Turmoil (1)

The Count of Bermont stared silently into the distance. The figures of the two men who had vanished into the darkness quickly melded into the night, making it difficult to trace their tracks. He blew a whistle to summon them and turned to look at the nearby Viscount Lopez. The Count declared,

"I need to deal with those men."

Viscount Lopez widened his eyes in surprise and asked, 

"What? Yes?"

"The whereabout of the corpse is one thing, but based on their behaviour, I have a feeling they will attempt to achieve something great. They aren't just common thieves. We must kill them to ease our minds."

The Count slowly turned his head.

"Therefore, my brother."

Snap!

He snapped his fingers, and one of the henchmen's bodies stirred ominously.

"I've already figured out that you're lying. So it's better for you to come clean about everything—about those men, all of it. Otherwise, I'll have no choice but to resort to other methods."

Viscount Lopez took a deep breath, but even that caught in his throat, making a strangled sound. The heavy air surrounding him felt like a threat and torture all on its own. Unknowingly, he found himself stumbling backward, sitting down hard. The Count watched him with the eyes of someone observing a worthless object and commanded,

"Speak. If you don't, things won't end well for you."

Again, snap!

It opened its mouth wide.

***

The Count's henchmen relentlessly pursued us, and we temporarily navigated through the complex underground passages, winding around until we circled back to the outskirts of the city and returned to the safe haven of the inn. After the sprint and the less-than-pleasant scuffle, I felt a slight exhaustion wash over me, and the dryness in my throat made it sting. I opened the inn door and stumbled inside, flopping down heavily into a chair.

I couldn't say it was a complete loss, considering I now knew that "he" intended to use the body of Leovald as a vessel. Curious about what the original owner of the body might think about this situation, I glanced to the side. My ragged breaths began to calm. Before I knew it, Leonardo's expression was also lost in thought. I approached him and lightly tapped the back of his hand.

"Let's go down for a bit."

Leonardo nodded in agreement. We quietly made our way to the basement. After opening the door to the storeroom, we went inside, and at the very back, apart from the outside commotion, we found the coffin resting peacefully.

Leovald's body was still there. The soulless form appeared serene. So there's someone who aims to possess this body? I casually reached out and tapped the coffin. The body that housed his spirit stared back at me with a stiff expression. After a long silence, Leonardo finally spoke up.

"…What do you think about cremating him?"

That was something I had never considered before. My surprise came out in an astonished voice.

"What?"

Leonardo's face was unusually calm as he looked down at his own body as if it were a worthless object. He didn't seem like someone gazing at their own flesh.

He stated flatly, "If there's a chance of being used by those unknown entities, it might be better to dispose of it entirely."

"Wait, if we do that—"

Look at this perfectly intact body. No matter how I thought about it, it seemed likely that Leonardo would eventually reclaim Leovald's body in the future. Burning it here would be a huge mistake, especially since we still had no idea what was coming next. I believed this was Leonardo's personal choice, not the intention of the narrative. The goals of the protagonist and the direction of the story could diverge, after all.

Damn it. I still didn't have the next scenario notes. I decided to hold him back, at least until those notes or some kind of guidance arrived.

"There must be another way. If they're trying to take the body, we could use that to our advantage… and isn't it disrespectful to the dead?"

"If it were Leovald, he would prefer to disappear from this world rather than have his body exploited."

It was hard to argue against that coming from him. But still, the innkeeper, who was unaware of such circumstances, held an infinite respect and trust for Leovald. In the end, I had very few options left to play.

"How do you know that? You speak as if you are Sir Leovald yourself."

Is "the best defence is a good offence" an appropriate phrase for this situation? Only then did Leonardo flinch slightly, and his demeanour softened a bit. I was starting to get used to the idea of pressing his buttons whenever he seemed to lose his humanity and let his guard down. However, what I had overlooked was that Leonardo had also learned quite a bit about me during this time.

"I want to ask you, then."

His gaze burned with intensity, as if it were hot enough to melt rock.

"You always evade my questions, but why? Why does Leovald mean so much to you? Why are you so determined to protect him?"

Leonardo took a step closer. Within his eyes, curiosity, suspicion, and doubt were tightly compressed. The sentences that followed flowed out as if he had been holding them at the tip of his tongue for a long time.

"Is it just because he saved this city? At that time, Leovald was only fifteen and played a partial role. People love to create heroes and embellish stories. But during the erosion crisis in Sinistra ten years ago, many others also contributed. Did it really have to be Leovald?"

Leonardo stepped even closer.

"Everything about you is full of questions. I asked people, but no one seems to know when this inn was built. They just say it's always been here, as if it appeared naturally. When I asked others about you, they just gave me confused looks."

So you've been investigating me, have you?

"You act as if you know everything, bestowing kindness on your own terms. You always stand apart, pretending to know it all. Sometimes I wonder if you already know my secrets. But I know nothing about you. Don't you think that's unfair?"

At that moment, words flashed before my eyes.

[They pointed out the discrepancies in the world of the story—]

Through the translucent window and the arrangement of letters, Leonardo's face suddenly emerged. He stared at me and asked, 

"Who are you? Why is it that I don't even know your name?"

My breath caught in my chest.

'My name?'

It's only natural that I can't have one. An extra, a minor role. In a world that distinguishes between supporting and leading characters, I have not been granted a name. But yes, that's the rule of the stage. It should have been permissible to reveal my name somewhere in these lines. Yet I could not say it.

In the month I spent with Leonardo, I never once defined who I was. I didn't know my name. Strangely, no matter what I did, I couldn't remember it. It felt as if every part where my name should have been called, used, or engraved in all the scenes of my life had been scraped away.

"That's…"

I couldn't tell him. Because I didn't know myself. Wasn't there a pseudonym? Even if I tried to come up with one, for some reason, my mouth wouldn't open. The moment I spoke another name, I felt a strange sensation that my previous life and memories would gradually fade away and distance themselves from me.

That's what a role is. Living a different life on stage under another name. When an actor steps onto the stage, they melt themselves into the mold of their character. Regardless of how it appears, in that moment, the individual merges with the role and experiences the bizarre sensation of becoming someone else. And this place is a world based on the stage.

When I stepped onto the stage under a different name, forgetting my original name, I was gripped by a strange anxiety that I might forget who I was before the role. Because of that, I kept everything unspoken. Everyone in the world of the play accepted this naturally. No one introduced themselves to me. No one asked me anything. I was always defined simply as the owner, innkeeper, or simply "you."

But Leonardo says that it isn't so. His deep grey eyes stared intently at me. He stepped closer, standing so near that our noses nearly touched. In a rough, hoarse whisper, his voice, scratched from running, came out softly.

"I'm curious about you."

[Scenario weight 15.50%]

That could have been an expression of camaraderie, but his eyes conveyed something entirely different. In those eyes, which had slaughtered monsters in the depths, there was an unrelenting turbulence. A kind of thirst mixed with a patience that had worn thin and become fragile like a thread. His gaze felt like it was dissecting me, pressing down with an intensity that was suffocating. The heat of his breath brushed against my skin, and my heart raced loudly in response, the blood surging through my veins. I took a deep breath, struggling to regain my composure.

In this moment, I had to continue playing my role. It shouldn't be difficult. I just needed to pretend to enjoy the protagonist's curiosity as he clung to a mere extra, just as I had done until now. My mouth felt dry as I prepared my lines.

Suddenly, the sound of the door upstairs creaked open. It was the light footsteps of a child. Being underground, the sound seemed even clearer. I instinctively looked up to see a small, ragged boy.

His voice was choked with emotion as he cried out, "Some man took Vittorio away!"

[Waiting time expired! A new scenario note has been assigned!]