Chapter 24 - Attack

Aiden had more or less known for some time that Dame Noel collected liquor. Her office alone was decorated with all sorts of it. He had never heard that she enjoyed drinking herself into this state, though.

"What brings you to my roommm?"

The remarkable thing was that she still retained enough reason to hold a conversation. Perched on the edge of her bed, she swished the liquor in her glass and smiled—a gentleness unimaginable in her usual demeanor.

'She gets kind of cute when she's drunk.'

Normally, she was so exacting about every little thing that rigid would be a fair description. With that stiffness softened, she seemed all the brighter by contrast.

"Um..."

The moment Aiden opened his mouth, she set a glass down in front of him, cutting him off.

CLACK!

Then she poured in a generous stream of liquor that smelled potent enough on its own.

"Have a drink, Aiden?"

"... I'll pass."

"Aww, whyyy!"

"..."

Correction. Perhaps she didn't get cute, but simply became an absolutely awful drunk. Was this the backlash from living like a textbook model soldier?

Still, she didn't push him any further, instead tossing back the entire glass she'd poured for him. That, too, seemed like her. A fundamentally gentle, kind person who never crossed the line. A good soul made of pure responsibility.

"Has everything been all right, yesterday and todayyy?"

"... Sorry?"

"I'm the one who brought you here, Aiden... so I'm responsible for you, aren't I? If anything happens, you must tell meee."

... Even the things she said while completely plastered fit that description.

"Dame Noel."

"Yesss?"

"Why on earth do people call you the Butcher?"

That was why he couldn't help genuinely wondering. How had she acquired such a thoroughly ill-fitting slur?

... Dame Noel froze.

'It is a rude question.'

Come to think of it, the prince had used that name to pressure her at the banquet, and Katya had deployed it to really get under her skin. There was no doubt that merely hearing it upset her. But if a question would be rude however he phrased it, Aiden preferred to ask outright.

"..."

After sitting stiff and motionless for a long while, Dame Noel finally spoke in a thick voice.

"... Because I killed the most people on the battlefield."

"Isn't that an honor for a soldier?"

"Because I killed anyone."

"..."

"Anyone who took up a weapon and meant to keep fighting... no matter who..."

Noel trailed off and poured herself another drink. ... He could guess what she had left unsaid. He could picture it.

The Coalition War had been a total war of historic proportions, with every nation on the continent staking its survival on the fighting. Humanity and morality were the first things a desperate nation forgot when defeat loomed. It was all too obvious what such countries would have done to hold out even a little longer.

Conscripts sent out without proper training. People who had once held books and tools rather than weapons. Hadn't some countries even conscripted boys?

"..."

As a knight on the battlefield, Noel must have cut them all down.

The Lionhearted. An honorific bestowed on the knight who always stood at the very front of the battlefield and shattered enemy lines. But another way to look at it was that she had butchered human beings better than anyone else.

The slur that changed her demeanor every time she heard it—Butcher—must have felt like someone digging into that wound and rubbing salt in it. He could understand her drinking herself senseless like this. Every time she heard that word, the things she wanted to forget, the nightmares gathering dust in a corner of her memory, would all come rushing at her.

"The longer a battle goes on..."

Noel poured another stream of liquor. Aiden's gaze fixed on her fingertips.

"The more people die..."

Her hand was trembling. She seemed barely able to hold it steady. Her face had gone white, and the corners of her eyes kept twitching. She had held herself together through all that drinking, yet this subject seemed to leave her struggling even to stay upright.

"... If everyone was afraid of me, at least more of them would surrender..."

The Lionhearted. A valiant butcher of human beings. A slaughterer who killed anyone who came at her.

"If I charged in first, killed the most people, ended the battle a little sooner, I could save even a few lives..."

Noel rambled on, clearly unaware of what she was saying. Her hand wouldn't stop shaking, as though she'd developed a tremor. The alcohol streaming into her glass gave off a raw, nauseatingly pungent smell.

"I, w-well, what I mean—"

"Yes."

Just before the liquor overflowed, Aiden caught her wrist.

"I understand."

"..."

Noel blinked blankly.

"You've been through so much."

Regardless of her reaction, Aiden continued calmly.

"I don't think this is a conversation to have when you can barely think straight, so I'll keep this brief."

As the prince had said before, Noel might have done terrible things amid the war. He also understood that some incident had involved the prince and the Lord Protector, who was her teacher. Even so, there was only one conclusion Aiden could draw from her intentions and actions.

"You've been through so much."

"..."

"That's all I can say."

Noel stared at Aiden with wide eyes for a long time. A long, long time. As though something in her mind had cleared.

"... Thank you."

The reply came in a deeply embarrassed voice. Then—

"No, wait—"

Before Aiden could stop her, Noel emptied the glass of hard liquor straight down her throat. It was as though she found the delicate mood utterly unbearable and had resolved to switch off her own consciousness...

"..."

Apparently that really was the final blow. Aiden sighed as Noel flopped onto the bed as if she'd passed out.

"Aiden... I'll protect youuu..."

As she mumbled in her sleep, Aiden quietly pulled a blanket over her.

"Good grief."

Katya was blatantly immature, while this woman's problem was being far too hard on herself. Aiden looked around.

'... I'd better clean up for her.'

That was probably essential if he wanted to preserve her usual image.

▣

-System Message

▶ You have handled the Side Quest wisely.

▶ Target 'Noel Astria Seamus's affection increases.

▶ Bond increases from Level 5 to Level 6.

▶ You may copy 1 additional skill!

▶ Sufficient Bond has accumulated. Weaver of Fate's application will change soon!

The one saving grace was that even a drunken conversation seemed to have helped Noel feel considerably better.

'... Three copies from Dame Noel alone.'

He hadn't had any reason to use his skill copies lately, and he'd already accumulated three. Add two from Katya, the one unused copy from the prince, and the still-locked Skill Shop, and he certainly had plenty of room left to grow.

'With this much...'

He could consider the necessary "ingredients" for the upcoming Act 1, Ghost Knight Disturbance, more or less assembled. His "cooking skills"—that is, his combat technique—were still woefully inadequate. Still, there were encouraging signs of improvement on that front as well.

"You're dying a little less, huh?"

Meyer lowered his sword as he spoke. His voice was remarkably cheerful for someone who had just split Aiden in two.

"Only around eighty deaths today, wasn't it?"

"..."

"I haven't seen many people improve this quickly in just a few days."

Sprawled on the ground, Aiden glared at him in silence.

'This is ridiculous.'

He genuinely couldn't do anything against this man. He tried boosting his physical abilities with pure-white energy, threatening Meyer with divinity, and even using dharmic power to escape, but none of it worked.

Meyer tore through his energy like cardboard, scattered his divinity like a campfire, and never even gave him time to concentrate on wielding dharmic power. He closed in and cut Aiden in half. Aiden died, died, and died again.

Everything about Meyer screamed that he wasn't fighting seriously, which made it almost impossible to comprehend how he could pull this shit off.

"..."

The funny thing was, Meyer wasn't lying about Aiden's improvement. He really had died over a hundred times on the first day. And Aiden knew exactly why he was improving.

-System Message

▶ Skill: Analysis takes effect.

▶ Target 'Meyer Belford's combat techniques are on par with this skill's level. School analysis is impossible!

▶ A function for analyzing the opponent's 'weaknesses' is added to the skill instead.

▶ Efficient countermeasures are learned automatically.

Since Analysis itself was a skill he'd taken from Meyer, he couldn't learn the man's School outright, but he was at least steadily picking up ways to counter him. It felt as though responses to each situation were being etched into his body automatically.

And since he died if he didn't immediately put them into practice, the learning process felt spectacularly efficient. Even with all those benefits, though, the gap between them was so overwhelming that he kept losing his head.

As he reflected on that, the two halves of his body knit back together. However he died in the Mindscape, his body quickly restored itself like this. The first time, he'd found it shudderingly repulsive. After dying dozens to hundreds of times over the past few days, he was getting fairly used to it.

"... But even for training, do I really need to feel every sensation this vividly?"

Every single death was horrifically vivid. Being sliced in two by a sword, burned by divinity, burst apart by energy, or riddled with holes by dharmic power—each brought pain as vivid as if it were really happening.

"You do."

Meyer's answer was firm.

"Let me tell you something, rookie. Do you know why I became a great knight whose name went down in history?"

"What?"

"Because I put myself through training that was more fucking brutal than actual combat."

"..."

"I honed every last part of myself through that hellish training, and now I'm personally teaching you one-on-one. Don't complain. There's a reason for all of it."

... Well, sure. The argument made sense. But wasn't Aiden simply suffering right now? It still felt like all he did was get cleaved in two by Meyer, over and over.

"I'm not just being nice when I say you've improved a lot."

"What?"

"Trust me. You could probably pull your weight even if a fight broke out right now."

"... Based on what?"

What sort of training consisted of getting chopped apart by this man without properly learning a thing?

"Right, that's the key."

The words came casually, as though Meyer had read his thoughts.

"You've died in every conceivable way over the last few days, haven't you?"

"Right?"

"Think of it as earning that many extra lives."

"..."

"You can look at me like you don't believe me, but I have nothing else to tell you. It's true."

"It just feels like I'm being tortured...?"

"No."

Meyer gave a faint grin.

"It's not just torture. It's worthwhile torture."

... So even this bastard admitted it was torture.

▣

Naturally, spending every night like that invited comments such as this:

"Aiden. Are you sleeping properly at night?"

Dame Noel asked the question with concern in her office. Anyone would be worried by how much more haggard he looked with each passing day.

"... Yes. Somehow."

"If anything is making you uncomfortable, please tell me. I'll do whatever I can to improve it."

"... I'm all right."

Unfortunately, no one could help him with this. However well he understood that he wouldn't actually die, and that the sensations were artificial, going through that repeatedly couldn't possibly be good for his mental health. His body was fine, but his mind felt pushed to its limits every day. Like it was shriveling up.

Apparently dissatisfied with his answer, Noel pursed her lips and studied him. He forced a smile to reassure her, and she shook her head.

They held each other's gaze for a moment. Then, as if she wanted to say something now that they were talking, Noel hesitated before speaking.

"Aiden."

"Yes?"

She chewed her lip, stealing glances at him to gauge his mood.

"You came to my room when I was drunk, didn't you?"

"Yes?"

"Did I do anything rude?"

"..."

"... I've been told for years that I'm a dreadful drunk."

From the way she spoke, she apparently remembered nothing of what had happened. Was that fortunate or unfortunate?

'Well...'

Could he call it rude? She had certainly shown him several sides of herself he would never normally see.

"... No."

Scratching his cheek, Aiden honestly voiced the impression that came to mind. She seemed terribly worried, so he intended to put it as kindly as possible.

"If anything, I'd say you were cute."

"..."

"Dame Noel?"

"..."

"Dame Noel...?"

"..."

No answer. Her lips stubbornly pressed shut, Dame Noel merely tugged her cap down and turned toward her desk. But try as she might, she couldn't hide the flush reaching all the way to the tips of her ears.

"Aiden."

After remaining silent like that for some time, Noel glared at him with something like reproach.

"That's forbidden."

"..."

"Please refrain from saying things like that."

"... Did it upset you?"

"No, but it's forbidden."

"..."

"To be precise, I liked it, but don't do it anyway."

Why was it forbidden? ... Though honestly admitting she'd liked it was very much like her.

'She's weaker to compliments than I thought.'

It had to be rare for someone in her position to be so vulnerable to praise. The more he uncovered about her, the more peculiarities he found...

"Aiden! Dame Noel!"

Before he could explore that thought any further, the office door burst open. It was Stella, looking far more frantic than usual.

"Dame Stella? What's the—"

"Her Highness Katya is missing!"

Aiden shot out of his seat in alarm.