12#2

Okay.

Before we continue, I'll discuss the essence of a novel's existence.

What is it that makes people love works of fiction?

The characters? Conflict? The setting?  Themes?

Nerds who take themselves too seriously.

What? Mandate? Better go to a motivational seminar instead.

What matters is a 'bias'.

The boundary between the real world and the imaginary world.

No one wants to read about acceleration equations in fantasy stories or chemical compound formulas in romance stories - I swear, who started this stupid trend? You think this is the periodic table?

Great writers are those who manage to create a fun world that everyone can enjoy.

Those who assume the element of realism in the world of novels are idealistic morons.

And damn it, I'm one of those morons-at least I used to be.

Even in a world where power and bloodlines are everything, we still have to go to school.

And so, here I am. Stuck in the company of elite women. Doing the mundane agenda that seems to be a written obligation even for a female aristocrat.

Gossiping.

Sycophancy.

Well... actually more sycophancy.

"That's a nice necklace, milady."

Damn, that waitress has really gone too far. She deliberately brought me here just for 'fun'.

What fun?

Eh, don't get me wrong!

I'm not so stiff. I like to talk. I also like to suck up-both metaphorically and literally.

But, what's the point of doing that if none of this is actually real?

"Really? It's a gift from Duke Carrol of the next country that he gave me when I visited there. He said it was made from real mirah stone."

I folded my arms across my chest and watched the person who had just spoken.

Irene Livingsworth looked exactly as I had imagined. The imperious curve of her graceful smile, the doll-like blush on her thin cheeks, the slender stomach hidden in a black corset, all wrapped up in a frilly reddish-brown dress accessorised with a necklace encrusted with sparkling red precious stones.

Damn!

She was beautiful.

Even by modern human standards.

It's like a goddess descended to earth.

The old me was poetic too.

"It must be because he's fascinated by you, my lady. But, it's a shame, you already have someone." The girl like a female fox who had been chattering all day then giggled.

What's her name?

Ah, yes. Sara Carrington. Count Carrington's only daughter.

With lips as bright as her dress - bright red with a myriad of jewellery hanging from her arms and neck.

How could she look that glamorous?

It seems, in the brief background I wrote half-heartedly, that she comes from a poor clan ruling a small area on the border. The only daughter of Count Carrington.

At the end of the story, she's the one who tattles on Irene's vile behaviour to the crown prince. She was betrothed to the crown prince's only sister as a gift. Then presided over Lodkin-the second largest territory after the capital-as a Duchess.

Looks like I've always had an admirable sense of justice.

"Ah... you're overreacting, Sara. Duke Carrol is just being generous. He wants his family and the Livingsworth clan to be the bridge of friendship between Andromeda and Whirlpol."

Irene blushed-'on purpose'.

"It's not an exaggeration, really. Your beauty is known throughout the continent and sung about by all the singers." Sara continued to chatter.

"I-that's right, milady," said another girl whose presence I realised with a clumsy gesture.

Hm... this... wait, isn't this troupe of the beastly only three people?

Irene the vilainess. Rachel-I-the loyal subordinate. Sara the two-faced big mouth.

"Thank you, Sara, for the compliment. I'm really honoured and happy. But about my mate, I've been feeling unsure lately. Prince Zack-"

"Wait! Wait!"

Irene and Sara then turned their heads with a disturbed look.

Sara protested, because at that time I deliberately interrupted Irene who was talking. "Rachel, do you know what you just did? It's not ethical ba-"

"Who is this?" I pointed at the strange girl who intrigued me. I assumed Sara's words were just a breeze.

The girl was instantly dazed and panicked.

In a sky-coloured dress and a too-narrow corset, the girl looked even more petite as she wriggled restlessly.

"You've got to be kidding me, Rachel. You don't remember me, do you?"

Sara winced and looked away, both a bit startled. She seemed to have just realised that there was a fourth person next to her.

But, Sara's next reaction made me even more confused. "Rachel, don't start. This isn't really you, you know, interrupting Lady Irene's speech for this obscure topic?"

I frowned, wanting to say more. But then I realised that I had almost taken the wrong step.

If Sara and Irene knew who this girl was, then the real Rachel knew.

The real Rachel had recently been experiencing a strange, curse-like complication called 'momentary dementia'. So forgetting a thing or two would be understandable.

If her 'friends' had looked at me like I was staring at a moron like this without bothering to explain myself, then there could only be one conclusion: Sara and Irene didn't know about Rachel's illness.

They weren't told, for some reason.

It made sense.

If the rumours of a cursed noble girl spread, the family's social status would drop and slowly disintegrate.

Looks like from now on I can't just blurt out. "Ah, yeah, right. I was just joking." I chuckled stupidly.

But, Sara was still not satisfied. "That's still not enough, Rachel. Don't you realise what you did wrong earlier?" The female fox was inflamed. Why was she the one who was upset? "You interrupted Lady Irene's speech and belittled Dimitri just now, old man, didn't you? Do you think it's funny? Hurry up and apologise!"

"A-ah, yes." I gulped nervously.

Ah, it turns out his name is Dimitri.

I tried to remember it.

Still nothing.  Not a single image came to mind.

The side characters in my novel at that time were also quite a lot, anyway.

So I just faced Irene and the unknown girl who I later found out was Dimitri, then put on the most guilty face. "I'm really sorry. Lady Irene. Lady Dimitri. I didn't mean to offend you both. I just wanted to break the ice."

"I-iya it's fine-"

"Huh! You're the one who's been saying to watch your manners at all times. Patronising Lady Irene. But, she's the one who's not polite." Sara clutched her chest and smiled sarcastically.

What was that? A taunt? A challenge to a fight?

"Never mind. Rachel didn't mean anything bad, really." Unexpectedly, Irene reacted ... positively? "You've been acting a bit strange lately, Rachel. You're daydreaming and suddenly not knowing about trivial things, is there something bothering you?"

Huh? Heh.

Okay.

What's this additional event again? As I recall, Irene was an arrogant person. Instead of a caring, motherly woman.

I was about to open my voice, answering in confusion.

But suddenly there was a knock.

A silvery-haired male waiter entered after being given permission. "Milady, everyone. Sorry to disturb your time-you all. I would like to inform you that Lord Kirby's class will begin in ten minutes. It is hoped that milady can go to the classroom now."

Ah...

I was safe. At least this time.

With a practised fake smile, I matched their pace in absurd confusion.

I looked at Dimitri with a careful probing gaze.

Here's the thing. I have too good a memory.

In scientific language, it's photographic memory. My 'friends' call it a vindictive trait. Meanwhile, I put it on my list of 'things I thought were valuable but couldn't cash in'.

So, when I say this Dimitri never existed, then that's the truth.

Not to mention Irene's attitude that I never expected. Or this damn body with too little stamina.

Bruk!

"Akh!" Tsk! Who the hell bumped into me just now? Was it intentional?I grimaced, turned my head, and was ready to explode.

Oh my! Shit!

Remember when I said that in this world, power and bloodline are everything?

Well, there's actually one other factor that can solidify those two things and make you rise to the top if you become the most superior.

Magic.

A practical medium to make things easier for humans.

Familiar with its uses?

Yes. That's right.

In reality, 'magic' is a concept created by writers who are too lazy to research steam-age technology.

The point is, in this world, as long as you have enough magic energy, you will become a person of honour.

It doesn't matter if you're a noble or a commoner.

It doesn't matter if you're a man or a woman.

And among all of them, there is a very special figure whose name is prophesied in legends and prophecies.

A figure with the strongest magic. The one who is said to crush all evil on earth.

He is the Chosen One.

The one who only appears once every thousand years.

The one who is now face-to-face with me right now.

"Are you okay, Rachel?" Irene reached out and gave me a worried look.

I frowned, still confused, but finally accepted it as well while keeping my eyes on the perpetrator of the injustice just now.

Jeanette Folkstein shook off the dust clinging to her shabby brown leather tunic in a nonchalant manner.

Her style was the same as I had imagined in the book.

Cynical eyes. Stiff cheekbones. Unorganised curls. Without even making a move, her noble-hearted rebel protagonist aura seemed to sparkle in an irritating way.

"Tsk! Indeed, school shouldn't be for commoners. I don't even understand common manners, let alone want to listen to lessons." Sara snorted haughtily, meaning to insinuate Jeanette.

Arrogant people are difficult to understand the situation, yes.

"Come on." This time I extended my hand to Jeanette while putting on a generous smile.

Jeanette looked at my hand and my face alternately, hesitated, then brushed it off roughly. "Thank you. No need."

"Hey! There's a limit to being rude, isn't there? You're so unlucky!" said Sara angrily.

Irene also looked at Jeanette with hostility. However, Jeanette continued on her way and dismissed the protests as nothing more than an afterthought.

Tsk!

Exactly the image of me nine years ago. Not caring about anything. Doesn't appreciate anything. The embodiment of a girl's fantasy of wanting to change the world by hoping for blessings to fall from the sky.

That's good.

"Ra-Rachel. What's wrong? I'll miss it."

I snapped out of my reverie and grinned. "Eh, yes, yes. Let's go."

Huft! At least, if this was really my new reality, I had left a not-so-bad first impression on Jeanette.

Even if it's impossible.

Haha.

It is, isn't it?

(SELESAI)

*#*

After nearly two hours of tedious lectures on basic etiquette, tea ceremony, and general dance moves; the agony was finally over.

"You look really pale, Rachel. You're really not sick, are you?"

I gave Dimitri a lazy glance.

That damn Sara said that it was rude of me not to remember the name of this character from nowhere, but didn't she know that the Dawver family was born with vampire-like skin?

"Yes. It's okay, really. It's a break after this, right?" I said as patiently as I could.

"What are you talking about? It's only the first lesson, but you're already complaining." Sara said from behind. Still clinging to Irene like conjoined twins. "Anyway, after this is the most important lesson. Our future king and queen's favourite lesson." She glanced at Irene who really blushed this time.

"What lesson is it?"

Sara's attention was now completely focused on me with a look as if to say, 'Are you serious?

"Miss Livingsworth?" A stranger voice interrupted our urgent conversation.

I turned my head, as surprised as the other three girls.

Zachary Donovan-the crown prince-gave a polite smile of greeting to all of us without exception. "Good morning, ladies. Sorry to interrupt your time."

Sara was the first to come to her senses. She immediately stood up, and gave a proper salute. "Good morning, Prince Zack. It's an honour to greet you."

Dimitri and I followed with voices as stiff as shorting robots.

"Haha. There's no need to be that formal. You guys are free to greet and chat with me anytime. After all, we're all in the same few classes, right?" Zack looked over to Irene who was still frozen-too flowery it seemed. "I have some business with Miss Livingsworth, could you please leave us alone?"

Sara answered on our behalf. "In that case, see you soon. Prince Zack. Miss Irene."

I followed her out while watching Irene and Zack who seemed to be talking about something quite exciting.

Irene's expression seemed to change.

At first, the girl was smiling. Full of smiles. Friendly. Graceful.

But, when Zack said something-no matter what, the smile disappeared.

Irene's jaw slowly stiffened, her tone became high, and her forehead wrinkled. Anger, it seemed.

A few minutes later, she ran here with dark eyes and unsteady steps.

I thought she would come over and scold me, but as soon as she got close, Irene just cried silently.

Sara embraced her with an affection that seemed to be genuine this time.

"Why?" I myself was surprised when I started asking.

"She... Your Majesty. What's wrong, anyway? What am I missing?"

What's wrong with you? Talk a little clearly, please.

When I asked for further explanation, Sara prevented me protectively.

Since Irene didn't speak up-and it seemed like she wouldn't, Sara finally took the initiative to explain. "It seems Prince Zack is reluctant to be Lady Irene's partner later. Since the day before last, he's been saying that he wants to take the commoner because it looks like no one will want to be his partner. I've been trying to persuade him to drop that absurd idea. But, it seems to be useless."

Eh? Partner? "After this dance practice lesson?"

Sara sighed. Looking at me was like finding a mixture of morons and troublesome people.

Dimitri was apparently the one who was kind enough to tell her that surprising fact. "Mum-no, Rachel. After this, we have a Magic lesson."

Huh?

"Last week, Mr Dyland said that we should find one person each to participate in the pair practice. You didn't listen, did you?"

Huh?

Whoops!

Damn it!

The subject of magic lessons. You could say it's this world's version of P.E. aka PE - with laser shooting and summoning legendary mythological creatures instead of a marathon around the field as a practical test.

The name is almost the same.

How uncreative!

But, uh, but. One moment.

That Zack took the initiative to make the strongest person here a sparring partner?

You bastard! Is he a petty conspirator who secretly knows Jeanette's potential or just a lucky bastard?

"Miss Irene. I have an idea." I tried to hide my smile, then said back in a tone that was generous and full of sincere loyalty. "Let me pair up with that commoner."

"Are you crazy?" asked Sara as dramatically as I had expected.

I nodded confidently. "I already offended Miss Irene this morning with my rude behaviour. Think of this as an apology."

"No way!" Sara clucked. "You know what a shameless hick is, right? If you come over and treat him nicely after he's belittled you like earlier, you'll be seen as having no self-respect, Rachel. Do you want your friends to be thought of that way too? Do you want Miss Irene to be thought of that way too?"

Duh! It's just a nuisance. "So what? Do you have another choice? Or do you want to let that commoner partner with Prince Zack and humiliate Miss Irene even more?"

"You don't understand what I'm saying at all. That's not what I meant."

"I'll partner with Jeanette then."

We looked at Dimitri in unison. The girl continued to tremble and bow her head when she spoke again.

"Ka-my brother once told me that I have a faint sense of existence. O-people never notice me, so my presence or absence will never matter. B-just this morning, Rachel even forgot about me. So if I were to partner with Jeanette, you wouldn't feel embarrassed."

Wow!

What an honest big brother. I'd like to get acquainted.

But this was no time for admiration, let alone pity. "Eh, that's not what I meant, I-"

"Yes. You can't, Dimitri. After all, you're one of us. It doesn't matter what people say."

Wow! That's a remark I never expected to come from Sara's mouth. "So what's your plan? Or are you the one who wants to change to pair up with that commoner?"

"Huh? Not even in my worst nightmares." Sara bit her lip. Cornered! Well, that's why don't make a fuss. "Tsk! Just not one of us."

But, Sara didn't give up. "Ah. What about Yohn? His family only became nobles a generation ago and only has a small territory. Before that they were just ordinary soldiers. Commoners too. If we ask him to liaise with others-"

"Sara! You've gone too far!" interrupted Irene suddenly.

Her gaze was sharp and her tone was raised, but it was hard to see her as a frightening object with the traces of tears that still hadn't dried.

"Earl Darnwill is an honourable man, so is his son, so is his family. They're not the same as hicks with no manners like that girl," Irene said. It's cold.

I snorted silently. "Then let me sa-"

"No, Rachel. Sara's right. You'll only embarrass yourself if you do that." Irene looked at us one by one.

Sara was sweating the most.

"There's no need for you all to lower yourselves like that for me," Irene said vehemently. "Let me personally show the commoner who he's dealing with. Let me teach her that we're not equal and never will be. Let me make him not act up anymore."

Eh, wait. That means...

"Let me be the one to pair up with Jeanette Folkstein."

*#*

I sometimes think that life is like a game of Russian Roultte.

You're only given two choices.

Die. Or suffer longer.

As an educated person with a proven brain, of course I chose the former.

It was a brilliant concept that I tried to apply in this magical alien life, but-even in a world that was literally of my own creation-my fate was never smooth.

I cast a hateful glance at Jeantte and Irene who were in the middle row.

Was my initiative too obvious for Irene to know my true intentions?

"Mo-please do me a favour, Rachel."

This is one of the reasons why I hate God.

I meant to partner with the strongest person, but what I got was the-probably-weakest one here.

I cleared my throat casually.

"Greetings. Gentlemen and ladies. Future leaders. I am honoured to be given the opportunity to be here to give guidance to you all on this auspicious day..."

And blablabla. All that nonsense called common manners of speaking came out in a long span of time.

The only thing that kept me from dying of boredom was what Mr Dylan did to his charming moustache. The middle-aged man often stroked the black-long-cross thing as if it would fly away if he let go for a second.

".... Good. As future leaders, we should know what makes people want to follow us. Intelligence? Wisdom? Honesty? Sympathy?"

"How about the ability to not bore people to death," I said nonchalantly. I swear. How long is he going to speak?

Dimitri scowled at me frantically. Sara glared at me. While Irene just turned her head in surprise.

Mr Dylan watched me closely and stroked his moustache more intensely. "Good answer, Miss. But, it's still wrong. All of that is wrong. What makes a great leader is only one thing: power."

The man snorted proudly. "We, humans, are not too different from other animals. We are creatures that glorify strength. That's how patriotism started. Heroism. The warrior spirit. Those who are strongest get all the glory and honour. So, ladies and gentlemen, I want to see everything you can do here. It doesn't matter if you have to be bloody, battered, or even near death."

Lord Dylan stopped stroking his moustache, looked at us one by one, then gave a meaningful smile. "For eternal pride, honour, and glory."

"For pride, honour, and eternal glory."

*#*

Huft!

It's finally over.

Anyway, what the hell was that?

An impromptu lecture? A process of indoctrination?

How horrible!

Did my brain just go a bit wrong or did people back then have unhealthy upbringing habits?

After receiving a lengthy, almost meaningless speech, we were finally herded to the main stage.

It was... much more impressive than I'd described.

Instead of a small, monotonous colloseum-like arena, this place looked more like a football stadium.

It was a condominium filled with olive green accents. The walls were full of tapestries, golden ornaments, and hieroglyphics depicting caricatures of knights from a bygone era. The roof was a roundabout of mica glass that reflected every light.

Mr Dylan led us to the grandstand-a row of continuous wooden benches positioned around an alcove.

The main arena is down there.

Empty, gloomy, dark-perhaps without the help of the sun, it would be pitch black down there.

I swear, is this an area for educating the younger generation or a former execution site?

"As I instructed, we're going to practice sparring in pairs this time. I hope you all choose the right partner. Because in their hands, your life will depend. And in your hands, their lives too." Mr Dylan smiled, then told the representatives of our pairs to take a number.

I sighed, chuckled in despair, and showed him the paper with the number of our turn.

Third.

Dimitri made a face of utter despair-half disappointment, half dashed hopes.

Sorry if I've always been unlucky.

"Let's do what we can, Rachel. Keep your spirits up."

It was great that she could say that with such a pessimistic expression.

Okay.

It looks like, after returning from here, I will count how many bruises and cuts I will get.

Just like before.

Wait. If I were to pass out here, wouldn't I return to my previous life?

So, isn't this a pretty good scenario?

"Okay. The first two pairs can come down to the arena."

Those four people I never knew.

The first pair was a blonde boy wearing a green training T-shirt and a brown-haired girl with a slightly ruddy face wearing a black T-shirt. Against them were twin pairs of girls who were both wearing pink jerseys.

They seemed to be nameless extras in my book, or nobles without high status here-after all, even after putting up quite a fierce fight, there was rarely any cheering.

The match was won by the twin pair.

They were like monsters.

With powerful magic mastery and a compact dynamic combination. One had a touch that could add weight to any object, while the other was a summoner-a type of magic that could communicate and summon a bunch of ancient animals.

Both of them mercilessly knocked the opposing pair unconscious.

It was a short match.

It felt like less than twenty minutes.

It was already the second match.

Our turn is almost at hand.

And I still don't know what my magic is!

Because of this, even this Rachel only appeared occasionally, as a character whose job was to stir things up.

Other than the suspicious male twin and the fact that I was Irene's arch-nemesis, I had no more information about this character.

"An impressive battle. Let's congratulate and appreciate Miss Myr and Miss Dyr of Dankhill."

Applause erupted in the air.

I was busy gulping and trying to remember.

Okay.

Let's start with systematic magic in this world.

Yes... although it's called magic, actually instead of witches or magical experts, the people here are more properly called superhumans.

The power base is always from within the body. Five senses, muscles, motor sensors, verbal system.

Argghh!

Damn, that's too much.

"Without further ado and wasting all of our precious time, we'll go straight to the round two match-"

The door to the room was banged open and Mr Dylan stopped his rambling.

The silvery-haired manservant I had seen earlier entered hurriedly, whispering suspicious things that seemed as vicious as the devil's whispers.

Because of the evidence, the man with the charming moustache glanced at me with a meaningful look, then nodded.

I gulped.

Tsk! What the hell is this again?

Dylan headed for the leftmost stand, where a petite girl with hair as green as a ripe avocado was exchanging giggles with a tall girl dressed in a black outfit full of sharp baubles - like a real-life emo mixed-rock chick, if you changed her dress and lace to a t-shirt and tight, ripped jeans.

Dylan whispered something.

The green-haired girl covered her mouth, then tears came out.

Dylan gave her a warm hug.

Huh! That old fart!

Good at finding opportunities.

What were they talking about anyway?

After a few moments of incoherent chitchat-which in my time period felt like almost a lifetime-the girl left the room accompanied by her chat buddy.

Dylan returned to his place-the very centre of the stands, the very centre, where everyone could see. The man's face was sombre-or at least he tried to look so.

"All that begins will end. All who live will one day meet death. It is actually very hard for me to say this. Just this morning, Count Brightheart, the father of Miss Sonia Bright passed away to the side of the Mighty One."

The atmosphere turned even more sombre.

Everyone showed faces of distress, regret, and even some sweetness. Even Sara, whose heart I initially thought was as frozen as the surface of Antarctica.

I gulped.

It felt a bit wrong.

Okay.

Come on, tell me what you really mean, Old Man!

Isn't it possible to stop a show like this just for the announcement of an unknown extra who died in the middle of nowhere?

"That's why the next match will be postponed until the end, if Miss Brightheart is still willing to come-or next week, oh may the Mighty One strengthen the poor girl."

Eh?

"Therefore, we will leave for the next match."

This can't be possible.

"Hm... who is this? Ah. Yes. Between the Lord's pair-I mean-Prince Devon and Lord Arsenault, against Lady Dawver and Lady Eastborne."

Damn, bye!

"Please, the called couples proceed to the arena immediately."