The morning emerged in its splendor, and the others bid farewell. Emilia, Beatrice, and I strolled together while exchanging some words.
"It was funny," Emilia yawned slightly, interrupting her sentence with drowsiness.
"Despite not having slept much, indeed, it was an enjoyable experience," I confess, feeling Beatrice's hand in mine.
I could take a break, but truthfully, memories that surfaced dispelled any trace of sleep, leaving me with renewed vigor.
Upon reaching the mansion, the servants greeted us with congratulations and continued working tirelessly. We expressed gratitude for their efforts and continued on our path. Beatrice rubbed her eyes, while Emilia struggled to stay awake.
"Go rest, make use of the laboratory for peaceful sleep without bothersome noises," I suggest.
Beatrice nods, and Emilia follows with tired steps.
"Aren't you planning to sleep?" Emilia asks curiously.
"I'm not sleepy at the moment; I intend to take a bath first," I reply.
Both enter the laboratory. After relaxing in a bath, I return to my room and take my phone to search for relevant information.
Unfortunately, it seems that the data on Crusch is in additional volumes, volumes I had never examined due to my lack of interest.
"Who would have thought that would have such consequences," I sigh, opening volumes five and six.
So far, I have only taken notes up to the fourth volume. I am just beginning with the fifth, but a task requiring considerable time to transcribe lies ahead.
Undoubtedly, it is crucial information, but completing it before my device's battery runs out seems improbable.
Even with a typewriter, I have too much on my plate. The battery charge is at twenty percent.
My strategy to prevent battery deterioration was to carefully extract it, wrap it, and keep it in a dry environment to prevent rust formation, besides minimizing its temperature as much as possible.
Only thus did I manage to prevent the battery from wearing out more than necessary. However, now I face the task of determining my next move.
Since the story is not unfolding as it should, it is wise to limit my notes to essential data. I will focus on relevant information about the emerging archbishops, as well as crucial details about the tower trials.
Every point must be noted without exception.
The morning passes as I dedicate myself entirely to this task, not leaving my room. I cannot help but notice how the device's battery dangerously descends to a discouraging eleven percent.
Despite the need to conserve charge, I must use it to complete the ongoing documents.
Most of my space is occupied by scientific articles, research, books, and explanatory videos.
At least, distracting myself with these things was a silver lining.
Beatrice has used my phone to record the most critical data. It is her dedication that has caused the battery to wear out.
Although this situation worries me, the urgency lies in finding a solution to recharge it.
If only I had the charger at my disposal, the solution would be simpler. I would just need to provide electricity, even if it accelerates the charger's deterioration and offers one or two additional recharges.
But in this circumstance, I lack the charger, increasing the risk of damaging the device's internal components. I do not have tools to measure voltage and current, nor do I have knowledge of how to build a voltage meter.
If the battery explodes, it would be the end.
At most, I could resort to creating gates to make a basic calculator, but that would require manufacturing the gates themselves.
Fortunately, this information already exists in the library's books, as Beatrice wrote them, though the real challenge is finding a stable source of electricity.
My main goal is to harness magic for this purpose, but I have not yet succeeded in connecting the concepts of electromagnetic theory to regulate and use energy properly.
A mana resistor has become essential; I need a mana semiconductor.
Once I have recorded the fundamental information, I step away from my desk. My plan is to secure these documents in a safe I own. The safe can only be opened by manipulating my own mana, using the same principle that governs the functioning of weapons.
Beatrice could also open it, but she will respect my space.
I hope.
Although I could consider patenting this invention and commercializing it, this option poses the risk that it could be used against me.
This particular creation is something I will never share with anyone.
I move towards Roswaal's office, where I find him with a cheerful and satisfied expression.
Considering what has been said in the capital, it is only a matter of time before he learns of my new baron title. To avoid misunderstandings and future problems, it is better to inform him immediately.
"Good morning," I respond, raising my hand in greeting while smiling. To his right, as expected, is Ram, who seems still half-asleep.
Although it could be considered normal, I cannot help but notice how late it is; lunch is about to arrive.
Perhaps they had an entertaining night, but truthfully, it is not something I care about at the moment.
"Good mo~~rning!" Roswaal greets with joy.
I take a seat on the sofa, observing Roswaal attentively. I feel it is time to let him know about my new status.
As I continue looking at him, Roswaal smiles and directs his gaze to his desk, where he picks up some documents and then hands them to Ram.
She walks towards me with her sleepy expression, although this kind of attitude from Ram always brings a certain amusement to me.
What might be less amusing is that if I provoke her at this moment, she might end up hitting me in our next training session.
Therefore, it is better to refrain from any provocative comments.
"I have an announcement to make," I state, knowing it is time to address the issue. Roswaal smiles curiously, she hands me the documents, and I begin to read.
I glance at the documents before speaking, focusing on the list of names presented first, followed by the main subject:
"We wish to annex our communities with Irlam."
The mayors of several villages are requesting the sale of their territories in exchange for joining Irlam. This is announced as a cooperative relationship, especially now that the cult threat has increased again.
This was expected, considering the news of our victory against the cult. It was foreseeable that this information would spread before Emilia's announcement.
Now, people want to join Irlam for protection and economic stability.
"We can accept them, but it will be necessary to issue identifications before their incorporation," I say, addressing a practical concern.
Considering these are new members, we would need to create identification cards, a costly and tedious process. Before allowing their integration, it would be prudent to implement it among the current residents of Irlam first.
"By Wednesday, the plates should be ready. We will give them the green light and announce that they will be welcomed with open arms in a week," I propose, focusing on a solution.
Roswaal nods, accepting my approach. However, I will need to examine these documents more closely, particularly to identify if there are towns with mines or near them.
In such a case, leveraging my baron title would be convenient for strategic purchases.
"Speaking of titles, I was granted the title of baron," I communicate. Ram laughs, drawing our attention. Both of us look at her, and it's inevitable not to chuckle a bit at her reaction.
She seems pressured by our attention, though she quickly throws a threatening glance that makes me understand I shouldn't continue joking.
"In any case, this title will broaden my business possibilities," I reflect, gazing through the window. "While it was granted as a reward for defeating Sloth, I am uncertain how they will react now that I also participated in the defeat of the whale."
My thoughts become somewhat blurred, reminding me that I have not fully recovered from everything that has happened.
I will have to ensure that Beatrice performs a thorough analysis of my body, considering the Sloth gene, the miasma, my diminished mana reserve, and the damages I have suffered.
I already have a plan to increase my strength; I just need to put it into practice.
Indeed, gaining muscle turns out to be easier than I had anticipated. I have discovered an efficient way to approach my training, which could contribute to my overall well-being.
Muscle fatigue, a tangible reminder that the human body is a complex and fragile machine, is triggered by the tearing of muscle fibers. These fibers tear and inflame, generating a pain sensation that transforms into a signal for the body to work on repair and strengthening.
Although I have the blessing of healing magic to mitigate that pain, I found that, paradoxically, the effectiveness of healing is optimized when muscle fibers inflame in the first place.
Thus, I chart my course towards accelerated strength gain, a method that does not necessarily require an excessive increase in muscle mass, thereby avoiding becoming a bodybuilder.
This new strategy will allow me to strengthen my muscle fibers without falling into the extremes of aesthetics, which would also hinder my movement.
After expressing my intentions, I head to my office in Irlam. Without Rem's company, I immerse myself in the task of managing the letters and matters that have accumulated.
The lack of personnel during these rest days leaves much of the responsibilities in my hands. Soldiers also enjoy their well-deserved rest, further reducing the number of people available to maintain operations.
As I examine incoming letters, I identify various individuals interested in establishing businesses and agreements with Irlam.
However, a constant concern overwhelms me: the proper selection of potential partners. The high nobility, with their influence and resources, will likely try to secure a place in this new environment.
They might attempt to acquire or even appropriate steam engine technology, which could trigger an unpredictable impact on the local dynamics.
Although Beatrice's "metia" hovers as a shield over the situation, I still lack a deep understanding of this world and its intricate mechanisms.
Only a few months have passed since I arrived here, and yet, time seems to have distorted, giving way to a whirlwind of events.
"It is not time itself that defines our path, but rather how we seize each moment," I whisper to myself. These words resonate within me, an accurate reflection of my current situation.
I proceed with procedures and formalities, organizing my thoughts and priorities. If I intend to lead Irlam as a city aligned with the ideals of my world, it is imperative that I make crucial adjustments.
I will make decisions and appoint competent individuals as ministers, so together, we can pave the way for a prosperous and harmonious future.
With each assuming responsibility for a crucial area, this strategic division will ensure that organization and efficiency prevail in every aspect. The mosaic of functions forms before me, and a smile of satisfaction crosses my face as I contemplate the fruit of my planning.
The environment of my office, designed with Beatrice's skill, becomes a vast storehouse of mana, a comforting source of energy.
Among the objects in my drawer, my attention is drawn to a pyroxene crystal, which mysteriously also seems to absorb mana. A fleeting thought forms in my mind, suspecting that this artifact could be linked to Beatrice.
However, I decide to set it aside for now and focus on immediate issues.
Fatigue in my body and the shadow of my memories prevent me from succumbing to sleep, as I fear that, by closing my eyes, the nightmare of what I experienced might return with overwhelming force.
I rest my head on the desk, a feeling of overwhelm and despair flooding over me.
The images of that past torment emerge in my mind with almost cruel detail.
The contortion of my bones, the nauseating smell of blood, the pain spreading through every inch of my being, the distorted vision of Pandora and her crucible of suffering.
The crystal that plunged into my flesh, an image of terror haunting me.
A glance out the window reveals that the night has descended. A knot in my throat tightens, an intense desire to keep those memories at bay solidifies in my mind.
I try to contain the flow of overwhelming emotions, but tears threaten to escape. I realize my own fragility, the psychological wound persisting in my soul.
I react, aware that I have not seen Crusch all day.
A concern ignites within my chest, propelling me into motion. I vacate my office and commence traversing the silent streets of Irlam. I observe the buildings in various stages of construction, tangible progress that I have spurred in this realm.
Each corner bears significance, each structure a piece of the history we are crafting.
Soon, I encounter Luan, emerging from the academy. Our steps synchronize, and we walk together. I initiate a conversation, inquiring about her day at the academy, but swiftly recall that today holds no classes.
"Did you attend classes today?" I ask, genuinely curious about her presence on a day of rest. Her head tilts slightly, a negative response reflecting hidden motivations.
"There were specific books I wanted to consult. I am delving into certain topics," She responds, and in her countenance, I discern a slight improvement.
That constant aura of fervor seems somewhat more subdued, and her gaze is now more serene.
I cannot help but broach a topic previously discussed, albeit with some reservations.
"Have you reconsidered your decision to join the military?" My voice is careful, aware of the risks and responsibilities this entails for someone in her position.
Her words emerge with a blend of conviction and doubt, showcasing an internal struggle I cannot ignore.
"I am still determined to do so. I have been conversing with Mr. Alsten, and he believes I might have talent as a strategist..." Her words trail off, as if she has revealed more than intended.
An imminent response lingers in the air, but Luan seems to withhold it. The conflict between her personal desires and external concerns is palpable in her demeanor.
I observe Luan with concern, attempting to read between the lines regarding the circumstances surrounding her participation in the exams.
However, my worry does not diminish; instead, it intensifies as I imagine what kind of planning might be behind this decision.
"Did you attend the exams?" The conversation proceeds with palpable seriousness, my tone reflecting the gravity of the matter.
Immediately, Luan nods in response to my question about the exams. Her words continue, revealing that he presented her strategy without engaging in prior combat.
I comprehend the tactic she seeks, wishing that she be seen as a valuable asset before being exposed to perilous situations.
"If you fail that exam, there will be only two possibilities: you perish in an irreversible error, or you survive to join." The weight of the choice and its consequences hangs in the air.
Our eyes meet, and I can feel the intensity of her emotions.
A warm heat rises from her figure, subtly enveloping me and purifying the weaker remnants of miasma within me.
My hand rests on her shoulder, a gesture conveying support and camaraderie. My voice resumes, this time laden with empathy:
"If you manage to surpass that exam, you will join my squadron. I assure you; you will receive specialized training and unprecedented growth. But, Luan, I ask that you do not do it for revenge. Your motivation must arise from the depths of your own being. Your life has not come to an end... It is not what your parents would have wished for you."
My words seem to have resonated within her, as a flicker of turmoil plays across her face.
"The lives of your loved ones may have ended, but what they evoke in you remains." I gaze at the sky, thinking of my beloved parents. "When a loved one dies, they transition from being with you... to being within you."
Before I can say more, Luan swiftly advances, entering the mansion without adding further words.
I linger for a moment in the doorway, feeling the resonance of our conversations in the air, hoping that the seeds of reflection have been planted in her heart.
The night advances, and the stars reflect in my eyes as I observe the mansion. A sense of uncertainty and despair intertwines, reminding me of the complexity of the lives I have forged in this world.
I look at my hands, clenching them tightly as thoughts crowd my mind. I cannot help but feel that all of this is unfair, especially for a teenager like her.
Today has been a relatively calm day, but I know that tomorrow marks the beginning of managing identity cards, steel production, and factories. It is also time to consider launching my new projects.
The blacksmiths should arrive tomorrow, and I hope the girl also comes, even though I know that opportunity could be fleeting.
As I enter the mansion, Emilia pulls me by the arm and leads me to the laboratory, which was once the forbidden library. Crusch is present, and her greeting is accompanied by a certain discomfort.
Seeing Emilia, I begin to understand what might be happening.
"Crusch?" I express with surprise, noting the look she gives me. Upon seeing Emilia's expression, I start connecting the puzzle pieces in my mind.
She won her curiosity and now wants to help Crusch. Emilia and the protagonist of the novel share many similarities. Upon closer inspection, I notice several attitudes that are identical between them.
Perhaps that was what drew them to each other.
However, Beatrice and Emilia glare at me with accusing expressions. Their faces seem to be judging me as I try to comprehend the situation in its entirety.
"Why is she here?" I inquire, trying to connect all the loose ends floating in the air.
Emilia approaches me, her gaze fixed on me as if solving an enigma.
"Who is she? Why does it seem like you know her from before?" she questions,
The fewer individuals acquainted with Frey's circumstances, the better. Indeed, the recollections of all have been altered, a knowledge reserved for only Crusch and myself.
The primary concern rests with the petite figure by my side. I cannot help but feel somewhat disheartened when Beatrice turns her back in disapproval. Her reaction pierces my heart.
I comprehend that this stems from my past lack of communication, yet I also cannot suppress a sense of vexation.
I suppose it's an understandable reaction on her part.
Turning my gaze to Crusch, I seek her approval. I discern a hint of apprehension in her eyes, as if something transpired that she is reluctant to revisit.
Emilia and Beatrice are trustworthy confidantes, but if Crusch chooses to remain silent on the matter, there must be a reason.
"She is..." I begin as I approach Crusch," someone you all forgot due to the battle against Gula, as you know." I fix my gaze on Emilia and Beatrice, adopting a solemn expression as I continue.
They observe me with gravity, signaling their expectation for an explanation.
"She is someone immensely significant, whose name was consumed by the cult," I add, placing my hand on Crusch's shoulder." To be precise, she is my beloved."
I acknowledge it sounds absurd, but it appears even more absurd that they are posing irrelevant questions. I assured them I would speak, but all in due time.
Beatrice takes the lead, her tone serious and cautious.
"If you do not intend to speak the truth, in fact, it would be wiser to refrain from uttering nonsense, I suppose." Beatrice crosses her arms, looking at me with disappointment.
An uncontrollable smile escapes my lips in response to her comment.
"You yearn for answers, but there are certain truths that may be better left sealed," I add, reflecting on the depth of maintaining some issues hidden.
Revealing them will lead to no good. "There are secrets that must remain in the shadows, for the well-being of all."
Emilia steps forward, radiating determination as she captures my gaze firmly. Her words flow with empathy and a sincere desire to provide support.
"Even so, if I can alleviate even a bit of your burden, both Betty and I are willing to assist in any way we can." Emilia takes my hand in a gesture laden with solidarity and compassion. "Regardless of the circumstance, I, even if I don't feel it right now, genuinely wish to be of service to you."
Her words provoke an internal anger, reflected when I abruptly withdraw my hand from her grasp, bewildering Emilia with my reaction.
"Do not repeat those words, 'useful'?" I furrow my brows in annoyance, holding my gaze on Emilia with a displeased tone. "Do you truly believe you are not useful? If you don't believe it yourself, why should I?"
My expression of irritation surprises Emilia, who takes a step back in response to my reaction.
"I..."
"Why is it so challenging for you to recognize your own worth?" My voice begins to rise, charged with emotions. "You are Emilia, you have achieved countless triumphs, changed lives in the village, overcome obstacles, and persevered."
I direct my gaze toward her, observing her surprise.
"If you were not valuable, do you think I would endure all this suffering? Do you think I wouldn't have escaped long ago?" I unleash all my anger upon her.
The surprise on Beatrice's face is evident, and she quickly approaches me, enveloping my leg in a comforting embrace.
"Marco!" Beatrice exclaims, squeezing me firmly.
For a brief moment, I feel vulnerable, deviating from my usual composure. I've uttered words that should never have been spoken.
Emilia, who sought to ease my troubles, is now caught in the storm of my reaction.
Without delay, Emilia hastily leaves the room, closely followed by Beatrice, leaving me alone in the company of Crusch.
"That's unlike you," Crusch observes, her tone radiating serenity despite the palpable tension in the air.
I tilt my head slightly, immersed in deep reflection on the reasons behind my words and my disproportionate reaction.
"I know..."
Crusch lowers her gaze for a moment, then raises her hand in a deliberate gesture, pointing her finger towards the ceiling.
"My mother always says something that is deeply ingrained in my soul." She stands up and places her hand on my shoulder. "We are not harsh on those who harm us, but on those who love us."
Crusch's words hit me like a cold bucket of water.
I am aware that I have been causing concern, but exposing what I harbor within will lead to nothing constructive. There is no need for them to know my pain; it is not essential that they know everything.
"Let's go refresh ourselves a bit," Crusch suggests, to which I silently nod.
I head to my room, searching for something I had asked Rem to do—an assignment that took her four full days but was executed exactly as I requested.
I retrieve a wooden box along with a bottle of wine and proceed with Crusch to the courtyard, a certain distance from the mansion.
At this moment, perhaps I should seek Emilia, but honestly, I need to calm myself before facing her again.
I don't want to hurt her again in the same way; she doesn't deserve it.
I cannot judge her for wanting to help when I myself continue to conceal information. Emilia's innate kindness may be challenging to deal with, but I cannot blame her for it.
I don't wish to speak of what I hold within because I know it would not be beneficial for anyone to know.
What burdens my soul must remain there.
Even if it consumes me in the process.