Leaving Tatiana the airhead at the dorm, we headed to the Festival of Heroic Spirits.
I couldn't risk bringing her; if she messed up, it would fall squarely on my head. You can't exactly bring someone who grips her fork like a club to a high-stakes ceremony.
Instead, I ordered her to clean the dorm and do the laundry. She’ll most likely slack off, so I’ll have to scold her later. What a pain.
This time, the ritual wasn't being performed by a Gaming Monk, but by someone serving actual gods.
[A ritual to offer condolences, express reverence, and pray for the peaceful repose of the spirits of those who have died in battle since the foundation of the Empire.]
So read the official pamphlet.
In reality, ninety percent of the Empire's citizens were irreligious. They only ever relied on a Gaming Monk when a relative died.
I, or rather Marquis House Kamishiro, was the same. We were irreligious to the point that there wasn't even a temple on our home planet.
We had graves, at least. For funerals, locals who had gotten their non-denominational monk qualifications through correspondence courses would chant sutras as a side job.
Any proper lord from a Count upwards would have invited a temple to their territory, but we weren't exactly proper...
Mind you, it wasn't because we disliked religious interference in politics or because the planet followed a different faith. It was simply such a backwater that being a monk would only ever be a part-time gig, so no temple wanted to set up shop there. Monks have to eat, after all.
And so, while our Empire could hardly be called devout, the succession of a new Emperor was still a major event. The crowds were so thick it felt like the first shrine visit of the New Year.
We were changing in a building within the national park where the ritual was held. Wifey was in a separate room for her makeup and wardrobe change. I had a stylist do my hair and apply a light touch of makeup. When a soldier applies rouge, it feels like they're preparing for a duel to the death. Not that I was actually going to die, mind you.
Once I donned the hat, I looked like a respectable officer. On the outside, at least!!!
I tucked my ceremonial saber into my belt, thanked the stylist, and stepped out into the hall. I decided to skip the gloves. It was too hot for them anyway.
There I found Wifey, dressed in a kimono. Man, seeing her like this really reminded me what a beauty she was. Her visuals alone would make any average idol run away in shame.
"What is it? Fallen in love with me all over again?"
"I never stopped being in love, so there's no 'again' about it."
"Kah-kah-kah-kah-kah! I truly have secured a fine Lord Groom!!!"
We shared some idle talk in the lobby of the reserved building. Eventually, the topic turned to my clones.
"Hey, Wifey. Did you issue the order to create my clones?"
"..."
Wifey fell silent. Ah, just as I thought.
"They were made without my permission and reported after the fact, huh? Along with my children?"
"I am a weak Emperor. I cannot even punish the masterminds behind the plan."
Well, that made sense. With the military backing them, it was probably impossible. Since it had likely already been reported to the General, it must have been an issue too difficult even for him to handle.
I didn't even feel like getting angry. In the first place, this world was a hellscape in every corner my eyes couldn't reach. Inhumane experiments were as numerous as the stars. House Kamishiro got by simply being incompetent, but there were plenty of shitty lords out there who intentionally abused their people. The Empire was a place where that was permitted.
Half the galaxy consisted of people like Tatiana, who ate like dogs and gripped their utensils with their fists. It was easier to rule them that way.
I felt sympathy for the versions of me who had died as clones, but there was nothing I could do. All I could really do... was perhaps recognize my children in the Inner Palace.
"Those children of mine in the Inner Palace. Can I recognize them?"
"I-Is that truly alright?!"
"I'm still a student, and on a Captain's salary, it's impossible to take them all in and raise them myself, though."
"T-That is fine. It has already been decided they will be raised in the Inner Palace. That was the extent of what I could do for them."
"Regarding my clones, record the details of the incident and the names of those responsible. Once we hold power, we can expose them to public shame forever."
They could be listed in textbooks for hundreds of years as an example of a vile, inhumane operation. I wouldn't give them an ounce of honor. Though, I suppose that depended on how civilized the people of the future were.
After that, I’d find an opportunity to hold a memorial for them. Even so, thinking that my brothers had been killed as experimental subjects made anger boil in my gut. Some people just don't have human hearts. You see it a lot in certain career paths.
Hmm. I wondered how I should retaliate. I was actually starting to look forward to it.
With that, we proceeded to the ritual. My role this time was to look "sharp" at Wifey's side. The media was taking an absurd amount of photos. Had the matter of the clones been leaked? But I was the victim. I could just honestly say I didn't know anything.
I didn't realize until a few hours later that I’d be the one surprised.
"It's Duke Leo Kamishiro! Kyahhh!!!"
A popular idol I'd seen frequently on TV lately let out a shrill scream.
"...Huh?"
"Oh? You didn't know?"
Wifey had returned to the dorm, removed her makeup, and was now lounging in one of my Officer Academy Tracksuits. We were eating snacks in the dining hall.
"Know what?"
"Lord Groom, you are incredibly popular right now. You're being treated like a full-blown celebrity."
"Look, I can understand being treated like the winner of a sports tournament. But what's with all the screaming?"
"Well, you're the wild type who actually looks good in a military uniform—a rarity these days. Besides, the media doesn't know how incomprehensible you are on the inside."
Ouch. Getting docked points for my personality? That was harsh.
"It seems they understand that Lord Groom is basically a good person, though..."
"It seems they don't understand at all."
"What do you mean by—"
Thwack.
My hand closed around something in mid-air. Yikes. I’d tried it on a whim, but the skin on my palm was completely shredded. Well, obviously—I’d stopped it with pure friction. Of course my skin would peel.
Inside my hand was a single bullet.
"L-Lord Groom!"
"Wifey..."
"O-Oh! What is it?!"
"I tried this on a whim, and it hurts enough to make me cry."
"Are you an idiot?"
Look, I’d been sensing bloodlust vibrating toward me for a while now. That's why I’d caught the bullet on impulse. I could have dodged it, but I did it because I thought it would look cool. Now I had nothing but regrets. I was never doing that again.
The military moved fast. The culprit was apprehended in the blink of an eye, and the evening news was dominated by the incident. Apparently, the assassin had been targeting me, not Wifey!
The footage of me catching the bullet, slowly opening my hand, and letting it drop was played on a loop. I looked cool—cold-blooded, even. It was hard to believe it was the same face that had been sobbing to Wifey just a moment later, saying, "Wahhh, it hurts so much!"
The fact that getting your skin flayed hurts more than a broken bone has to be some kind of design flaw in the human body. Thanks to my auto-recovery and nanomachines, the skin on my hand had already regenerated, though it still tingled slightly.
Apparently, the culprit just wanted to be famous. What a moron.
The ritual was considered finished, more or less. Man... I felt restless. However, there were people even angrier than me.
The General himself came all the way to the hospital.
"I reflect on the fact that I was too lenient. Rest assured, Captain. I will crush them all."
Wifey also smiled, though an anger mark was practically throbbing on her forehead.
"Indeed. I was also at fault. Letting them think they could look down on us was my mistake."
Ah, boy... I’m staying out of this one.