The Duke's Daughter Goes Her Own Way
[he Man Who Made Them Call Him (The Name He Gave Himself) "The Grim Reaper." Part 3]
Translated by: ME
Author's note:
The word count has gotten a bit out of hand, exceeding 20,000 characters… This Grim Reaper is something else!
So, please read it when you have time.
***
When we returned from town, the young lady came running up.
It turned out she wanted our impressions of the 'Incognito Special DX.'
Having completely forgotten to think about it properly, I gave my impression: [The seats were plush.] But the young lady retorted, [I know that! Isn't there anything else!?]
Incidentally, Nathan had said about the seat's firmness, [They're so soft it might actually make me motion sick.] Dee had said something like, [The vertical shaking is reduced, but can't something be done about the sideways sway during turns?]
…Do impressions have to be that specific…?
After getting a thorough critique of my impressions from the young lady, I returned to my room with mixed feelings.
As I changed, I found myself reflecting on the day.
It was the first time I'd ever wandered around town aimlessly with someone, with no particular purpose.
And somehow… it had been a little fun.
…Yes. 'Fun.'
I'd often pretended to be happy and laughed before.
But this was the first time a smile had naturally escaped me, and I'd realized I was feeling 'happy' because of it…
As I was feeling deeply moved, thinking, 'So this is what "fun" is…' someone knocked on my door.
Wondering who it was, I opened the door to find Nathan, already changed into his cook's coat. [Yo,] he said, lightly raising a hand. When I asked what he needed, Nathan held out a book to me.
[I wanted you to read this, see?]
The book Nathan was holding out seemed to be an entertainment novel.
The cover was jet black with the title embossed in red foil. The title was 'The Crimson of Dawn, Lurking in Darkness.' …What kind of story was it? The title gave no clue to the content.
All I could tell was that it probably wasn't a romance.
Nathan pushed the book on me, saying, [Read it when you're bored and let me know what you think,] and then left.
I'm not really good with entertainment novels…
But well, he didn't set a deadline like 'by when,' so I guess I'll try reading it when I'm truly bored.
I'm also a little curious about why Nathan pushed this book on me.
***
Basically, unless someone comes to ask me to do odd jobs, I have no work.
At this point, aren't I less of a 'porter' and more of an 'odd-job man'? …Not that I mind.
And so, on another afternoon when I had no work and was zoning out in a tree in the thicket, one of the covert ops called out to me. He's a familiar face and calls out to me when he sees me. He told me his name is Roger. Maybe his birthplace is close to mine.
Like in any household, many of the people working as 'covert ops' or 'private soldiers' weren't exactly 'upstanding' to begin with. Roger seems to be one of those types.
According to him, he was [originally just a thief.] …Wait, what does 'just a thief' mean? Are there 'special thieves' or something?
When I said that, Roger laughed.
[You're exactly that 'special thief,' man. Not like my job of 'snatching other people's livelihoods for my own keep.']
…I see, that's what he meant.
Roger and I are basically the same. 'Taking from someone to keep ourselves alive.'
But what Roger takes is money and goods, which he uses directly 'to live.' What I took were lives, and that wasn't something I did 'for myself.'
That must be the difference between what Roger calls a 'just a thief' and a 'special thief.'
Roger, like me, drifted through various lands and ended up here, it seems.
And then he apparently tried to pick Thomas-sama's pocket by mistake and was brought here directly.
[…Must've been hungry, judgment was impaired…]
Roger said with a distant look, but to try something like that on Thomas-sama! How… terrifying…
Yes.
I feel a clear 'fear' towards Thomas-sama. This is probably rooted in instinct. The kind a wild beast feels when facing something it could never defeat.
But even so, it's rare for me.
For someone like me, who lived thinking it didn't matter when I died, death should have been nothing more than 'the end that comes equally to all.'
To feel fear is nothing less than being afraid of death.
Why, only now, am I afraid of death?
I should still think it's fine if I die anytime.
Roger, who had called out to me, said, [If you're bored, keep me company for a bit.]
What with? I asked, but he just laughed, [Ah, it's fine, it's fine,] and didn't give a proper answer.
With no other choice, I decided to go along with Roger, who seemed to be trying to take me somewhere.… I really was bored, after all.
The place I was taken to was somewhere on the border between the garden and the thicket.
It's a bit open, but there's almost no 'garden-like' quality to this area. It's just that the sparsely growing trees seem more maintained than the trees in the thicket.… Or maybe they just seem that way.
[Yo. You came.]
A man greeted us when we arrived. He's one of the Macnagan Ducal estate's private knights.
These 'Macnagan Ducal Private Knights' also seem like a quirky bunch. It seems each one lacks a fixed 'swordsmanship style.'
They all wear the same uniform, but their armaments are all different.
Knights are people who don't fight as 'individuals.' Their true strength lies in 'group combat.' That's why, originally, they should all master a fixed style of swordsmanship and martial arts, but…
The man in front of me has a long sword hanging from his waist. It's an extremely standard equipment, to the point I thought, [Huh? Is that all?]
[Figured it's about time we had you help with our work too.]
Saying this, Roger sat down on a nearby fallen log.… Wait, a 'fallen log' in a noble's estate garden…
More importantly, 'help Roger the covert op with his work'…? Does he mean I should do covert ops too? …Well, I probably could. But aside from jobs like 'find and eliminate the target,' I'm not very confident…
Seeing me think that, Roger laughed cheerfully.
[So, Grim Reaper. What do you think of this 'thicket'?]
[Think…?]
That's a very vague question. I don't even know what he's asking.
I was probably making a 'I don't understand' face. Roger laughed and changed the question.
[When you saw this mansion from the outside, what did you think of a house with a 'thicket' inside its grounds?]
[I thought it didn't make any sense and seemed dangerous.]
I could answer that immediately.
In fact, I actually did think that.
The royal capital of this country is neatly divided into districts. Nobles live clustered together, and so do commoners. This is to avoid unnecessary trouble, and for nobles specifically, it's also for 'bolstering their authority.'
And this Macnagan Ducal estate is located in a place that could unquestionably be called a prime location within the nobles' district.
…And yet, there's a mysterious 'thicket' inside the grounds.
The area where the ducal estate is located also has the estates of other Dukes. So, the security is incredibly strict.
However, the area around this house's thicket has spots that are off the knights' patrol routes.
Normally, if the knights don't patrol there, you'd place private soldiers there to strengthen security. But this house doesn't do that. They leave the vulnerable spots vulnerable.
Not only that, but there's this 'thicket,' which looks even easier to infiltrate, spread out ostentatiously.
If this isn't a trap, then the residents of this mansion are either incredibly thoughtless or incredibly great figures. It has to be one or the other.
[Well, that's what normal people would think.]
Roger nodded, and I nodded too.
Roger laughed cheerfully at me.
[It's *because* normal people think that, that the 'guys who try to get in from here' fall into two types. First, the empty-headed, thoughtless, utter fools.]
Well, I suppose so.
And if there are 'two types,' then—
[The other type is… someone with the skill to break through, even if there are traps…?]
[Exactly.]
Roger grinned and added, [Well, actually, whether they 'have the skill' or 'are overconfident that they have it' is something you can't know until you see the opponent.]
[Our 'job' is to catch the rats that sneak in from here 'alive.' …Do you get what I mean?]
[Well… mostly?]
When dealing with intruders, 'not caring if they're dead or alive' is actually the easiest. No matter who the opponent is, if you kill them, they're no longer a threat or anything else.
Conversely, capturing them alive is very difficult. If you add 'unharmed' to that, the difficulty skyrockets, but it seems they don't go that far.
[If it's a foolish rat, it's not too hard. Just guide them so they don't step on traps, and grab them when they get to a safe spot.]
I'll bet.
Well, guiding them so they don't step on those countless traps… seems like a fairly taxing job in itself.
[The problem is the rats with the intelligence to avoid traps.]
Right. If it's someone who understands that this thicket itself is 'some kind of trap' but still steps in, they'll be wary and have a high chance of reaching the mansion normally.
[If we can catch them in the thicket, that's fine. But if they make it to the open ground, it puts people like me, who aren't good at combat, at a disadvantage.… That's where the knights and people like you come in.]
[You're not good at combat?]
Roger looks much more capable than me, with my tall, lanky build…
At my words, Roger laughed cheerfully.
[Compared to a total amateur, I can manage something. But I specialize in surprise attacks, basically. If we face each other and it's 'a fair fight,' then turning tail and running is the 'basics of survival.']
[I see.]
Whether it's theft or combat, Roger did it 'to keep himself alive,' so 'surviving first' is the top priority.
If you're facing an opponent of equal or greater skill, 'running away' is a very effective means of survival.
[…So, in such a situation, coordination with the knights becomes necessary.… Well, 'coordination'… or rather, the basics are 'moving so we don't get in each other's way.']
Roger pointed at the knight who was there, and I looked too.
The young knight waved his hand flippantly with a carefree smile.… Is that knight okay…?
[And furthermore, if we let them get away outside, we need to coordinate with the 'Royal Knight Order' guys patrolling the area.]
Indeed, that makes sense.
Inside the mansion grounds, it's probably the family's jurisdiction. But the moment they step outside, it's the Royal Knight Order's job to police them.
The 'Royal Knight Order' in this country is of remarkably high quality, from what I've seen.
Discipline is thorough, and there are none of the 'those drunk on their own power' types often seen in such 'armed groups.' They're a monolith without such flaws, making them very troublesome to deal with.
When I voiced my observations about the Royal Knight Order, the young knight laughed and said, [If you guys call us 'troublesome,' I take that as an honor.]
Then, still smiling, he assumed an unfamiliar salute posture.
[Former Royal Knight Order member, Jeffrey Phillips. Nice to meet you, Grim Reaper-kun.]
Ah, so he's a former knight. That explains why his weapon is a plain, unremarkable longsword.
[The Second Knight Order, which handles patrols, has 'Be for the People' drilled into them as their motto. And besides, guys who 'misunderstand the power they hold' generally can't become knights in the first place.]
Hearing him say this in a soft voice, with a 'of course' tone, I had to agree. [Then the quality of knights must be high.]
[So, today, I thought we'd have you and Jeff here spar a bit.]
[For better or worse, I can only use the Royal Knight Order's knight swordsmanship. If you get used to my movements, you'll understand the movements of the Royal Knight Order's knights too.]
I see.
[And also…]
Roger grinned, showing a mean-spirited smile.
[It'll make dealing with those knight-dropout scum who mistakenly think they're hot stuff a whole lot easier.]
That's certainly true as well. And learning the movements of an opponent who uses knight swordsmanship would probably be useful if I ever had to leave this house in the future.
[Alright, since you're convinced, let's get started.]
[Go easy on me.]
Jeffrey smiled brightly. I hesitated, unsure how to respond, and ended up just bowing my head slightly in silence.
***
From that day on, whenever I was zoning out in the thicket, Roger started inviting me to train.
There seem to be several 'former Royal Knight Order' people, and often knights other than Jeff would come.
I was surprised to learn that one of the gardeners, a man, had the incredible background of being a 'former Royal Guard Knight.'
[Tore the tendons in my leg, ya see. No problem walkin', but if I can barely support myself, 'protectin' someone' is impossible.]
That seems to be the reason Greg Wesley left the Royal Guard.
It's true, just walking normally, I don't see anything strange about Wesley's movements. But you can tell he's favoring his leg in sudden motions.
According to him, [Any action other than 'walkin'' is, well, clumsy.]
And it seems he was one of the handful within the Royal Guard known as 'Dedicated Royal Guard Knights.' And the King's dedicated guard, at that.
Jeff called it [the pinnacle of this country's 'Royal Knights.'].
…Despite that, Wesley's way of speaking is terribly rough.
In the country I'm from, the 'Royal Guard' was almost an 'honorary post.' It was for the children of high-ranking nobles. So their skills in swordsmanship, etc., weren't very high. The 'status' itself was what was valued.
But in this country, that doesn't seem to be the case.
[The most important thing is sword skill. And just as important is resolve. Status is fuckin' useless when it comes to 'risking your life to protect someone.']
That's certainly true.
So, was Wesley from a commoner background or something?
[Just a brat from the slums with nothin', who innocently admired the 'Knights,' and before I knew it, I was entrusted with the King's back. That's all there is to it.]
Wesley said with a carefree laugh. Behind him, Jeff was waving his hands frantically, turning pale, saying, [Th-that's not *all*! That's not all!]
After that, Jeff made me listen for a full two hours about how hard it is to become a Royal Guard in this country, and how even more insane it is to be selected from there to be a 'Dedicated Guard'…
…Seriously, all the servants in this house have such amazing backgrounds…
I'm a full-blown criminal, is it really okay for me to be here…? I muttered that without thinking, and Roger laughed happily.
[If it's criminals, we've got 'em here too? Well, they're just small-time villains not even worth comparing to you, though.]
Now that you mention it, that's true.
The people who are supposed to do the policing and the people who are supposed to be caught are talking amicably in the same place.… I found myself thinking again what a strange place this is.
***
Around the time I became familiar with the knights and other covert ops besides Roger, Roger invited me to train again.
I'd mostly figured out the Royal Knight Order's swordsmanship.
They have to train amateurs into 'Knights' from scratch. For that reason, among others, their movements have little idiosyncrasy. For better or worse, it's 'straightforward' swordsmanship. As for martial arts, [The Second Knight Order only learns the basics,] so that was easy to figure out too.
Since I understood most of the movements, I could almost completely avoid their attacks, but moving my body was fun. Several times more fun than zoning out in a tree.
So I went along with Roger whenever he invited me.
When we arrived at the usual, slightly open spot, Dee was there. Wesley was there too.
Wesley shows up now and then, but he doesn't participate in combat. Wesley's role is to watch the knights who spar with me and give them advice. It seems many people who were 'Royal Guards' become instructors for knight trainees after leaving their posts. That's how much those called 'Royal Guards' are said to excel in both sword and martial arts.
Since Wesley was here, did that mean Dee was a former knight?
[Hah? No way.]
That was the reply when I asked if he was a former knight.
I asked because I didn't know if 'that was the case' or not…
As I was thinking, 'Couldn't you phrase it a little better…?' Wesley laughed cheerfully.
[Well, this guy probably *could* have been a knight.]
[No, fuck that. Something that stiff, I couldn't stand it.]
[You'd be surprised what you can get used to.]
[I'd suffocate before I got used to it.]
After this exchange, Dee looked at me.
[I'm more on the other side. Not a criminal, but somethin' similar.]
Dee pointed at me and Roger as he said this. I couldn't help but tilt my head.
But no one seemed inclined to say anything more about it.… I don't get it. But probably, the fact that 'no one says anything' means 'you don't need to know.'
Roger sat on the usual fallen log and pointed at Dee.
[Figured it might be good for you two to see how each other moves, since you'll probably be workin' together a lot.]
Me? With Dee?
No offense, but whether it's Roger and the other covert ops or the private knights, they'd be a hindrance if we had to 'work together.'
Their movements are too slow, making it a pain to match their pace.
Roger should know that, having seen me.
So if he says 'together,' that must mean Dee is quite capable.… A stablehand? …Well, I'm just a porter too.
As I stood there confused, [???] written on my face, Wesley chuckled.
[This guy's called the 'Faceless Crow'…]
[Shut it, old man.]
Dee cut off Wesley with a disgusted voice.
Wait, what was that!? Did a kinda cool name just come out!?
Lately, I've started thinking short names might be cool too.… Have I… grown? Hehe…
[Before the old man starts flappin' his gums, let's just get this over with.]
Dee let out an annoyed sigh and looked straight at me.
Ah. His 'eyes' are different.
They're not his usual elusive, hard-to-read eyes.
They're the eyes of a 'predator,' looking straight at its target.
I instinctively sensed 'Danger!' and leaped sideways. Sharp, iron skewer-like objects were stuck in the spot where I had just been.
When did he throw those!? Where did they come from!?
Thinking that, I looked at Dee. He made an extremely bored face and clicked his tongue loudly.
Clicking his tongue…
[…Don't dodge. Just take the hit.]
No way!
[If I got hit by that, it'd hurt!]
[So what?]
He said in that same extremely bored tone. I thought, 'Yep, this is dangerous.'
When I tried to create distance, he closed in instantly. I barely managed to block the 'something' Dee swung at me with a knife I drew in that instant. A grating sound of metal clashing rang out.
The knife Dee held in a reverse grip was similar to the one I had.
This is bad. He's the type that 'overwhelms with speed and number of attacks,' similar to me… This is a bad match-up…
Because I was observing him like that, my reaction was delayed for a moment.
I just barely managed to dodge the white blade that swept past my face at an incredible speed.… But I couldn't dodge completely, and the blade grazed my cheek.
A sharp, burning pain shot through my cheek.
I was injured.
Me.
I got cut.
Interesting.
How long has it been since someone managed to injure me?
This person in front of me right now is 'an opponent I can go all out against.'
***
I ruined one knife blade, and the second knife's blade was chipped.
Time-wise, not much had passed. Probably only about ten-some minutes by my sense of time. But if I didn't finish this soon, my stamina wouldn't hold out.
My work was basically 'one-hit kills.' I couldn't afford to dawdle for long periods. So, I had no need for stamina suited for prolonged battles.
I guess this is the price for that complacency.
But I shouldn't be the only one getting tired.
Finding an opening for an instant, I swung the knife I was holding.
Matching my movement, Dee also swung his knife.
[That's enough!!]
At Wesley's sharp voice, Dee and I stopped our hands.
Our respective knives were stopped right at each other's throats.
…If we hadn't stopped, which one would have been faster?
We both lowered our weapons, and Dee sat down on the spot with a sigh.
[Ahh…… I'm beat……]
Yeah, seriously. Maybe I should work on my stamina… But it's not like Dee is an 'enemy' or anything…
And besides, there probably aren't many people as capable as Dee.
Ah, but my job is 'Cargo Porter,' so maybe it's okay to have stamina.… Even though I've hardly carried any cargo.
***
Before I knew it, three months had passed since I was hired by the Macnagan Ducal house.
When I first came here, I thought, [I can always run if it gets too much,] but the reality of my situation was so different from what I'd imagined a 'mansion servant' to be that the days passed without any thought of 'running away' ever crossing my mind.
…Speaking of which, is 'running away' from here even possible…?
[Basically, 'we don't chase those who leave.']
Roger said in a carefree tone while maintaining his knife.
[…Oh, is that so?]
[Well, yeah? What's the point chasin' after someone who's determined to 'run away'? Even if you drag 'em back, they'll just run again.… What's up? Wanna run?]
I poked Roger in the side with my fist as he teased me with a grin. [Ow!] he laughed, sounding amused.
[Well, guys who leave 'cause they hate the work' or 'the water doesn't suit 'em here' are basically left alone. 'Compatibility' isn't something you can force.]
Well, that's certainly true.
[But if anyone who leaves starts actin' funny afterwards, we send pursuers after 'em normally.]
That's also to be expected, I guess.
Normally, servants for a noble house undergo strict background checks.… But this house is practically a sieve. Even when they hired me, they did no kind of background check on me.
At first glance, it would seem like 'anyone can get in.'
But actually, Thomas-sama investigates everyone's backgrounds thoroughly. It seems he approaches people *after* investigating them, like he did with me.
Incidentally, the reason Thomas-sama headhunted me was apparently [I wanted one more person who could move as well as Dee.] And it seems the only position available at the time happened to be Porter.
…No wonder there's no work… It could have been anything, not just Porter…
Because they do no background checks (or so it seems), people with hostile intentions can also infiltrate this house.
Those types usually try to take some kind of information out with them.
They are what Roger calls 'the ones who act funny after leaving.'
[Pursuers… Do you guys chase after them?]
[If it's someone we can handle, then yeah.]
Roger laughed as he put the polished knife back into its holder.
[If it's someone 'beyond our capabilities,' like you, Dee goes without a doubt.]
[Yikes…]
I see. It's not just the covert ops; Dee's here too…
Dee didn't want to talk about it, but Wesley told me that Dee was originally a state intelligence agent. And not just any agent; his organization was directly under the King's command, a true secret organization whose full membership was unknown to anyone except the King and Crown Prince…
Wesley said, [I know a few of 'em through work, but they're all a bunch of eccentric bastards, not a normal one among 'em.]
Among them, Dee came from a unit specializing in assassination.
[If you'd been up to no good in this country, a few guys like him would've come to erase you,] he said with a laugh, sending a shiver down my spine.
I had trouble with just Dee alone; if there were several of him… I don't think I could escape. I'd definitely die.
I genuinely felt lucky that there was no 'work' for me in this country…
According to Roger, the targets the covert ops chase are basically just captured alive. Then they're handed over to Thomas-sama.
What happens after that, he says he doesn't know.
[Well, it's more peaceful not stickin' your nose into iffy business. As much of a small-time villain as I am, I still value my own life.]
Well, the moment it's 'handed over to Thomas-sama,' I get the feeling it probably doesn't end well.
[Our job is just to catch 'em, but Dee's probably different. It's too scary to ask.… Every 'target' he's gone after has ended up 'missing'.]
Yeah, I'll bet. They wouldn't use someone who specialized in assassination otherwise.
[Don't you think Thomas-sama might call on you someday too?]
I wonder? I thought as I listened to Roger's words.
Would I be able to earn that much trust?
***
Three months since being hired.
This is the first time I've stayed in one place for so long. And to be here without hiding or falsifying my identity, just being 'myself'…
Before I knew it, I had people I talked to daily besides Nathan and Roger.
Things like going to the dining hall for breakfast and exchanging [Good morning] greetings with people I met.
Or when I was wandering around with nothing to do, as usual, someone casually saying, [Oh, if you're free, can you help me?]
Or spending the end of the day in the lounge playing card games while making idle chatter.
And then saying, [Good night. See you tomorrow,] when parting.
This must be what 'an ordinary person's ordinary day' is like.
But, I wonder why.
Lately, whenever everyone calls me 'The Pale (etc.) Grim Reaper,' I get this itchy feeling around my solar plexus. Itchy, or maybe squirmish…
It's hard to describe, but it's kind of… a little irritating…
So lately, I've been saying, [I'd like you to call me Cesare.]
I've been saying it, but no one calls me that.… Why is it that the names I propose are never used by anyone…?
And everyone, while complaining it's 'long,' you don't have to read it out loud while looking at your notes…
[Hey, you're the one who told us to call you that!]
When I grumbled a little, Nathan retorted while laughing heartily.
[Well, yes… That's true, but…]
I sighed. Dee, nibbling on some mysterious baked goods Nathan had brought, laughed.
[It's fine, Grim Reaper. It's pointlessly grandiose and kinda dumb.]
[Don't say it's kinda dumb.]
[Then just 'dumb'.]
[…Having it stated so bluntly is more annoying, usually.]
I sighed again. Nathan went [Oh, that's right!] as if remembering something.
[Speaking of which, did you read that book I lent you before?]
[Huh? …Ah, that one. No, I haven't.]
It was the entertainment novel Nathan had bought when we went into town.
I'd meant to read it eventually and tossed it on my desk, then completely forgot about it.
[What did you lend him? 'How to Bake Delicious Bread'?]
[Nah, not that, just an entertainment novel. Wait, does a book called 'How to Bake Delicious Bread' even exist?]
[Dunno. Probably? If you search the whole world, it's gotta be somewhere.]
[Ooh… Maybe I'll look for it.]
Listening to their conversation, I decided I'd start reading that book today, since I'd had it borrowed for so long.
＊ ＊ ＊
That night, I finally opened the book I'd borrowed from Nathan.
Most entertainment novels often lack 'substance.'
They're about romances between commoner girls and nobles, or fighting for the fate of the 'world' in a world of swords and magic, or the adventures of explorers traveling the seven seas…
Stories that go all-in on that kind of 'entertainment' can be read much faster than academic books.
They're fast… supposed to be.
But I read only the first dozen or so pages of the book I borrowed from Nathan and closed it.
My solar plexus feels incredibly squirmish…
The book Nathan lent me, 'The Crimson of Dawn, Lurking in Darkness,' was about a young man who made assassination his profession.
This protagonist's lines and monologues were all trying to be nihilistically cool, and reading it made my solar plexus feel all tingly for some reason.
On top of that, from my perspective, his words and actions felt 'somehow a bit off the mark.'
For example, at the beginning, the protagonist receives an assassination request. But the location is 'an alley one block off the main street'—isn't that too conspicuous!? Be more sneaky! Just one block from the main street, there are definitely people around!
And when the client presses him, saying [Don't screw up,] the protagonist replies with something like, [If I screw up, it's only my life that's lost,] while wearing a 'world-weary, nihilistic smile' or whatever…
No, it's not 'only'! Your 'corpse' would be left as evidence!? Dying is one thing, but at least die somewhere no one will see you!?
It's not that 'the smell of blood is permanently stained on you'; it'll come off if you just wash it normally. And do you get that much blood on you every time? Are you just bad at it? Or careless?
'Seeing the phantom of someone's fresh blood on my own hands when I glance at them'—if you see things like that, maybe you should quit? You're definitely not cut out for this.
Aaaaah!! It's so squirmish!!
I know it's an 'entertainment novel,' so not everything has to be realistic.
…What should I do? I might not be able to finish reading this…
***
In the end, it took me three whole weeks to finish reading the book I borrowed from Nathan.… More than half of that time I fell asleep reading it, and the remaining days I was stuck trying to hold back the intense squirming in my solar plexus that made me want to scream.
But I finished it.
I did it, me!
Now, when I return this to Nathan, I have to give him my impressions, right…? Uh, that sounds like quite the ordeal…
But I don't really want to keep this book around either… Just seeing the cover makes me go [Ugh…]…
So, that night, I decided to return the book to Nathan.
I summoned Nathan to the lounge during the time between dinner and bedtime. When I went there with the book from my room, not only Nathan but Dee was there too.
When I sat at the table, Nathan said, [Another day, another dollar,] and handed me a glass with some alcohol in it.
[So? Did you read it?]
As I returned the book to Nathan, he flipped through it and asked.
[…I read it, more or less.]
[How was it?]
Nathan asked, closing the book and placing it carelessly on the table. I took a sip from my glass and said,
[Before that, why did you recommend this to me?]
Nathan's answer to my question was, [Just wondered what the 'real deal' would think reading this. That's all.]
Nathan's former job as an 'intelligence agent' is also a profession often used as material in entertainment novels. And apparently, every time Nathan reads such novels, he feels like saying, [No, no, no. That's not it, that's not it.]
[But with ones that go all-in on being 'fiction,' it actually becomes fun. It's like, 'What the hell is that!? No way!' and it just gets laughable. I wondered, 'How about this one?' kinda thing.]
[…I didn't find it laughable…]
My impression was closer to the former [That's not it.]
[What's it about?]
Nathan handed the book to Dee, who had asked.
[A story about a cool, handsome, super-skilled assassin with a sparkling personality who gets girls falling for him everywhere he goes while carrying out missions.]
[…Just the synopsis gives me chills…]
Saying that, Dee opened the book briefly. Then he immediately closed it and put it on the table.
[…It's painful from the first page. Why's he wearing a dark-colored hood in the middle of the day…?]
I thought that too. Doesn't that just make you stand out?
[Maybe he melts in sunlight or something?]
[Now *that* would be interesting. I'd read that.]
[Sounds tough just living.]
[Living constantly on the verge of melting does sound pretty tough.]
[And if that's the case, you don't need the 'assassin' setting anymore, right?]
[Nah, it's the daily life of 'an assassin who melts in sunlight.']
[I'd buy that.]
…I might buy that too. Sounds kinda interesting. Well, no, I probably wouldn't buy it. I'd borrow it if someone had it, though.
Nathan propped his cheek on his hand on the table and flipped through the book lying there.
[So? Cesare-kun, your impressions.]
[Somehow… how should I put it… …It makes the area around my solar plexus feel all squirmish.]
At my honest impression, Nathan went [Pfft!] and burst out laughing, while Dee, who had been sipping from his glass, choked on its contents and started coughing.
[Eek! Dee-kun is dying!!]
Nathan said in an exaggerated falsetto while patting the coughing Dee's back.
…Wait, did I say something strange?
[Da…mn it… I'm really gonna die…]
Dee said between coughs. Nathan was laughing happily.
What is this?
[…So, why did your solar plexus feel squirmish?]
Even if you ask me why… I don't really know the reason myself.
It's just a vague sensation, and I can't seem to put it into words properly…
As I went [Hmm…], Nathan chuckled.
[For now, reading this, you didn't think 'Cool!' or anything?]
[…No. All I could think was exactly what you said, 'No, no, no!']
I sighed. Nathan said [Hmm] softly.
[So, that means. Cesare, that 'squirmish' feeling of yours, could the cause be that this book feels like 'it was written by someone who admires assassins, cramming in only the admirable elements!' …or something like that?]
[Ah, ah… yeah. Maybe close.]
I nodded. Dee coughed again.… Huh? Dee, you okay?
[For you to say that…]
[Dee-kun, stay. Wait a bit longer.]
The two of them whispered to each other. I tilted my head slightly because I didn't understand.
But I sort of figured out the true nature of the mysterious 'squirming in my solar plexus' I felt while reading the book.
Just as Nathan said, it's because the protagonist of that book feels like 'a wish-fulfillment set of someone who mistakenly thinks the assassin job is super cool.'
The foggy feeling in my chest took shape, and I felt a little clearer.
But when I said that, Dee let out a deep sigh.
[…Hey, Nathan. Can I say it now…?]
[By all means.]
[Go ahead,] Nathan said, gesturing towards me with his hand.
Huh? What? What are you going to say?
[That's not your line to say!!]
[So, what is it then!?]
Dee said with the force of spitting out something he'd been holding back. I couldn't help but shout back.
Dee pointed sharply at me.
[It's that incomprehensible, damn long name of yours! Hearing that makes *us* feel exactly the way you just described!]
My… name…
My 'The Fallen Reaper Who, Cradled by Infinite Purgatorial Flames Born from Pale White Darkness, Dreams of an Aurora He Shall Never Glimpse Within the Eternal Prison Corridor' is the same as that book…
……………….
…………
…Now that you mention it!! It might be… the same…!
[The young lady told you, right? 'One or two delicious things are tasty, but if you mix a huge amount, it's inedible.' Your damn name, it's bitter and sour and cheap to begin with, and having a huge pile of that just makes it unbearably painful.]
I heard Dee's complaining voice as if from a distance.
My name is the same as that book…
Now that you mention it, it's way too true.
It's a name that's my 'Cool Wish-Fulfillment Set,' crammed full of things I think are 'cool.'
But to other people, it's just 'a wish-fulfillment set of someone who's convinced it's cool'…
[Ah…… …Whaaaaaaa!!]
[Hey!? Cesare!? What's wrong!? Did you break!?]
Nathan sounded worried as I let out a shriek and buried my face in the table.
But I couldn't lift my head.
What have I done!?
No wonder everyone makes that indescribable "Ugh…" face! No wonder they smirk! Or rather, just laugh out loud! That half-hearted kindness hurts my heart!!
So *this* was the true nature of the 'squirming' I felt every time I was called 'The Pale (etc.) Grim Reaper' recently!
What is this!! It's so embarrassing!!
[…Did he die?]
I heard Dee mutter.
[Heeey? Grim Reaper~?]
[…………Don't call me… 'Grim Reaper'…]
That was all I could manage. Nathan and Dee burst out laughing simultaneously.
[No, no, you're the one who called yourself that, it's too late for that now.]
[Starting tomorrow, why don't you go around to everyone and reintroduce yourself, 'My name is Cesare!']
[More importantly, don't most people not even know that 'Cesare' name?]
[Ah, maybe.… When you meet someone for the first time and they tell you, uh… 'The Fallen Reaper Who, Cradled by Infinite Purgatorial Flames Born from Pale White Darkness, Dreams of an Aurora He Shall Never Glimpse Within the Eternal Prison Corridor,' you stop caring about their real name.]
[Yeah.… I thought there was nothing lower than 'Nameless,' but I guess there's always a lower low.]
I could hear their conversation, but I couldn't lift my head.
[Now, now, let's keep at it starting tomorrow, okay? Right, Grim Reaper?]
[Don't call me Grim Reaper—!]
I stood up without thinking, shouted that, and ran back to my room.
…I could hear Nathan and Dee's roaring laughter from behind…
***
For the next three days, I shut myself in my room.
I thought about running away from here, but the only thing I could be sure of—unpleasantly sure—was that Dee would definitely come as a pursuer.
He'd definitely come to drag me back, enjoying every minute of it. I'd bet on it.… Not that I have anything to bet.
There's no escape.
More than that, I want to stay here if possible.
Because this is the first place where I've been able to live like a 'normal person.'
If running away isn't an option, then I have to face it head-on.
That's it! I'll face it!
First, I'll make everyone remember my name! And I'll find a way to dispose of all the notes everyone has!
It took me three days, curled up under my futon, to finally be able to look forward like that.
While I was shut in, everyone took turns bringing me meals, but my appetite would vanish when I saw the note placed on the tray with my single serving: 'Get Well Soon☆ To The Fallen Reaper Who, Cradled by Infinite Purgatorial Flames Born from Pale White Darkness, Dreams of an Aurora He Shall Never Glimpse Within the Eternal Prison Corridor♡'.
…Who wrote that…? The handwriting looked feminine…
I'd try to sleep, only to remember my past words and actions, go [Ngaaaaaa…!!], and be unable to sleep… Repeating this left me in terrible health.
But I couldn't stay like forever.
I have something I must do…!!
First, I have to leave this room…!!
With that resolve, I opened my room door.
[…Oh? Is the rebellious phase over?]
Thomas-sama was standing there when I opened the door.
Rebellious phase…
[…It's not that.]
My voice as I retorted was so sulky I could hear it myself. I really did sound like a rebellious kid.
More importantly, what was Thomas-sama doing here…
[I'm here to relay a rule that was decided while you were shut in.]
Huh!? A rule!? What rule!?
Thomas-sama spoke to me, stunned and speechless, in his usual calm voice.
[You are permitted to commit theft, provided it is limited to stealing 'a certain memo' from the household members. Breaking and entering into private rooms, etc., will also be overlooked. However, if you lay hands on anything else, you will be subject to punishment.]
'*A certain memo*'…!! That must be, without a doubt, the very thing I currently want most to erase from this world…!!
[Regarding those from whom you steal the memo, you possess the right to enforce one single opinion of your own. The deadline is one month from today. You should confirm with the other party whether they have the memo. Regarding this, household members are forbidden from lying. Naturally, laying hands on those who do not have one is pointless.]
[Understood?] Thomas-sama checked. I nodded.
I'll do it…!! I don't know why they're so into this that they made a special rule, but I'll do it!!
Thomas-sama also nodded once at me, saying, [Very well.]
[Then let the game… begin!]
As Thomas-sama announced loudly, voices and the sound of running footsteps erupted all at once from around the corridor corners and outside.
How many people were hiding!?
[Then, I wish you good luck.]
As he started to walk away after saying just that, I frantically stopped him.
I went back into my room and took a single memo from my desk drawer. It was that slightly irritating memo that had been left with my meal.
[Thomas-sama, do you recognize this handwriting?]
He is the butler, after all. He sees the various reports written by the household members daily. The writing is a bit distinctive, so I hoped Thomas-sama might know who wrote it.
Handing the memo to Thomas-sama with that hope, he looked at it intently for a while, then gave a small smile.
[It's Her Ladyship's handwriting.]
…………What?
As I stood there dumbfounded, Thomas-sama returned the memo to me and smiled that ironic smile again.
[It's unmistakably the handwriting of Faralda Macnagan, the Duchess.… Going to try stealing it?]
[…I give up.]
Who knows what traps await in the Master's and Her Ladyship's rooms.
[Any other questions?]
[…Thomas-sama, do you have the memo?]
Even if he did, I don't think I could steal it.
When I asked, Thomas-sama gave another small smile, said succinctly, [I do,] and lightly tapped his own temple with his fingertip.
[It's right here.… Care to try stealing it?]
Faced with Thomas-sama's slightly mocking smile, all I could do was raise my hands slightly in a gesture of surrender.
***
My 'Memo Recovery' operation was quite challenging.
I gave up on the Master. When the Master asked me with a perfectly serious face, [Why would you want to take back such an interesting thing?] I felt like crying.
Seeing me on the verge of tears, Her Ladyship said, [Oh dear~, I'll give you this, so don't cry~,] and handed me the memo.… Her Ladyship, how kind… …No, not kind. *She* was the one who wrote that thing while I was shut in.
There were a fair number of people who, like Her Ladyship, would just give me the memo back when I asked if they had it.
Nathan was one of them.… Though it came with a side of uproarious laughter.
Roger and Dee told me, [Don't have it.]
I was suspicious of Dee, but he said to me, [Thomas-sama said there's a penalty for liars, y'know.]
Defying Thomas-sama… Dee definitely wouldn't do something that foolish. So that means he doesn't have it, I guess.
The young lady told me, [I wouldn't have it, would I? It seems like just having it would make me feel pathetic,] and I almost cried again.
As for the other servants, I'd see them holding a piece of paper, snatch it, only to find it was a paper that said 'Sorry! Wrong one!!' Or they'd say, [Beat me at a game and I'll give it to you,] and I'd win against three people but lose to two. Or I'd sneak into their room to find the memo framed and displayed on the wall, making me crouch before it and cry. Or they'd say, [If you want the memo, you'll have to go through us!] so I'd beat them, only for them to complain, [Who takes that seriously!? You idiot—!!]…
By the one-month deadline for the game, I had managed to recover the memo from about one-third of the mansion's total staff.
Another third were people who didn't have it to begin with. And the final third were the people who managed to evade me.
…That's just cheating!!
When I tried to take the memo from one of the maid girls, she let out a full-blown scream!! No matter how you look at it, that makes me the bad guy!!
The valets too! Hiding it under their wigs! If I took it off them in public, I'd still be the bad guy!! It's so annoying that you can just catch a glimpse of the memo under the wig!! I don't get this 'teasingly sexy' thing!!
But I was able to properly make my request to the one-third of the people: [Please call me Cesare.]
…It hurts that I let the young lady, Dee, and Anna the laundry maid—the ones who tease me the most—get away, but it can't be helped.
I did it!!
I did it!!
—I was filled with a sense of accomplishment, but I later realized I had made one big mistake.
It was the request I had made.
I had only said, [Please call me Cesare.] …That's right. The request should have been [Don't call me Grim Reaper.]…
The situation hasn't changed, has it!? What did I go through all that trouble for!?
Filled with a sense of futility and emptiness, I ended up shutting myself in my room for another three days… On the meal tray, there was another note in Her Ladyship's handwriting: 'Get Well Soon☆ To The Fallen Reaper Who, Cradled by Infinite Purgatorial Flames Born from Pale White Darkness, Dreams of an Aurora He Shall Never Glimpse Within the Eternal Prison Corridor♡'.
…That added one more day to my shut-in streak.
***
Through all that, since I started working here, I've undergone many changes.
First, this whole 'emotions' thing has gone beyond just having them or not; they've become wildly unstable.… It feels like it shouldn't be the 'first' item, but in reality, it's the biggest change.
I didn't know… When a human's emotions exceed their limit, they can suddenly overflow as tears…
I'd never cried since gaining consciousness, but now I cry about three times a day… One of those is a full-blown sob…
My mental state is in shambles…
And I've learned many emotions I never knew.
Things like 'fun,' 'happy,' …'sad'…, 'frustrating'…, 'embarrassing'………….
It's only been half a year since I came here.
In just half a year, I, who was empty, have become a proper emotional wreck.
Hey, am I regressing!? Am I not heading in a weird direction!?
[…So? Are you thinking about leaving or something?]
The young lady had summoned me, saying she wanted to see how I'd changed after six months.
Being summoned is fine, but why is it in the middle of the thicket…? And why am I being made to sit in seiza again…?
Dee was lounging beside the young lady as usual.
The young lady brings Dee along because she absolutely cannot avoid the traps in this thicket by herself. And the young lady would trip even if there were no traps.
Dee accompanies her as protection from dangers she can't even identify. According to the young lady, it's [because Dee has the fastest reactions.]
[Six months ago, we didn't know if you'd settle down, but you must have reached some kind of conclusion by now, haven't you?]
I looked straight at the young lady, who was sitting in seiza opposite me.
[I'll be staying here a while longer.]
I don't know if that 'while' will be years or decades.
My mental state is in shambles, but this house is somehow comfortable.… Even if I have one good sob a day.
Even if I'm crouched crying in a corner of the hallway, my life isn't in danger.… My mental state is, though.
I don't need to be constantly on edge, and even if I cry myself to sleep in a hallway corner, no one says anything.… Actually, that was a shock. I fell asleep in a hallway corner. Someone should've woken me up… When I woke up, there were lots of flowers decorated around me, like I had died…
This house is so 'safe' that you can even accidentally fall asleep in a hallway corner.
…Though I did get a thorough scolding from Thomas-sama for sleeping in the hallway.
[It's like a stray cat found a 'home,' isn't it?]
The young lady laughed, sounding exasperated. I found myself agreeing, [Maybe so.]
In a mansion that's more than just shelter from the rain and wind—it's overly splendid. There's warm food, a clean bed, and friends for idle chatter.
Even subtracting the fact that I cry three times a day, isn't it full of invaluable things?
…Though being made to cry three times a day is probably an experience you can't get elsewhere. I could do without that…
Lately, I don't even think 'it's fine if I die anytime.'… Well, I do think 'if I die, then that's that.'
About that change in mindset, Nathan said, [Generally… and I mean just 'generally,' but thinking 'I don't want to die' or 'I want to keep living' is because you have some kind of attachment to this world, right? Like something 'you don't want to lose,' or 'something important,' stuff like that.]
I don't know if I have that 'something.' But I think I've found things I'd 'like to have if possible,' rather than 'don't want to lose.'
[Then you should hold onto that wonderful epithet dearly too.]
[That's a separate issue, isn't it!?]
[Throwing it away is easy. But sometimes… it's necessary not to discard your 'own past,' but to hold it close and cherish it…]
The young lady said this with a gentle smile, looking slightly into the distance.
…You're lying, right? You're just trying to tease and toy with me, right?
When I said that, the young lady said in an exaggerated tone, [My, what a thing to say!] …Young lady, you don't normally talk like that, do you? …What is with this young lady…?
It seemed the conversation was over. The young lady stood up and brushed the leaves off her skirt with her hand.
I tried to stand up too, but my legs… I c-can't stand…!
As I writhed, wondering what to do about these numb legs, the young lady looked down at me and gave a small laugh.
[Well, anyway, if 'here' is a 'safe bed' for you, then I'm glad.… Welcome to the Macnagan Ducal house, The Pale (etc.) Grim Reaper.]
[Aaaaaah!!]
[You're way too full of teasing intent!! That's definitely a past you *can* 'throw away'!!]
[Shut the hell up.]
Dee said disgustedly and kicked my leg.
[Naaaaah!!]
My kicked leg tingled violently, and I screamed again. The young lady and Dee both made disgusted faces and said, [You're noisy.]
What is with these people!! They're too cruel!! I'm probably not the one at fault here!!
***
And so, today too, I will reflect on the day in my bed, sometimes weeping bitterly, sometimes screaming involuntarily and getting my wall knocked on by the person in the next room.
I wonder if these 'days of writhing in agony over my own deeds' will someday become the past.… More importantly, please let them… I'm begging you, let it happen as soon as possible!!
But nevertheless, the morning comes mercilessly.
And I spend another day as the 'Porter with No Particular Work.' Laughing and crying.
Like 'ordinary people.'
[Hey, Cesare! Volume 2 of 'The Crimson of Dawn, Lurking in Darkness' is out! Read it and tell me what you think!!]
While skillfully ignoring Nathan's voice, and crying over the maids' theatrical, loud-whispering of [Oh my, look! The Grim Reaper is over there!] [My! It's true! There's no other way to describe him but The Pale White Grim Reaper!].
I will go on living, 'here,' today as well.
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