[Though young, your mind had already matured to a terrifying degree.] [The influence of Seven Faces of the Heart made you understand that you couldn’t reveal your maturity and true intentions right from the start.] [You needed to lie low, using your youthful appearance and your worth as bargaining chips to ensure your survival.
You went dormant, drifting among your so-called ‘relatives,’ making each of them believe they had the right to ‘safeguard’ the ducal title and the remaining wealth from your hands.] [Relying on this, you maintained a veneer of outward goodwill from them.] [You were only nine years old that year.] [As you grew older, you also perceived that your ‘relatives’ had grown impatient.] [Thus, while continuing to play the harmless white lotus, learning the various useless etiquettes they deliberately arranged for you, you quietly schemed in the shadows, planting hidden threads, stirring up conflicts and contradictions.] [Finally, under your deliberate manipulation, those who had come for your wealth began to ‘disappear’ one by one through various ‘accidents’ in the game of competing for the duchy.] [At first, the remaining people paid it no mind.
But as the rate of reduction quickened, the scale grew, and progress on obtaining the wealth slowed to a crawl…] [In the year you turned sixteen, someone finally grew restless and attempted to forcibly take everything from you through an ‘accident’—a violent marriage.] [And it was on the night of your coming-of-age ceremony at sixteen that they made their move.] [You watched the intelligence brought to you by the ‘hidden pieces’ you had planted, let out a helpless sigh, and for just a fleeting moment, your face was tinged with loneliness.] [In truth, you could have dealt with them directly right from the start, but you hadn’t done so.] [After all, their surface goodwill over the years had indeed seemed sincere.
Years of interaction had made you think they might have developed some familial affection for you.
But clearly, tonight gave you the cruel and honest answer.] [Still…
perhaps it was for the best.] [They taught you one final lesson with their lives: aside from your true family, you can only trust yourself.
And it is only when facing family that you can shed your masks and reveal your true self.] [At all other times, don the mask, shroud yourself in mystery, akin to an elusive, unfathomable mist—that is the only correct way.] [This became your life’s creed from then on.] … [Talent Acquired—Pretender: You are forever disguising yourself, forever wearing a mask for yourself.
No one knows your true face; everyone sees a different you.
And the real you—is she hiding beneath the masks, or…
has she become the mask itself?] … The sudden talent acquisition notification made Ecaros, who had been intently watching the system panel, pause briefly to look at this newly obtained talent.
“It seems that the acquisition of talents might be related to some sort of change or major event involving the ‘me’ inside the simulation.” Observing the talent’s description and recalling what had happened in the simulation earlier, Ecaros formed a hypothesis in her mind about how talents were acquired within the simulation.
However, a more concrete conclusion would have to wait until she saw how the next talent acquisition occurred.
So she continued looking at the subsequent simulation.
[You put on the mask, completely concealing the final vestiges of your true self at the bottom of your heart.] [And the demon’s last kindness was, at this moment, devoured by the abyss.] [That night, you were no longer merciful, no longer held a shred of sympathy for those who approached you with greed and desire.] [At your own coming-of-age ceremony, you revealed a side of yourself diametrically opposed to everything you had shown before.] [It was you, dressed in a gentleman’s tailcoat suit popular in Victoria.] [A you utterly different from the usual gentle and refined lady, as serene and beautiful as a white lily.] [You spoke many cryptic words to them, baring your heart while also mocking your own last shred of kindness.
And in the end, you unveiled to them the guillotine you had meticulously prepared.] [You told them that tonight would be their final night after having entertained thoughts they should never have had.] [This made all those greedy souls feel an icy chill climbing up their spines, along with an ominous foreboding.] [Instinctively, they felt terror.
They wanted to call their guards, to scream at you, to curse you with the most venomous words, wanting to make you afraid, wanting to conceal their own fear.] [But as the rain poured down, you discarded the bloodstained white rose pinned to your chest.] [Slowly, you donned your black silk top hat, took up your bloodied cane, and departed the estate where you had set up several guillotines.] [Here, on this night, you let them know that you were no harmless lamb, but a man-eating wolf—a demon lying in wait.] [Such an assessment was, in your own view, a bit excessive.
After all, you hadn’t used violence; you had merely made their guards loyally perform their duties, pressed them onto the guillotine, and, bit by bit, handed over the evidence of their many years of crimes to the arriving knights and police.
That was all.] [Their crimes were capital offenses to begin with.
You only helped them find release within the bounds of the law—you even thoughtfully supplied the execution device and grounds.
Clearly…
you were, in truth, quite kind.] [But alas, the eyes of the world were somewhat narrow-minded.
After you assisted the constables in seizing the assets of the families behind those men and, as a bonus, drew and quartered the culprit who had bombed your parents all those years ago, your infamy spread through the aristocratic circles.] [This saddened you somewhat.
You had broken no laws, much less taken initiative to harm others, yet you had gained such a foul reputation.
It troubled you.] [You couldn’t sleep well the entire night.] [However, the next day, the knight who had ‘accidentally’ spread exaggerated versions of your deeds was found mysteriously drowned in a mud puddle, dead drunk.] [Mm…
drowned.
Drunken drowning.
That’s perfectly reasonable, isn’t it?] [And the socialite ladies and minor nobles who, out of jealousy for your beauty and former wealth, had deliberately spread these embellished rumors, all kindly and understandingly shut their mouths, no longer circulating those nasty falsehoods.] [This gave you a sigh of relief.
A title like ‘Kin-slayer’ was not something you wished to bear—after all, those scum weren’t your family.] [Thankfully, everyone around you was good-hearted enough not to keep spreading such things.] [Although very soon, within the Royal Academy, you were inexplicably hailed as the ‘Bloodstained Silver Duchess.’] [Still, since the nickname sounded rather nice, and it had been coined by a young lady from a ducal house, you reluctantly accepted this title that was, in truth, laden with mockery.] [Not long after, of course, that duke’s daughter was suddenly, inexplicably diagnosed with Oripathy, and the ducal family’s business empire abruptly revealed a massive deficit.] [But this certainly had nothing to do with you.
After all, you were so very kind, and you only held an empty ducal title yourself—how could you possibly achieve such things?
So these events were absolutely unrelated to you…
right?] [Surely the duke’s family must have done something nefarious to invite such divine retribution!] [It had absolutely nothing to do with you, or with the Originium Arts you had awakened thanks to your Oripathy!] Mn, keep spinning that yarn, I’m almost convinced.
But…
Originium Arts, huh?
Speaking of which, what exactly are the Arts my sim-self awakened?
Are they also related to ‘dreams’?
Forget it, let’s keep watching for now.
[At any rate, these matters—which were completely unrelated to you—did not disrupt your normal school life.
Your days soon shed the shadows of the past and returned to calm.] [Everyone treated you rather well.
Though some noble young ladies and young masters at the academy disliked you, in the end, you all could become close friends.] [As for whether it was genuine…
that was anyone’s guess.] [However, your particular way of doing things did also gain you many people who were truly infatuated with you.] [But you paid them no mind.
The hints of political marriage from the families behind them you treated as nothing; as for the individuals themselves, you toyed with them, spun them in circles, and they even willingly, after being anchored by your Arts, became your tools—much like a pack of whining little dogs craving their master’s attention.] [No, they were worse than dogs.
Dogs at least could be hugged by their owners, but these people couldn’t even exchange a few words with you.] [Still, there were a few who might have genuinely loved you—for instance, a Feline who, after you inadvertently helped him overcome his inferiority complex, once proclaimed he would marry none but you.] [You, naturally, paid such things no heed.] [Aside from these trifles, you also managed a modest business within the bounds permitted by the Aslan Crown, and using those people you had anchored with your Arts, you succeeded in fattening your private coffers.] [Meanwhile, in your eighteenth year, you formally inherited the title of Duke of Manchester as the last blood of the family.] [Contrary to many expectations, your inheritance ceremony wasn’t a meager affair attended by a sparse handful of minor nobles.] [Rather, surprisingly, nearly all the major families of Londinium sent messengers bearing congratulations and gifts—including even the Aslan royal family.] [This stunned everyone, and made the newspapers the next day.
Many Victorians learned that their nation still hosted a one-person ducal house and its current reigning Duke.] [Everything went smoothly, as if heralding the re-rise of your family.] [But you understood—this was, in truth, the limit.
It was the furthest the Aslan Crown could tolerate.
Unless the veiled threat embedded within the Aslan messenger’s congratulatory remarks was a lie.] [Which was, quite obviously, impossible.] [Thus, you tactfully gave up on further expanding your family enterprise.
You settled into quiet days and, after graduating from the Royal Academy of Victoria, after beguiling the hearts of a few lovely young ladies, you arranged the industries you had built, took a sizable fortune, and left Victoria.
You began touring Terra—taking in the sights and, simultaneously, searching for a way to suppress your Oripathy.] [But clearly, in this era, Oripathy was an incurable disease.
Even the Draco blood within you could not change that.] [Though you didn’t mind.
Without Oripathy’s aid, after all, you could not have navigated these years so smoothly.] [Your Originium Arts had always been of immense help.
So even failing to find a cure was a matter of indifference to you.] [After all, there was no one left in this world you cared about.] [At the same time…
no one cared about the real you, either.] [You were well aware that for all these years, you had lived beneath different masks in the eyes of others.
Thus, even if there truly were people who cared for you, who loved you—what they cared for, what they loved, was but a hollow shell.] [Then again…
weren’t you the same?
Your long-standing masks deceived others, and in doing so, naturally deceived yourself.
By now, you couldn’t even tell, among the multitudes of false selves, which one was truly you.] [Perhaps, in the past, revenge had let you overlook all this.] [But…
once free of that shadow, after successfully avenging your parents, alone once more, you could not help but face it.] [You were not, after all, a true heartless monster.] [And this left you, wandering Terra alone, mired in loneliness and confusion.
Slowly, you grew numb to the world around you.] [So much so that your little hobbies—teasing young women and stealing their hearts, funding gamblers just to watch their despairing faces—became fewer and fewer, until eventually you simply couldn’t be bothered anymore.] [Such things could no longer fill the void inside you.] [And your travels gradually turned into aimless wandering.] [But though you grew numb, your journey continued.] [Unknowingly, you traversed over half of Terra, and at last, you drifted into the land called Kazdel.] [Originally, you had only intended to take a casual look at the local customs, flirt with a few Sarkaz girls, and then leave this barren, dry land behind.] [But perhaps it was fate.
Here, in a border town of Kazdel, in a black market, you spotted, in a cage beside a slaver, the figure that made your very soul tremble with a sudden agitation.] [—It was a lovely girl.
Cherry-blossom-white hair reaching her shoulders.
Her delicate, pretty face was smeared with grime and dirt, but her beauty was unmistakable.
Clothes woven from rough sackcloth wrapped the girl’s young body, yet the exposed skin was still arresting, making you stop in your tracks.] [Truthfully, you didn’t know why this agitation arose.
You had seen many beautiful women before, but this was the first time your numb, placid heart so desperately yearned to possess the girl before you, to seize the source of this stirring.] [No, it was more than that.
In that instant of eye contact with the girl, you glimpsed the emotions concealed within her—a longing for freedom, a hidden inner world.] [It reminded you of your younger self.
Back then, your eyes and this Sarkaz girl’s eyes had been so alike.] [The difference was, you had already completed your revenge, while hers had yet to begin.] [This caused ripples to spread through your hollow heart and soul.] [You longed to possess her.] [Not merely to own her—you also wanted to arrange her life, to guide her down the road you had once walked, and then to search for your own true self.] [The instant you laid eyes on that Sarkaz, you felt she would become the one who understood you.] [After a long, dazed silence, you smiled—a rare expression.] [But…
the smile that curved your lips was not one of pure desire or greed.
It was a beautiful, dangerous smile.] [Thus, in the year 880 of the Terran Calendar, in your twentieth year, you bought a pink-haired little Sarkaz dumpling from that slaver’s hands—and received, as a free bonus, her scrawny older brother.] [And the story between you and her, at this moment, had its curtain drawn open.] … “Ah?!
Theresa?!” “Wait, my route this time is raising Theresa?
What the hell?
Am I supposed to turn the gentle Queen into a villainess?!” Staring at the suddenly-appearing character art of the loli and her grown-up version— Gazing at that Sarkaz woman in plain robes, with gentle pale-gold eyes beholding all, a silver-haired figure as tender as the Virgin Mary— Ecaros was deeply shaken!
After all, what kind of third-rate plot development was this…
Though, inexplicably, Ecaros kind of wanted to keep watching how this story would unfold…