The morning after Emilia’s proposition, Ayanokoji woke before dawn.
The mansion was silent, the corridors empty save for the occasional servant preparing for the day ahead.
He moved through the darkness like a ghost, his footsteps silent on the polished floors.
He had made his decision.
He would accept Emilia’s offer—not because he trusted her, but because she represented the most efficient path to power.
A royal candidate needed a strategist, and he needed resources.
It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.
But first, he needed to understand the full scope of the challenge.
The Royal Selection was not a simple election.
It was a contest of influence, a battle for the hearts and minds of the nobility, the merchants, and the common people.
Each candidate had to prove themselves worthy of the throne through their actions, their achievements, and their ability to protect the kingdom from its enemies.
Emilia was starting from behind.
Her half-elf heritage made her a target of prejudice, and her connection to the Witch of Envy—however tenuous—was a stain that would be difficult to wash away.
She had Roswaal’s resources, but resources alone wouldn’t win her the throne.
She needs a narrative, Ayanokoji thought as he walked through the empty halls.
A story that transforms her from a feared outsider into a beloved leader.
The other candidates have their own narratives—the noble, the merchant, the soldier, the wildcard.
Emilia needs something that sets her apart, something that makes her the obvious choice.
He paused at a window, looking out at the forest that surrounded the mansion.
The trees were dark shapes against the pre-dawn sky, their branches swaying in an unfelt wind.
Somewhere out there, monsters lurked.
Somewhere beyond that, the other candidates were building their campaigns, consolidating their power, preparing for the battles to come.
Time is not on our side, he realized.
The Selection has already begun.
Every day we spend preparing is a day the others spend advancing.
We need to move quickly, but carefully.
One mistake could be fatal.
He heard soft footsteps behind him and turned to see Rem approaching, a lantern in her hand.
Her blue hair was slightly disheveled, and her eyes held the remnants of sleep.
“Ayanokoji-kun?” she said softly.
“You’re awake early.
Is something wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he replied.
“I was just thinking.”
She moved to stand beside him, her gaze following his to the forest.
“About the Selection?”
“Among other things.”
They stood in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft crackle of the lantern’s flame.
Then Rem spoke again, her voice hesitant.
“Lady Emilia spoke to me last night.
She said she asked you to be her strategist.
Is that true?”
“It is.”
“And you accepted?”
“I did.”
Rem nodded slowly, as if processing this information.
“I’m glad.
Lady Emilia needs someone like you.
Someone who can see things clearly.”
Ayanokoji turned to look at her.
“And what do you see, Rem?
When you look at Emilia-sama, what do you see?”
The question seemed to catch her off guard.
She was silent for a long moment, her brow furrowed in thought.
“I see…
someone who is too kind for her own good.
Someone who carries burdens that no one should have to carry alone.
Someone who deserves better than what this world has given her.”
“Those are emotions,” Ayanokoji observed.
“Not observations.”
Rem’s lips quirked into a small, sad smile.
“Are they so different?
When you care about someone, the way you see them changes.
You notice things that others miss.
You see the pain behind their smiles, the strength behind their tears.” You are reading on g.com, the official source.
Ayanokoji considered this.
It was a perspective he had never fully understood.
The White Room had trained him to suppress emotion, to view the world through the lens of cold, clinical analysis.
But he had seen enough of human behavior to recognize the power of emotional bonds.
Rem’s loyalty to Emilia is absolute, he thought.
She would die for her, kill for her, sacrifice everything for her.
That’s a valuable asset—but also a potential weakness.
If Emilia were to be harmed, Rem might become unpredictable.
“Your devotion is commendable,” he said finally.
“But it’s also a vulnerability.
The enemy will target Emilia through the people she cares about.
You need to be prepared for that.”
Rem’s eyes widened slightly.
“You mean…
they might try to use me against her?”
“Or Ram, or Puck, or anyone else close to her.” Ayanokoji’s voice was calm, matter-of-fact.
“The Cult doesn’t fight fair.
They use fear, manipulation, and psychological warfare.
If they can’t break Emilia directly, they’ll try to break her through her loved ones.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
“That’s why I need to understand not just Emilia’s strengths, but her vulnerabilities.
And the vulnerabilities of everyone around her.
Including you.”
Rem was silent for a long moment.
Then she straightened, her expression hardening with resolve.
“Then I’ll train harder.
I’ll become stronger.
I won’t let myself be used as a weapon against Lady Emilia.”
Ayanokoji nodded.
“Good.
That’s the right attitude.
But strength alone isn’t enough.
You need to be smart.
You need to anticipate the enemy’s moves before they make them.”
“Can you teach me?” Rem asked, her voice earnest.
“Can you teach me how to think like you?”
It was a surprising request.
Ayanokoji studied her face, looking for any sign of insincerity.
He found none.
Rem was genuinely asking for his help, genuinely seeking to improve herself.
She’s not just a maid, he realized.
She’s a warrior, a survivor, someone who has faced unimaginable trauma and emerged stronger.
She has potential—potential that could be honed into something formidable.
“I can teach you some things,” he said carefully.
“But you have to understand that my way of thinking isn’t something that can be learned overnight.
It took years of conditioning, of being pushed to the absolute limit.
And even then, it cost me something fundamental.”
“What did it cost you?”
Ayanokoji was silent for a moment, his eyes distant.
“My humanity.”
The word hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning.
Rem stared at him, her expression a mixture of shock and something that might have been pity.
“Your humanity?” she repeated softly.
“The White Room—the place where I was trained—it didn’t just teach me skills.
It stripped away everything that made me human.
Emotions, attachments, desires.
It left behind only the cold, calculating core.” He turned to look at her, his eyes empty.
“That’s why I can see things clearly.
That’s why I can make decisions that others would find impossible.
But it also means I’ll never experience the things that make life worth living.
Love, friendship, joy—these are foreign concepts to me.”
Rem’s expression softened, and for a moment, Ayanokoji saw something in her eyes that he didn’t expect.
“I think I understand,” she said quietly.
“When the Cult attacked my village, when I watched my family die…
something inside me broke.
For a long time, I couldn’t feel anything.
I went through the motions, but I was empty inside.” She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“It was Lady Emilia who brought me back.
Her kindness, her compassion—it reminded me that there was still something worth living for.”
Ayanokoji considered her words.
“And that’s why you’re so devoted to her.
She saved you, not just physically, but emotionally.”
“Yes.” Rem met his gaze, her eyes shining with quiet intensity.
“And maybe…
maybe she can save you too, Ayanokoji-kun.
If you let her.”
It was a naive sentiment, the kind of emotional thinking that Ayanokoji had learned to dismiss.
But there was something in Rem’s voice—a sincerity, a conviction—that made him pause.
She genuinely believes that, he thought.
She believes that Emilia’s kindness can heal even someone like me.
It’s a foolish hope, but it’s also…
interesting.
“Perhaps,” he said finally.
“But hope is not a strategy.
We need to focus on the practical.
The Selection, the Cult, the other candidates—these are the immediate threats.
Everything else is secondary.”
Rem nodded, her expression returning to its usual calm.
“Of course.
I understand.”
Ayanokoji turned away from the window, his mind already moving to the tasks ahead.
“I’ll need a detailed briefing on the other candidates.
Everything you know about their strengths, their weaknesses, their allies, their resources.
I also need information on the political landscape—the noble houses, the merchant guilds, the military factions.
And I need to understand the Cult’s recent activities.
Have they been quiet, or are they preparing for something?”
Rem fell into step beside him as he walked.
“I can gather that information for you.
Roswaal-sama has an extensive intelligence network.
I’m sure he would be willing to share.”
“Good.” Ayanokoji paused, considering his next words carefully.
“But be discreet.
I don’t want Roswaal knowing everything I’m planning.
He’s an ally, but he has his own agenda.
I need to maintain some independence.”
Rem’s eyes flickered with understanding.
“You don’t fully trust him.”
“I don’t fully trust anyone,” Ayanokoji replied.
“Trust is a luxury I can’t afford.
The moment you let your guard down, the moment you assume someone will act in your best interest—that’s when they strike.”
They reached the dining hall, where the morning meal was already being prepared.
The smell of fresh bread and hot tea filled the air, and Ayanokoji felt his stomach respond despite himself.
“We’ll talk more after breakfast,” he said.
“For now, I need to eat.”
Rem bowed.
“Of course.
I’ll begin gathering the information you requested.”
As she walked away, Ayanokoji allowed himself a moment of reflection.
The conversation had been more revealing than he had expected—not just about Rem, but about himself.
He had shared more of his past than he intended, exposed a vulnerability that could potentially be exploited.
Careless, he thought.
But not fatal.
Rem is not an enemy, and her loyalty to Emilia makes her predictable.
As long as I continue to serve Emilia’s interests, Rem will remain an ally.
He sat down at the table, his mind already cataloging the information he would need to gather.
The game was about to enter a new phase, and he intended to be ready.