It was while Rem was wandering through the Restricted Mansion that she spotted the woman.

Amidst the siege of Castle City Gwararu, Rem had been taken from the city to care for the injured Flopp O’Connell. Her person was brought to the Imperial Capital and confined in a mansion that likely boasted some of the city’s most splendid opulence.

However, Rem’s situation, though considered confinement, was relatively more lenient than one might expect.

She was not locked in a small room or a dungeon, nor was she subjected to excessive violence or verbal abuse. While it could hardly be called peaceful, it was certainly a more stable environment.

Meals were provided at every meal, and bath time was offered as well. In some respects, it couldn’t be denied that it was more comfortable than living in the village of the People of Shudrak.

Still, even though she wasn’t locked away, Rem couldn’t come and go as she pleased outside the mansion. Her actions were monitored by soldiers—private guards loyal to Belstet Fondalfon, the lord of the mansion—reminding her that she was not completely free.

Regardless of the balance between freedom and constraint, Rem found her situation unsatisfactory.

Naturally, she must have made Kuna and Holly feel inadequate, and it wouldn’t be surprising if Priscilla were infuriated by her sudden disappearance.

Above all, she wondered how those who had embarked on a journey to the East would react upon their return.

Rui, Medium, and that boy, Natsuki Subaru.

“——ah”

It was during this moment of contemplation that Rem heard a faint voice.

Turning her face in the direction of the voice, she spotted an unfamiliar figure in the garden centrally located within the mansion—most likely intended for the maintenance of greenery, but also for the arrival and departure of Flying Dragons.

Although she hadn’t met all the soldiers and servants working in the mansion, it was clear at a glance that this person fit none of those roles.

The reason was simple: the individual was not walking on her own but seated in a wheeled chair.

“Kuh, u…”

A pale-skinned woman with vibrant, wavy light brown hair, parted into two sections on either side. With long eyelashes fluttering, her blue eyes sparkled with determination as she leaned forward, straining her delicate shoulders.

The trembling arms were exerting their strength on the wheels of her chair—specifically, the wheels themselves. The wheel framework was large, designed for the occupant to propel themselves forward or backward using their hands.

Yet, one of the wheels seemed to have gotten stuck in a groove in the pathway, rendering her unable to move.

“———”

Biting her thin lips, the woman made several desperate attempts to turn the wheel.

Still, her slender arms lacked the necessary strength, allowing the wheel to only move a little back and forth to no avail. If she called for help, surely someone would come, but she refused to do so.

She did not wish to rely on anyone. That stubbornness struck a chord with Rem, though she couldn’t understand the emotions behind it.

“——I’ll help you.”

“Ah…”

Unable to just leave her be, Rem walked over to the stuck woman and spoke from behind her.

The woman turned her head in surprise, her eyes widening at the sight of Rem. However, she quickly adopted a sheepish expression, mumbling and falling silent.

Rem felt a sense of familiarity with her reaction and placed her hand on the back of the wheelchair.

The backrest of the wheelchair had handles on either side, allowing someone standing behind to push it. She pushed down on that portion, moving it forward.

“On three!”

With a push, the wheels bounced out with a thud, successfully freeing the chair from the groove.

The chair moved slightly forward as the woman halted it with her hands, turning the wheels to face Rem.

And then—

“……Don’t interfere unnecessarily.”

Such a greeting was thrown at Rem.

“———”

Rem blinked, momentarily taken aback by the woman’s words.

Meanwhile, the woman turned her gaze away from Rem, mumbling softly,

“I could manage just fine without help. Besides, what about you leaning on a cane? Stay focused on your own business.”

“Uhm… Thank you for your concern.”

“It’s not concern! Are you deaf? If not, then the problem lies with your head—yes, your head!”

Rem belatedly realized that the clumsily spoken remarks seemed to carry a sarcastic undertone.

Though her tone was sharp, an awkwardness lingered, indicating that she lacked the talent to deliver hurtful barbs.

To be honest, after dealing with Priscilla, the disparity was akin to that between a puppy and Mizelda.

“Get lost already! I don’t have time to babysit you…”

“The fact that you’re busy means you have some responsibilities, right?”

“Responsibilities…!? Y-yeah! Of course, I have an important role. Unlike you…”

The woman, responding to Rem’s question, tightened her cheeks before altering her gaze, scrutinizing Rem from top to bottom.

Then, she lightly chewed her thumb.

“You have an unfamiliar face and a strange vibe. Who are you?”

“——Rem. I was abducted and brought to this mansion due to certain circumstances.”

“Abducted…”

“Yes. May I ask for your name?”

Rem stepped closer to the woman, who was mumbling while chewing her nails.

She expected that a cold rejection was the more likely response.

“——Kachua.”

However, surprisingly easy, the woman—Kachua introduced herself.

Whether it was due to some hidden agenda or a reflex during her pondering, Kachua continued to chew her nails in contemplation.

“If you were abducted, does that make you a hostage as well?”

“Hostage… well, I suppose so. But I don’t think that role suits me well…”

The only one likely to be severely disturbed by Rem’s absence was probably Subaru.

Of course, the people of Shudrak and the O’Connell siblings might be concerned as well, and Priscilla might raise an eyebrow, but overall, it wouldn’t have a grand impact.

If Rem’s presence were to sway anything significantly, it would be akin to how Subaru influences things.

But—

“That person couldn’t possibly…”

She knew he wouldn’t be capable of that, nor did she expect he should be.

She had seen him tormented with incompetence and suffering, persistently resisting in vain. She witnessed him carrying the burden that everything fell onto his shoulders.

Rem found that utterly intolerable. It wasn’t that she hated or despised him.

She still struggled to put into words why she felt this way.

“———”

“….Could you please refrain from going silent?”

“Ah, I’m sorry. I was deep in thought… Kachua-san, what’s your relation to Belstet-san?”

Called out by Kachua’s sharp gaze, Rem apologized for her silence and posed the question.

Since they were both in this mansion, Kachua had to be connected to Belstet—there was no doubt about that, but their relationship was hard to imagine.

If she were a powerful ally like Madelin or looked like a soldier from the Empire, the connection would be evident, but Kachua’s appearance made it difficult to associate her with such roles.

The only thing she could think of was—

“Are you perhaps a daughter or granddaughter of Belstet-san?”

“The Chancellor’s? Don’t get ahead of yourself, that’s a misunderstanding. First of all, Belstet is single and shouldn’t have a family. I’m not that significant.”

“Oh? That’s surprising.”

“Surprising?” Kachua tilted her head, but Rem dismissed that with a shake of her head.

Once, Belstet had directly confronted Rem and explained his discontent with the Emperor—how the lack of an heir from the Emperor bred distrust.

From Belstet’s perspective, the Emperor neglecting his duties must have appeared as dereliction.

While Rem found it hard to empathize as a party embroiled in it, she could at least understand the reasoning.

However, it felt odd to Rem that Belstet, who rebelled against the Emperor for that reason, was without a family of his own, similar to the Emperor.

Of course, Belstet probably had his own reasoning for that.

“But if you’re neither, then why are you in this mansion, Kachua-san?”

“You’re dull-witted. I asked if you were a hostage too.”

“——If that’s the case, then Kachua-san is also a hostage?”

Upon Rem’s inquiry, Kachua frowned and hesitantly nodded.

Kachua was also confined in the mansion as someone’s hostage. —That realization struck Rem with a slight shock as she surveyed the mansion.

A broad and magnificent estate, enveloped in the grandeur of the Imperial Capital.

Yet it contained a number of secrets, including Rem and Kachua, and an injured Flopp.

Facing Belstet directly, Rem recognized him as an intellectual prodigy and a formidable wall standing against Abel, who sought to reclaim the throne.

However, the terrifying aspect of Belstet, unyielding to trickery or stratagems, might exceed what Rem could imagine or deduce.

“Having Kachua as a hostage, your family must be quite worried.”

“….Who knows. To him, I might just be a replaceable tool. If I become a nuisance, he could toss me aside anytime.”

Averted her gaze, Kachua spat out those words directed at Rem.

But that biting tone didn’t reflect her true feelings. Beyond all her hesitance, Rem could see what lay behind Kachua’s words: she had a suspicion.

“———”

After all, it was a stubbornness remarkably similar to Rem’s itself.

Kachua’s bitterness toward whoever she was speaking of remained unknown. However, it was clear that her current words were less meant for Rem and more for her own reassurance.

Those lies were spoken to avoid harboring excessive expectations or trust toward that unidentified other.

The reality was Kachua didn’t want to acknowledge that someone thought of her as irreplaceable and that she, in turn, deemed that other person as invaluable.

It was a lie crafted not to deceive someone else but, quite clearly, to fool herself.

“Kachua-san, why don’t we talk a bit more?”

“W-what? If you do something reckless, Chancellor…”

“I don’t think it would anger him. And if it does, just tell him it was all me forcing my way in.”

“It’s technically true… ah, wait!”

As Kachua trembled, attempting to refuse Rem, Rem swiftly moved behind her, tucking her cane under her arm and quietly gripping the wheelchair’s handles.

By pushing the wheelchair, Rem could also use it as support for Kachua’s body. This way, she didn’t have to worry about falling without her cane—it was surprisingly a good position.

“Stop being so pushy… I hardly have time for you.”

“Where’s Kachua-san’s room? Mine is on the west side.”

“It’s… on the east side, in the opposite direction.”

“Got it. Let’s head there.”

Hearing Kachua’s feeble reply, Rem began pushing the wheelchair. Initially, there was a bit of resistance, but Kachua soon released the wheels and let herself be pushed.

She was aware that she was being a bit forceful, yet Rem didn’t hesitate to act.

Kachua probably held some significant secrets regarding the mansion, and becoming friendly with her might unlock potential escape routes. There was little calculation in Rem’s head.

Kachua’s presence wouldn’t contribute to shifting the situation much.

Belstet, utilizing Rem and Kachua as hostages, seemed to keep his reasons for not having a family, making Rem vaguely comprehend that he bore no weaknesses.

Even so, Rem had a number of reasons for wanting to step closer to Kachua.

“——I have so much I need to learn.”

She told herself she could not remain weak, simply remaining a source of worry and anxiety for those who knew her.

So, Rem fought. Although she didn’t know how, she would find a way—her way.

“——No one can escape from themselves. Never forget my words, and strive on.”

There were things she needed to do rather than deny her own helplessness.

Thus, she would put into practice the words of someone who so clearly conveyed that idea while refusing to remain stagnant.

△▼△▼△▼△

—Feeling the presence of others in the room, Flopp slowly opened his eyelids.

“———”

Shaking off the creeping drowsiness, Flopp’s awareness returned to reality.

Above him, a clean white ceiling was visible, and he quickly understood that he was in a room within the mansion where he was confined.

Indeed, he had passed the period of panicking about the situation. The initial shock of being thrown into chaos had led him to hurt himself while flailing about.

Nevertheless, to call this situation something he had gotten used to felt a bit drastic.

“Spending days on end lying in bed makes one anxious as a merchant.”

For a merchant, today’s work and plans directly translate to earnings.

While he wouldn’t say he was good at it, meticulous trade planning was the path to success. Even if it wasn’t a full success, continuing to work was vital to earn at least a little.

So, being tied to this bed and forced to live such a leisurely life, though contrary to its tranquil nature, made his heart race anxiously.

He couldn’t help but wonder how his sister, Medium, might react upon discovering his hostage situation. Such thoughts only fueled his worries further.

“I can’t just tell Madam to restore me to perfect health at once. It’s frustrating.”

For Flopp, whose treatment was being handled by Rem, who was also captive in this mansion, he had to ensure Rem returned safely for Subaru and the many others who were worried about her.

But his current position was hardly stable.

Presently, Flopp was entirely dependent on Rem as a healer. Once his injuries healed completely, he would be left without a place within this mansion.

He wanted to believe there was no chance Rem would be disposed of as soon as she was no longer needed.

“That is surely contingent on your mood, is it not, Miss Madelin?”

As he organized his thoughts, Flopp directed his topic toward the room’s entrance.

At first, he had felt someone’s presence and awoken. While he hadn’t heard the person’s voice, it was evident someone was in the room, and he could presume that the visitor was one of two people.

Either the healer coming to treat him, Rem, or Madelin, who frequently came by.

While freedom had been surprisingly granted to Rem in the mansion, Flopp nonetheless felt the need to steel himself before facing Madelin.

After all, despite her youthful appearance, her strength was formidable; it wouldn’t be difficult for her to tear Flopp apart with her claws. Furthermore, she was a proud dragonkin—what response would be deemed appropriate was a riddle even Flopp had struggled to solve during various social encounters.

Moreover, while he might be scolded for not grasping the situation, Flopp didn’t want to deceive or trick Madelin.

Flopp had not lived without telling lies, but he had relied on the power of words more than anyone in the Empire due to his lack of strength.

However, he wanted to avoid manipulating her because he knew she genuinely cared for “family,” a term that held great significance for him.

His way of life had always been criticized as trivial by another “family” member.

“Ah well, that’s just the way I live.”

If someone were to call it a naive outlook, he would accept that as it was; Flopp continued passing the time in the mansion.

Thus, on this day, facing Madelin meant engaging in a battle of wits and conversation—not devoid of lies, yet ensuring her interest would persist.

Yet, the result was unexpected. For—

“Miss Madelin? Did you come to continue our talk from yesterday? We were about to expand on what Balroi exclaimed in awe when Karyon first flew in the sky…”

“——It’s an interesting topic, but it’s not the right time for it.”

“———”

Speaking from the bed, anticipating Madelin’s reply, the voice that responded was unexpected, freezing him in place.

Initially thinking it was Madelin at the entrance, it turned out to be a familiar male voice.

This was a modest boast, but Flopp never forgot a voice once he heard it.

Even from the bustling market’s edge, he could easily discern who it belonged to. Thus, he had no chance of mistaking this one either.

Yet, the complexity of Flopp’s feelings upon hearing that voice was immense.

For the connection between them had changed dramatically—even within Flopp’s mind.

“Village chief… or rather, should I say, Your Majesty, the Emperor?”

“You’re saying that? Regardless, it’s still an insolent title.”

Quietly calling out, Flopp struggled to raise his upper body on the bed, using his trembling arms and the strength of his body. The lingering numbness and skin tightness in his torso were bearable.

As he raised his gaze, he finally caught sight of the figure standing at the entrance.

Before him stood a young man, strikingly pale-skinned with black hair and sharp features.

The red-accented attire and lean frame resembled someone Flopp had seen numerous times before; everything from his face to his features was hauntingly familiar.

Abel—no, Vincent Volakia.

That was the name of the current Emperor of the Holy Volakia Empire, who had been deposed and aimed to reclaim his throne.

With Vincent directly calling him disrespectful, Flopp couldn’t help but smile wryly and lower his head.

“I apologize; I guess I should rephrase that. Or should I be mindful of my speech? This is a predicament indeed. May I start over from the beginning?”

“No need. Starting anew won’t erase your actions. Moreover, do you pledge loyalty and devotion to the Emperor of Volakia?”

“I wonder. I am a citizen of the Emperor’s realm. I wouldn’t say I’m devoid of patriotism or gratitude. Under your rule, Vincent Volakia, conflicts, including skirmishes between races, have diminished significantly. I have real gratitude for the easy life we currently lead.”

“That sounds rather ambiguous. To speak thus before me—how daring.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Vincent steadily walked forward, and Flopp couldn’t help but raise his brows as he realized how much closer he could see Vincent’s resemblance to Abel.

He understood without a doubt that this man before him was not Abel.

“I hate to admit it, but you’ve done a remarkable job mimicking him. If you weren’t this good, you wouldn’t be able to play the role of a body double.”

“If you speak so offhandedly, I’ll have to silence that mouth of yours. The very reason you are sheltered here is due to the orders of Madelin Eshault, the Dragon Knight. However, the desires of one general and my whims shall soon tip the scales. You already know which way it will sway, don’t you?”

“Not that I would dare! It is, however, complicated! My thoughts are jumbled, you see! I have many things to voice regarding that face of yours!”

“———”

As Flopp asserted loudly while pointing his finger, the other remained silent.

Now, the question of what to call this young man standing before him—whom he would not name Abel—was trialing, albeit for convenience, he would henceforth refer to him as Vincent.

The fact that Vincent was a false emperor plotting to usurp the throne was known to Flopp. However, he found no reason to condemn that fact.

Flopp’s and Abel’s friendship was forged in strong bonds, complementing one another in every situation—even if it didn’t exist wholly.

Thus, the relationship between Flopp and Abel stood in complexity.

“Unfortunately, the real person I want to speak with is someone who bears that face of yours. But even so, it truly is a striking imitation… I used to help village chief with the makeup, and the resemblance is nearly perfect.”

“——You’re involved with the matter concerning Castle City, which means you’re plotting too. You seem keen on distorting the Emperor’s reign through thoroughly underhanded means. Such is truly intolerable.”

“Is that so? It was an enjoyable endeavor. After all, no victims arose.”

“That is merely hindsight.”

With a relaxed expression, Flopp recalled his previous plottings concerning Castle City, for he had previously been taken aback by the audacious imagination and execution of the operation shared with Subaru, Abel, and their partners.

It was the most lighthearted scheme in all Flopp’s dealings, and he knew all who had participated wished for its success.

“Both Talitta and Kuna, as well as I—because of that, it puzzles me.”

“———”

“Your esteemed self, Your Majesty… How should I refer to you? Why were you banished from the throne, and why were you put in such a position?”

There, Flopp took a brief pause and added, “More specifically,” as he locked eyes with Vincent.

He gauged the unflinching expression of this usurper sharing the same features as the Emperor.

“Why did you feel the need to disturb a stable Empire?”

“——You’re quite articulate.”

“That is simply my trade. I’m a merchant, after all. Besides, my sister often praises me for my looks; it has its uses.”

“Very well. In that case—”

Displaying his teeth in a smile, Flopp noted how Vincent nodded in an easygoing manner before suddenly seizing Flopp’s face and pulling him closer.

With a forced lurch forward, Flopp gruntled, “Mph!” in protest. Nevertheless, Vincent paid no mind to his groan, looking closely at Flopp.

“I could very well take away that face and voice of yours for your disrespect.”

The icy voice pierced Flopp’s ears, sending an unsettling chill from his head down through his body, freezing his heart.

He believed Vincent would find it intolerable to show such disrespect towards the Emperor, a chilling intent worked into that.

As he contemplated the implications—

“If what you mean is to be más prudent with my words, it might make more sense to silence me entirely.”

Flopp shot back a retort, visibly scowling as he returned Vincent’s stare.

For just a moment, Vincent narrowed his dark eyes, but the flicker of emotion concealed behind them flickered away.

The grip on Flopp’s face was released, and Vincent winked, mirroring Abel’s confidence, analyzing Flopp with an observant gaze.

“You may find my whims and Madelin Eshault’s wishes at odds, but be warned: betrayal or defiance might ensure grave consequences. You must prepare yourself for the outcome.”

“What do you intend to do?”

“What interests me is your response, merchant. Should you wish to see how I deal with the likes of you, now’s your chance.”

“You wish to threaten me?”

Flopp realized suddenly how he might have slid dangerously down the path.

Yet, he had little choice; he must ensure Rem returned to safety.

“And indeed, I should contemplate what is best for myself.”

Ultimately, Flopp’s situation resembled Madelin’s.

Thus, he pondered whether he ought to join the rebellion alongside her and contribute to the plots that would seek to demolish the new Emperor Abel.

A mere merchant, possessing little worth other than charming praise from his sister.

“Madelin Eshault or not, Belstet would never treat you poorly. Know your place and strive to avoid causing any trouble.”

Meeting the eye of a silent Flopp, Vincent proclaimed that statement with finality.

From its content, Flopp understood Vincent intended to wrap up their meeting. It was either that he deemed Flopp useless at this moment or that his goals for this conversation had been fulfilled.

“Fake Emperor, why are you really in this room?”

“———”

“I have no imagination regarding rebellion. I find it incomprehensible for you to be this busy, considering the position of the Emperor is hardly tranquil as it stands. Thus, I question why you came here today.”

While he wouldn’t dare claim that his dealings with vendors were easy, when he found the perfect product matching a buyer’s needs, the bustle was exponentially more intense.

Surely, Vincent’s role as a false emperor getting away with usurping the throne wouldn’t allow for blissful rest while Abel remained.

So, why had Vincent specifically sought out Flopp?

“Were you hoping to hear from me about how the Emperor was doing?”

“If I were the usurper as you so cavorted, it would be in rather poor taste to inquire how the ones I have deposed are faring.”

“The importance of information is pretty synonymous in business and in battle. So, I find nothing inappropriate about wishing to know about your opponent’s situation.”

“——You’re off-mark with that assumption. I needn’t hear about the state of affairs from your lips; I have seen with my own eyes and spoken to him directly.”

“That so…”

Struggling for what to say after being caught so precisely, Flopp fell back on desperate excuses.

Upon hearing Vincent’s declaration, he envisioned what circumstances might lead to such a truth while recognizing it as likely genuine.

Surely, he pondered about those who should be with Abel, Medium, Talitta, and Subaru, a worry that gnawed at him, yet digging deeper for answers wouldn’t entice much honesty.

At the very least, it was clear Vincent hadn’t overpowered Abel by any means.

Had he done so, it could have seemed appropriate for Abel to declare victory at the first opportunity; it was hard to imagine that someone would entertain themselves by checking up on the trajectory of a body that had been ejected from the throne and might not reveal anything either way.

Thus, Flopp conjectured Vincent’s visit wasn’t necessarily to hear from him at all.

In that case, the only possibility left in his mind remained singular.

“If you are not here to inquire what I’d know, then perhaps you came to convey something?”

“The troublesome nature you, Belstet, referenced was regarding your position. Yet, from my point of view, you reside firmly within that troublesome realm.”

“Should I interpret this as a compliment? I’ll take it as such since it seems more uplifting for my mental state.”

Flopp noticed how Vincent’s foot halted abruptly upon that rejoinder.

“———”

Frankly, whether halting Vincent’s exit had been beneficial or detrimental to himself was unclear.

Vincent’s plot, should it succeed, would see Abel not only removed from his throne but stripped of standing in this world altogether.

Was that truly his wish?

Did he desire to see the reduction of one of his “family,” the death of Balroi Temegurif, a person tied to everything he held dear?

“Have I ever truly not known what I’ve desired?”

He frowned at those thoughts, willing to push them aside instantly.

Because he needed not recall how insecurely he had wandered back then—before meeting individuals like Balroi, he lived purely for Medium’s safety; he had sought nothing else.

He remained just like that person he once was. In that case, the answer would be similar as well.

“You can choose whatever you desire.”

A blunt voice reminded Flopp of that notion, giving him a gentle nudge.

Hence, he chose to embark on a journey toward knowledge rather than drift along in ignorance.

“Could you tell me, fake emperor? What are you here to discuss?”

Halting the busy-to-the-point-of-chaotic false emperor, Flopp directed his inquiry head-on.

In response to that question, Vincent carried a glimmer of a smile reminiscent of someone Flopp knew well, just shadowed with a slight distortion.

That led to the conclusion:

“—It regards the ‘Great Calamity’ and the principles of ruin it brings forth.”