novelraw Chapter 102 : Chapter 102
Chapter 102 : Chapter 102
Chapter 102 Roberta Sinclair's Mischief (1)
Let’s talk about war.
If someone were to suggest such a thing, Roberta would probably prick up her ears. I couldn't be sure. If she was in a good mood, she'd listen intently; if she was in a bad mood, she'd aim a water balloon and chase them off. Because it was inevitable that it would become unpleasant. The more they talked about war.
In any case, she would listen.
About the disaster that had plagued this world for a long time, along with famine, epidemics, and natural disasters. She would hear the origins and the standards. While listening to the situation of other countries stained by war, yes, that's right. That's how it was. Just as the other person was about to start talking, reminiscing about the Mirror War,
“I saw the sky fall.”
Roberta would say quietly.
“When I was young……”
She saw it. The sky falling.
If they were to hear Roberta's words, whoever the other person might be, they would surely tilt their head. With what could one leave a crack in the empty air? Not a fierce downpour, nor thick snowflakes, nor sturdy hail could make the sky fall…….
“Explosives.”
Roberta explains willingly.
That if there were enough explosives, even the sky would fall.
“During the Mirror War……, we were evacuating……”
The nanny, running with young Roberta in her arms, fell. Screams and shouts, and along with them, a small groan. As people's heads bent towards Roberta, Roberta let out a pained sound and looked up at the sky.
A group of reconnaissance planes was piercing through the air. ‘Heaven's Footprint.’ Old-fashioned reconnaissance planes that resembled steel doves. At that time, Roberta couldn't distinguish between birds and reconnaissance planes. She couldn't distinguish between carpets and bombings, and she couldn't distinguish between firecrackers and explosives.
Kwaaaang──!
A deafening roar engraved in Roberta's ears.
Young Roberta's eyes widened as she realized.
If you wanted to break the sky, just making the ground tremble was enough. The moment the reconnaissance planes formed a group and carried out a bombing, and the randomly scattered explosives detonated repeatedly, the empty air would just shake as if it would collapse at any moment, and,
“It's okay, Roberta. Everything's okay.”
A thick hand grabbing Roberta.
It was Curtis. Curtis Emerson Sinclair. Roberta's father, and an unparalleled merchant who developed and produced numerous weapons and supplied them to the empire.
Thump, thump, thump, it went. The ground surged backward. The town was destroyed, and people's bodies were thrown into the air. Roberta was safe in Curtis's arms. The portly Curtis was holding Roberta tightly. And so he whispered to his only daughter,
“Everything's okay.”
Curtis's voice was endlessly gentle,
“Because I made them.”
And acrid, stained with the smell of explosives.
“All those bombs……, I made them.”
So rest assured.
They will never harm you.
* * *
Capital Naflansee, the basement of the pub ‘The Wounded Gunshot’.
A sewer rat loitering in front of the door scurried away. It was startled by the sound of human footsteps.
Creak, it went. The door opened and Roberta entered the basement. She fumbled in the inner pocket of her robe. After putting a bundle of gold coins into the collection box, she gave a faint smile to the accountant who was freaking out, saying it was too much.
“Everyone, does the current era feel peaceful to you?”
Meanwhile, there was a platform set up in the basement.
It was a humble platform, but the expression of the boy who stepped onto it was quite resolute.
“I do not think so.”
A 5th year from the Department of Academics, Marco da Materazzi.
He looked like an ordinary boy.
“Our history has never achieved peace for a single moment. The word peace is merely mobilized to rationalize hierarchy and hatred, discrimination and contempt. Peace is interpreted by the vested interests, and the subjects become complacent. They become optimistic, turning a blind eye to the dying, saying that the present era is peaceful, that there are no problems.”
Around the platform where Marco stood,
There were numerous boys and girls wearing robes.
They were either students of CIAR or laborers. Boys and girls with their own backgrounds surrounded Marco and listened intently. Marco's appearance was utterly ordinary, but the fact that he was the only noble among the boys and girls was special.
“You all must know. About what happened in the Saint-Pierre domain a while ago.”
The name of the pub and the name of the gathering,
Even though The Wounded Gunshot was supposed to be a secret meeting of boys and girls who followed anti-war and egalitarian principles, Marco was a noble.
“Professor Raphael de Arcturus died, and Fleur de Saint-Pierre, who was a student of CIAR, also departed for the underworld.”
Roberta bowed her head and listened.
Marco's point was clear. It meant that the empire's movements were unusual.
Blatant information control was taking place. The reporting on the incident in the Saint-Pierre domain was too narrow. According to rumors, a giant of fire had appeared, and the Sword Saint had appeared to confront it, but nothing was confirmed. The Papacy remained silent, and CIAR also soon became peaceful. Even though one professor had died and one student had passed away.
“At times like these, we must be vigilant.”
To grasp the trends of the era,
And to discuss to achieve true equality.
Marco said so, but,
“Well……. Knowing too much can get you hurt.”
Suddenly, a whisper was heard from beside Roberta.
“Sometimes it's better to be content with lies, you know?”
“Be quiet, Joshua oppa.”
Roberta tilted her head with a blunt expression.
She could see Joshua, who had opened a book titled ‘Mr. Derrida's Crumbled Fence’, a guide on how to tend a garden. His face was hidden by the book, so his expression couldn't be guessed, but from his tone, it was clear he was wearing a smug smile.
“What brings you here? Didn't you hate our group?”
“Hate it?”
Joshua shrugged his shoulders.
“I just judged that it had no potential. Because it was a group that started so humbly. Eight students, three laborers, ridiculously low intelligence gathering capabilities. Isn't this just a social gathering for peers? That was my opinion at the time of its formation.”
But……, he said.
Joshua muttered in a low voice.
“Marco da Materazzi. That monster has changed everything.”
Joshua was right.
The Wounded Gunshot was nothing more than a loose community. It had a goal but lacked momentum, and there was no leader to take on the core of the group. Until Marco da Materazzi joined.
“Before I knew it, the number of members has surpassed a hundred……”
It wasn't that Marco had volunteered to be the leader.
From the beginning, the members of The Wounded Gunshot were all equal. There was no hierarchy among the members, and they obsessively guarded against power that could be concentrated in one person. Above all, Marco himself refused. To act as the focal point of the group.
“They've finished preparations to arm themselves at any time, and have even started handling politically banned books.”
Everyone is ordinary. I am also ordinary.
Marco insisted so. To Joshua, it was a chilling declaration. To have organized a social club into a proper organization in less than a year, and then to call himself an ordinary member and stand at the center. Not wanting to be the focal point? Everyone is equal? Ridiculous. Joshua shook his head. The belief that he himself was just ordinary. That was the madness of Marco da Materazzi.
“Miss Sinclair, listen carefully.”
Joshua whispered to Roberta.
“This group will soon be involved in something dangerous……”
“Hello, Roberta.”
Suddenly, Joshua's mouth closed.
Marco, who had finished his speech, had approached.
“And hello, Joshua senior. It's been a while for both of you.”
“Shut up, Mr. Monster. As you know, I'm not a member here.”
Joshua strode towards Marco.
He shoved his face, hidden by the book cover, forward and opened his mouth.
“I only came to monitor you. Because I don't know when you might start a riot.”
“That's a funny thing to say. I don't have the ability to do that.”
“You do! A lot of it! I, Joshua Readmore, the genius writer of this century, can vouch for it!”
“Are you encouraging me right now? Thank you.”
Hahat, he went.
Marco laughed.
Joshua gritted his teeth and backed away. That damn squinty-eyed bastard. As he muttered so.
“Ah, um……”
In the midst of that, Roberta opened her mouth.
The members were mingling and talking amongst themselves. Voices about politics, reading, and art were in full bloom. Roberta could only let them all flow past her ears. That was why she had been absent from the meetings for a while.
“I'm sorry, Marco oppa. For not attending the meetings……”
“What are you talking about, Roberta. It's your freedom not to attend the meetings. Why are you apologizing to me? I don't have any authority in this group.”
That doesn't matter.
Whispering so, Marco bent his waist.
He met Roberta's eyes and asked in a kind tone.
“Did something happen?”
“Well……”
Roberta talked.
About Fleur. After Fleur passed away, her head had been a mess. She had encountered death too close. A murder. She still couldn't quite believe it. Monika, Demian, and Ernst were all carrying on with their lives in their own ways, but only Roberta couldn't digest the confusion.
“I see.”
Marco stroked Roberta's head.
“Come to think of it, you were in the same class as her. It must have been really tough. I've never spoken with Lady Fleur, but as a fellow student of CIAR, I am also in mourning.”
“Why do so……, many people die?”
Roberta looked up at Marco.
“It's not just Fleur unni. I know well that CIAR isn't a safe place. I've heard stories about the children of noble families who were assassinated……, and I've also heard stories about commoner students who were beaten to death by nobles. Why is everyone so desperate to kill each other?”
“I'm sorry. This isn't a problem I can explain.”
Marco whispered so, and,
“It should not be explained by anyone's mouth.”
Joshua added.
“Because not only CIAR, but the world has always been like this.”
“Senior, shall we have our discussion when it's just the two of us?”
“I just stated a fact, Mr. Monster.”
“I……, I want to know too.”
Roberta continued to talk.
About the practical evaluation. When she was briefed on the situation in Portsmouth, Roberta trembled with fear but steeled her heart. That she had to go. That she had to see that place with her own two eyes. If there were lands more dangerous than the capital, than CIAR, all over the world, Roberta believed without a doubt that she had to learn. About someone's death.
“But I can't go. Because Dad said it's dangerous……”
“Hmm……”
Marco stroked his chin.
With a troubled smile.
“Roberta, the practical evaluation is too early for a 3rd year. Usually, students start challenging it from their 4th or 5th year……”
“It's just a one or two-year difference!”
“Don't be a brat, Miss Sinclair.”
Joshua let out a sigh.
He placed a hand on Roberta's shoulder.
“In any case, the practical evaluation doesn't have much of an impact on graduation. Your father is worried about you, Miss Sinclair……”
“Joshua oppa, you should be quiet. For someone who can't even show their face.”
“If you saw my face, Miss Sinclair, you would fall in love for the first time, you know?”
“Don't be ridiculous.”
Hmph, it went.
Roberta snorted.
“Roberta, do you really want to go?”
At Marco's question, Roberta nodded.
“It will be dangerous. It's common for injuries to occur, and sometimes there are even deaths.”
“Isn't that obvious?”
It's that kind of era.
Roberta muttered so.
“That kind of era……”
Marco smiled bitterly.
Roberta was right. It was that kind of era.
The unrelenting momentum of the monsters, the existence of apostates stealthily growing their power. Magitech weapons that were becoming more powerful by the day. The aspect of conflict beginning to emerge between each race. After the Mirror War, optimism for enjoying peace had emerged, but the reason it was so quiet was probably because they had reached the eve of a storm.
“Then let's persuade him.”
Marco said, holding up his index finger.
“Let's solve it through dialogue. How about trying to persuade your father?”
“That's easier said than done. We're in a relationship where we exchange three or four words a day at most……”
Roberta pouted, and,
“There are various ways of dialogue.”
Joshua explained in a sly tone.
“Sometimes you can have a conversation with weapons too.”
“That's not an option, Joshua. Roberta and I are anti-war.”
Use your own way, Roberta.
Marco whispered so.
“There's a way of conversation you enjoy using. One that doesn't use language, and doesn't use weapons either……”
“……Your own mischievous pranks, Miss Sinclair. That too is a distinct branch of communication. And sometimes, it's even artistic.”
Hearing Marco and Joshua's words,
“──Can I really do it?”
Roberta asked with a dazed expression.
It wasn't a question of whether she could do it. It was a question of whether she was allowed to.
Marco just smiled. Joshua let out a shallow sigh. It meant he would affirm it while evading responsibility. Persuading through pranks. It sounded like a joke itself, but Roberta let out a small sigh and turned her back.
“Thank you. I'll try it.”
And so, the sound of Roberta's receding footsteps.
“……Will it be okay?”
Marco muttered with a slight smile, and,
“Are you yourself okay, Mr. Monster.”
Joshua asked, leaning his back against the wall.
“You've never spoken with Miss Saint-Pierre? Ridiculous. You can't fool my eyes. I'm the editor-in-chief of ‘Yesterday Clairvoyance’. I know every single piece of information in CIAR.”
She was someone you admired.
Miss Fleur de Saint-Pierre, I mean.
Are you really okay.
To such a question from Joshua,
“I'm fine.”
Marco replied readily.
“But can I ask you for a favor?”
You wrote about it in an article before.
Even putting together a special issue.
That Lady Fleur's supervising professor, Abel Argento, is the Sword Saint.
Is it a coincidence? There's a story going around that the Sword Saint appeared in the Saint-Pierre domain. It's highly likely to be true, even if the Papacy hasn't acknowledged it. The circumstantial evidence is clear.
So Joshua senior, will you tell me?
“──About Professor Abel Argento.”
* * *
The next day, Cia-Harphe Academy.
Just as Abel, who had arrived at his office, was about to review some documents,
Flutter, it went. A single fluttering note.
Abel picked it up and examined it.
So that's how it is, Professor Argento.
From now on, I will begin our conversation.
I will persuade him by mobilizing all my pranks.
Please take good care of me!
- Roberta Sinclair
Abel tilted his head to the side.
‘……What is this.’
Abel wondered inwardly.
What was she trying to persuade him about.
- Waaaaah! A strange face has appeared on the window!
Was it about the practical evaluation.
- Call the professor! The lab is full of toads!
- ……Our professor fainted.
Roberta had stated that she would take the practical evaluation, but it was nullified because Curtis refused. Abel had decided to respect Curtis's opinion. The practical evaluation was a curriculum that inherently involved risks, after all.
- Hey! Isn't this the work of that brat from the Department of Divinity?
- He's never been this rowdy before…….
It's noisy outside.
Thinking so, Abel sat down in his chair, and,
Thud──!
A body tumbling violently.
“……What is this.”
Abel wondered outwardly.
He blinked his eyes as he lay fallen backward.
One of the chair's legs was broken. It should have been fine until yesterday. Was it damaged during the night.
“It's a trap.”
Roberta Sinclair.
The moment Abel thought of the culprit's name,
- Robertaaaa!
The culprit's name also echoed from outside the window.