"My goal? You're the ones who've been picking fights with me out of the blue."
What did she mean by "the order is being shaken"? If she was talking about the story's narrative structure, that had collapsed long ago—the moment the Heroine was replaced.
If she was referring to the social order within the Academy, that was simply Castor's own fault. I had done nothing more than correct a warped situation. Either way, I didn't really get her point.
"Your scope is too broad for me to give a specific answer. If you have something to say, come out and say it plainly. That’s all you’re getting from me."
As for the 'souvenir' she’d brought, it wasn't much of a gift. She likely wanted to prove they were a separate entity from the ones trying to kill me, but from where I stood, an enemy was an enemy.
"If you’re going to bring me a head, make it Belda von Slash’s, not some small-fry's."
The one currently sabotaging us was definitely the daughter of House Slash. I could say that with certainty because her methods—using her family's status to manipulate things from the shadows—were identical to the strategies used in the game.
"I cannot do that," Wednesday replied, her eyes fixed on me. "However... if you have no further ambitions and truly wish for nothing more than a peaceful life at the Academy, then neither House Pentagram nor House Slash intend to obstruct you further."
"And House Ignite?"
They had been the primary aggressors so far. The weaklings Wednesday had just dispatched were likely their assassins.
"Your clients might be Pentagram and Slash, but the trash you just killed belonged to Ignite, didn’t they?"
"You're very observant," she noted.
"They were pathetic."
I wondered why they kept sending hordes of weaklings who didn't stand a chance. The quality was abysmal. I suppose that since they were a lineage tied to national finance, they at least paid well.
"I know nothing of House Ignite's internal affairs. Ultimately, they are a small-fry House of the Duke, unable to influence the royal administration and left to plot cowardly schemes in the dark."
So that was how House Ignite was viewed in the underworld. Patricia was likely disrupting the order more than I was; her and Jelasis's "study abroad" was probably the result of backroom pressure, much like what I was facing.
In the end, it was impossible for someone who wasn't the story's protagonist to play the part. In the game, they only achieved a happy ending because the Headmaster, Volsea Gran Cascade, supported them from the shadows. That old man was a high-born Duke, an educator of noble sons, and a hero recognized as a Sage. His influence in the kingdom was massive.
"Gnats are the most annoying pests, aren't they?"
"Then Bloody Week shall apply the necessary pressure."
I felt a slight itch of doubt at how easily the conversation was going, but if they were going to stop disrupting my Academy life, that was good enough for me.
"Wait, one more thing."
Wednesday turned back. "What is it?"
"What does House Pentagram plan to do about me? Regarding Castor."
"Do you intend to apologize?"
"Not in the slightest."
It was his own fault, after all.
"His grades plummeted, he failed to make the Student Council, and he lost a duel he initiated based on unreasonable demands. They believe he deserved to die."
Even the denizens of the underworld seemed to share my pragmatism.
"Those are some harsh parents," I remarked.
"Those who are below average cannot survive the world of political intrigue. There is no innate status in the 'von' name; everything must be earned through effort."
If that was their philosophy, no wonder Castor had been so desperate. In the game, the protagonist only reached a happy end after bringing enough proof to satisfy both families.
"Well then—"
Since I had no other business, I was about to let her go quietly, but Wednesday said this as she took off into the air.
"—One final message from both houses: the unveiling occurs this month. If the Brave blood remains docile, you can look forward to the Return of the Miracle."
"I think you’ll be telling me more about that right now."
"What—?!"
I deployed a barrier and shot into the sky like a rocket. I conjured another barrier directly above Wednesday’s head and landed on it. I stuck my feet to the surface, hanging upside down to face her. She froze, her eyes wide with shock.
"If House Pentagram isn't angry about Castor, then why is the Headmaster having such a hard time negotiating with them?"
Alicia had mentioned it during the incident with my embarrassing video. She said the Headmaster was tied up in a chaotic struggle with House Pentagram and couldn't help us immediately. If that was the case, something else had to be going on. That was the source of the incongruity I'd felt.
"Return of the Miracle? Did you think you could just drop a line like that and leave? What are you trying to do while I’m distracted?"
If Volsea was moving personally, it had to be about Mariana. He’d asked me to protect her—someone who seemed to know something she wasn't saying. The old man had kept his word regarding Castor’s punishment, so I decided I'd do my part for him behind the scenes.
"It has nothing to do with you. If you stay silent, your safety at the Academy is guaranteed."
"Do you really think I’d trust the word of someone just like me?"
This was coming from a person who felt nothing about killing from a neutral camp. Just like me, she wasn't worth trusting. So, what were my options? Take a hostage, or fight until one of us died.
"Safety isn't something guaranteed by others. The moment you let someone else hold the power of life and death over you, you’re already dead."
As members of a shady underground organization, they should understand that better than anyone.
"...I see. So the moment I arrived here, you already held my life in your hands? 'Let sleeping Braves lie,' indeed."
"Who came up with that phrase?"
"Golden Week."
The sudden mention of a holiday period almost made me lose my footing on the barrier.
"I suppose there’s a Silver Week, too?"
"As expected of a Brave, you’re well-informed."
So they actually existed. I wondered if the masked freak who appeared on Friday the 13th was one of them, too.
"Is the guy who shows up on Friday the 13th called Friday?"
"To think you even know about Friday’s only day off... Just how much have you investigated Bloody Week?"
"Ah, no... forget it. Never mind."
I got the feeling the game's development staff had created these people as some kind of inside joke. Then again, the same could probably be said for me. I wondered why I’d been born, but then reminded myself that this was reality, not a game.
"To possess information even I am unaware of... as expected of [Recklessness]. It seems my recognition as a [Shadow] is still far off..."
"Oh, you're alive."
Edward floated up toward us, striking an elegant pose. He was covered in blood and his breathing was ragged. Trying so hard to look cool when you’re clearly suffering is actually pretty pathetic. I’d have to keep that in mind for myself.
Edward forced his breathing to steady, maintaining his theatrical persona.
"Ordinarily, I would demand retribution... but since [Recklessness] has seen fit to let you live, I shall offer you a choice. Spill your secrets and die here, or join our cause and become a Shadow."
He was talking nonsense again.
"Of course, if you agree to a Blood Contract, I shall see that you are treated fairly."
"What’s a Blood Contract?" I asked, hearing a term I didn't recognize.
"It is a pact forged with blood imbued with magic power. It is an ancient oath of the Royal Family that binds the soul. I read about it in the forbidden archives."
The Royal Family had some terrifying, demon-like magic at their disposal. And even though he called himself a Shadow, he wasn't even trying to hide his royal status anymore, was he?
His mask was slightly different from the ones used by the Student Council, but the design was almost identical. If you asked a hundred people who the graceful, masked skinhead was, all hundred would point at him.
"If it’s two against one, I lose," Wednesday said. "It’s only natural to side with whoever offers survival. But I’ve already taken the Blood Contract Bald Robe mentioned. Either way, I’m dead."
That was par for the course. Anyone with significant authority would have safeguards to prevent betrayal. She shrugged.
"If both paths lead to death, I might as well resist and bet on the slimmest chance. Bald Robe is wounded, leaving only the Brave. If I fight with everything I have, I might at least escape."
"Hmph. Then I have a proposal for you."
Edward gave a joyful snort as Wednesday braced herself.
"I can overwrite it! I hold the authority! Hahaha! Cough, hack... I still have some internal damage, it seems. But a Shadow must be able to vomit blood with grace... Gworgh!"
Edward vomited a spectacular amount of blood. It was revolting.