episode_0123

“The scandal between the Saintess and the ducal family is certainly an interesting topic. But that kind of thing is of no help to us.”

I cut straight to the point.

“Well, that’s true…”

Had there been any clear advantage for either Nana or Cecilia, I might have hesitated even slightly. But even if rumors spread, every single person who heard them would inevitably think: Why would someone like Cecilia be involved with that kind of person?

Right now, though, these rumors are nothing more than vicious slander that drags both me and Cecilia down. No—perhaps misunderstanding is more accurate, since there’s no outright malice behind them this time.

“Still, if we handle this situation well, at the very least, people will realize I’ve improved somewhat.”

“And what do you plan to do once that happens?”

“First, I’ll officially concede the successor position to you. Even though it’s practically yours already, if I don’t say it outright, there’ll definitely be backlash.”

“You’re letting me use you?”

“Yeah. Even if I weren’t planning this, people would assume I’m just stupid enough to be taken advantage of.”

“I won’t let that happen. If anyone tries to exploit you, I’ll do whatever it takes to—”

“Which is exactly why I’m transferring the successor title to you before anything like that happens. Our parents would be thrilled, and Dave and Cheryl would probably be impressed too.”

“Weren’t you the one boasting about securing my support? Now you’re gonna tell them you bowed to me?”

“I’ll spin it to my advantage. Think about it—if I told them I got massive support from you without any conditions, would they believe it?”

“They might find it suspicious. They might even think you threatened me.”

“Right? But what if I told them I officially renounced all my rights as the heir to House Grail in exchange for your help? Wouldn’t they believe it then? No matter how kind-hearted they think I am, nobody would imagine I’d be dumb enough to kick my own status away.”

“The position of House Grail… Yeah, that could work. But it won’t be that easy. They’re not idiots. I can’t speak for Dave, but Cheryl… Hmm… She’s already an expert at swindling people for profit.”

“First off, Cheryl isn’t that far gone yet. And even if she were, the fact remains that I did give up my rights as heir. They might have doubts, but they’ll have no choice but to accept it.”

Chris nodded slightly, as if she finally understood.

“How much? Cheryl’s the type to demand whatever she can get without looking back, so settle on a number beforehand. I’d love to give her anything, but we’re not in that position.”

“You’re surprisingly ruthless when it comes to your seniors.”

“Huh? But I was their direct superior. They’d come crawling to me practically every day, begging for more budget—should I really still treat them politely?”

“That’s…”

I couldn’t argue. In the first timeline, Dave and Cheryl had been invaluable, swiftly relaying battlefield intel with unrivaled speed and accuracy. But they were also the ones who drained more funds than any other squadron.

The idealistic Chris from back then, who believed justice and determination could overcome anything, had been perfect prey for Cheryl.

“So, you’re not giving them money?”

“Who said that? I’ll pay—but only if they bring a concrete budget proposal!”

“Well, whatever. We need them. You don’t seriously doubt our newspaper, do you? After all the hard work we’ve put in?”

“Wait, hold on. I feel dizzy…”

“Miss those days?”

Chris clutched her forehead. Watching her, I reminisced about another time.

“We need to print 4,000 more copies—no money left.”

“And?”

Though older now, Cheryl acted just like she had back in school, stretching both hands out expectantly to Chris. Her eyes sparkled brightly—while Chris’s, dulled by countless battles and schemes, barely held any light left.

“Money. Now.”

“Sigh… Didn’t I just give you funds last week? Enough to print hundreds of papers.”

“Reports say guerrilla forces from the Demon King’s army have appeared near Ronbell. We need to send reinforcements to intercept them before they regroup with the main force—or at least spread the intel.”

“B-But…”

“You’re not doubting our newspaper, are you?”

“Of course not! I wish I could doubt it sometimes.”

“Good. We always deliver accurate intel, fast. So hand over the money.”

“I can’t just give it to you.”

“Huh?”

“Where’s Dave? I need his testimony too—”

“I knew you’d say that, so Dave already scouted the area. I was worried sending him alone into danger, but he insisted. The fact that I’m telling you this now—why do you think that is?”

The outcome was already decided. I’d seen this scene countless times, yet it never got old. In my bleak first life, moments like these were rare sparks of liveliness.

No matter how much I wanted to deny it, there was no counterargument to Cheryl’s words. In the end, Chris had no choice but to surrender—just like always.

“Take it!”

“Knew you’d come through, Chris. Love ya.”

“Oppa? What are you thinking about?”

“Huh? Oh, just the time Cheryl came in and cleaned me out.”

“That was infuriating. We had so many expenses, and she just kept demanding more.”

“But we needed it, didn’t we? Without Cheryl’s intel, our weak points would’ve been exploited, and the entire front would’ve collapsed.”

“That’s why it’s so frustrating! If she’d just spread fake rumors or been slow, I could’ve refused!”

Chris spoke with absolute resolve.

“So, no proposal, no money! If you want to persuade someone, at least show some sincerity.”

“What if I begged you right here?”

It was meant as a joke, but Chris’s expression darkened.

“Don’t. The only reason we’re still holding on is because you’ve never asked anything of us—never tried to use us. If you ever did, we’d have no choice but to obey.”

“……”

“If you want us to make rational decisions, then please—don’t make shameless requests. But even knowing that, I have to ask you for this.”

“I don’t resent you. I’d never think of using you. You know that. We’re way past the point where a few meaningless words could fix things.”

“What?”

“Just kidding. About the proposal—I doubt Cheryl’s ever written one, but fine. I’ll figure out how to convince her.”

“You can’t just brush this off as a joke. First Cecilia, then Luciella—if you keep laughing things away, we’ll have to misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand? You would?”

“I’m sorry. I know even feeling this way is presumptuous. But we’re human! You just saw it yourself—we’re not superhuman or anything.”

“Yeah. I said I understood.”

“Then—”

“Then what do you think I feel?”

Even now, laughing and talking with them—it’s only because I have to.

Humans are rational creatures. I can suppress whatever emotions boil inside.

Ignoring someone, refusing to acknowledge them as an equal—no, treating them as if they’d be better off gone. That was my life: never truly belonging, just lingering long enough to give them one last chance.

“The people I thought I could trust—they never listened, never thought deeply. Just charged headfirst into obvious traps, clinging to their shallow ideas. And I had to keep cleaning up their messes until I died. How do you think that felt, huh?”

I should stop. This won’t help fix things with Chris. I should laugh it off—

Call it a bad joke, say I’ll strong-arm Cheryl into writing a budget request. Steer this back to something meaningless.

“So don’t worry. I won’t exploit your weaknesses or beg for pity. I’m not forgiving you, either.”

“Ugh… Uuuh…”

Chris started trembling. Had my expression been that terrifying?