Chapter 74

An underground space where no light from the outside world could reach. The only things serving as illumination were pale, dimly glowing artificial lights.

Even those were not intended to be lamps; they were simply the phosphorescence of bio-pods filled with solution. These pods stood in rows at equal intervals, and inside nearly all of them were naked humans—test subjects—waiting in suspension.

There was no discernible pattern to their ages or genders. If one had to find common ground, it was only that they were all unclothed, and all unconscious. The one commonality not visible to the naked eye was their lineage: every single one of them belonged to the Stella Clan.

The sound of sword flashes and clashing steel sliced through the dark, eerie silence. With every swing, the blades caught and reflected the pallid glow.

The sources of the light and noise were a youth and a girl crossing swords.

The youth, his hair a subtle shade of purple, gripped a long spear roughly as tall as he was. Considering the weight and the centrifugal force required to wield it, even an adult would have struggled to swing it effectively, yet the youth manipulated the weapon with complete mastery.

His opponent, a young girl, fought with curved blades held in a reverse grip. Compared to a spear, her reach was pitifully short. Furthermore, because her blades had a pronounced curve, their effective striking range was even smaller. She only managed to keep the duel at a stalemate by wielding a blade in each hand, overwhelming the youth with a sheer volume of attacks.

However, in stark contrast to the ferocity of their exchange, both fought with faces as hollow as empty shells. There was no pain, no fear of death, and no murderous intent. It was so clinical that an observer might mistake their life-or-death struggle for a simple, monotonous chore performed without emotion.

Watching them was the master of this space: Justus Freund.

After observing for a long time, Justus gave a signal. The two, who had been fighting with extreme intensity just a second before, stopped instantly, like robots receiving a shutdown command.

"……Passable results, I suppose. Though there is still room for improvement in their combat capabilities."

He didn't want to decrease the number of subjects by dragging out the development process any further. It would result in insufficient output to activate the device, and wasting labor on securing more of the Stella Clan now would be a loss of precious time. Besides, he had one person perfectly suited for support; if he made that man the coordinator, there should be no issues.

Satisfied, Justus brought the development phase to a close. They had cleared his performance benchmarks. Now, they would act exactly as he desired.

Only a little longer until the moment Justus had anticipated arrived. He had spent more than ten years biding his time for this purpose.

He was finally close enough to reach out and touch the realization of his long-held ambition. A dry laugh leaked from his lips.

"Hehehe... just a little more. I can see you in just a little more. Please, wait for me."

Justus wore an ecstatic expression as he spoke to the empty air. His voice, usually calm and devoid of emotional peaks, now carried a distinct trace of madness.

The despair that would utterly dismantle the world had begun its silent, steady pulse.

◇

Harold stood before a child. To be more precise, a newborn infant.

Of course, it wasn't Harold’s own child.

The baby, sleeping peacefully in a crib, was named Huey. He was Harold’s half-brother.

Harold had learned of Huey's existence immediately after returning from the engagement celebration for Itsuki and Sylvie at House Berlioz. In one of the regular letters from his father—filled with the usual attempts to persuade him to reconsider breaking his engagement with Erika—a single sentence had been tacked on: “A brother has been born to you as well, so come to see him at least once.”

When he first read it, he’d been impressed that his father was still so vigorous in his late forties. On second thought, however, he realized it made sense. House Stokes was a noble family, and since the original heir—Harold—was infamously rampaging across the country and selfishly breaking off a vital engagement, it was only natural for the family to take out an insurance policy.

Though few families still practiced it, nobles in the Kingdom were permitted to have concubines. His mother, Jessica, was already over forty; considering the health of both mother and child, producing a new heir with a concubine was a rational move.

That aside, Harold knew that returning home would mean listening to Hayden’s tiresome lectures. Furthermore, he had no idea if House Stokes would even exist by the time he survived the Original Story.

While this world differed from the game in certain places, it was fundamentally identical to the world of Brave Hearts. Even if the LP Farming Method had padded the family’s coffers, his parents’ pure-bloodism and their habit of oppressing the commoners remained unchanged. No matter how he looked at it, the odds were high that the house would eventually collapse.

That was why Harold had planned to leave the family and discard the name "Harold Stokes" if he survived the story but couldn't return to his original world. He had fortunately gained enough strength to make a comfortable living as an adventurer or mercenary.

He’d been reluctant to return, fearing it would be a headache, but the thought of at least seeing his brother's face nagged at him. Then, a chilling realization struck him.

If Harold left and House Stokes fell, what would happen to the infant Huey? He would be cast out onto the streets, and in the worst-case scenario, he might simply die.

In the Brave Hearts game, Harold didn't have a brother. Or if he did, there was certainly no mention or setting for one. This meant there was a high possibility that Huey was a life brought into existence specifically because of Harold’s deviations from the script.

Even setting that aside, half-brother or not, the boy was still his sibling. It was a realization that hit him on an emotional level, beyond logic.

After much deliberation, Harold negotiated with Justus for a few days of leave. He returned to the Stokes mansion for the first time in five years. As expected, he was subjected to a massive tirade from his father, but after letting the noise pass through one ear and out the other for over an hour, he finally secured a meeting with Huey.

Across the crib from him stood Huey's mother, Hayden’s concubine. She looked young, likely of the same generation as Yuno. There appeared to be an age gap of over twenty years between her and Hayden.

Harold was grateful she was there, as he would have had no idea how to handle a crying baby, but after a brief initial greeting, she remained silent. She made no move to initiate conversation.

He couldn't tell if she was nervous, naturally taciturn, or if she simply despised him.

Harold decided to probe.

"Dorothy, was it?"

"Yes."

"How old are you?"

"I am twenty-five."

She was significantly older than Harold. However, since the "Harold Mouth" forced him to speak down to everyone, Dorothy chose to address him with formal, polite language. Harold wasn't sure if that was standard etiquette for her position.

Honestly, he had no idea how to treat her. To Harold, the label "father's mistress" felt most accurate, but legally, she was his stepmother. However, since the primary wife, Jessica, was still very much present, she was technically the second wife. It was so far removed from his common sense that he was at a total loss for how to communicate. Harold’s sensibilities were still rooted in those of a modern Japanese person.

"To choose the life of a concubine at your age... have you abandoned your family?"

True to form, Harold’s mouth spat out a blunt, invasive question before his mind could filter it. Dorothy, for her part, replied as if it were nothing.

"I was an old maid who had missed her chance, so it was no matter."

According to Dorothy, she had been the daughter of a minor noble family that had fallen into such poverty after a business failure that they had to sell their peerage just to survive. She had lived as a commoner in destitution for ten years.

Then, a marriage proposal arrived. Dorothy’s father had jumped at the opportunity. In exchange for Dorothy, House Stokes had provided the funds for them to reclaim their sold peerage.

Her status as a concubine was the price for that favor. To put it bluntly, she had been sacrificed.

Since she had been claimed through such predatory means, she likely harbored no love for Hayden—or for Harold, whose actions had necessitated a new heir. When it came to the engagement with Erika or this situation, Hayden was far too willing to use any means necessary.

Though, for a man like Hayden who obsessed over bloodlines, a "former noble" was probably the greatest compromise he was capable of making.

Regardless, Harold felt a heavy pang of guilt toward Dorothy and Huey.

"Hmph. Well, I care not for your thoughts. Do as you please, so long as you do not become a nuisance to me."

He wished even a sliver of his true feelings could reach her, but with words like those, it was a vain hope. He looked down at his brother's sleeping face one last time before leaving the room, worrying if the boy’s emotional development—specifically his view of commoners—would be okay being raised in this house.

He had succumbed to temptation and come to see Huey, but it hadn't been a pleasant encounter for his mental state. It was draining to see people being jerked around by the whims of a family, especially when he knew he was partially responsible for the situation.

As things stood, Dorothy and Huey were destined for misfortune. If Harold abandoned House Stokes, they would fall into ruin once again.

(What a mess...)

The downfall of House Stokes wasn't a strict requirement for Harold's survival. It was just what happened in the original plot, so he’d figured he would let nature take its course. That was why he’d planned to simply leave and hadn't felt the need to intervene. He’d also been far too busy trying to keep himself alive.

But because Harold had repeatedly changed the story, the situation had shifted.

Technically, there was no benefit to helping them. He could just dismiss it as someone else's problem.

Yet, despite knowing that, Harold wasn't cold-blooded enough to abandon people to a miserable future he had helped create. He knew he could probably navigate this better, but he couldn't bring himself to take the easy way out. In short, he was soft.

Eight years ago, he had scolded Erika for her shallow, pampering kindness. He realized now he had no right to talk.

However, preventing the collapse of House Stokes wouldn't necessarily trigger his own death flags. At the very least, he could make it a personal goal.

He would do what he could, within reason. If he could avoid the tragedy awaiting Dorothy and Huey, then great. If he failed, he’d deal with the next move then.

Harold did have some attachment to this home. And while his parents were bigots and hardly likable, he felt a certain gratitude toward them for raising him and not disowning him even when the world turned against him.

If House Stokes could be preserved, that would be for the best.

Thus, Harold took on a new burden. The problem was, he had very little time to dwell on it.

The summons arrived on the machine on his wrist the day after he reached the mansion. The sender was, naturally, Justus. Without getting a chance to rest, Harold was forced to return posthaste to the Research Institute, heading straight to Justus’s laboratory.

The Original Story was almost set to begin. He hoped the mission wouldn't be time-consuming.

Thinking this, he entered Justus's room without knocking. Since the man himself claimed that "responding to every knock is a chore," this had become the default method of entry.

Harold braced himself for whatever was waiting. He found not only Justus, but a youth and a girl he had never seen before.

The purple-haired youth looked to be around twenty; the girl with pale, light-blue hair appeared to be seventeen or eighteen. Both were completely expressionless, as if their emotions had been excised.

Before he could even ask who they were, Justus skipped the pleasantries and declared Harold's new role.

"Harold, you will be the leader of these children."

"Hah?"

The statement made so little sense that Harold's response came out with its usual thuggish edge. Leader of what? More importantly, who were these two?

If Justus didn't hold his leash, he would have refused on the spot. But since he couldn't, he focused on resolving the most immediate questions.

"What are these things?"

"They are what I call 'Dolls'—automata of my own creation."

"Playing with dolls at your age? You have disgusting hobbies."

"They are far more than mere dolls. They are servants, utterly loyal to the commands they are given."

"……Did you brainwash them?"

"Something like that. The Stella Clan uses magic and handles astral bodies in a way that differs from us; they possess unique organs. While modifying those, I removed the parts that are unnecessary for a doll—such as emotions. I say 'removed,' but I didn't truly excise them; I simply rigged them so they don't manifest on the surface……"

As Justus continued his clinical lecture, Harold's focus began to shift.

Dolls loyal to orders. The Stella Clan. Excised emotions.

As those keywords clicked together, a hypothesis formed in Harold's mind. It was one that gave him a truly terrible feeling.

---

Part 4 Begins.

The Original Story finally commences from here.