The fourth match, where Rosclay the Absolute would fight. The bracket of matchups for the Sixways Exhibition was, of course, something he had arranged himself.
Two small months before the bracket was finalized.
A meeting room in one of Aureatia's many civic assembly halls. While the facility was widely used among the citizens as well, there were few who would have imagined that there would be an important meeting that would sway government resolutions in one of its rooms.
That day, there were seven gathered in the meeting room. The primary attendant being Rosclay the Absolute.
He methodically cleared the interior of the room, placed a brand-new candle in the candlestick, and welcomed the attendants as they joined.
"Whoops. Looks like I'm the one holding things up."
The name of the mild and gentle older man was Nophtok the Crepuscule Bell, Aureatia's Eleventh Minister.
Tasked with oversight of the Order, he was also Kuze the Passing Disaster's sponsor in the Sixways Exhibition.
"Indeed, Eleventh Minister. We can get started immediately, but should we give you a short break first?"
"No, no… Don't mind me. I'm the one who's late. The excuse for my tardiness is that, hmm, I was giving bread to a child on the street, and well… No, never mind. Please, begin, Second General."
Nophtok scratched his head, looking uncomfortable, before sitting down in the empty seat.
"Well then, let me get straight to it."
An elderly man with a monocle spoke first.
A first-level instructor in the Craft Arts major, at Iznock Royal High School, Ownopellal the Bone Watcher.
In Rosclay's battles, he was in charge of Craft Arts support, generating straight swords for him.
"We're about at the point where we need to settle on a bracket. We can't postpone things much longer."
"The biggest problem is that bastard Dant sponsoring Zigita Zogi the Thousandth."
A snaggletoothed man with a wiry frame—Aureatia's Ninth General, Yaniegiz the Chisel.
The general who had been in charge of the northern front army during the Old Kingdoms' loyalists' suppression of Toghie City, along with Dant the Heath Furrow.
"He doesn't show any signs of going along with our scheme. Best to consider him completely part of the Free City of Okafu now. At the very least, he should be placed in a separate group, away from Rosclay… Either that or we could get rid of him before the match?"
"No dice. Dant's one of Her Majesty's favorites."
A tan-skinned man with dark-colored glasses. Aureatia's Twenty-Eighth Minister, Antel the Alignment.
In Rosclay's battles, he was tasked with providing Power Arts support that manipulated the trajectory of his sword.
"Looking at it a different way, Dant is keeping Okafu's forces in check. The moment he took them in, we lost our path to all-out war, as well. How then, will we dissolve Okafu under conditions that're beneficial for us and incorporate them into Aureatia? That'll be the direction going forward."
"…When all is said and done, we need to avoid the possibility of going up against any sponsors who'll give us trouble…"
A bald man, looking stern and grim—Ekirehjy the Blood Fountain, the royal family's governmental aide.
In Rosclay's battles, he was tasked with providing Life Arts support that enhanced the knight himself.
"For those with the most threatening sponsors like Mestelexil the Box of Desperate Knowledge or Mele the Horizon's Roar, let's place them away from Rosclay's side of the bracket. If we do that, then there won't be much interference in the first four matches of the bracket. We can let them have at all their schemes among each other, on their own side of the bracket."
"A different side of the bracket… If we're now talking about whether to distribute candidates into the final four matches…"
A man wearing thin glasses, with a sharp gleam in his eyes—Jel the Swift Ink.
A civil bureaucrat who first planned this Sixways Exhibition, wishing to reform Aureatia.
"Should the Order's recommended pick be placed on this side of the bracket or not. I'd like to decide on this today as it will affect the first round of the tournament."
"Hmmm, yes… Well, this is just my opinion, of course…"
Nophtok began. He was expected to fulfill his role in gathering information. Therefore, he had already sent assassins against Kuze the Passing Disaster,
working to verify the cleaner's fighting capabilities.
"I don't think the Second General should meet up against Kuze."
Much like Hidow the Clamp had done the same for Alus the Star Runner.
Nophtok the Crepuscle Bell, too, from the very start, was a sponsor trying to defeat his own candidate.
"My investigation of the past battles involving Kuze the Passing Disaster is, well…finished for the most part. If I was to sum it up in a word, then I'd say it was eerie. There's no cause behind the deaths that occur around him…"
"Wouldn't it be better to observe what he does in a fight rather than looking at past examples? Kuze isn't especially skilled himself, right?"
"Yes, yes. It's already been done."
Nophtok laid out several photos on the table.
All the photos showed the corpses of the assassins Nophtok had sent. The results of their autopsies, without exception, showed stab wounds from a short sword. One in the shoulder. One in the stomach. One in the leg.
"…As you can see. Well…save for the stomach wound, none of these are fatal spots on the body."
"And you're saying despite that…this single attack killed them all?"
"I'll say it again, if you'll allow me to offer up my own judgment… Kuze's power is exceedingly uncanny. I don't know if it's some causality beyond what the results here show, but…even without Kuze touching them himself, his foes die in a way I can only describe as spontaneous. He is likely the opponent the Second General should try the most to avoid in the first round… Therefore, I'm here to report that he isn't an opponent you can go up against for your first battle."
Kuze the Passing Disaster.
The Order's candidate had been regarded as the most suitable opponent for Rosclay to face in the first round.
Even as the reformation faction, including Rosclay, changed the status quo of
Aureatia and showed the people the Second General conquering the Order's paladin, in the early stages, it would strongly impress on the citizens the need for a new social welfare apparatus and increase the likelihood that their systematic reforms went smoothly.
Nevertheless, at the same time, Rosclay could not afford to lose. On top of that, he was nothing but a normal minia, possessing no special abilities of his own. No matter how slim the chances may have been, as long as a match carried a possibility of an "accidental death," they would do everything in their power to avoid that danger.
Rosclay meditated, his noble visage never faltering, before thanking Nophtok.
"…I understand. Thank you, Minister Nophtok. Still, this is useful information. Let's use Kuze the Passing Disaster for a different purpose, then."
"I see… What purpose would that be?" "We'll test Tu the Magic."
Rosclay signaled Jel with a look across the table, who in turn produced a thick bundle of documents.
This volume amounted to five days of records. It was clear that the person who recorded all this information had the luxury to employ a secretary with the knowledge necessary to leave behind such an enormous amount of written records.
"These are the experiment records that Minister Flinsuda has handed over as preliminary material. A very detailed record, including a study of the abilities Tu possesses, along with estimations regarding her actual combat abilities. A level of precision very much expected of Minister Flinsuda."
"So basically, she's using all of that to pitch Tu as fighting power for our cause, eh?"
Yaniegiz glanced at the documents. Though one of the Twenty-Nine Officials, he was unable to read.
"I mean, sure, why not. Easier to know how much you can trust someone if money's their only motivation."
"No… That may be a hasty conclusion, Yaniegiz." Rosclay interrupted.
"I believe it is, in fact, because she always acts for the sake of profit that we need to take painstaking precaution and investigate her thoroughly, more than others who don't. Since there's a chance she's already being bought off by someone else. Although Minister Flinsuda can prove to be a powerful
collaborator, I don't want to readily bring her over to our side. I see her as someone we wouldn't have to worry about if we make her exit in the early stages."
"Really now? But as far as I can see looking at the photographic records here, Tu the Magic is actually invincible. Hee-hee, I heard she didn't die even after getting showered in molten steel. Not someone who'll be easily killed…"
"That's right. That's precisely why we'll use Kuze the Passing Disaster." Tu the Magic, believed to invulnerable to any and all forms of attack.
In which case, what about the Kuze the Passing Disaster's own ability, which could instantly kill the opposition with methods of unknown causality?
If they set up their match on the bracket, they could turn the two candidates killing each other into an inevitability.
Rosclay spoke.
"We'll send Tu and Kuze to the later bracket. A different group from mine, and we'll have these two fight each other in as early a match as possible. If Tu the Magic survives the match, then we'll be able to see that her fighting strength is indeed as advertised. In that scenario, then will be the time that we use whatever means necessary to thoroughly bribe Flinsuda or Tu the Magic herself to our side. If we have Tu the Magic acting outside the matches as a guerilla fighter, then we can control the entire Sixways Exhibition itself."
"In which case, what will happen if Kuze the Passing Disaster wins?" Antel asked.
Rosclay continued.
"As long as there's no urgency, we'll have him continue through the rounds naturally and deal with various risk factors for us. His status as a cleaner who brings instant death also means that he's guaranteed to eliminate his opponent, even when thrown against menaces like Kiyazuna the Axle and Lucnoca the Winter."
"There may be a situation where we'll need to urgently deal with Kuze. For example, in the event that it's evident Kuze stands against Aureatia."
"…Should that time come, then it'll be the Eleventh Minister's time to act." "Yes, hmm."
Eleventh Minister Nophtok gave a flat, noncommittal response.
"If it's just about dealing with him, hmm. While Kuze may indeed be invincible, his weakness is clear as day…"
Rosclay nodded slightly. As long as they worked out a way to ultimately get Kuze the Passing Disaster out of the way, they could actually use him to proceed
with the matches, depending on how they drew up the bracket. This was yet another special privilege afforded to the tournament organizers.
It was not only the one hiring them who could make use of an assassin. "Based on that, we're faced with a different problem."
Securing victory in the first round—for Rosclay, it was the most significant problem of all.
He examined the possibilities of a second candidate he should face in his first fight.
This candidate was no exception to the others, posing some number of problems himself.
"What should we do about Jivlart the Ash Border?"
Jivlart the Ash Border—the head of the guild, Sun's Conifer, which rose up from its sham vigilante activities in Yataga Coal City. Amid the chaos of the True Demon King's era, they continued to add to their résumé without regard to the jobs they took. Then their power was recognized, and Jivlart finally achieved his debut in Aureatia as a hero candidate.
Although now their main functions were charity work and guarding the busiest sections of town, their behavior was that of a violent gang, intrinsically lacking the discipline of a proper mercenary guild.
In name recognition alone, within Aureatia, he compared favorably with any of the other Sixways Exhibition candidates. However, as for his actual abilities, he certainly didn't hold a candle to the strongest-ranked monstrosities like Alus the Star Runner, Lucnoca the Winter, and Mele the Horizon's Roar, and even when compared to those in the distinctly lower ranks of individual strength such as Rosclay the Absolute, Zeljirga the Abyss Web, and Zigita Zogi the Thousandth, he was lacking.
As Rosclay's opponent in his first round, he was the most favorable candidate of them all.
…Therefore, the apprehensions all those gathered in the meeting had about him weren't necessarily in regard to the man himself.
They were fears regarding the sponsor who stood behind him. "…The Seventh Minister. Elea the Red Tag."
Antel muttered to himself, arms crossed.
"Problem's about whether she's worth trusting. She's a conspirator who'd give the Twenty-Third Minister or the Twenty-Seventh General a run for their money. I'd like to place her far away on the bracket, if possible. Our advantage lies in being able to bring sponsors to our side as direct allies. More than the
fighting strength of a candidate, being able to place our trust in the sponsor themselves comes first and foremost.
"… If only Horizon's Roar didn't have Cayon with him, huh. If he didn't have that man as his sponsor, we could force the match to start at melee range and have a chance at winning…"
"Tsk, tsk, come now, Instructor Ekirehjy. Mele the Horizon's Roar is not as straightforward a champion as that, you know? Besides, even if we prohibited Horizon's Roar from using his characteristic fighting style, and Rosclay won, it wouldn't go over well if it was clear to the citizens what we did. I think it was a reasonable decision to avoid that."
"Rosclay. Have you considered a third possible option or further? The other remaining options are…Psianop the Inexhaustible Stagnation. Ozonezma the Capricious. Zeljirga the Abyss Web."
"Yes. First off, I think it best to avoid Zeljirga." Rosclay immediately responded to Antel's question.
"Minister Enu isn't a man who's driven by ambition, but…he has a wide network of connections, and his plans are even harder to read than Elea's. A troublesome opponent. One point is that we do not have a grace period to spare extra precautions on him… Also, regarding his candidate, Zeljirga the Abyss Web, whatever her circumstances may be, she was formerly with Obsidian Eyes. Even individually speaking, her spying and fighting abilities far and away outdo those of Jivlart's Sun's Conifer."
"Psianop, then."
"In Psianop's case, the difficulty lies in the rather high reliability of the report on Neft the Nirvana's demise. He should be disposed of in the same bracket, but I don't think there's a need to run the risk of fighting him in the first round. The remaining third option is Ozonezma… However, given that we know absolutely nothing about his true identity, in the event we're unable to get rid of him ahead of time, and we're forced into the ring, we won't be able to avoid it becoming a dangerous gamble. If we're concerned about the impression we're giving to the citizens, we want to avoid having me win by default in the first round, as well. Indeed, he would be the third-best option."
"Hmm… It seems like you've really delved into all his circumstances to make your decision. Did this for all of them, then?"
"Of course. Otherwise, someone like me wouldn't be able to advance through the tournament at all," Rosclay answered, a composed look on his face. In reality, however, everyone present knew just how much hardship the champion
had struggled through—and how many considerations he made to keep up with these monstrous candidates.
However far ahead he looked, no matter how many elaborate plans he tried to weave together…any single misjudgment along the way would make it all collapse. Because Rosclay was but a normal minia.
How was he going to distort the providence of a fixed defeat and claim victory? If he exhausted whatever nastiness he had at his disposal, could he create a sliver of possibility? This stage, before the matches started, was the only battlefield that Rosclay the Absolute could completely control himself.
"Welp, with that said and done, it sounds like fighting against Jivlart'll be the safest option."
Yaniegiz spoke up in dissatisfaction, their conclusion having looped back to where they started.
Antel continued the discussion.
"We've also been investigating the Seventeenth Minister's motives on our end. There's no real indication that there's any stratagems in play around Jivlart. Presently, there haven't been any signs that another of the Twenty-Nine have won him over to their faction, either."
"In other words, she's on her own."
Rosclay thought for a moment. He, too, knew that Elea the Red Tag was a sharp and ambitious woman.
What then, if he was to think about things from her position? If she was preparing some sort of scheme to lead a mediocre man like Jivlart to victory in the face of the powerful opponents in front of him, it still meant that the hero candidate she chose to enact this plan was Jivlart himself.
Would she be able to navigate such a tightrope all the way until victorious? At the very least, with him as her candidate, it wouldn't be possible.
"What about the idea she's prepared an alternative candidate for herself?"
If a participant drops out because of unforeseen circumstances before their match, the sponsor can select an alternative participant. Naturally however, it was not easy to find the kinds of powerful individuals who possessed the ability to fight through the Sixways Exhibition.
Antel answered. "There's no signs to suggest that possibility, either. Ever since her return from Eta Sylvan Province, the Seventeenth Minister has been spending all her time looking after Jivlart and Sun's Conifer. It's practically impossible that she could contact another powerful player while slipping through the watch of Sun's Conifer."
"Right. I have one other thing to add, regarding Miss Elea's movements. May I?"
"…Go ahead, Professor Ownopellal."
"She seems awfully devoted to the elf girl she brought back from Eta. She's
worked on making her one of Queen Sephite's schoolmates and is trying to strengthen their relationship. This might serve as a helpful piece of info, wouldn't you say?"
"How old is she?" "Fourteen."
"I see. Then that would mean…"
"…She's changed her approach to currying favor with the royal family by going through her student instead of herself…would be the long and short of it, I would say."
In which case, it was consistent with Elea's movements. She hadn't cast away her ambitions after all.
However, her methods weren't going to win the Sixways Exhibition, but ingratiate herself to the Queen and turn her into a puppet.
To the ambitious, the Sixways Exhibition was a perfect opportunity for a power struggle, but the risk was then very large. Elea was letting this opportunity pass her by because of that danger…and perhaps Rosclay needed to view this as her offering up a sure-to-be-eliminated candidate in Jivlart to Rosclay's camp—and seeking to preserve her own safety for the time being.
Rosclay brought his fingers together on top of the table.
"…If our series of conjectures prove true, it would mean Elea the Red Tag's designs are more long-term. In which case, I believe it would be correct here to enlist her as an ally. Professor Ownopellal. Have you been surveilling this elf girl's actions at school?"
"Of course, that is why I am here, after all. Incidentally, her name is Kia. She's a bit of an underperformer, academically. Though she's certainly a fun student to watch."
Elea the Red Tag hadn't joined forces with any of the other Twenty-Nine Officials.
Nor was she hiding some other powerful fighter in the shadows behind Jivlart.
So to achieve her own ambitions, she prepared herself another course to take. Rosclay's reasoning judged that she wouldn't cause a problem. In battle, he was able to stifle his emotions and act with rationality. However, minia are not
fundamentally creatures of reason. To wipe away their lingering anxieties, he would give a smaller push of assurance.
"Jel. Is Elea someone worth trusting? I want to hear your opinion." "…"
A bespeckled man, looking sharp and shrewd. The Third Minister, Jel the Swift Ink. Among the Twenty-Nine Officials, he was openly hostile toward the Seventeenth Minister and continued to warn of the danger she posed more than anyone else. He was also the bureaucrat with the most outstanding executive abilities, leading the largest government faction, the reformation faction, with Second General Rosclay.
Ever since the meeting topic touched on Elea's person, Jel had kept silent. He knew that his own remarks would end up steering the direction their meeting took.
"…Just this once, I say we trust Elea the Red Tag." "Really?"
Ekirehjy couldn't hold back his surprise. Jel continued dispassionately.
"I understand her excellence more than anyone else. Regardless of her lineage, I feel those with talent should be given an opportunity. Then, there's this Sixways Exhibition. If the day's come…where she's given a proper appraisal from us, as our ally, then the ambition propelling that woman forward may cool, as well. Beyond the simple logic, I want to gamble on that possibility."
"Understood."
Rosclay closed his eyes.
Even though he had asked the question himself, he never would have imagined Jel's answer.
Given that, however, he knew Jel was being sincere.
"Our first-round opponent will be Jivlart the Ash Border. We'll negotiate with the Seventeenth Minister and make preliminary designs on Jivlart himself, separate from Elea. Any objections to this policy?"
"No objections." "Nooope."
"None."
After confirming everyone's consensus, Rosclay adjourned the meeting.
The commonplace minia had exhausted all the potential measures available to him. When it came to the tournament bracket, Rosclay's intentions were absolute.
Standing from his seat, Rosclay thought. Each one of the others was a
peerlessly powerful fighter. Just how far would Rosclay's tactics, perfectly composed all the way to the final, hold true?
With the meeting over, the attendants began to depart one by one. "Well, well, I gotta say, your yes vote was a real shocker."
Standing up from his seat, Yaniegiz looked at Jel, still reviewing the meeting material.
"Some slight sympathy for your blood relative, perhaps?"
"…She's nothing more than a base and illegitimate little sister. My personal feelings are closer to hatred than anything."
Jel's stiff expression didn't falter at all in the face of Yaniegiz's words. He was always levelheaded and precise, like a machine.
"I will take responsibility for the resolution. No matter what."
Even when it came to the Seventeenth Minister and their shared father. It was two small months before the beginning of the Sixways Exhibition.
The fourth match in the first round was, in some senses, the quickest to start, and in some sense, the first to have its outcome decided.
The pairings in the historically large tournament to decide the hero were certainly not chosen by chance.
However, the direction that his own fate would take was something even Rosclay the Absolute could not fathom.
She had a memory from long in the past, carved deeply into her, that wouldn't disappear even now.
The window was open, and a white curtain waved in the wind. In the bed, Elea's mother was fatally ill.
Beside her, there was a doctor to announce the time of death—and that was all.
There wasn't anyone else. No one besides the young Elea.
The dinner parties her father had hosted had so many people in attendance,
and they were so lively and merry, and yet there was no one around the mother that her father must have, at some point in the past, loved.
…Even right then, as she drifted into death.
Since to her father, her mother was nothing but one of his mistresses, a prostitute from the slums chosen solely for her looks.
"…Listen, Mom."
Elea took her enfeebled mother's hand and gave her best smile.
Because she hoped her words would become the truth for her dying mother. "Mom… Um… Y-you were happy, right?"
Her mother weakly returned Elea's grip.
Memories of strict disciplining were the only ones that remained. Her father, who almost never visited their house was much, much kinder than her mother.
Learn and get educated. So no one will look down on you. Become elegant and refined. So no one will scorn you.
Every time she failed, Elea would get hit, and she would cry. Still, her mother had been lonely.
Elea knew that at night when her mother was alone in her room, she cried with far more intense grief than Elea.
The two of them had both suffered.
"E-even if Dad wasn't around the house…! We were totally fine without him, right?! Old friends came by, and you were all smiles, too, right, Mom?! And the food…the food, too. You said that those steamed eggs I made were tasty, didn't you…?! You even made that flower wreath when we went to Gimeena City! You read me books at night, too! Hey, we…we were both…we were both happy, right, Mom?!"
Wishing to keep her mother's soul from leaving her, she clenched down on her mother's hand with the strength of her wish.
She wanted to leave at least one little piece of happiness behind in her mother's head.
Elea wanted her mother to tell her that, despite her loneliness, despite being scorned by the world, the daughter she was so proud of had been her anchor.
"…Elea."
With a faint smile, her mother caressed Elea's hand.
Right now, her mother was alive. The thought was enough to make her tears spill. How could she be alive right now yet be unable to greet the next morning's dawn. And all without her father ever knowing about it.
It was too cruel.
"Mommy…can't ever be happy. Because Mommy's blood—" Her smile cut into Elea's heart and never once left her.
"—is vulgar blood."
At the end of her words, the wind blew in from the window and carried her mother's last breath away with it.
Even after she heard the doctor give his short announcement, Elea remained frozen in desperate silence.
Elea spent the whole day lost in grief, but even more than that, she was terribly afraid.
Inside the dark manor, without anyone else there, she held her head in her hands and trembled.
I am, too.
She had her mother's blood in her veins. Blood Elea herself couldn't do anything about.
I'm the daughter of vulgar blood, too! I can't find happiness, either! No…! Dying all alone, dying while despised by everyone—I…I don't want any of it! I don't want to die like that!
Elea understood the reason why her mother had been so stubborn about educating her.
She learned the reason why her mother tried to keep that nice great- grandmother away from her.
As if propelled by an obsessive compulsion, she desperately persevered. To escape from the caste of the weak, destined to die in misfortune, disregarded by all. To reach the social echelons where she could change something through her own efforts, where she could earn recognition.
Learn and get educated. So no one will look down on you. Become elegant and refined. So no one will scorn you.
I'm…I'm different from Great-grandma! I'm not like Mom! I'll become someone much, much greater, even all by myself…! I'll become a noble… An honest, and true, noble…!
Desperately sinking her teeth into it under candlelight, she studied script.
With the knowledge of written language she gained, she rummaged through several reference books, to ensure her grades excelled more than anyone else in her class.
She had ruined her eyesight in the process, but she still continued.
History. Geography. Physics. Word Arts. Finally, politics. She wasn't enough
of a genius to always take the top spots in each subject. However, she ensured she wouldn't be looked down on by anyone. She also received humiliating support from the father who had abandoned his family. With it, she was able to continue attending the same type of school the nobles attended.
One day in the evening. That day, there were only three students remaining in the classroom, included Elea.
"Hey, Elea? I heard a rumor from my dad. So apparently, your mother was a prostitute from the canal town?"
"Whaat, i-is that…true? Elea…" "..."
"Pfft, isn't that funny? I mean, such an adorable, model student, coming out of the belly of a whore. If you're a mistress's child, well, I just wonder, then, how you're making the money to attend school."
She thought she was lucky. Lucky that there were only three of them there.
Just before she returned home, Elea stuck a bottle in the bag of the girl who brought up the topic. It was a drug that generated heat with a relatively delayed chemical reaction. In the night, there was a fire at her estate, and her two young brothers and she burned alive with the rest of the family.
She felt very fortunate that she was able to save herself the trouble of having to kill the girl's father, too.
The remaining girl had been Elea's close friend, but the next day she was attacked by a thug and severely wounded.
She heard from the instructor that her face had been mercilessly crushed, and she'd likely be recuperating in a different city.
It's not enough.
Elea experienced nothing that could be called the joys of youth.
It's not just those girls, everyone's trying to kick me down! I need to be higher, high enough that no one can ever kick me back down… I don't want to experience these terrifying moments anymore! J-just how…how far do I have do strive…?!
The hearts of philanthropy or friendship were all superficial arrangements, and she considered her classmates and her instructors as enemies coming to steal her life, her pride, and anything else she had. Some sort of unidentified monster that delighted in such torment. In which case, her only choice was to eradicate them all from Elea's world.
However far she looked ahead, no matter how many elaborate plans she tried
to weave together…any single misjudgment along the way would easily bring it collapsing down.
The True Demon King was still bringing ruin to the world. However, she was constantly forced to cope with an even more imminent terror.
Thus, until the day she graduated, she had been able to remain an excellent student. Using schemes, sometimes using her pretty features, she exhausted any and all ugly means to do so. Perfect, beautiful, and free of anyone's scorn—to become a true noble.
…Then she persevered endlessly.
She remembers the events of that day. The fireplace was illuminating the room. The previous Seventeenth Minister was sitting in an armchair. Elea was watching his back.
"Seventeenth Minister."
Elea had climbed up high to her position as the Seventeenth Minister's secretary.
Even then, it still wasn't enough. The Twenty-Nine Officials, all of them, knew Elea's lineage.
Her elder brother Jel was there. She was confident that everyone viewed her with hostility and was trying to kick her back down.
How far would she have to go to escape the stain of this blood of hers? She needed to become even grander, even more important.
A beauty and light capable of concealing all the unsightliness and ugliness.
She was different from her mom. Different from her great-grandmother. Now they were nobility.
So no one would look down on her. So no one would scorn her.
"Would you relinquish your seat within the Twenty-Nine Officials to me?" At the end of the darkness, surely there'd be light…