The next morning, Lelouch discovered that the pain from overusing Geass had not disappeared with a night’s sleep.
The moment he opened his eyes, a faint throbbing behind his left eye reminded him that yesterday’s incident at the market had not been a dream.
He remained still for a while, silently assessing his condition.
His muscles still ached from training.
Both legs felt as though someone had tied bags of sand to them.
The Mind he had burned forcing a command onto a Level Two adventurer had partially recovered, but his reserves were nowhere near full.
And whenever he closed his eyes, he could still see the iron club descending toward his skull.
Then that image would be replaced by the back of a golden-haired elf stepping into his line of sight.
Fast.
Precise.
Arriving exactly when he had trusted her to.
Lelouch exhaled and pushed himself out of bed.
“I’m developing a bad habit.”
Entrusting his life to the assumption that another person would arrive in time was not a behavior he should repeat casually.
And yet—
He could not call yesterday’s trust a mistake.
Ryu had come.
When Lelouch opened his door, he did not find the red-haired woman who normally woke him with enough noise to serve as a citywide emergency alarm.
Instead, a sheet of paper had been pinned beneath a small stone outside his room.
Alice’s wildly slanted handwriting filled the page.
Patrolling the western district early today!
Breakfast is in the kitchen!
DON’T SKIP TRAINING!
And if you’re going anywhere, tell Lady Astraea first!
At the bottom was a drawing of a round face that was presumably meant to be Alice herself, pointing a threatening finger toward the reader.
Lelouch stared at it for several seconds.
“At least her confidence in her artistic ability is admirable.”
He folded the note and kept it.
After bathing, changing clothes, and eating breakfast, Lelouch entered the small office Astraea had allowed him to use for paperwork.
Yesterday’s market incident report was waiting on the desk.
Beside it lay an updated copy of his Status.
Lyra had written a warning across the top in unusually large letters.
DO NOT TEST GEASS ON PEOPLE ABOVE YOUR LEVEL AGAIN WITHOUT A BACKUP PLAN.
Underneath, in obviously different handwriting, someone had added—
AND STOP TRYING TO BLOCK CLUBS WITH YOUR HEAD!
There was no need to guess who had written that one.
Lelouch was about to pick up the incident report when a blue folder beneath the papers caught his eye.
He pulled it free.
The cover read:
INTER-FAMILIA INFORMATION COORDINATION FORMAT
His violet eyes stopped.
The conversation at the Hostess of Fertility two nights earlier returned immediately.
Finn Deimne had invited him to Twilight Manor to discuss information-sharing procedures.
And Lelouch had promised to prepare a reporting format for review.
Yesterday, he had intended to spend the morning learning Orario’s streets, then return in the afternoon and finish editing the proposal.
Instead—
There had been the fight at the market.
The questioning afterward.
The Status examination.
And his conversation with Ryu beneath the tree that night.
The work had been delayed without him noticing.
Lelouch opened the folder quickly.
Most of it was already complete.
Only the section defining how much information Loki Familia would disclose required Finn’s direct input.
He checked the clock.
Later than the ideal meeting time.
Not yet beyond repair.
“This is an unacceptable oversight.”
“What is?”
A gentle voice came from the doorway.
Lelouch turned.
Astraea stood there carrying two cups of tea.
She entered, placed one in front of him, and glanced at the blue folder.
“You remembered an appointment?”
“You knew?”
“Last night you said Finn’s name in your sleep with an extremely serious expression.
I assumed you had unfinished business.”
Lelouch froze.
“I talk in my sleep?”
“I’m teasing.”
Astraea’s smile was gentle enough that he could not determine with certainty whether she was telling the entire truth.
“Lyra told me she saw this folder on your desk yesterday,” the goddess explained.
“You intended to take it to Finn, didn’t you?”
“Yes.
I should go to Twilight Manor this morning.
Allowing Loki Familia to wait after we’ve only just begun cooperating would damage our credibility.”
Astraea examined his face for a moment.
“How is your headache?”
“Better.”
“You answered half a beat faster than usual.”
“That does not prove I’m lying.”
“It proves you prepared the answer.”
Lelouch fell silent.
Astraea sat opposite him and lightly placed a hand against his forehead.
There was no divine compulsion in the touch.
No pressure from a being fundamentally above mortals.
Only ordinary concern.
As a result, God-Opposer did not react at all.
“No fever,” Astraea said.
“And you look better than last night.
But I’d like three promises.”
“Go ahead.”
“Go directly to Twilight Manor.
Do not stop at the market.
Do not interfere with random fights on the way.
And do not use Geass unless someone’s life is genuinely in immediate danger.”
“The second condition depends on the circumstances.”
“Lelouch.”
“…I will make every reasonable effort.”
“That is not a promise.”
“I cannot promise to ignore every possible incident without knowing the facts beforehand.”
Astraea sighed.
The amusement in her eyes remained.
“Then use your judgment.”
Her voice softened.
“And remember that your life is also one of the lives you’re responsible for protecting.”
That sentence stopped him.
Only briefly.
Then Lelouch nodded.
“Understood.”
“Come back before dinner.”
“The discussion should not take that long.”
“If you were only meeting Finn, I would agree.”
Astraea calmly sipped her tea.
“But you’re going to Loki’s house.”
Lelouch had no counterargument.
Their previous encounter had demonstrated that Loki could transform a ten-minute conversation into more than an hour of chaos without appearing to exert any effort whatsoever.
He closed the folder and placed it in a leather bag.
“I’ll be careful.”
“Travel safely.”
Once Lelouch left, Astraea remained looking at the closed door.
Then her gaze shifted to the market incident report.
Three adventurers were listed clearly.
One had fallen asleep without resisting the command.
One had partially forced himself free because of his higher Level.
The third had avoided eye contact entirely and had come dangerously close to striking Lelouch.
Information about his ability had begun spreading.
From today onward—
Anyone reasonably intelligent would avoid looking into those violet eyes carelessly.
And someone more ambitious might begin searching for ways to make Lelouch use that ability for them.
Astraea clasped her hands over the desk.
“Please let today involve nothing but paperwork…”
Her prayer drifted through the quiet room.
She had no way of knowing that the god Lelouch was walking toward was one of the beings in Orario least capable of tolerating peace and quiet.
Twilight Manor looked every bit like the residence of one of Orario’s most powerful Familias.
High stone walls surrounded an enormous estate.
Multiple buildings were connected like the wings of a fortress, and the jester emblem above the main gate advertised the identity of its owner without the slightest hint of restraint.
Lelouch stopped outside and looked up.
Compared with Astraea Familia’s manor, this place was several times larger.
The number of windows, the position of the towers, and the routes connecting the buildings revealed that aesthetics had never been the sole concern behind its design.
In the event of an attack, the main gate could seal off invaders.
Interior walls divided the compound into defensible sections.
Upper windows could serve as firing positions for archers or mages.
It was called a manor—
But in reality, it was a military base wearing the shape of a home.
The seams between old stone and newer repairs were still visible around the lower towers.
Some black scorch marks had not been completely scrubbed away.
Two sentries stood on different sections of the wall, neither straying far from their weapons.
Alarm ropes ran from guard posts toward the main buildings.
In an age when Evilus could turn an ordinary street into a battlefield without warning, the home of a frontline Familia could never be merely a residence.
From beyond the wall came the steady clashing of training weapons, shouted instructions from unit leaders, and the smell of oil used to maintain armor.
Though it was still morning, Twilight Manor was already awake—
Moving like a force that expected deployment at any moment.
“Halt.”
A guard at the gate raised one hand.
He was a tall young man with a long sword strapped across his back.
When he saw Lelouch, his alert expression shifted into mild surprise.
“You’re Astraea Familia’s new member, aren’t you?”
“News travels even faster than I expected.”
“In this city, news that the first man has moved into a manor full of women travels faster than a report of a monster escaping onto the surface.”
The second guard beside him coughed to hide a laugh.
Lelouch handed over Astraea’s letter and explained his purpose.
“I’m here at Finn Deimne’s invitation to discuss our information-coordination report.”
The guard checked Astraea’s seal and returned the document.
“Wait in the inner courtyard.
I’ll have someone notify Lord Finn.”
The gate opened.
A Familia member escorted Lelouch through the entrance hall and into a training courtyard situated between two buildings.
“Lord Finn is meeting with several unit leaders.
You may have to wait a little.”
“That’s fine.
I was the one who arrived without confirming an exact time.”
“If you’d like water, or somewhere to—”
Bang!
A heavy impact sounded from the opposite end of the yard.
The Loki Familia member stopped talking.
He glanced toward it with the resignation of someone who had heard the sound too many times before.
“She’s been at it since morning again…”
“Who?”
“Nothing important.
Sit on that bench.
I’ll notify someone inside.”
He hurried away.
Lelouch placed his document bag beside him and sat.
Bang!
Again.
It was not the sound of metal striking metal.
It was a practice sword hitting a wooden dummy with entirely too much force for the word practice.
Bang!
Regular intervals.
No shouting.
No obvious heavy breathing.
Only repeated impacts—
As though the swordswoman were not trying to cut the wooden target itself, but something that existed behind it.
Lelouch looked toward the sound.
At the corner of the yard stood a golden-haired girl.
She was considerably smaller than Alice or Ryu and looked no older than nine.
Her simple white training clothes were dark with sweat across the back.
Her long hair had been tied loosely, though several strands had escaped and now clung to her cheeks.
The sword in her hands was not real.
Even so—
Every time it moved, the air around the blade gave a brief whistle.
Step.
Turn the hips.
Diagonal cut.
Recover.
Advance.
Thrust.
Each movement possessed a precision far beyond that of an ordinary child.
No—
Most Level One adventurers probably could not even follow the blade properly.
Lelouch narrowed his eyes.
Judging from the speed and the force transmitted into the dummy, she was probably at least Level Three.
Possibly Four, if she was not using her full ability.
Watching only a handful of movements was insufficient to determine someone’s Status accurately.
But the pressure radiating from the small body reminded him of a weapon already drawn from its sheath.
She was strong.
Strong enough that, in his current state, Lelouch doubted he could survive even one direct attack.
Yet something was wrong.
The girl was not merely training to refine her movements.
Every strike committed too much weight forward, as though she needed to destroy the enemy in a single blow.
Her shoulders were unnecessarily tense.
Her wrist rotated too deeply.
And whenever the practice sword rebounded from the hard surface—
She fought the recoil and swung again immediately.
The dummy was covered in cuts.
Wood chips littered the ground.
Still, it was not enough for her.
Bang!
The sword landed in the same place.
Bang!
Again.
Bang!
Again.
She was not practicing against a dummy.
She was killing an enemy visible only to herself.
Perhaps Lelouch watched too long.
Or perhaps the girl’s senses were simply abnormally sharp.
The sword stopped in midair.
She turned.
Golden eyes met his.
There was no embarrassment at being observed.
No surprise.
No irritation.
Only a short question.
“Who are you?”
Lelouch regarded her briefly.
“Before asking another person’s name, you should introduce yourself.”
The girl tilted her head.
“Even though this is my home?”
She sounded completely serious.
So Lelouch answered with equal seriousness.
“Especially because it is your home.”
Her golden eyes blinked once.
“Why?”
“When the owner gives their name, a visitor understands that they’re standing somewhere they should respect.”
Lelouch folded one leg over the other.
“And if that visitor entered without permission, then the introduction also informs them that the owner of the territory is watching.”
The girl thought about that.
“Introducing yourself…
is a warning?”
“It can be both manners and a warning.”
Lelouch’s gaze remained calm.
“That depends on whether the listener is intelligent enough to understand which.”
She stared at him for another two seconds.
Then nodded slowly, as though she had just been taught a principle of swordsmanship.
“I understand.”
She lowered her practice sword.
“I’m Ais.”
A pause.
“Ais Wallenstein.
Loki Familia.”
“Lelouch.
Astraea Familia.
I was given permission to wait here for Finn Deimne.”
“Mm.”
Ais nodded.
Then turned directly back toward the dummy.
She did not ask why he had come.
Did not question why Astraea Familia had a male member.
Did not display the slightest desire to continue the conversation.
Her sword rose again.
Bang!
Lelouch blinked.
He had met quiet people such as Ryu.
But even Ryu made it obvious when she wanted a conversation to end.
This child appeared to have simply received the information she required and then immediately removed him from the list of things worth thinking about.
There was something almost impressive about such straightforward behavior.
Lelouch should have returned to waiting.
How a member of another Familia trained was not his business.
But as Ais changed her grip—
Morning sunlight illuminated her palm.
The skin around the bases of her fingers was heavily calloused.
Several places had split open enough to bleed.
Old bandages had been wrapped carelessly around her hand, now wet enough for dark red stains to show through.
Those injuries had not all been made today.
Some were fresh.
Some had begun scabbing.
Others were old scars reopened over and over.
Bang!
The practice sword came down again.
Her small hand trembled for an instant.
Then gripped harder.
Lelouch frowned.
“Why are you training this hard?”
The sword stopped.
Ais did not turn immediately.
“I need to become stronger.”
“That is the objective of training.”
Lelouch’s voice was flat.
“It does not explain why you’re willing to damage your hands.”
She glanced toward him.
“If you’re injured badly enough that you can’t hold a sword tomorrow, today’s training will make you weaker.
That outcome contradicts your stated objective.”
Ais looked down at her hand.
Her expression did not change.
“These wounds heal.”
“Repeated damage to bones and tendons may not.”
“I have healers.”
Short.
Direct.
And in the speaker’s mind—
Apparently a complete answer.
Lelouch looked toward the nearly severed wooden dummy.
“What do you see when you look at that?”
Her golden eyes stilled.
The wind blew several strands of hair across her face.
She did not brush them away.
Many people would have refused to answer.
Others might have become angry at a stranger intruding so far into something personal.
Ais simply told the truth.
“An enemy.”
“What kind?”
“A monster.”
Her fingers tightened around the sword.
“I’ll kill it.”
For the first time, emotion entered her voice.
Not explosive rage.
Something colder.
Hatred compressed so deeply that it no longer needed to shake.
“For revenge.”
She said the final word as though it were the simplest reason in the world.
Lelouch did not ask whom she was avenging.
Did not ask what the monster had taken from her.
And did not insult her with a hollow statement that revenge was inherently wrong.
Because the instant he heard the answer—
Something inside his chest hurt.
Incomplete images flashed through his mind.
Fire.
Gunshots.
Someone’s eyes filled with tears.
His own hands stained with blood.
And rage directed at the entire world—
Rage powerful enough to trample anything if that was what changing the world required.
The images disappeared before he could seize them.
Only the heaviness remained.
He might not remember his past.
But Lelouch knew those eyes.
The eyes of someone who had built their entire identity around one wound.
Someone who no longer cared what remained of them—
So long as the enemy was destroyed.
And perhaps—
Eyes through which he himself had once looked at the world.
“I won’t tell you to abandon your revenge.”
Ais finally turned completely toward him.
Perhaps she had expected prohibition.
Perhaps many adults had already offered her exactly that.
Lelouch rose from the bench and approached, stopping at a distance that did not intrude upon her space.
“I don’t know what happened to you.”
He looked toward the blood on her hand.
“So I have no right to judge whether that hatred is justified.”
Ais listened without blinking.
“If revenge is what keeps you holding the sword, then use it as fuel.”
Lelouch’s gaze sharpened.
“But never let it become the one holding the sword.”
A faint disturbance passed through her golden eyes.
“What’s the difference?”
“If you hold the sword, you choose when to strike.”
Lelouch gestured toward the dummy.
“When to retreat.
What must be destroyed—and what must not be destroyed alongside the enemy.”
He paused.
“But if revenge holds the sword, then your body, your life, and your future become nothing more than weapons it spends.”
One of Ais’s fingers loosened.
A drop of blood rolled across her palm and fell to the ground.
“I have to win.”
“Then you have even more reason to remain alive until the day you’re strong enough to win.”
Lelouch’s tone became firmer.
“Train to become the person still standing after your enemy dies.”
“Not a sword that breaks together with it.”
He held her gaze.
“Otherwise, even if you kill your enemy in the end, it still wins.”
Ais frowned faintly.
“Why?”
“Because first it takes your past.”
Lelouch’s voice lowered.
“Then revenge takes your present.”
“And finally, you surrender your future with your own hands.”
Morning wind crossed the training yard.
There were no impacts against the dummy.
No passing footsteps.
The moment became quiet enough to hear leaves brushing together.
Ais stood completely still.
Her face remained almost expressionless.
But for the first time—
Her golden eyes trembled.
Understanding would not come all at once.
She was still too young.
The hatred she carried was far too heavy for a handful of sentences to make her release it.
Lelouch had never expected otherwise.
Words could not erase wounds.
Could not return the dead.
Could not extinguish a fire that had been fed for years in a single morning.
But words could place one small doubt inside that fire.
A question.
Was dying beside the enemy truly the only possible ending?
Ais lowered her gaze toward her hand.
Slowly—
She placed the practice sword back on the weapon rack.
Then removed the blood-soaked bandages.
“I’m going to get treatment.”
“A rational decision.”
“Then I’ll come back and train.”
Lelouch sighed.
“At least change your grip and rest the wrist first.”
Ais nodded.
“Thank you.”
She walked past him.
She stopped.
The girl looked back.
“What’s your name?”
Lelouch raised an eyebrow.
“I introduced myself earlier.”
“I know.”
“Then why ask again?”
Ais thought for several seconds, searching for the correct words.
“The first time…”
Her golden eyes met his.
“…I only said my name because it was polite.”
A pause.
“This time, I want to remember yours.”
That answer silenced Lelouch briefly.
Then he said it again.
“Lelouch.”
“Lelouch.”
She repeated it carefully.
“Mm.
I’ll remember.”
“And you’re Ais Wallenstein.”
The girl blinked.
“You remember?”
“I don’t normally forget someone’s name within ten minutes.”
Before Ais could respond—
Rapid footsteps came from the corridor.
Then a voice arrived before its owner.
“Where is he?!
Where’s Astraea’s new guy?!”
Lelouch closed his eyes for a moment.
He knew that voice far too well already.
Loki came charging through the doorway, followed by a female Familia member wearing an exhausted expression.
The red-haired goddess scanned the courtyard.
The instant she spotted Lelouch, her narrowed eyes brightened.
Then—
She noticed Ais standing beside him.
Loki stopped dead.
“You…”
A trembling finger rose toward Lelouch.
“You haven’t even been in my house for half an hour and you’ve already seduced my Ais?!”
“Your conclusion lacks both evidence and reason.”
“Ais doesn’t normally stand around talking to strange men this long!”
“We were discussing training,” Ais answered for him.
Loki snapped toward her.
“Did he say anything weird to you?
Pat your head?
Hold your hand anywhere?
Tell me and I’ll deal with him!”
“He didn’t touch me.”
Ais raised her injured hand.
“He told me to get treated.”
Loki’s amusement disappeared immediately.
She stepped closer, gently took Ais’s wrist, examined the bleeding bandages, and frowned.
“You trained until the wounds opened again.”
“Mm.”
“Riveria is going to lecture you.”
“Mm.”
“Go get treatment.”
Ais looked at Lelouch.
“I’ll come back.”
“You don’t need to report your movements to me.”
“But I’ll come back.”
She repeated it anyway.
Then she walked into the building.
Loki watched her leave.
When she turned back, her gaze toward Lelouch had become thoughtful.
“What did you say to her?”
“I merely suggested that injuring herself is an inefficient method of training.”
“That’s all?”
“If you require a detailed transcript, I can attach one to the cooperation documents.”
The goddess paused.
Then slowly grinned.
“Still irritating to talk to.
Good.”
“I wasn’t aware that was a trait worthy of praise.”
“In this house, it is.”
Loki reached toward his document bag.
Lelouch automatically moved it out of reach.
“I’m here to see Finn.”
“I know.”
“Then please tell me where he is.”
“Preparing a report.”
“I can wait outside his office.”
“No need to rush.”
Instead of the bag—
Loki seized his wrist.
“While we wait, come do something important with me.”
Lelouch looked down at the hand gripping him.
Then at the goddess.
“If your definition of important involves attempting to abduct another Familia’s member, I decline.”
“It’s not that.”
Loki pulled.
A sore Level One body had no hope of resisting a goddess who, even with her Arcanum sealed, seemed capable of generating tremendous force through determination and nuisance value alone.
“Lady Loki, I can walk.”
“If I let go, you might escape to Finn.”
“That is the purpose of my visit.”
“Exactly why I can’t let you.”
Lelouch was dragged through the doorway.
The female Loki Familia member who had followed the goddess lowered her head apologetically.
“Don’t worry.
Lord Finn already knows you’ve arrived.”
“So I should worry about something else instead?”
She looked away without answering.
That was confirmation enough.
The room Loki called the location of their important business was not a conference room.
Not an archive.
Not even an official guest room.
It was a lounge filled with sofas, shelves, a low table—
And a square board waiting in the center.
White and black pieces stood arranged for play.
Morning light fell through tall windows in bands across the board.
The scent of floor wax mixed with old paper.
Shallow scratches marked the corners of the board, while many pieces had been handled so often that their edges had become smooth and glossy.
The black king in particular had a polished crown—
As though someone had rubbed it with a thumb while thinking through countless games.
This was not a decorative chess set.
It was a miniature battlefield with history.
Lelouch stopped at the door.
“This is your important matter?”
Loki released him and practically jumped into a seat on one side of the board.
“Yes!”
“I came here to discuss reports.”
“Finn is still preparing.”
“You’ve already used that sentence.”
“So play one game while you wait.”
Lelouch looked down.
Sixty-four squares.
Two armies.
One king—
Not necessarily the strongest piece, yet its fall decided the defeat of everything around it.
Queen.
Rooks.
Knights.
Bishops.
Pawns.
Each assigned a different value.
The moment he looked at them—
Every movement appeared in his mind as naturally as breathing.
Lelouch’s breath stopped.
A fragment surfaced.
His own hand lifting a black piece.
Another boy laughing with stubborn competitiveness.
Sunlight through the window of a place whose name he could not remember.
Then—
The image shattered.
Only the board remained.
“You know it?” Loki asked immediately.
She had noticed the tiny change in his expression.
“I know the rules.”
“Played before?”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
“I don’t remember my past.
You already know that.”
Loki rested her chin on one hand.
Her red eyes watched him with growing interest.
“So the body remembers the game even when the mind has forgotten the people it played against.”
“Perhaps.”
“Even better.”
She slapped the cushion opposite her.
“Let’s see how good your hands remember.”
Lelouch remained standing.
“I fail to see the relationship between chess and an information-sharing framework.”
“There is one.”
“Which is?”
“I need to know how well the person designing an intelligence network for my Familia can read a board.”
The justification sounded suspiciously like something invented that very second.
Yet—
It was not entirely irrational.
Games could reveal the nature of the player.
An impatient person attacked too early.
A fearful person protected every piece until the position strangled them.
A greedy person traded position for small immediate gains.
And someone incapable of seeing beyond their own plan would lose to an opponent willing to alter the situation itself.
Loki wanted to evaluate him.
Exactly as she had evaluated everyone at the tavern.
The enormous grin was a mask—
One that made no particular effort to hide the fact that it was a mask.
“You want to determine whether I’m suitable as an ally more than you want to pass the time.”
“Both.”
Loki did not deny it.
“And you want to evaluate me too, don’t you?”
Violet eyes met red.
Both smiled faintly.
“One game,” Lelouch said.
“Fine.”
“Win or lose, afterward I meet Finn.”
“Of course.”
Her answer came far too quickly to possess any credibility whatsoever.
Lelouch sat.
Loki held out two closed fists and told him to choose.
He tapped the left.
She opened it.
A black piece lay in her palm.
“You take black.
I move first.”
“No problem.”
“Don’t think you’re disadvantaged?”
Lelouch picked up the black king.
Studied it briefly.
Then returned it to its square.
“The color of the pieces doesn’t decide the winner.”
“Oh?”
“The person moving them does.”
Loki’s grin widened.
“I like that answer.”
She advanced the king’s pawn two squares.
“Let’s begin.”
….
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….
I also have many more novels in my collection that you might be interested in I upload ten novels a day, with 3 to 4 chapters per title depending on the length.
If you’re following a particular series, please wait your turn a little If there’s a particular novel you’re enjoying on Patron, please give it a ‘like’ so I know to focus on it