1

The whole wide hill overlooking the Haywell fields, as well as the narrow road leading up to it, were decorated with dozens of lanterns, showing the way to the honored guests. The servants of the house had worked long hours in the past few days to ensure that it would truly become—in the host's words—a night to remember. The secret surprise event had brought the servants some (uncalled for) extra work, in upgrading the festivities to the appropriately royal level.

Nobody counted the coin spent. Or the barrels of wine.

The Duke's banquet was officially set to begin at sunset and last through the night, but plenty of guests had already arrived while the sun still lingered above the inchoate wheat. They were those who had traveled the greatest distance and so couldn't precisely time the moment of their arrival. Their circumstances were naturally taken into account by the organizers, who ensured that the early ones weren't left to sit bored and hungry.

Izumi's carriage, however, was promptly on time.

Half a mile before the estate, Riswelze jumped off the ride, to make her stealthy approach across the northern fields, under the cover of the coming dark. The summoned earthling was then delivered to the entrance of the lion's den all alone.

According to the cover story, Izumi was to be the Baroness of Letham, Ilyene Lan Marel. Letham was a real place, apparently, suitably distant yet not entirely unknown in Grelden, and there had been a real Baron as well, who died recently without leaving a legitimate heir. While Risewelze was not a Luctretzian by birth, she had learned a great many things at her prior occupation as a tavern maid. Izumi would pose as the late baron's distant relative from the remote land of Cotlann, who had only recently moved to Luctretz to claim her inherited property.

Good grief. Who invented all these names?

Memorizing wasn't Izumi's strongest suit. And neither was acting or lying. No matter how she tried, she had a hard time getting into the right mindset. Why couldn't she be the one to infiltrate the place from outside and let Riswelze attend the party? She had suggested that, but the assassin had rejected the idea.

“The point is in discretion,” she had said. “We are to get in and get out without being discovered. Do you know how to hide your presence? Do you know how to pick locks? Can you use spells for distraction? Runes?”

Izumi had to admit her lack of field experience.

She had tried to learn lockpicking—it was an elementary RPG skill, after all—but the modern Earth locks were in a whole different league compared to their medieval predecessors, so there weren't a lot of opportunities to practice. And magic was obviously not in her repertoire.

“But does that mean you know spells?” Izumi had instead asked, surprised. “You can like, turn invisible and so on?”

“Nearly anyone can use magic, it's not particularly hard if you learn the basics,” the assassin had proudly answered. “While I can't turn completely invisible, I do know how to hide in the shadows or create illusory light or sound for a diversion. That's child's play. I know a few runes of power too.”

“Wow, really? That's impressive!” Izumi had applauded, sincerely awed. “Considering how easily I beat you, I assumed you were only like a level five rogue at best!”

“You're just too damn strong!” Riswelze had angrily retorted. “Are you telling me you've made it this far in life without learning magic of any kind?”

“No, not one bit. But hey! Why don't you—”

“No, I'm not going to teach you,” the girl had already guessed Izumi's thoughts and interrupted her. “We don't have that kind of time here. And no matter how strong you are, a platoon of knights is too much for you. Would you even be able to run away? Those jugs are absurd, they get in the way a lot, don't they…? Do you get back pains? It must be a real bother...How did they even get like that...?”

“Um, why did the conversation turn to my chest...?”

“Ahem...Either way! The plan's been made and we're going to stick to it. Just behave yourself and you’ll be fine. Even if your cover is blown, the worst is, they'll throw you out. Poor idiots always try to sneak into banquets in hopes of free food. No respectable noble would make noise over something as trivial as that. Successful party-crashing might even make you the guest of honor in some places I know. But if you're caught breaking in...that's different. Your life will be on the line.”

Recalling Riswelze's instructions now, Izumi sighed as she got off the carriage,

“What a complicated culture.”

Quite a line had formed outside the front gate, as checking everyone's invitations and verifying them on the host's lists took time.

The guests were regular-looking local men and women, husbands and wives, some perhaps as young as thirty, but the majority way older, in their fifties or perhaps even sixties. As nobles, they tended to be safe from the harms of poverty, famine, and diseases that brought the working class to an early grave. Not to mention the beasts prowling the wilderness.

All were clad in colorful, elegant costumes, made of the best materials money could buy, crafted by the most skilled of tailors. The assassin's judgment wasn't left wanting in comparison. Izumi's costume hardly stood out, in the good way or the bad, even if its wearer did in both. But whatever they thought of her as a person, nobody who noticed her arrival was left staring for long enough for it to turn awkward.

Nervously swallowing, Izumi joined the queue.

Besides her lack of real life experience with infiltration missions, there was another particularly pressing reason why Izumi wasn't very happy with her lot.

That was her inexperience with life in general.

A shut-in who had barely left her house for years, Izumi had developed something of an anxiety for social occasions.

One person was fine.

Two people were still fine.

Three people were okay-ish.

Four, five, even six in the same room was tolerable, so long as she didn't need to say anything.

But when a group's member count went above a dozen, they ceased to be “individuals” and became a “crowd”. A mass, a bizarre, malformed monstrosity, a hydra with multiple, disparate heads, accompanied by staggering noise and chaos.

The necessary prerequisite for Izumi to retain her composure, the sense of being in control of the situation, was completely lost when she could no longer keep track of the surrounding faces.

The result was—panic.

The feeling Itaka Izumi hated the most.

The feeling of being completely helpless, powerless, trapped, a child.

Half the time in her youth, she had been training to become strong enough for the other world—and half just to get rid of that terrible feeling.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

It would've been fine if the people around were “enemies”. If they were mere targets she was allowed to destroy, people who gave up their humanity by trying to kill her, people who weren't really even people, but just targets to take apart and destroy, like in a game. In that case, she could re-establish her innate sense of control again through the act of slaughter.

If only she had a weapon, everything would've been fine.

But she had none.

What's more, around her were “people”.

Untouchable, inviolable beings that had to be respected, obeyed, never offended. People, who held the one-sided power to decide her fate and because of that, had to be kept smiling at all times. Izumi's world had again turned into a social minefield, where one wrong, careless step could bring on the wrath of others.

That was the one kind of game she detested. Now, standing in line, with people ahead of her, more people coming to line up behind her, Izumi was not only locked up in a “crowd” but also engaged in the activity she equally detested—waiting.

This is fine. I am fine with this.

Doing her best to keep her nerves under control, Izumi inched forward, step after step closer to the gate as the line moved.

There's nothing to worry about. Everything's going to go well. I'm not fifteen anymore. I can go shopping by myself, mom. Just look at what the other people are doing. First, you hand over the letter of invitation, then name yourself, easy. A piece of cake. A walk in the park.

“Next, please,” a servant's voice made the line move forward again.

The man checking the names was very much your archetypal butler in appearance, a thin, older, dry-looking man in a tailcoat, his lengthy gray hair tied from behind, and circular glasses covering his small, reddened eyes.

It's just like at the airport, Izumi thought. I've never flown and it's not, but whatever. Airport. Think about airports. Flying in the sky. Hello. Pleased to meet you. This is Itaka—not! Eh? What was it again? I...Ill-something? I knew I should have written it down...

“Everything appears to be in order, Mister Delenvale. Mrs Delenvale. Please have a wonderful night.”

The couple, who were apparently called the Delenvales, stepped past the servant with a grunt.

Delenvale? That reminds me of Delaware. There's a place like that, isn't there? In America. Not that I've ever been there. Since I've never been on a plane. But when you think about Delaware, it sounds a lot like “tableware”, ufufufufu.

Realizing she was looking stupid, chuckling at her own pun, Izumi forced her poker face back on.

“Next please.”

As the line moved on, so did Izumi's pulse quicken.

Only two more, only two more, only two more, only two more. So slow, so slow, slow, slow, slow, slow, slow. Do you even know how to read, or are you just pretending? I'm going to die of old age at this rate. I mean it. It could happen. The chances of getting a cardiac arrest double every decade past the age of thirty. I read that online once.

Brigadier General Morwain and his daughter got the go-ahead without an incident as well.

“Next, please.”

Why would you bring your daughter for an avec, you old geezer? You're totally showing off there, aren't you? If I had a daughter, I wouldn't have come alone either. Which makes me realize, why exactly did I have to come alone? Couldn't Rise have found me a fake spouse too? If it were somebody handsome, he might have become a real spouse too. All sorts of things can happen when you're infiltrating an evil stronghold together. I've completely missed my chance. Yet again. Oh wait, what would it have looked like had Rise dressed up as a boy? Oh my. Oh my oh my. That is something we should've tried. Why didn't I think of that sooner!? No, we can still try it after this, for personal reference...Ohoho—

“Madam? Is something wrong?”

The servant's question brought Izumi back to her senses.

It was her turn already and everybody was looking.

“Oh!” She quickly stepped up. “It's Ita—ouch!”

“…?” The servant raised his brows.

“Sorry! I bit my tongue there, so it hurt, tehehe!” Izumi gave her a needless excuse. The servant wasn't affected by her smile, as heartwarming as it was meant to be.

“Right. Madam. Your invitation...Please?”

“Why, of course. I have it right here in my pock—Eeh? It's not? Did I lose it already? Where could it have gone?”

“Ahem...”

“Aah, right! Right! I forgot I don't have any pockets in this dress, so I stuffed it here...”

Izumi dug up the small, folded letter from her cleavage. She did have a small purse with her, but she had thought this method made the item more accessible. Of course, she hadn't intended to start searching for it in front of everyone, but discreetly pick it out before her turn. But she forgot. And as she was moving, the letter had also dug its way deeper down. The servant and the guests behind her were rapidly changing color.

“There you gooo~!” she handed over the invitation—after checking her fake identity first. “Baron Ilyene Lan Marel of Letham! Ah! I mean Baroness, of course. I'm not a guy, if that's what you're thinking!”

“...”

“Though it does sound suspicious if I say it myself. You can check if you don't believe me—”

“That...really won't be necessary, ma'am,” the servant interrupted her as Izumi was reaching for the hems of her skirt. Of course, she had only intended it as a joke, but whether he saw that or not, the butler still wasn't very amused.

“My condolences for the Baron’s passing,” he poignantly said. “May I ask, how exactly were you related to him?”

“I was his sister's youngest daughter, from the north,” Izumi explained, more or less in line with the made-up backstory. “I mean, still am, of course. Nobody else wanted the house, so I kinda ended up helping myself...”

“I find it rather hard to believe no one wanted the lands of Letham,” the servant raised his brows. Apparently, he knew more about the topic than Izumi did. “Neither have I ever heard of the “Bourbon Baron” having a sister abroad.”

“It's one of those family matters you don't spread around, okay,” Izumi said with a scolding gesture. She couldn't help but notice that the two knights guarding the gate also had their eyes on her.

“Where did you say you were from again, in the...north?” the servant repeated, looking like he wanted some elaboration.

“Yes!” Izumi only nodded with a smile.

“Well,” the butler said after a heavy pause, examining his book and Izumi's letter once more, “everything does appear to be in order. Your...excellency. But, I hope I'm not being rude, but should there not be a Baron with you as well?”

“Eeh? He died, didn't he?” Izumi tilted her head and answered.

“...I meant, your husband. The new Baron,” the servant clarified, clearing his throat. “Did he not move with you from...er, north? Should he not be attending together with your excellency? His name is not even among the invited, which seems a little strange to me.”

“Well, he died too!” Izumi answered. “On the way here. From the north. Yes! Nobody told you? Asking such a thing of a poor, lonely widow…How, how naughty of you…!”

“Ah, my apologies,” the man hurried to say, “I have been too rude. You must be in the midst of mourning then, considering the old Baron was only buried last month and it can't have been any longer since your journey to Luctretz. Are you sure it is fine to be attending banquets, at a time like this…?”

It was a custom common in Luctretz and Langoria for a widow to go into mourning for ninety days following the death of a spouse or a close relative, and not attend any festivities during that time. It was nothing like a law and frequently broken among the rich in particular, but openly behaving in such a carefree fashion was still frowned upon by the common people.

Of course, there was no way Izumi could know about it.

“That's right!” she said. “It's to forget my sorrows that I'm here! Is there something wrong with that? Or do you want to keep rubbing my loss in my face like this all night, in front of everybody?”

“O-of course not,” the servant quickly responded. “My apologies again. Who am I to judge? You have the Duke's invitation, and that is all that matters to me. Please, go on ahead and have a...pleasant evening, madam.”

Apparently deeming there was less trouble in letting the lone woman go than causing a scene at the gates by turning her away, the servant let Izumi pass. The line kept building up, after all.

“Thanks a bunch,” Izumi said and walked triumphantly through the gates.

Regardless of the fashion of her entry, she was in, and surely the end justified the means.