Advancement (2)

In the Imperial Palace, the officials were, of course, learning Go—one might even say they tried desperately to master it. In the Empire, the Empress's favor was nothing short of divine grace and honor, and Go, despite her legendary lethargy, was the one pastime that genuinely held her interest.

"Let the match begin," Sophien declared.

Therefore, the officials observed the match with tense expressions, aware that the opponent was none other than Professor Deculein—the only one deemed worthy to challenge Sophien on the Go board.

"Have you readied yourself?" Sophien inquired.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Deculein replied, nodding without a hint of tension or doubt.

Sophien extended the bowl of stones to him. The Empress played black, and the professor, white. Each drew their stones, and the two players locked eyes.

"Referee," Sophien called.

"Yes, Your Majesty," replied the elderly man in traditional robes as he stepped forward.

The man's name was Aldo, a Go master from the Archipelago, who could provide commentary and record each move of the match.

"I am Aldo, acting as the interim referee today. Now, let us begin the third match in the best-of-five series between Her Majesty, Empress Sophien, and Professor Deculein," Aldo announced, his eyes gleaming with interest as he glanced from Sophien to Deculein, signaling the start of the match.

Tap—!

As the match commenced, Sophien opened by placing her black stone on the lower left star point, while Deculein responded with white on the upper right. Black moved next to the small star in the lower right, and white followed to the upper left. Although the opening moves were simple, the audience watched in rapt silence.

"… Indeed, it seems Professor Deculein stands as a worthy match for Her Majesty."

"They are evenly matched—quite remarkable, indeed."

"Just look at Her Majesty's focused expression. It is truly remarkable—such pride it brings to witness how she has blossomed into herself…"

While the officials watched in admiration, Romelock and the senior ministers observed Deculein's skill with thinly veiled discontent.

Tap—!

"Your Majesty," Deculein said, breaking the silence.

Sophien lifted her head, and her eyes locked firmly onto Deculein.

Meeting her frigid stare, Deculein asked, "What compels Your Majesty to invest so deeply in the game of Go?"

Then, he placed the thirtieth stone on the board.

Sophien felt a prickle of annoyance, suspecting he was only trying to break her focus, but she answered, "Because, if nothing else, it provides me with some entertainment."

Tap—!

With her thirty-first move, Sophien made a strike that skillfully pressed into the gap in the upper right corner.

Tap.

"Is that so," Deculein murmured, deftly countering her move.

This man—his moves had such an effortless lightness to them. Has he always played with such ease? Sophien thought, her brows twitching.

It wasn't just a matter of his stance or gestures. While he still possessed the demeanor of a sage, his presence now radiated an effortless calm, a quiet strength running through him like a steady, unbroken stream.

"And what drives you to ask such a question?" Sophien remarked, setting down the thirty-third stone.

"Because witnessing such passion in Your Majesty is nothing short of inspiring."

"… Enough with the bullshit; shut your mouth."

Deculein sat in focused silence, absorbed in the Go board. Across from him, Sophien placed each stone with measured precision, analyzing every move as though tracing the flow of all possible outcomes. Slowly, the black and white stones on the board arranged themselves, gathering their strength for the clash ahead.

By the time they arrived at the 54th move…

"I am now confident, Your Majesty, that you will now channel that passion into guiding the Empire, broadening its influence, and furthering your own wisdom," Deculein said.

Sophien found his words disturbing. Though she held a slight edge over Deculein, the lead was as fragile as a thread; a single misstep could shift the balance of the game. It felt like treading on thin ice, but Sophien refused to admit it—even the faintest hint of struggle was something she wouldn't allow herself to show.

Therefore, Sophien replied with a calm edge, "You arrogant fool. Do you really think you're fit to lecture me about passion? Very well. Since you're so intent on offering needless remarks, I'll ask you a question in return."

Sophien looked at Deculein with eyes as sharp as a blade's edge, but Deculein did not waver, meeting her fierce stare without the slightest flinch.

"Professor, you are aware of who attempted to poison me in the past."

A single breath carried the weight of her words, and a cold silence settled over the room. Deculein and Sophien locked eyes across the Go board, as if it were a wall between them. Both remained composed, while the officials caught in the charged silence were a sight to behold.

Gasp— Gasp—

From the moment Sophien spoke her shocking words, the officials' faces went ashen, frozen like startled toads. Their eyes widened as if ready to pop, breaths caught in their throats, gasping and choking as though on the edge of collapse. An endless silence settled thickly over the room—until it was broken by the soft click of a stone.

Tap—

The white stone's 86th move sent a ripple across the board, as gentle as a disturbance in still water. However, Sophien's attention was elsewhere, her eyes drifting away from the Go board.

With her focus fixed on Deculein, Sophien continued, "That poison left me with nothing but the gift of ennui and lethargy."

Sophien's voice flowed steadily, devoid of even the slightest tremor or hint of emotion.

"But in the end, I decided it was far too tiresome to continue wasting my time searching—"

Deculein stared silently at Sophien for a moment and then remarked, "Your Majesty, perhaps it would be best to turn your attention back to the Go board."

"What?"

The tone was one of pure arrogance and reckless boldness. Sophien felt a twist of fury deep inside her at being interrupted, but she eventually looked down at the Go board. As her crimson eyes traced the intricate arrangement of stones, a flicker of shock surfaced in them.

A single move. Deculein's white stone struck the board, breaking the delicate balance between black and white. Every thought vanished from her mind. Her hand, still holding a stone, began to tremble. It felt as though the whole world had dissolved around her. Lost in a fog of disbelief, Sophien's eyes blankly lingered on the Go board.

"This…"

A sudden shift in the board's balance rippled through it, so intricate that it defied her understanding. Deculein's 86th move—a masterstroke she had never envisioned—broke the delicate surface they had been treading, like a crack spreading across thin ice.

Subtle tremors swept across the board, crawling over every line and stone like the first stirrings of a storm. Sophien felt tension coil tightly in her throat—a sensation unlike anything she had ever experienced.

However, she had no reason for concern. Her experience told her that Deculein lacked the skill to navigate a match to its endgame. For reasons unknown, he was prone to falter in the endgame. All she needed to do was remain composed and respond with patience; soon enough, his weaknesses would reveal themselves.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Like drops of sweat, each Go stone fell onto the board, one by one. In a single moment, the balance of power shifted. Black, once holding a slight advantage, was now forced into a desperate chase after the white stones. However, even in the face of inevitable ruin, Sophien refused to surrender.

She blocked every possible path, defended the front line, and sought every chance to turn the tide with traps of her own making. She played every move within her reach. The match was not over yet; surely, a path to victory remained hidden somewhere on the board. In Go, there was no such thing as an inevitable loss—and she had not yet been defeated.

However…

Tap, Tap, Tap—

The once-gentle cadence of the Go stones, murmuring like whispers of a forgotten melody, fell into sudden silence. Sophien's hand stilled in the air, suspended as if caught by the weight of the moment. The white stones she failed to capture formed an invulnerable group, claiming dominion over the center of the board.

Grit.

Sophien clenched her teeth, her eyes sliding upward. In her cold, unfeeling stare, Deculein was all she could see. Her lips twisted as a fire ignited deep within her chest, though she willed all her strength to remain unshaken.

"Begin the count," Sophien commanded.

"By a margin of two and a half points, Your Majesty, I have won the match," Deculein replied.

Sophien's eyes rested on Deculein, the frosted stillness within them—once as implacable as eternal ice—beginning to tremble as if on the verge of shattering.

"… Ha," Sophien murmured, a faint, trembling breath escaped her violet lips.

"My apologies, Your Majesty. It seems I have honed my skills a bit further," Deculein said.

Sophien's face revealed nothing, but in her mind, she heard a sharp crack—something deep within her broke.

"This—"

Sophien's hand slipped beneath the Go board, and at once, the entire board trembled, resonating with a deep, ceaseless vibration. Deculein watched her in calm silence, his eyes fixed and unblinking, as if carved from stone.

"Is fucking— bullshit—"

Crash—!

The Empress hurled the Go board high into the air. It shot up like a rocket, embedding itself in the ceiling. Shattered pieces scattered as countless stones rained down, drifting gently like a snowfall of black and white.

***

"Were you greatly upset?" I asked, once thirty minutes had passed and Sophien had finally regained her composure.

She leaned back in her chair without a word. We were once again in the Hall of Learning within the Imperial Palace.

"Your Majesty."

"… I did consider the chance of losing. But actually experiencing defeat—it brought up a rather strange feeling," Sophien murmured, pressing her fingers to her temple, a rare hint of self-mockery in her voice.

"Still, your 86th and 107th moves were remarkable. As for your irritating comments beforehand—they continue to grate on my nerves, though I must admit, it was partly my own fault for falling into your psychological tricks."

A slight smile crossed my lips.

"What is it that brings that smile to your lips?" Sophien said, her eyes sharp as daggers, piercing through me. "You're making me want to crack your skull open."

"Only relieved," I replied, setting a stone on the board as I replayed the match.

Sophien glanced at the move and asked, "And what, exactly, do you find so relieving?"

"Because what Your Majesty experienced just now was not anger."

"… You arrogant fool. By what right do you presume to name my emotions?"

I shook my head. The feeling that stirred in Sophien as she overturned the Go board was far from anger. No, it was something else—something essential, something she needed now more than ever, the rekindling of ambition.

"It was not anger, but a burning desire for victory, Your Majesty."

Sophien fell silent, her eyes narrowing to sharp slits, her lips pressed tightly, and her brows arched in a storm of silent irritation. She regarded me with open disdain, clicking her tongue and twisting her mouth in a silent expression of annoyance. Without another word, she turned her attention back to the game records.

"Let us convene for another match in a month's time. I assure you, I will not be defeated next time."

"As do I. Indeed, I mean to widen the margin."

"Enough of your boasting—now, get lost."

"Yes, Your Majesty," I replied, rising to my feet. I observed Sophien as she pored over the game records, intent on mastering her defeat. With a measured step back, I withdrew in silence.

Two months was far too short to persuade the continent, but more than enough to carve my will into its very fabric. As I traveled across nearly the entire land, it occurred to me that persuasion was unnecessary. There was no need to explain the workings of a lighter to apes; simply placing it in their hands would be enough.

The weight of intimidation, the image of a villain—these were powerful tools in moments like this. I applied steady pressure on those unwilling to heed my predictions.

With Empress Sophien's full support, I had countless means at my disposal, including patrols carried out by the Elite Guards, edicts issued directly from the Imperial Palace, and even subtle threats backed by Yukline's financial influence.

"Professor! At this rate, the entire territory is on the verge of bankruptcy. I implore you—please, reconsider…"

As a result, a procession of troublesome nobles showed up at my doorstep. Although I had forced their hand in order to secure the survival of their own lands, these lords and aristocrats arrived, pleading for me to save them instead.

I stared at the nobleman standing on my doorstep and said, "Gehan, was it?"

"Yes, Professor. The strain on our family's resources has become nearly unbearable—"

"Bankruptcy is better than collapse. Redirect your squandered wealth toward something worthwhile."

"… Ah."

Today alone, thirteen provincial lords have arrived at my estate, each a vermin who has left even the most basic defenses of their lands in disrepair.

"Professor! I implore you—please, I'll do whatever it takes—"

"Leave," I commanded, using Telekinesis to push the man back as I strode out of the mansion.

A car stood waiting in the garden, and through the open window, I caught a glimpse of a familiar face.

"You're here?" Yeriel said.

I opened the door and settled into the seat beside her.

"Are you aware that you've become everyone's worst nightmare lately? You're practically a grim reaper."

"Ignore it," I replied.

"… Hmph. So, you're really going to Rekordak?" Yeriel said with a shrug, a slight pout crossing her face.

"The decision has already been made."

"But still~ you know~ that woman's there," Yeriel said, her words slowly trailing off as her teeth clenched and a low growl escaped.

I turned to her, curiosity suddenly stirring within me, and asked, "Why do you hold such hatred for Yulie?"

Yeriel bit her lip, crossing her arms with a quiet grumble, and said, "… When I began university, I was left entirely alone. Someone had to dash off to watch a knight's tournament instead."

"So it's jealousy, then."

"It's not!" Yeriel shrieked.

I nodded, reclining into the seat as I opened a book.

"… Hey, you know."

As I turned the page, Yeriel watched me, glancing up now and then with a cautious, uncertain look, then she asked, "Did you hate me back then?"

Could Deculein have really hated her? … No, he must have felt bitter disdain—perhaps even a profound sense of revulsion, I thought as I heard her voice.

"Yeriel," I said, resting my hand on her head as the leather of my glove brushed her hair.

Yeriel looked up at me, her face filled with confusion. I met her eyes—those soft eyes, so unlike Deculein's—and softly replied, "I feel no hatred toward you."

Yeriel became a statue, her breath barely a whisper as she sat motionless in her seat. Then, with a swift movement, she pointed toward the window.

"Get off here! We're here already!"

I turned to follow her glance and saw that we had arrived at the station.

"Very well."

Ren stepped out ahead, smoothly circling to open my door.

As I stepped out of the car, Yeriel said, "I'll take good care of Hadecaine. … After all, it is our territory."

I looked at her with quiet intensity. Though she cleared her throat, a hint of embarrassment in the air, something about her felt slightly off.

"Yeriel."

"W-what?"

"Enough with the cautious tone and clipped words—you have no permission to act as if you're my equal."

Thud—!

I closed the car door. Through the window, I could see Yeriel staring back, a look of disbelief on her face.

"Ren. You may drive away."

"Yes, sir," Ren replied.

After sending the car on its way, I made my way onto the platform. The first thing that caught my eye was a trio gathered in quiet conversation—Allen, Drent, and Epherene, their heads close together as they exchanged words.

"Here. Trust me on this—one of these four companies is bound to take off," Epherene said.

"Do they? Their names all sound alike to me, though," Allen replied.

"And how would you know? How much did you invest, Leaf?" Drent asked.

"I've put a thousand elne into each one. I'll keep investing my salary like this every month. Once we're back from the next business trip, my profits will double, maybe even triple. And in three years? A hundredfold. These merchant companies will be the bedrock of our future fortune," Epherene declared, her voice stirring them with fierce confidence.

Clack—

I deliberately stepped on the ground with a heavy footfall, drawing all three heads toward me.

"Oh, Professor, you've arrived!"

"Hello, Professor."

"You are here, Professor."

They each greeted me in their own way as I glanced over their clothing. Allen and Drent were dressed appropriately, but Epherene's outfit was absolutely outrageous.

"Epherene, do you think of yourself as a knight?"

"Sorry?"

In typical practice, mages wore flowing robes. When entering dangerous places, they might instead choose leather armor, specially enchanted for protection. However, Epherene stood clad in full chain mail—a jangling mesh of interlocking metal links, completely useless for a mage. Iron armor did nothing but dull magic, sapping its potency rather than enhancing it.

"Oh, this? I heard there are a lot of birds of prey around Rekordak, so I thought—ahh!"

With a touch of Telekinesis, I dismantled her armor, piece by piece.

"No, please! That cost me a fortuneeee—!"

***

Meanwhile, at the entrance of Rekordak, Yulie stood with the warden, a retinue of knights, and Ihelm by her side, all waiting for the arrival of an expected guest.

"How much longer are we waiting? It's cold enough to kill out here," Ihelm grumbled, his annoyance cutting through the cold air.

Yulie glanced his way, then turned her attention back to the distant horizon.

Clop, clop— Clop, clop—

The faint sound of hooves echoed in the distance, carried by the wind alongside Deculein's familiar scent. Yulie clenched her teeth, sensing his approach.

"… Ah, there he comes!" announced one of the Imperial knights, gesturing toward the distant horizon.

Two horses thundered across the plain, Deculein leading with effortless command, his posture in the saddle flawless, as if it were straight out of a textbook.

"Professor is certainly a picture of… ahem," murmured one of the nameless knights, glancing briefly at Yulie before clearing his throat.

Yulie showed no reaction, giving no sign of a response.

Clop, clop— Clop, clop—

The hoofbeats intensified, and the air grew colder, frost crystallizing with each breath. Unconsciously, Yulie's mana slipped out, spreading an icy stillness through the air.

"It's freezing out here! I can barely stand it!" Ihelm grumbled, pulling his thick robe and coat tighter around himself.

The horses slowed their pace, and at last, Deculein drew closer.

"It is an honor to be in your presence, Professor!" the Imperial knights declared, moving forward and offering respectful bows.

Deculein gave a slight nod in acknowledgment before dismounting, with his assistants following his lead.

"Hey, Deculein, Leaf—it's been a while, hasn't it?" Ihelm greeted, his teeth chattering against the bitter cold.

Epherene sharply turned her head away, while Yulie simply stared at Deculein in silence. She couldn't bring herself to speak, not even the simplest, most formal words. Had she known how to curse, she might have let loose a torrent of them. But Yulie had never allowed profanity to pass her lips, and she knew she never would—not now, nor ever.

"Hmm."

However, in contrast, Deculein surveyed the barren expanse of Rekordak with composure. The bleak winter landscape stretched before him, a harsh emptiness that clashed entirely with his refined, noble presence.

"From there to there," Deculein said, his hand sweeping toward the coniferous edge of Rekordak. "Cut down the forest and build quarters separate from the rest. I have no desire to share space with vermin like those prisoners."

"Oh, that's such a great idea—"

"Rekordak is Freyden's property," Yulie interjected, her voice steady as a still lake now that business was at hand. "You cannot simply clear the forest; it serves as a natural shield, and the villagers rely on it for their livelihoods—"

"I knew exactly what your response would be," Deculein said, his eyes narrowing with cold, cutting intensity as they fell upon Yulie.

Yulie held his stare without flinching, the tension between them drawn tight like a bowstring. After a long, tense moment, Deculein finally turned to his assistant and said, "Allen."

"Yes, Professor," Allen replied, stepping forward and handing Yulie the document.

Without taking her eyes off Deculein, Yulie took the document from Allen's outstretched hand.

"Review it yourself."

At his words, she looked down at the paper, her focus lingering on the text, her eyes fixed for a long moment.

Freyden-Yukline Agreement

By mutual consent, Zeit, Head of Freyden, transfers to Deculein, Lord of Yukline, a 51% stake in the rights and responsibilities for the management of the Rekordak Concentration Camp.

In consideration, Yukline shall remit payment of 30 million elne to Freyden. Henceforth, all direct ownership and administrative duties of Rekordak will be vested in Deculein or a representative of his selection.

In summary, Deculein had acquired Rekordak—a barren land purchased for the astounding sum of thirty million elne—leaving Yulie completely at a loss for words.

"Rekordak is now under my control. I thought it wise to inform you ahead of time, as it may prove difficult to manage," Deculein said, his eyes scanning the desolate terrain.

The winter sky hung pale and gray over the towering evergreens and impenetrable walls of Rekordak, casting a somber weight over the landscape. The imperial knights stood quietly, captivated by the scene's austere beauty.

"There will be no particular adjustments, and the current structure will remain unchanged."

Soon, his attention returned to Yulie, and a strange wave of helplessness welled up within her. She tightened her grip on the document, her eyes fixed upon it.

"Start by cutting down the forest," Deculein commanded. "Put the prisoners to work for the labor."

"Yes, sir!" the knights replied in unison as Deculein strode past Yulie, not sparing her a single glance.

Yulie remained still, her thoughts drifting far away, until a light touch on her shoulder gently pulled her back to reality.

"The document, please… It's an important contract," Allen, Deculein's assistant, prompted.

"Oh, yes, of course. My apologies—here it is," Yulie responded, a touch of surprise in her widened eyes as she handed it over with a polite nod.

"Oh, no need to apologize~ You'd better get going too, Knight—it's freezing out here!"

"… That's quite all right. Please, go on ahead."

"Sorry? Ah—right away!" Allen answered with a warm smile, hurrying to catch up with Deculein.

Yulie, however, remained behind, watching their figures fade into the distance.

Whoosh—

A biting wind swept through her hair, sending strands flying in wild disarray.