Ascendance of a Bookworm: Part 5 Volume 12 E-Book

Miya Kazuki

• Herausgeber: J-Novel Club
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: Ascendance of a Bookworm
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 434

Beschreibung

Rozemyne fell unconscious upon completing her large-scale spell. Now it falls to Ferdinand to bring her back from the brink of death—and, with any luck, restore her lost memories. If she survives, she will set out on a new journey as Yurgenschmidt’s first underage aub and rule over the library city of Alexandria. If not, her death will mean the worst for her loved ones and the country at large.

“Let everyone... be blessed.”

This volume concludes the biblio-fantasy that refused to let dreams remain dreams. In addition to a massive amount of original content, look forward to more four-panel manga and an extended comic by You Shiina.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Cover

Color Illustrations

Characters

Prologue

Memories

A Future Chosen

Busy Days

Entwickeln

Eglantine’s Visit

Engagement Ceremony

Proclamations as the Aub

Library and Laboratory

Back to Ehrenfest

Brewing the Base Color

Aurelia’s Situation

A Mother’s Encouragement

Temple Attendants

Meeting with the Merchants

Inauguration Attire and Closing the Library

Farewell, Ehrenfest

The Morning of the Inauguration Ceremony

The Inauguration Ceremony

Epilogue

Map of Ehrenfest Duchy

Map of Yurgenschmidt

Afterword

A Comfy Life with My Family by You Shiina

Alexandria ~On a Sunny Balcony~ by You Shiina

The 4th

Ascendance of a Bookworm

Character Poll!

A Message From Miya Kazuki

A Message From You Shiina

About J-Novel Club

Copyright

Landmarks

Color Images

Table of Contents

Prologue

Though normally free of anything else, the hall containing Alexandria’s foundation now housed rows of boxes packed with magic tools and rejuvenation potions. The ancient spell about to be revived would cover the entire duchy. A dish-shaped rainbow feystone sat waiting with one of Erwaermen’s white branches stabbed into it.

“Let us begin,” Ferdinand called.

Rozemyne put both hands on the dish. It was empty at first but slowly came to resemble a water mirror as she channeled mana into it. Erwaermen’s white branch took on a rainbow hue, and a pillar of omni-elemental light shot toward the ceiling. From what Ferdinand could tell, it was being sucked into the feystones of each element orbiting the foundation.

“Ferdinand...” Rozemyne said. “This is...”

He turned his attention from the feystones to the water mirror sitting on the ground. Its surface traced the creation of the magic circle, showing first a group of nobles waving their lit schtappes above their heads, then the brightly lit Noble’s Quarter, and then the lower city.

It must be true, then—spells cast here take shape in the Mana Replenishment hall.

Indeed, their circle—and any other spells the aub cast in the foundation’s hall—grew from the castle outward. It explained why nobles of the past had never suspected that the foundation was actually located inside the temple. They would be told the truth during the Archduke Conference, and one could only imagine the chaos that would ensue.

Ferdinand drew his eyebrows into a frown. For all the troubles on the horizon, they had to focus on the present. Rozemyne needed to empty her mana reserves, else Ferdinand would not be able to dye her, and she would ultimately succumb to the divine power within her.

We have come too far to fail now.

Rozemyne no longer had a home in Ehrenfest, but it did not matter; she had obtained an entire duchy that she could shape as she pleased. Ferdinand, meanwhile, had taken advantage of a royal decree to go from being someone merely close to her to being her true family.

I will not allow the gods to toy with our lives and end our dreams before they can come true.

“Focus. The circle is not yet complete.”

They had managed to activate their spell—a mere imitation of the original used at the Royal Academy—but Ferdinand remained as tense as ever. Only time would tell whether it would actually reach completion.

The basis of their plan was sound, but they had not been able to practice. This was their only chance, and the risk of everything coming apart at the seams was far from small. Ferdinand worried that Rozemyne might collapse before she could expel the divine power rampaging through her. Maybe she would panic and drink a rejuvenation potion, and the human mana it contained would cause the ancient spell to fail. There was so much that could go wrong.

If she can endure the starvation, then Rozemyne should manage to expend the last of her mana. But even that is no guarantee.

“One of the knights just started praying!” Rozemyne exclaimed. “I guess Hartmut’s lessons went a little too far...”

Ferdinand took a moment to observe the girl peering into the water mirror. Though she remarked enthusiastically on the state of the border gates, he would not be deceived; she was a more capable noble than before and now knew exactly how to disguise her true emotions. He tried not to remember her voice or the look in her eyes when she had said she was too afraid of her mana regenerating to sleep.

Their plan would put Rozemyne on the very brink of death; even the slightest hiccup could mean her demise. Ferdinand continued to watch her while checking for the umpteenth time that everything he needed was within reach.

The gods truly are despicable.

A deep scowl creased his brow as he remembered the spiteful goddess who had put Rozemyne in these dire circumstances to begin with.

The transference ceremony had already begun when Mestionora once again descended. Ferdinand was glaring at her with as much hate as he could muster—and she, at him.

“Tell me what the gods did to Rozemyne, how to fully remove the sway of her divine power, and what means other than channeling mana into her will restore her lost memories. In return, I will give Erwaermen the antidote for the poison keeping him frozen.”

To punctuate his ultimatum, Ferdinand showed not only the antidote but also the silver tubes and daggers still on his person. He refused to cower even in the face of a goddess and would not hesitate to threaten her or continue to attack Erwaermen.

“Then have Eglantine administer the antidote while I explain.”

Determined not to let any more harm come to Erwaermen, Mestionora relinquished the information her adversary desired. She was much easier to persuade than the former god, who resembled a brick wall when it came to communication.

As it turned out, Erwaermen had thought it best for Rozemyne to become the country’s next Zent. She had reached the foundation on her own and then supplied it with mana, so he had concluded that she was as good a candidate as any.

Problems had arisen only when Erwaermen sought to welcome Mestionora back into Rozemyne’s body. The young bookworm’s charms had prevented the goddess’s return, so the gods had intervened, assaulting Rozemyne with blessings in an attempt to overcome them. But alas, the charms had not activated, and their wearer had suddenly received more divine power than a human body could endure. Only by allowing Mestionora’s descent had she managed to survive.

“Gods, what have you done...?” Ferdinand muttered. The explanation was clear but completely unacceptable. Events he had thought existed only in myths had somehow bled through into the real world.

Not even I predicted this.

Ferdinand saw the divine light seeping from Rozemyne’s body and considered it repulsive. Most attendees of the transference ceremony had gushed that she was blessed and that they envied her, but he wanted nothing more than to free her from Mestionora’s sick clutches.

“Legends say that rash blessings from the gods can sometimes be a curse...” Ferdinand mused. “To think it would apply to Rozemyne...”

“It is because the gods did not intend for this outcome that I am here,” Mestionora replied. “I can borrow the divine instruments of the primary and the supreme gods. Nobody else can manage the powers clashing within her.”

Ferdinand recalled the legends recorded in the temple and the Royal Academy. The primary and supreme gods had given Mestionora access to their divine instruments as protection against her father, Ewigeliebe, who wished to see her dead.

A goddess who, despite being a Wind subordinate, is in tune with all elements... How troublesome.

Ferdinand was overcome with misery. The legends spoke of ways to reverse curses brought about by the gods, but there was only so much he could do against an opponent as capable as Mestionora.

“As for erasing the divine power within her,” the goddess continued, “not much can be done while it remains so dominant. One could make her compatible with it by dyeing her body with the power of a stronger god, thereby easing her pain, but she would cease to be mortal as a result.”

Ferdinand swallowed the urge to snap at Mestionora and instead adopted the most genuine-seeming smile he could muster. He wanted to free Rozemyne from the gods’ blessings, not push her closer to becoming a fully divine being.

“I wish to return her mana to that of a mortal,” he emphasized.

“If you can almost fully drain her, then I suspect you could redye her with human mana. It would not be her original mana, but it would produce the desired result. You should not have any trouble dyeing her, I assume.”

Under normal circumstances, nobles only ever dyed or poured mana into their partners or members of their family. Dyeing a complete stranger was an unpleasant and outright painful experience widely considered taboo, so any regular noble would probably have balked at the goddess’s proposal.

Ferdinand, however, was no regular noble. He had grown up a feystone in the Adalgisa villa and was not averse to regulating his mana with potions and the like. Deep down, he believed that all people were fated to become feystones and that exchanges of mana were only natural.

I am not opposed to the act of redyeing Rozemyne.

Rather, he took issue with draining her mana. It was a painful process, as he had come to learn when he was stuck in Ahrensbach’s Mana Replenishment hall. He did not want to put Rozemyne through the same torture.

“Draining her mana would put her at risk of death,” Ferdinand said. “Are there any other methods we could use?”

“If you would rather not redye her all at once, then you will need to wait for her original mana to return.”

“Is that to say the divinely dyed mana will disappear with use?”

“Of course not. It will fade somewhat but regenerate alongside her normal mana. The pain she feels will persist until the last of the gods’ power disappears, and it will not be a short process, by any means. Judging by how she has responded so far, I do not believe Myne would survive. I would advise you to redye her instead.”

Ferdinand was forced to agree. The gods’ elements were clashing with one another and causing all sorts of damage to Rozemyne’s body. There was no time to waste.

Furthermore, Rozemyne is a victim of the Devouring.

To create his replica Grutrissheit, Ferdinand had needed a portion of Rozemyne’s wisdom. Only then had he learned that those with the Devouring were unusually vulnerable to other people’s mana. He had already dyed her mana organ when her clumps had put her on the verge of death, and if the gods’ mana had an even greater sway on her than that of mere mortals, there was a chance it would not fade as one would normally expect.

“You have told me how to remove the divinity from Rozemyne’s mana,” Ferdinand said. “Now, tell me how I can restore her severed memories. There are commoners among those she has forgotten. How can she ever remember them when they cannot channel mana into her?”

Mestionora crossed her arms and let her eyes wander the space around them. Was she racking her brain or simply looking for a way to evade the question? A long moment passed before she eventually replied.

“If you know someone who shares those particular memories, they could channel their mana into her. It might repair some of the connections that were severed.”

Gods could not lie—or they dared not to, for the punishment was truly severe. Nonetheless, Ferdinand could guess from Mestionora’s body language that she had omitted something important. For her to have even humored the idea, there must have existed a way for Rozemyne to remember the commoners who had once meant so much to her.

It must not be something she favors.

Ferdinand was unsure whether he had time to pinpoint whatever method the goddess was trying to hide from him—or whether he was even capable of working it out on his own—but he had already made his resolve. He would do everything in his power to help restore Rozemyne’s memories.

Rozemyne’s experiences in the lower city had shaped her into the woman she once was. Now that she no longer remembered them, her love for her family and excitement for the future seemed to have faded. She was much colder than before and, at times, came across as completely unattached.

Though she claims I am important to her, she lacks the overwhelming enthusiasm I used to find so overbearing.

Her lack of compassion had come about not naturally but because she no longer had access to her core memories. Ferdinand resented the gods for what they had done to her and would never forgive them.

I will restore her memories.

“That is quite the frown, Quinta,” Mestionora said with a cruel chuckle. “You need only make her supply the foundation. She can survive without her memories but will meet an untimely demise if you do not redye her mana.”

Supplying the foundation would allow Rozemyne to expend a lot of mana over a short period, but Ferdinand was unconvinced. She did not intend to become the Zent, and it was inconceivable that Eglantine would manage to dye over divine mana and redraw the country’s borders in time for the upcoming Archduke Conference. Not that Mestionora cared to listen.

“I separated the divine mana inside Myne into its various elements, but this is only a temporary solution. As her mana regenerates, the divine power will grow stronger, and her pain will intensify. Be quick to expend it when she returns.”

The goddess then drifted through the air and came to rest above Erwaermen’s shoulder. Eglantine must have succeeded in applying the antidote because the former god was able to move his arms again.

To save Rozemyne’s life, I suppose a compromise must be made.

Mestionora intended to have Rozemyne fill the country’s foundation by any means necessary. Ferdinand did not know how urgently she expected them to act, but he would not waste another moment. He started piecing together a rough schedule while Eglantine made a vow to the Goddess of Light and the other gods.

In an unfortunate twist, supplying the foundation was not enough to fully expend the divine power within Rozemyne. It made matters worse that the divine power regenerated at a rapid pace.

It makes no sense... Does this mean Mestionora lied to me? Or was this an outcome that not even she managed to predict?

Ferdinand considered redyeing Rozemyne as she was, but the rebound was far more intense than before. He took her hand and tried to channel mana into her only to be blown back immediately. So intense was the rejection that Rozemyne did not even notice his attempt. She really would need to be drained almost entirely before he could dye her with mortal mana.

But will that be enough?

Unable to fully cast aside his doubts, Ferdinand made arrangements for Rozemyne to drain her mana and use the divine instruments to supply her new duchy. She returned the barren land to its former splendor, and the commoners who saw her rejoiced, further cementing her reputation as the divine avatar of a goddess. They were welcome changes, but they wore Rozemyne down and did not drain as much of her mana as anticipated. She withered more by the day.

“I poured my mana into the other divine instruments, right?” Rozemyne asked. “Anyone can use them as long as they know the prayers. We could get the others to drain the instruments for me; then I could simply refill them.”

A most worrying development. Rozemyne only thought so logically when she was backed into a corner. Convinced that her mana had changed enough to make further testing worthwhile, Ferdinand gave her a drop of synchronization potion...

Only for her to protest the taste. She claimed it was awfully bitter and stung her tongue—a far cry from the sweetness she had remarked on before. She would not be able to drink liquid mana when even a simple synchronization potion went down like poison. Ferdinand could only conclude that she was far from being out of mana.

Is her stamina going to last long enough for us to drain her completely?

Rozemyne’s mana would regenerate—causing her divine power to grow and putting her through more pain—even if she did nothing but sleep. She had started resting only in short bursts as a result and was now reluctant to climb into bed.

A report from Lieseleta had explained that Rozemyne was hungry but could not eat. Assuming her hunger was the result of her largely depleted mana, Rozemyne would soon endure greater agony than she could ever imagine.

We have even less time than I expected.

As tensions rose, Rozemyne’s retinue started draining the divine instruments so that their lady could devote her full attention to replenishing them. It worked well, and she eventually lost enough mana to sense Ferdinand.

But her divine power is still much too great. I cannot sense her mana at all.

On the bright side, Rozemyne’s divine power soon dropped enough that she could stomach the synchronization potion. Holding on to that faint hope, Ferdinand concluded that he might soon be able to dye her mana.

Returning his attention to the present, Ferdinand realized that his hopes would soon be dashed. He kept a careful eye on Rozemyne as she responded to his observation.

“Mm... That sounds tough. I don’t want him to be miserable, but I plan to devote all my time to overseeing my library and reading books. Um, all my time not spent carrying out my duties, of course.” She spoke as casually as always, but she looked pale as a sheet.

Having sensed the gravity of their situation, Ferdinand went to grab a rejuvenation potion.

“We’re nearly done,” Rozemyne said, the intensity in her golden eyes screaming that she refused to restore her mana.

Ferdinand put his arm back down, his teeth gritted. No matter how much he thought she needed it, he could not force her to drink it against her will.

The water mirror went from showing Frenbeltag’s border gate to the one near Ehrenfest. Ferdinand made a few pleasant remarks in an attempt to lighten Rozemyne’s mood, but she could no longer speak; only a few labored gasps came out in response. She had stopped trying to disguise her anguish and clung to the feystone plate with trembling hands.

“Don’t worry...” Ferdinand discerned among the wheezing.

“Just a little longer, Rozemyne,” he said, trying to encourage her, but the journey from their most recent border gate back to the castle was anything but short. He glared impatiently at the dark ocean that had appeared in the water mirror.

Is the circle not yet complete? How much longer will this take?

Rozemyne’s head started to droop. Her strength was leaving her, and she found it unusually hard to keep touching the plate. Ferdinand wrapped an arm around her and rested a hand atop hers, keeping them pressed against the feystone.

“Rozemyne, lean against me if you must. Just keep your hands on the plate.”

Ferdinand continued to support Rozemyne, who was now only partially conscious, and channeled mana into her hands. He noticed some rebound, but she did not react.

Not long now!

No sooner had she slumped over, completely out of stamina, than the castle came into view. The magic circle was complete. Ferdinand channeled more mana into her hands and wasted no time chanting a prayer.

“O Goddess of Water Flutrane, bringer of healing and change. O twelve goddesses who serve by her side. Please hear my prayer and lend me your divine strength...”

In the same breath, he tried to sit Rozemyne upright so that she could drink. He reached for a nearby utensil that already contained synchronization potion and continued to pray.

“Dye the mortal realm your divine color.”

In no time at all, the water mirror turned a green hue. The large-scale spell was complete, but it was too early to celebrate; Ferdinand wrenched open Rozemyne’s mouth and put the utensil in place, allowing the synchronization potion to pour down her throat. His liquid mana would come next. Dyeing her now would prevent the divine power from regenerating with her regular mana.

Be calm. You have done this countless times before.

His every movement served a purpose as he gave Rozemyne a string of potions to consume. He seemed entirely calm—as her head doctor, he was used to medicating her while she slept—but fought an intense battle in his mind. There was far too much at stake.

Time was of the essence. Ferdinand needed to dye Rozemyne before she died of mana starvation or the divine power within her started to return. It was much easier to dye her while her mana was low, but tarrying too long before administering a rejuvenation potion would mean her demise.

Hurry. Do not pause.

Ferdinand squeezed Rozemyne’s hand and channeled more mana into her. He found it hard to breathe, and the pounding in his chest grew so loud that he could no longer measure her heartbeat. The synchronization potion must have been working because her resistance to his mana continued to weaken. He considered the time to be right and poured a rejuvenation potion down Rozemyne’s throat.

Now, I need only wait for her to regain consciousness.

Ferdinand waited, but nothing happened. Even when Rozemyne returned to having a healthy amount of mana, she remained slumped against him. Cold sweat ran down his back. His throat became so dry that it hurt to swallow.

“Rozemyne! Wake up! Rozemyne!”

Ferdinand increased the amount of mana he was pouring into her. He forced it through her system to prevent any death-induced clumps from forming. There was enough resistance to cause her pain or at least discomfort, but she remained completely motionless. Each breath she took seemed more feeble than the last, and when Ferdinand tried to check her pulse, he found it was concerningly weak.

“Were we too late...?”

They had done absolutely everything they could to remove the divine power putting Rozemyne’s life at risk. Had that still not been enough? Should he have administered the rejuvenation potion sooner? It might have made more sense to force upon her the same kind of stamina rejuvenation potion he had tossed to Gervasio. Despair and regret dug their sharp talons into his mind as his thoughts ran rampant.

But it was not over yet.

Ferdinand put a hand to Rozemyne’s mouth, checking her breathing once again. Then he looked up. How many times had he been brought to the verge of death? How many times had he thought his life was over? He had sincerely believed when he was trapped in Ahrensbach’s Mana Replenishment hall that he was going to die.

Even then, when he had completely lost the will to fight, Rozemyne had pressed on. She had done everything in her power to save him, and it stood to reason that he should do exactly the same for her. He would resort to anything—even dubious records from ancient, untrustworthy sources—to wake her up again.

The gods can have their curse back.

Ferdinand made his schtappe into a pen and continued to gaze upward. “O gods, hear my cry. The Goddess of Wisdom deceived me. Rozemyne’s divine power did not fade even after she supplied Yurgenschmidt’s foundation. Is this the outcome you desire?”

Mixing in words of resentment, Ferdinand took the most wonderful magic circle he had ever seen and drew it mirrored. It was a cruel corruption of the circle that existed only to bless others—the same one Rozemyne had once used on him.

“Rozemyne has prayed to the gods more than anyone else. She, of all people, deserves to live. If you must curse someone, then curse me instead. I shall return the blessings I received. Take back the torment you have thrust upon her and grant her the blessing she deserves.”

According to the ancient records, to break the curse of a god, one needed the blessing of a god of a superior rank. To protest a curse from a subordinate, one prayed to a primary. To protest a curse from the Eternal Five, one prayed to the supreme gods. Rozemyne’s curse had many sources, so Ferdinand prayed to all elements.

To dispel a divine curse, the victim also needed a blessing they had granted another to be freely returned to them. Ferdinand would return that which Rozemyne had given him, though it would nullify only as much as he had received.

I shall use the blessing Rozemyne gave me for her sake.

“O mighty King and Queen of the endless skies. O mighty Eternal Five who rule the mortal realm. O Goddess of Water Flutrane, O God of Fire Leidenschaft, O Goddess of Wind Schutzaria, O Goddess of Earth Geduldh, O God of Life Ewigeliebe. Hear my call and correct your mistake. I return to you the blessing I received so that a true one might be granted.”

The magic circle responded to his prayer, and the blessing he had once received from Rozemyne appeared on his body as light. It moved into the various feystones above the foundation, causing each one to shine in turn.

Ignoring the spectacle, Ferdinand picked up the memory-searching magic tools that would allow him to see straight into Rozemyne’s thoughts. He had intended to use them when she was conscious and well again but no longer saw a reason to wait. He would intertwine their mana, their memories, their minds, and their lives.

Once the tools were in place, Ferdinand touched their feystones together. Mana surged, and their minds synchronized. The rainbow light of the returned blessing drifted through the air, contained within the ivory walls of the foundation, and was slowly absorbed.

Only when the last of the light had vanished did it rain down anew, returning entirely to Rozemyne. Its faint yellow glow resembled the last blessing a certain apprentice shrine maiden bestowed upon Ferdinand, though the synchronization kept him from recognizing it.

Memories

Amid the darkness, my rousing sensation was a sweet taste in my mouth. I thought that I would need to ask Gretia to prepare some mouthwash when I suddenly noticed someone call my name from afar. It repeated again and again, eventually becoming recognizable.

“Is that you, Ferdinand...?”

“Gods. Respond quicker next time.”

His rush to complain seemed a little unfair. “I answered the moment your voice reached me. That said... I cannot see you. Are you nearby?” No matter where I turned, I appeared to be alone in the dark. Unease rose up inside of me.

“Be calm,” he said. “I used a magic tool to connect our minds and nothing more.”

“Oh, right. You were going to do that once you finished dyeing my mana. Does that mean we’re done?”

“I channeled mana into you and encountered almost no resistance. The process is not yet complete, but we could say that you are almost entirely dyed with my mana.”

That was good to hear. Being dyed with his mana meant being free from that accursed divine power and, for all intents and purposes, getting my old mana back. I realized that the sweet taste in my mouth must have been a synchronization potion.

“Rozemyne, I shall now share with you my memories about those dearest to you. We can hope only that it spurs you to remember them on your own. They are all commoners, so they cannot simply channel mana into you. Do your best to remember who they were to you, the person you were back then, and why they meant more to you than the library of an actual goddess. You must remember them.”

Ferdinand took a stern tone as though giving me an order, but something about his voice made me think he was pleading with me. He was normally so dry and monotonic that hearing the emotion in his voice made me realize his desperation.

I, too, wanted to regain my lost memories. I swore then and there that I would, no matter the cost, and then remembered that the memory tool synchronized our emotions. The last time we’d used it, I’d relived the past with more clarity than usual, but my memories and emotions had swung Ferdinand all over the place.

“This time, I’m going to experience your memories and emotions, right?” I asked.

“I am loath to do this, but yes.”

Our emotions must already have synchronized; reluctance, hesitation, and resignation crashed down on me like waves. Ferdinand really must have hated the thought of me accessing his memories. It was crude of me, but I was a little bit excited to look past his stony mask.

“Let us begin,” he said.

The black void suddenly transformed into the temple. It was like we had teleported. I could tell from the passing scenery that we were headed to the High Bishop’s chambers. Ferdinand was so much taller than me that it was actually refreshing to see things from his perspective.

“I want to look over there,” I said. Despite my best attempts to turn my head, I was restricted to seeing whatever Ferdinand was looking at.

“No. You are experiencing this memory as I once did.”

Standing in front of the door was a gray priest I didn’t recognize. Arno requested that we be allowed through, and it wasn’t long before we were in the presence of the potbellied former High Bishop. I’d once seen him as a genial old grandpa, but now I could see the nasty glint in his eyes.

“I don’t like Bezewanst, but seeing him like this is pretty nostalgic...” I mused aloud. “Oh, hey! There’s me!”

A younger version of me wearing the uniform of a Gilberta Company apprentice entered the room with a man and woman I didn’t recognize. I was so short, barely even reaching Ferdinand’s hips. He could have covered my face with his sleeves without even needing to raise his arms.

“Holy heck, I was so tiny!” I exclaimed. “Is this really how I used to look to you? Wow! Did you ever worry about accidentally stepping on me?”

“How is that your first question? Good grief... Stop fixating on your height and pay more attention to the pair who entered with you. They are your parents. Your father, Gunther, works as a soldier and guarded you in Hasse. Your mother, Effa, is your personal dyer, whom you granted the title of Renaissance.”

It suddenly occurred to me just how little I remembered about the lower city. I recalled the business deals and contracts I’d made with Benno and Mark but almost nothing about my family or actually living there.

Those are my real parents...?

I doubted Ferdinand was lying to me, but I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t have any memories to make it feel genuine. The pair stood protectively in front of me, facing down Bezewanst as he demanded that they hand me over.

“I refuse,” the man said. “Myne won’t be able to survive here as a servant.”

“That’s right,” the woman added. “Even without the Devouring, Myne is very weak and sickly. She’s the kind of child who collapses twice during a baptism ceremony and ends up bedridden for days with a fever. She wouldn’t last in the temple.”

The blood drained from my face as I braced for the worst. They were only commoners; why had they dared to oppose the High Bishop?

Do they want to be executed?!

I took in a sharp breath. Just as expected, Bezewanst was furious that mere commoners were defying him. He invited several more gray priests into the room and ordered them to capture me, saying that he’d execute anyone who tried to intervene. I suspected that was how I’d ended up in the temple; my supposed parents had done their best but ultimately conceded.

Or so I thought. In response to the High Bishop’s threat, the man declared that he would go to any length to protect me, then started punching and kicking the gray priests away. His sudden outburst shocked me so much that I took a nervous step back.

“It mattered not whether they were the High Bishop or a noble from another duchy—your father took on anyone who might put his precious daughter at risk,” Ferdinand said, his voice reverberating through my head. “Can you imagine my surprise when I first met your family?”

Truth be told, I wasn’t sure how to respond. I was used to Ferdinand keeping his emotions hidden, but here he was wearing them on his sleeve. His voice was tinged with both envy and nostalgia.

“I can,” I eventually said. “I mean, I’m surprised as well. He has no sense of self-preservation, does he?”

“More reason to believe he is your father,” Ferdinand chuckled. “I can see what inspired you to keep fighting for me even when everyone else told you to give up—to charge into Ahrensbach with the knights of Dunkelfelger at your heels.”

I thought seeing a person go ballistic would terrify anyone, but Ferdinand seemed to perceive it as a profound act of compassion. He was shocked to see two people disregard status to protect their daughter but also deeply approved of their actions.

So there are parents out there who would quite literally fight to protect their children...?

A separate scene overtook my vision, allowing me to glimpse another man and woman.

“This must be the Goddess of Time’s guidance...” said the man with a somewhat troubled expression. I thought he resembled an older, kinder-looking Sylvester.

“I suppose Glucklitat has his trials for us all...” added the woman. She had feathery blonde hair and a gentle face.

And these two are...?

I was gazing up at them, which meant I must have been looking through the eyes of a young Ferdinand. It lasted only a moment before we were back in the temple, but I couldn’t just pretend it hadn’t happened.

“Was that man the previous Aub Ehrenfest?” I asked.

“Focus on what is before you. We are here to recover your memories,” Ferdinand replied, clearly dodging the question. “You were just like Gunther, unable to merely sit by when those you cared about were in danger.”

“I don’t know about that,” I protested. “I think I’ve ‘sat by’ on many an occasion.”

As if on cue, the young me started Crushing the former High Bishop. My eyes kept changing color as if an iridescent film covered them, and a thin yellow mist appeared to radiate from my body. I was outraged and doing everything I could to protect my apparent parents.

“You’re the one who’s being ridiculous. Don’t you dare touch my mom and dad.”

Mom and Dad...

The words echoed in my mind. I used to say them all the time. An intense wave of nostalgia washed over me and made my chest ache, but even then, my memories felt distant.

Even as I watched my supposed parents challenge the High Bishop for my sake and the young me rampage for them, I couldn’t understand my own emotions. Resorting to violence made no sense. It would surely have been better for everyone if they’d just conceded and allowed the temple to take me.

It was much easier to empathize with Ferdinand’s feelings about the whole incident. He was moved to see me fight for my family despite being so tiny but also anxious that I was committing a crime I would never be able to recover from.

“I still can’t remember them...” I said. “I used to have a mom and dad—I understand that much—but the rest is still a mystery to me...” It was so frustrating that I could almost cry. No matter how much I wanted to remember these people, my mind refused to cooperate.

“Perhaps I should show you someone else,” Ferdinand replied.

In an instant, our surroundings transformed into the High Priest’s room. I was used to these chambers, but the furniture was positioned in a way I didn’t recognize. We were seated around a table with Ralph’s parents on our right, Mark and Benno on our left, and a blond boy I didn’t recognize across from us.

“Um, what are we looking at?” I asked.

“Do you remember all those present?”

“Everyone except the boy in front of us.”

“So you recognize Mark and Benno...”

Indeed, I did. I remembered selling them plant paper and asking them to prepare the tools I needed to make more.

“His name is Lutz,” Ferdinand explained. “His parents are sitting to our right.”

“I saw them only as Ralph’s parents. I guess that means Lutz was important to me...”

“Yes. He made paper when you could not, worked at Benno’s store, brought the orphans from the temple to the forest, and spread printing throughout Ehrenfest as a Gutenberg. He was your arms and legs within the printing industry—someone who, in your eyes, was equivalent to family.”

“Equivalent... to family?”

“Watch,” Ferdinand said, indicating Deid, who was clumsily searching for the right words. “You stood up for Lutz when he ran away from home, fed up that his parents were keeping him from following his dreams. Your wish at the time was to resolve his family’s problems. Had that proven futile, it was your backup plan for Benno to adopt him.”

“But why are you here?” I asked. It was bizarre to see Ferdinand involved in the problems of a commoner family.

“You were the orphanage director, but you were still too young to permit Lutz’s adoption. I agreed to provide my name in your stead. It was purely business.”

So he said, but I sensed something deeper. His experience with Myne’s family had made him want to learn more about commoner relationships in general.

As the discussion proceeded, Ferdinand intently watched Karla and Deid. Lutz’s parents spoke crudely and were largely unmannered, but it was clear to everyone just how much they loved their son. Well, to everyone except Lutz. Ferdinand envied the boy for being cherished so dearly but also felt exasperated that anyone could remain so obtuse.

Still, Ferdinand directed the conversation in such a way that Lutz’s parents could properly explain themselves. It was thanks to him that, as the meeting advanced, Lutz went from being tense to completely at ease.

“As I told you the other day, after thinking about Lutz’s abilities and my future plans for opening stores, I conclude that I would like to raise Lutz into my successor,” Benno said.

From there, the conversation turned to the potential adoption. Deid was very openly opposed to the idea.

“You’re good at running a business and I’d bet you’re a skilled merchant,” he said. “You’ve even got the heart to forgive all the trouble Lutz’s given you. But you wouldn’t be a good father.”

Ferdinand was taken aback by the appraisal. He suddenly seemed more on guard against Benno and developed an even greater interest in the familial nature of commoners.

“Please explain why you think he would not be a good father. Does Benno have a bad reputation or something of the sort?”

Deid then turned to Benno. “No matter how good at your job you are, you’re trying to adopt a kid not for his sake, but for your business. Nobody like that would be a good father. Parents can’t think about everything as pluses and minuses. Am I wrong?”

Benno wasn’t the only one who found that shocking—Ferdinand all but gasped in response. In his head, a man repeated two short phrases: “the Goddess of Time’s guidance” and “for the sake of the duchy.” I didn’t recognize the voice, but I could guess from the resignation Ferdinand was feeling that it must have been the previous Aub Ehrenfest.

Is that to say the previous aub wasn’t a good dad to Ferdinand...? I mean, he outright said that he only took Ferdinand out of the Adalgisa villa because it benefited Ehrenfest...

No one noticed Ferdinand pause as he tried to steady his breathing. We were all too focused on Deid and Benno’s exchange and Lutz’s tearful murmurs when he finally accepted just how much his parents cared about him.

“C’mon. We’re going home, you brat.”

Lutz grinned as his father gave him a light chop on the head—and once again, Ferdinand watched on in envy. In his eyes, their relationship was as dazzling as the sun. A commoner boy had enjoyed since birth a certain warmth that Ferdinand would never get to experience.

My heart ached. I’d once said to Ferdinand that the previous aub had taken him in out of necessity and that Sylvester and I needed him in much the same way. In hindsight, that must have been the last thing he had wanted to hear.

His value or whatever doesn’t matter to me. I care about him unconditionally. Does he know that?

Exhausted, Ferdinand watched as his attendants cleaned the room. He then recalled the commoner girl sitting beside him and gazed down at Myne, who was still clutching the sound-blocking magic tool as instructed.

“It appears their family will do just fine,” Ferdinand said to her. “As I recall, resolving the problem and returning Lutz home was your ideal solution.”

“Mm-hmm,” she replied. “It’s perfect.”

And then... Myne started weeping with joy. It was unsightly to laugh and cry so openly. Ferdinand warned her to stop—that she was acting like a slave to her emotions—but she simply replied that she was too delighted.

“Lutz, I’m so glad things worked out...”

Ferdinand gazed down at her. Despite not being directly involved, Myne seemed to feel all the same emotions as Lutz. I could sense how genuinely curious Ferdinand was that she felt so strongly about someone who wasn’t even related to her by blood.

I wonder what I would need to do for—

“Rozemyne! Do you remember Lutz?”

“Guh?!”

My eyes widened, and my mind went blank. I couldn’t even remember what Ferdinand was thinking.

“Sorry, uh... Come again?”

“I asked if you remember Lutz.”

“No, I don’t. But I must have cared about him deeply to have shed tears of pure joy.”

More than that, though, I now understood that Ferdinand was deeply fixated on family and parents. I was less curious about Lutz, whom I couldn’t even remember, and more interested in probing Ferdinand now that our emotions were synchronized. Saying that he was like family to me must have meant more to him than I’d ever realized.

I continued, “Perhaps because I still don’t remember this Lutz person, I’m unable to empathize with the Myne we see here.”

“Do you not remember him at all...?” Ferdinand asked. “Not even now that you have seen his face and heard him speak?”

“Not at all. Before, when I saw those people who were meant to be my parents, it felt like I nearly connected to something. But with Lutz, I don’t feel anything in particular.”

I noticed a surge of shock and concern within Ferdinand. On the one hand, he was irritated that “Lutz matters that much to her?!” On the other, he was still desperately racking his brain for memories that might help me remember.

I probably shouldn’t admit that I was too focused on Ferdinand to think about anyone else. Especially when he’s going to the trouble of showing me memories with Lutz.

“Perhaps we could try memories of your dream world,” Ferdinand said. “You might find those easier to connect with.”

I thought that was unnecessary—my memories as Urano were already intact—but he must have proposed it for a reason. I decided to humor him, wanting to know how the other world might impact his emotional state.

It’s my living room. Aah, this takes me back...

We had gone from the High Priest’s chambers to my house back on Earth—somewhere I would never be able to return to, no matter how much I desired it.

“Since we’re here, how about we seek out some books?” I said. “Let’s check my room.”

“You never took me there, so there are no relevant memories we can visit.”

“Gaaah, what a huge blunder! Fine, the library or bookstores from before will do. Just take me somewhere with books.”

“I refuse.”

I was aching to return to all the books of my Urano days. Ferdinand, meanwhile, was glad that we didn’t have access to my room, as he thought letting me read was a waste of time. His cruelty knew no bounds.

Completely ignoring my invitation to go somewhere with books, Ferdinand approached a shelf decorated with arts and crafts and pointed at one item in particular. “This was the basis of the lace hairpins you wear, was it not? I recall your explanation.”

“It is, but... Wow. I’m surprised you remember it this well, considering that you saw it only once.”

The details of that conversation were a blur to me, but Ferdinand evidently remembered them all. It must have had something to do with the way our brains were wired. I was mulling the thought when Ferdinand tensed up a little. It was strange having such direct access to his emotions; I was so used to having to watch for the slightest twitch of his brow.

“Ferdinand, is something wrong?”

“Do you remember who made the first hairpin you sold to Benno? Do you remember for whom it was made?”

“Huh?”

I dug through my memories while he patiently awaited my answer. I remembered introducing hairpins as a new product when our production of paper started to settle down. The guildmaster had wanted a new hairpin for Freida’s baptism, and the sheer amount of money I’d made had seemed absurd at the time.

But my first hairpin... I’m really not sure why I made it.

“No,” I replied.

“To my knowledge, it was for Tuuli.”

“My hairpin craftswoman?”

“I seldom have opportunities to see her, but I was present when she delivered one of your new hairpins.”

Our surroundings changed again. We were in the orphanage director’s chambers this time, for a reason that I promptly recognized.

“This was when I received Lady Eglantine’s hairpin,” I said.

“Do you recall, then, the reason you are glaring at me with such displeasure?”

“I don’t think I would even if my memories returned.”

As he said, the Rozemyne in his memories looked guarded and especially disgruntled. Ferdinand, in turn, was displeased to see her frowning at him when he was taking time out of his insanely busy schedule to check up on an order for the royal family. He vented those frustrations by reaching out and pinching her cheek until she had tears in her eyes, revealing his immature side.

He really was lashing out!

“That is Tuuli,” Ferdinand said, indicating a girl with braided green hair. I could sense his anxiety about how the other Rozemyne would react to seeing her; she had just woken up from a jureve, and two whole years had passed since their last meeting. Seeing that she was more tense than usual, he kept one hand on his hip so he could pull out a feystone the moment her emotions burst forth and she lost control of her mana.

Rozemyne locked eyes with Tuuli. A slight smile arose on her lips, and the tension seemed to drain from her body. I could see the love and compassion in the young craftswoman’s blue eyes—the same love and compassion I’d seen from my supposed parents.

I remember that warmth...

“I have humbly brought a hairpin for you as well, Lady Rozemyne.”

Tuuli had made a spring hairpin for me during my two-year slumber. Rozemyne smiled as warmly as if she had just seen a book and asked for some assistance with putting it on.

For a moment, Tuuli gazed cautiously at Ferdinand. Then she removed the hairpin Rozemyne was wearing and tenderly replaced it with the new one. Her hands were so kind and gentle as she inserted the ornament into my hair and neatened the last few errant strands.

“Does it suit me?” Rozemyne asked.

“I made it to suit you, Lady Rozemyne. It looks perfect.”

Rozemyne and Tuuli exchanged a look, then smiled. I could tell from their expressions how much they treasured the brief moment they were getting to spend together.

Aah, I don’t want this to end.

A single thought wandered through my mind, though I couldn’t tell whether it belonged to Ferdinand or me—he was as taken with the scene playing out before us as I was. It pulled at his heartstrings to see Rozemyne keep trying to reach out to her loved ones, from whom she was separated, and to see her family do everything they could to close the distance between them. It wasn’t his fault—our hands had unfortunately been tied—but he was overwhelmed with regret for having torn me from them and allowing me to lose two years of my life.

His remorse feels so extreme—like there’s an immense, immovable weight on his conscience.

I’d never expected him to feel so guilty. I wanted to tell him to relax and that he hadn’t done anything wrong... but I paused. As it stood, I didn’t have the whole picture; I could think only of all the times he’d saved me. I wondered if my opinion would change when I regained access to the memories of these people whom he claimed were my family members, so I swallowed my words of consolation and said something else instead.

“Ferdinand, do you remember why I made my first hairpin?”

“Benno told me you made it for the sake of your elder sister, Tuuli. Your entire family created it together to celebrate her baptism ceremony.”

As if on cue, our surroundings changed, and we were taken back to the High Priest’s chamber. Mark and Benno were looking straight at us.

“How is this?” Benno asked, opening a box containing the hairpin I’d worn for my noble baptism. “As requested, we used the finest thread we had access to. Hairpins of this style were first introduced when a child made one for her elder sister’s baptism and then sold the design to my store. We think it would be perfect for celebrating Lady Rozemyne’s baptism ceremony.”

“Oh...?”

Ferdinand, too, considered it an ideal present for me, as I was studying so hard to become a proper noble. He was right, of course, because I remembered crying when I’d received it. I just couldn’t remember why I’d cried.

Benno continued, “Tuuli, who has experience making hairpins for apprentice shrine maidens, worked with her mother to weave the thread, while her father carved the stick out of wood. Lady Rozemyne will surely be overjoyed to receive it.” He gave Ferdinand the same unfaltering smile he wore when he was certain of his victory.

In the blink of an eye, Benno vanished, and we were back in my old living room.

“Do you remember?” Ferdinand asked. “How you made the hairpins, I mean. Given your single-minded obsession with books, I assume you grew tired of creating such ornaments just as quickly as you gave up on embroidery. It always concerns me when you launch into a new endeavor on a whim, so your parents and elder sister must have been anxious when you proposed your hairpins. Or perhaps they gleefully cooperated from the very beginning. They are your family, after all.”

A vague memory arose in the back of my mind. I asked someone for yarn and then saw my hands start crocheting with a precisely carved crochet hook. I sensed people around me, though they appeared only as vague shapes.

“They did. Or at least, I think they did. I can see someone touching the finished petals, though I can’t make out their identity. Someone complimented my work and called it amazing... but who?”

Ferdinand must have found that promising because hope suddenly swelled in his chest. “You must be thinking of your family.” His eyes turned to a basket sitting nearby. “Perhaps you wove together as well.”

My mom from my Urano days had always rushed to start new projects and then lost interest partway through, leaving me to finish them all on my own. These figures from my commoner days, however, must have worked alongside me. I grasped at whatever fragments I could, desperately trying to remember them.

“Ink, hide glue, rinsham, candles, soap—you could never have made all these things on your own. Who nursed you back to health each time you caught a fever? Who supported you when you were too sick to go outside? You must remember the lectures you received from those who were worried about you.”

Several voices echoed through my mind.

“Come on, Myne!”

“Would you please sit still?”

“Myne, what are you doing?!”

“C’mon, let’s go!”