123: The Sausage Skewer
A little way from the sausage stall, my sister spoke.
“That was delicious.”
“…Yes. She’s a skilled cook. You find unexpected talent in unexpected places.”
I wasn’t sure if her talent would remain ‘hidden.’
I made a mental note to remember the stall.
“I used to make those skewers, though not at that stall.”
“What?”
Another glimpse into my sister’s past, casually revealed.
She continued walking, looking up at me with a smile.
“It was… subcontracted work, I guess? Not directly commissioned, but through another subcontractor. Piecework, delivered in batches. They provided the materials and the knives… I used to do it a lot.”
She used to.
Before she met me.
“The pay was low, though.”
That was to be expected. Those grilled sausages were a commoner’s treat, street food.
The pay for someone further down the supply chain couldn’t be high.
I had wondered what they tasted like.
I knew the approximate cost of the ingredients from the business taxes. While my knowledge was mostly about Vandergant, the prices in the capital shouldn’t be that different.
But I had never considered who made the skewers.
“I was curious about what they tasted like. I thought about buying one during my free time, but I could never bring myself to do it. I always wanted to try one…”
I had felt the same way.
Curious about the taste.
Wanting to buy one during my free time.
But unable to bring myself to do it.
Longing to try one someday.
…Without the weight of her past, her memories, her longing, I had simply… indulged my curiosity.
The “back alley” wasn’t a terrible place.
While there was a lot of crime, that happened everywhere in the capital. It was a matter of proportion.
――Yes, a matter of proportion.
That district had a significantly higher concentration of poverty.
Businesses avoided the area, as there wasn’t much profit to be made from those who couldn’t even pay the poll tax, let alone business taxes.
Second- and third-rate goods, those that didn’t meet certain standards, from the capital’s markets, nearby farms, and the slaughterhouse, were sold there at low prices, creating a unique economic zone.
While some of the businesses served as fronts for criminal organizations, shutting them down would also eliminate the fragile market.
…People like my sister, working for low wages as subcontractors, or even further down the chain, as sub-subcontractors… they helped reduce the costs of the economy and infrastructure.
…They were ‘useful.’
That was how the system ‘worked.’
With a workforce that didn’t complain—couldn’t complain, or whose complaints wouldn’t be heard—and a market where second-rate goods, while cheap, could still be sold…
To some extent, every large city in every country had its poor, and most had slums.
Because the government couldn’t reach them… and because they were convenient.
Even so, mobilizing the knights and soldiers could easily eradicate them.
――But how many would die?
――Where would you draw the line?
Living in that district meant, to some extent, committing crimes.
If you were to crack down on criminals, you would have to arrest everyone.
There weren’t enough prisons. There weren’t enough resources for investigations.
Then, executions?
Even though only a few had committed crimes worthy of death?
While insignificant compared to the national army, there were also armed groups.
How far would you go?
How many would you kill?
While the difference in military strength was absolute, they weren’t a regular army. The rules of war didn’t apply.
And engaging in a fight in unfamiliar territory against those who knew the land like the back of their hand? The thought sent shivers down my spine.
Even trained knights and soldiers would suffer heavy casualties. The cost of death benefits was staggering. It was no wonder it had been postponed.
And, most importantly, they were still our citizens.
Both friend and foe.
Both killer and victim.
If it was a matter of suppressing criminal organizations, could you justify eradicating an entire district, including its residents, simply because it had grown large enough to be called a ‘town’?
…You could.
You could.
But a nation should only resort to such measures as a last resort.
The neighboring country of Ruins had burned. In ‘internal conflict.’
The resentment, the simple logic of “Why should they live in luxury while we suffer?” that led to the people rising up and sending the royal family to the guillotine… the sense of crisis and terror it etched into the continent… hadn’t faded yet.
We, who had once overthrown injustice, had forgotten how powerful such accumulated resentment could be.
Even the great founding king of Eustasia, the second king who succeeded him, and the royal family after them, couldn’t bring prosperity to all.
There were more pressing issues.
Unstable borders with neighboring countries, ravaged farmlands, underdeveloped industries. In such desperate circumstances, each nation vying for dominance, borders constantly shifting… A stable era, where we didn’t have to redraw the map of the continent every year, had finally arrived.
But by then, the “back alley” had already emerged.
Everyone had given up.
Everyone had postponed it.
One wrong move, and that district would be erased… And when that happened, it would be His Majesty who gave the order.
But it would be me who made the recommendation.
And it would be the Eustasia Knights, led by the Knight Commander, who carried it out.
What would the First Prince, the future king, think, witnessing such carnage?
What would the Chief Physician, tasked with treating the survivors, feel?
And my kind-hearted sister, who was from that district…
…It was an unpleasant future.
A future more unpleasant than my own execution.
Unlike Ruins, where we had the flimsy excuse of mediating a conflict in a neighboring country, a situation we couldn’t ignore…
Unlike then, when we had to act, using the knights’ swords and the hooves of their horses, to prevent even greater bloodshed…
…with the “back alley,” there would be no sudden crisis, no foreign interference we couldn’t openly oppose. It would simply be a matter of finally addressing a domestic issue we had been neglecting.
And when that happened, the reputation of our nation’s knights, renowned as the strongest on the continent, would be tarnished.
Instead of glory, they would earn infamy, a permanent scar.
It was an unpleasant future.
When the people lost faith in their nation, the footsteps of ruin echoed.
How many had died during the Eustasian War of Independence, now romanticized as a heroic tale?
Innocent citizens, conscripted—people who should have been allies, fighting against a common enemy—killed each other.
While history repeated itself, repeating the same mistakes was the act of a fool.
I didn’t want to be a fool.
I didn’t know what would happen to this country if the scenario of [Moonlight Liberium] deviated and the “back alley” was suppressed by force.
Our nation was a powerful one.
We had a strong knight order, numerous warrior bands, and a thriving economy.
We had the “Coldhearted Vanderwaals,” infamous throughout the continent.
…And yet?
We nobles were outnumbered by the commoners.
If their distrust and resentment couldn’t be appeased, their anger would be directed at us, the embodiment of inequality.
I wasn’t sure if I could contain it.
Whether I could erase the stain on our reputation, manipulate the information to make it seem like it was unavoidable—even with my future prediction skills, I didn’t know.
There were too many uncertainties, too many possibilities, too much complexity. I couldn’t see the future.
So, I would create a predictable scenario.
A simple game was better.
When teaching a beginner how to play a board game, you reduced the number of pieces.
You taught tactics to intermediate players.
You had advanced players develop strategies.
As long as it was a board game, all that mattered was how you played within the given parameters.
However, those who were taught such games not as mere entertainment, but as training in strategic thinking—they would try to simplify the board.
A small force overcoming a larger army? Ah, how heroic. Rewards and honors for the commanders on the ground.
――But we had to prepare an army twice the size of the enemy’s before the battle even began.
We had to equip them with superior weapons, appoint capable commanders, train skilled soldiers, and possess the national power to support them.
If you couldn’t create such an advantageous imbalance before the game even started, you hadn’t learned anything from playing the game.
Of course, simplifying the board wasn’t as easy as it sounded.
…That was why the scenario of [Moonlight Liberium] was both irritating and… a blessing.
That scenario was simple.
It presented me with a simplified version of a future that should have been chaotic and complex, neatly packaged in the format of a romance story.
When reduced to a love story, things became surprisingly simple.
There was a villain, there were problems, there were solutions—and there was a ‘protagonist’ who provided those solutions.
I had the ultimate game piece: Leticia.
If I used this piece effectively, it would be difficult to lose.
Everything else was less valuable than victory.
Duty and loyalty.
Peace for Eustasia.
I would fulfill my role.
And as a result, my sister would find happiness.
A good future.
…At the cost of the Adelheid piece.
While I would no longer be a player or a piece, permanently deprived of the opportunity to influence the game, sacrifices were inevitable in board games.
How many less valuable pieces had I sacrificed?
How many valuable pieces—pieces still less valuable than victory—had I discarded?
And I had done the same in real life.
I couldn’t change my strategy now.
It was simply my turn.
I wouldn’t say I wasn’t afraid of death, or that I didn’t mind it.
I rather enjoyed my current life, despite the heavy responsibilities, with its commensurate luxuries.
And I had gained an adorable sister.
So, I, as the villainous sister, aimed for the guillotine.
If my sister had been different from the one in the [Moonlight Liberium] scenario, if poverty had twisted her heart, if she had become arrogant and shallow, acting haughty the moment she was welcomed into the ducal family…
I wouldn’t have followed fate.
I would have scoffed at the clumsy script, discarded the scenario written by the unseen playwright.
I would have chosen to remain in the seat of power, as the head of the “Coldhearted Vanderwaals.”
But my sister was… exactly as she was in the scenario… no, even more adorable.
If she was the protagonist, that was enough.
I would handle everything else, even if it meant deviating from the script.
I would ensure the ending remained unchanged.
I wouldn’t let these amateurs, who could ruin the entire play, change the future.
Happiness for the kind younger sister.
Retribution for the cruel older sister.
I would give my sister happiness.
I wouldn’t let anyone interfere.
“Elder Sister.”
Leticia called me casually.
I casually glanced down at my sister’s face.
“I said earlier that I wanted to try those grilled sausages someday…”
She paused, her expression changing into a soft, all-encompassing smile that made my heart skip a beat.
“But what I really wanted… was to try them with Elder Sister.”
“…I see.”
Did my voice waver?
…Probably within acceptable limits. It had to be.
Leticia chuckled, saying nothing more, a happy, almost mischievous glint in her eyes—and then she gently squeezed my arm.
I used every ounce of my willpower to suppress the urge to hug her tightly.
――I aimed for the guillotine.
My objectives remained unchanged.
Objective one: The [Final Ball].
Objective two: The [Guillotine].
I would eliminate all obstacles, ensuring the future unfolded as it should.
I would give my sister happiness.
I wouldn’t let anyone interfere.
Things were mostly going well.
While the scenario wasn’t exactly proceeding smoothly… it was still, for the most part, following the general outline.
The only problem…
…was that my sister was even more adorable than in any of the routes I had seen in the game.
So incredibly adorable.
So incredibly lovable.
That… was my biggest obstacle.
