Chapter 18: Perhaps the Little Sister Slot?
As I sniffled over the harshness of the world, Kishtarial wore an exasperated expression and began diligently arranging bite-sized chocolates before me.
They were lined neatly upon a white plate, each one glossy and exquisite.
Though their shapes differed, all were from Rose Brand.
Some were molded into the Rose Brand logo itself, others bore the emblem engraved in patterns or lettering, and some had the logo delicately painted in gold leaf at the center.
Every single one was among my favorites.
Milk chocolate, orange peel-infused, fresh truffle, walnut-studded varieties…
So he means to treat me like a child.
Even as I thought I would not be pacified by something so simple, I picked one up and let it melt across my tongue.
The rich aroma of cacao bloomed, sweetness and gentle bitterness intertwining in perfect harmony.
Before I knew it, my face had softened into a smile.
“…Delicious.”
Ugh… I concede defeat.
It is exceedingly fine.
Rose Brand’s chocolate is one of the products I personally supervised with all my might.
This world had no chocolate.
We found cacao, yes, but turning cacao mass into actual chocolate afterward was arduous.
Achieving the smooth mouthfeel I desired, that distinctive fragrance, and the delicate balance between sweetness and bitterness—it was all terribly difficult.
Increase the cacao percentage and the fragrance improves wonderfully, but it becomes bitter and crumbly.
Even the Latitche family’s resident chefs struggled repeatedly before perfecting this enchanting confection.
Sweet treats are wonderful, but savory things are delightful as well.
Crackers, for instance.
Jam is lovely, but cream cheese or ham atop crackers makes for excellent light fare.
Does caviar exist in this world?
It is sturgeon roe, if I recall correctly.
Do sturgeons even exist here?
Father would look splendid with caviar crackers and red wine.
Such refined adult allure.
Though honestly—does this world not have far too few sweets?
Is that because this is, after all, an otome game focused on romance?
Is everything else merely decoration?
As someone living here, I must protest wholeheartedly!
I have already eaten cake and macarons earlier.
Have I perhaps overindulged today?
But I feel oddly fatigued, and sweet things are unbearably comforting.
Perhaps coming to the academy truly has exhausted me.
Surrounded by familiar faces, my mood gradually settles.
“This one too.”
“And this as well.”
Encouraged from all sides, a small mountain of sweets forms before me.
…Wait.
Am I the “little sister” slot after all?
Even with this scandalously voluptuous figure?
This is highly unacceptable.
Yet they are delicious, so I eat.
Munch, munch…
Happiness overflows in my mouth.
“So then, Lady Alber, why did you sneak here to see Lady Jibril?”
“Eh? To develop new products?”
“That was half a whim. What is the real reason?”
I cannot possibly say I came to investigate the heroine’s route.
And yet I feel I cannot escape Julius’ scrutiny.
If I lie, he will see through it instantly.
“I was simply curious about the academy everyone attends.
I have heard there are many different people here, so I wondered what it was like…”
That is not untrue.
I have heard quite a bit about the heroine’s recent exploits, after all.
I know the academy from the game, but not this living version.
“At least, I wished to see the rumored young lady who has captured not only numerous noble sons but even the princes!”
“No.”
“Rejected.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Sister, why would you deliberately sully your eyes with such filth…?”
Why are they all so merciless?
Is she not supposed to be the beloved, small-animal-type heroine?
Why have their expressions grown so severe?
“Just a little glimpse!”
“I refuse. That harlot would stain you, Lady Alber!”
H-Harlot!?
Julius actually distorted his face and used such language.
That impeccably composed servant spoke with open disgust.
He even said “I refuse.”
Such a display of emotion from Julius must mean something serious indeed.
“Please, Kishtarial…”
“Rejected.”
“I need not speak to her.
From afar is enough. Please, just this once?”
“An ordinary young lady would be one thing.
But not her.”
He cut me off without hesitation.
The same Kishtarial who was sweet as melted chocolate moments ago is now firmly in admonishment mode.
Even my clasped-hands pleading pose—one that reduces Father himself—failed.
His gaze flickered for only an instant.
Hmph.
So even if the exterior is lovely, a villainess playing cute only amounts to this much.
I am not pouting. Certainly not.
“I shall state it plainly—I am against it as well.
Her behavior is intolerable,” Michaelis added.
“Michaelis… you too?”
“It would be unforgivable for someone to attempt harm upon you.”
Why such concentrated hostility?
Even mild-mannered Michaelis leaves no room for persuasion.
Jibril’s expression screamed a resounding “No.”
“If you insist upon seeing her, I could render her unconscious, gag her, bind her thoroughly in rope, and deliver her here.”
“That would be kidnapping, would it not?”
“Afterward I would leave her in the infirmary.
It need not become a problem.”
Jibril… that is far too extreme.
If the princes discovered such a thing, it would reflect poorly upon her.
I cannot allow such danger.
Is Lady Renaria truly that ill-behaved?
I cannot recall such a route.
If I were the original Alber, I could spread rumors freely.
But I have never even met her.
From what I hear, she seems intent upon a harem route.
Yet judging from Kishtarial and Michaelis, their affection toward her is hardly high.
Then the route will likely align with whichever capture target holds the highest favorability.
The princes appear favored—but which is her true target?
That will affect my preparations.
For example, the Megil Fever medicine temporarily reduces magical power.
If I gather too much, suspicion will arise.
Could it be produced instead?
Cain or Findor might manage such things—if not personally, then through connections.
But they are likely already charmed by Lady Renaria.
Better to confirm the route from afar…
If only I could witness one of the definitive route events.
I know the general timeframe, but not the precise moment.
How regrettable…
“If you all object so strongly, I shall abandon the idea…”
I cannot possibly slip past this surveillance.
Even if by divine coincidence I wandered off alone, I would surely become hopelessly lost within these vast grounds.
Seeing me dejected, they exchange complicated glances before exhaling in relief.
If I were the original Alber, perhaps the situation would be reversed.
“Sister!
What about magic?
Would you not like to see Brother’s and Lord Kishtarial’s magic?
You said you were curious earlier.
We could borrow the training grounds.”
In my dejection, everyone grows flustered.
At the word “magic,” my interest stirs instantly.
“Alber, are you curious about my magic?
Are you not afraid?”
“Mine is primarily flame-based and quite offensive,” Michaelis added.
“I want to see it!”
I answered at once.
My own magic is dreadfully plain.
A barrier—merely a thin membrane of mana encasing a target.
With application, one may step upon it as if upon a ladder—
Quite useful in the library when retrieving books from high shelves.
It is apparently an advanced form of spatial control and mana materialization…
But I long to see something spectacular.
“Then let us go.”
“Yes!”
If I cannot cast dazzling spells myself, I will at least watch from a safe distance.
“So, Kishtarial, which magic do you excel at?”
“I am proficient in most.
Fire, water, wind, earth.
The four common elements.”
“Most specialize in a single element, do they not?”
“In general.”
I specialize in barrier magic.
The original Alber wielded fire and darkness ferociously, but I am hopelessly incompetent in attack magic.
The four primary elements are common; light and dark rarer still.
Beyond them are derived elements—ice, lightning, wood, sound.
Those are even rarer, often hereditary.
Kishtarial can wield many evenly.
He truly is extraordinary.
“In the game, you fought Alber evenly,” I muttered inwardly.
But if asked to fight this useless elder sister, he would surrender instantly.
“And Julius? What magic do you excel in?”
“Secret.”
He smiled and refused.
“Not even a hint?”
“Secret.”
How stingy!
We rose to head for the training grounds.
I may have eaten slightly too much.
The stares were painfully intense.
With Kishtarial on my right and Michaelis on my left, I must appear a mysterious woman flanked by two stunning young men.
Jibril walked nearby, smiling sweetly.
Julius, Raven, and Anna maintained subtle positions around us.
Kishtarial and Michaelis seem rather close…
Even along quieter paths, whispers persist.
Their pace quickens, ensuring I do not lag behind.
Hands subtly support my back or waist.
When I stumble slightly, I am lifted effortlessly and carried as though nothing happened.
Extremely convenient.
“Kishtarial-sama!”
A high, ringing voice pierced the air just before we reached the training grounds.
In that instant, every smile vanished.
The change was so abrupt that my shoulders trembled.
Kishtarial immediately stepped before me.
Michaelis drew me close protectively.
Jibril positioned herself to shield me further.
Julius and Raven flanked Kishtarial.
Anna grasped my hand, prepared to flee if needed.
Full alert.
Battle-ready.
“You were here!”
The voice dripped with sweet affection.
Yet no friendly gazes met it.
“What do you want?
We are in a hurry.”
Kishtarial’s voice was ice.
I have never heard such a tone from him.
“Um… Prince Lucas is hosting a tea gathering.
Would you join us?”
“No.”
“Why not? I have the invitation! Let’s go!”
“What purpose would that serve?
And I told you before—outside school matters, do not speak to me.”
“Why are you so cold?
Isn’t school equal?”
“Must I spell it out?”
“Because it is strange!”
“First, your status is far below mine.
You persist in addressing me both here and in society without manners.
Second, you spread slander about my sister—an insult to the Latitche Ducal House.
Third, I dislike you for the above reasons.
Why would I attend any private event involving you?
Would you like more reasons?
Or will you run to the princes again?”
The girl began to sob.
To an outsider, Kishtarial may appear cruel.
Yet her offenses seem considerable.
The surrounding gazes were cold—mocking, disdainful.
She must be of significantly lower rank.
Perhaps a baron’s daughter.
“But you were bullied by Lady Albertina!” she cried.
“I have no memory of being bullied.
My sister does not even raise her hand to servants.
We have never met.
On what grounds do you defame someone you have never seen?”
The original Alber was far worse—
Yet I have done nothing.
Wait.
Is she… a transmigrator?
I wish to see her face.
But the guard around me is impenetrable.