazuki, Norman, Clara, and Soldier A—the one who had been slacking off the day before—stood in the dark until the distant sound of galloping hooves broke the tension.

"...Finally."

A soldier emerged from the depths of the forest, coming from the direction of the town. He led a small girl and two horses.

As soon as they saw each other, Clara and the girl cried out.

"Mama!"

"Colette!"

Clara pulled the girl into a fierce embrace the moment she was lowered from the horse. Kazuki watched them out of the corner of his eye as he took the soldier's report.

"I apologize for the delay, Lord Harold. It took time to cut through the forest while leading the horses..."

"It doesn't matter. You weren't seen by anyone in town, were you?"

"No, sir. However, it seems another servant who commutes from the town leaked the news. Rumors are already spreading that Clara is to be executed."

"Tch."

He clicked his tongue reflexively. It was obvious in hindsight, but he hadn't considered that. He really wasn't as calm as he wanted to be.

But there was no time for that now. Regret could wait. He stepped toward the pair, who were still embracing with tear-filled eyes.

"I shall give you two a choice."

He held up his index finger before their faces.

"One: you die here."

Colette gasped, her face pale. Clara, however, kept her gaze fixed straight on Kazuki. He raised his middle finger.

"Two: you abandon this land and begin a new life outside the Stokes Territory."

"What?"

Clara’s eyes widened. If they fled to another noble’s territory, the House Stokes would have no power over them. It was a total pardon.

"If you choose the latter, you will be dead to the world. You will never be permitted to return, and you must sever every connection you have ever made here."

"...You would forgive us?" Clara whispered, dazed.

"What are you talking about?" Harold asked with an overbearing sneer.

Internally, Kazuki wanted to smile and say, "Of course!" The cause of this entire mess in the game was Harold bumping into Clara while she watered the flowers, falling in the mud, and throwing a tantrum. It was a pathetic reason to kill someone. It was no wonder Colette grew up to hate Harold with such passion in the original story.

Kazuki, of course, didn't hold a grudge. He had only regained his memories after the incident.

"Enough, choose quickly. It would be far easier for me if I just killed you."

"...Forgive me. I still wish to live... for my daughter."

(I thought so—)

If she had said "please kill me," all his effort would have been for nothing. Besides, Kazuki didn't have it in him to kill anyone.

"Hmph. How boring. Then take this."

Kazuki pulled a hemp bag from his coat and tossed it carelessly to the ground. Clara untied the drawstring, then froze in shock at the contents.

"T-This is...?"

"Severance pay. Don't tell me you're too stupid to understand the concept."

"—Thank you. Thank you so much."

Clara dropped to her knees, her voice trembling with gratitude. The money was actually an allowance Harold’s father had given him to buy a sword, so Kazuki felt a bit guilty accepting her thanks.

"And you. Take this."

To hide his embarrassment, Kazuki handed something to Colette. It was a necklace decorated with the emblem of the Order of the Holy King—a silver sword set against obsidian wings. He had found it while searching Harold’s room.

"Keep this on your person at all times. Never take it off. This is the condition for your release. Understood?"

"Y-Yes!" Colette nodded, terrified.

"...However, if a man ever appears who wants that necklace, give it to him. Someone close to your age with some skill in combat. In exchange, make him promise to protect you like a knight."

"Um...?"

Colette looked confused by the oddly specific instructions. Kazuki wanted to explain it more simply, but his mouth wouldn't cooperate.

"Lord Harold is telling you to give that to the person who will protect you," Norman offered, stepping in.

Nice paraphrase, Kazuki thought, making a small mental victory pose. Colette nodded twice, finally understanding.

"I-I understand."

"Then begone. I’ve had quite enough of being troubled by the likes of you."

Kazuki turned and gave the signal to the soldiers. The plan was to escort Clara and Colette to the highway on horseback. From there, he had to trust the soldiers and the carriage driver to finish the job.

"Lord Harold. Truly... thank you."

Just before mounting the horse, Clara and Colette bowed deeply and departed.

Kazuki felt they were thanking him for the effort he'd put into saving them, but he couldn't help but feel he didn't deserve it. Harold was the reason they were in this mess to begin with.

(Getting thanked for a rescue mission I staged myself...)

He wasn't proud of it. But if Clara and Colette could find happiness, that was enough. He pushed the murky feeling aside. He had one last task.

"Norman, return to the manor ahead of me."

"...As you wish."

Norman hesitated. He had seen a look of deep conflict on the boy's face and wondered if he should leave him alone. But the expression vanished in an instant, replaced by Harold’s usual cold composure. Norman decided it wasn't his place to pry and began to walk away.

He would soon realize that was a mistake.

As he walked back toward the mansion, a gust of wind carried Harold’s voice to his ears. The words were fragmented, nearly lost in the rustling of the leaves, but they made Norman stop dead in his tracks.

"Hah... such an ugly face... not even worth living..."

The boy's voice was faint, dripping with self-loathing.

"There's no way I can be forgiven..."

It sounded like a confession of sins.

"A waste of life... at least, if I died... it would be better, wouldn't it?"

The words were sharp, as if he were cutting into his own flesh.

It was a monologue from a ten-year-old boy. He had just performed a feat of resourcefulness far beyond his years to save a family, yet he was suffering. All alone, so that no one would see.

"It’s over—Flame Column!"

With a roar, a wave of heat blasted through the forest. The pillar of fire rose high, burning with a violence that seemed to manifest the turmoil in Harold’s heart—as if he were trying to incinerate the suffering within his small body.

Norman stood rooted to the spot, dazed by the glimpse of Harold’s internal struggle. He couldn't move until he heard the sound of Harold’s boots trampling through the brush as he returned.

Harold’s face twisted when he saw the butler.

"What are you doing here? I ordered you to return."

Kazuki’s tone was harsh. He had just finished reciting his "event lines" to the empty air—mocking the "dead" Clara to satisfy the game’s script. It was a moment of supreme embarrassment, a "dark history" performance he’d hoped no one would witness. If he’d been overheard, he was ready to die of shame.

If people thought he was some "edgy" Chuunibyou kid, it would be a disaster. He had to silence Norman immediately.

"Forget everything you saw and heard today. Take it to your grave. I will accept no answer other than 'yes'."

He pressed Norman with a desperate intensity.

To Kazuki, it was the desperation of a man trying to hide an embarrassing secret. To Norman, it looked like something else entirely.

(Why does he try so hard to hide his pain? He is but a child... just how much is Lord Harold trying to shoulder?)

The boy's stubborn refusal to rely on others was tragic. Norman could do nothing but nod.

With a final glance at the butler, Harold walked away. His back looked terribly small and exhausted.

Norman realized that Harold was likely using his parents as a model of what not to be. Lacking any real power, he had to deceive them to do what was right. If his true thoughts were revealed, it would only cause conflict he couldn't yet win.

A normal child would have clashed with their parents openly, but this boy was too intelligent. He understood the consequences. So he chose to wear a mask, deceiving his parents and everyone in the mansion. Not a single person in the House Stokes had seen through his act.

And they never would have, if not for this incident.

Norman felt a wave of regret. He had spent years holding feelings of aversion toward a boy who was fighting a lonely battle. He had no right to worry about him now.

"...No. I cannot simply dwell on regret."

He would likely spend the rest of his life repenting for the ten years he hadn't stood by Harold’s side. But regret solved nothing. He had to use whatever time he had left to make up for those lost years.

He would serve until the day that kind boy no longer had to torment his heart with the mask of a villain.

---

How long had they been traveling in the carriage?

Clara noticed the sky beginning to pale as she stroked the head of her daughter, who was using her lap as a pillow. Dawn was near.

Clara felt no exhaustion. She felt weightless, as if she were floating. In just two days, her entire world had been upended. When she was thrown into that cell, she had accepted that she would die. She had been consumed by the fear of death and the despair of leaving her daughter alone.

And then, she had been saved by a boy only a year older than her child.

He had bought them clothes, prepared horses and a carriage, and given them a fortune to start a new life—all for a servant who could have been easily replaced. Harold’s parents, who viewed her as "inferior," would never have allowed this. This was his will alone.

During the journey, the soldiers had told her how the boy had planned it all.

First, he had claimed he wanted a sword from a famous blacksmith in Reitze to secure a travel permit. He had sent the carriage ahead early in the morning to wait in a secluded part of the forest. Meanwhile, the soldiers had scoured the town in civilian clothes to buy supplies and horses without drawing attention. "He had us running around all day," one had said with a wry but proud smile.

Once they reached Brosche, Clara and Colette would stay, while the soldier and the carriage continued to Reitze. Since Brosche was on the way, it wouldn't look suspicious. He had even factored in a full day's delay for the round trip.

Clara was stunned. A ten-year-old boy had devised such a meticulous plan in half a day and executed it perfectly.

Furthermore, the money he had given her was the very gold his father had provided to buy the sword. When she worried that he wouldn't be able to buy the blade he supposedly wanted, the driver had chuckled.

He told her that he had asked Harold the same thing. The boy had simply replied:

"Are you an idiot? I'll just pick out some cheap piece of junk and be done with it."

Beneath the harsh words, Clara could feel a profound kindness. Even the driver had seemed to enjoy talking about it.

Clara’s life had been anything but easy, but as she watched the horizon, she felt that the birth of her daughter and her meeting with Harold Stokes were the two most precious things to ever happen to her.

"Clara-san, are you awake?"

"Yes. Is something wrong?"

"Brosche Village is in sight."

She peeked out from the back of the carriage.

Bathed in the light of the rising sun and shrouded in a sparkling morning mist, Brosche Village appeared before her.

"We’ll be there by the time the sun is up. Why don't you try to rest a little until then?"

"Thank you for the thought. But for now... I want to burn this sight into my memory."

"I see. Yeah, I think I understand."

Clara, the driver, and the soldiers were all captivated by the sight.

It was as if the village itself was blessing Clara and Colette on their new journey.