The King of Yore raised his head from his hands, bleary eyes gazing, despondent, at the pair of would-be cultivators. “There are regency ball gowns; evil is afoot.”
This, as might be imagined, was not an exceptionally illuminating statement, and Connor found himself no more enlightened than when first he’d arrived. “Excuse my ignorance, your majesty, but why does the presence of regency ball gowns have anything to do with the presence, or lack thereof, of evil? I happen to think they’re very fetching.”
This was true; he had seen several noble ladies wearing them, as they entered the castle, and thought the design was rather nice. It was not quite to his taste - but then, he was a phone.
Death raised both eyebrows, looking at him askance.
“What?” He asked in confusion.
“She’s telling you, lad, that however fetching they may be they are entirely inappropriate; and that is why we know there is evil afoot,” intoned the king wearily.
This was entirely incorrect - Death was staring at him like that because he’d been looking at other women - but as it segued neatly into the purpose of their visit she decided not to correct him. Instead she cleared her throat.
“Indeed. Could you tell me when first you noticed the discrepancy?”
“Hahh… it must have been last week, or perhaps two weeks ago. Ours has always been a backwards little kingdom; the architecture is the same as it was a thousand years ago, and our people are content to dress as they did when first the architecture was made. They still are, in fact, as you shall shortly discover through my terrible tale.
“Nearly a month ago I noticed the changes in the kingdom. Once surly attendants had become bright and happy; economic problems that normally required a depth of intellect to solve now solved themselves in the barmiest and most predictable manner possible; and my kingdom’s eligible bachelors - including, alas, my own son - became obsessed with secret and shadowy women, no longer speaking to the women of the court.
“Then, two weeks back, the aesthetic changes started. First it was the knights - they showed up to work wearing tens of pounds of heavy armour, with no idea of where they’d got it or when they’d put it on. In vain did I remonstrate that such armour was entirely worthless, for it would do nothing to dissuade cultivators, and offered no protection from the weapons of wild beasts - no sooner had they taken it off and returned to their regular livery then, astoundingly, they were somehow once more in the heavy armour.
“The women were afflicted shortly thereafter. The colourful dresses they once wore to such aplomb disappeared from their wardrobe; in their place, one could find only the dresses of Regency England, a land of the transmigrator long-ago. They are, to be sure, lovely dresses; but they are not our dresses, and none can account for their presence or artificial popularity.
“Also - and I admit this is entirely my personal opinion - they clash horribly with the aesthetic of the kingdom. I mean, seriously, heavy armour and regency ball gowns? In a nation of dark Gothic wonder? Who ever heard of that? Like, ew.”
Death nodded her head as she listened to the king’s tale of woe. “Have you contacted any cultivator sects?”
“One, but they were worse than useless - they sent two cultivators, and before the week was out both were in the thrall of whoever is afflicting my kingdom. Neither will speak to me now, or anyone else in the court. They have eyes only for her.”
Death’s eyes shone. Aha, she thought. They would be avoiding a mystery after all. Good - she preferred violence. “So, you know who it is?”
“No,” sighed the king wearily, shattering all her hopes and dreams. “It could be any woman in the kingdom; the men who’ve fallen for her will not speak her name, and they are circumspect in visiting her - too circumspect. All my efforts to find her have been in vain, as vain as the woman who now seeks to conquer my kingdom for her own happiness.”
And one long, slow tear streaked down his cheek.
“I do not know what to do. Perhaps it is for the best that the kingdom does go to her - kingdoms that seek to remain free from the transmigrators do not, as a rule, last long. My father and my father’s father and my father’s father’s mother and my father’s father’s mother’s uncle (the succession was a little awkward) were lucky enough to rule kingdoms of peace and prosperity, but no kingdom lasts forever.”
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Death patted the king on the shoulder. “There there. All is not lost - we can find her for you.”
“No, I couldn’t possibly ask that of you - you would meet her, and then succumb to her charms, just as-” and here the king finally looked up properly, examining the strange pair. “Wait, you’re a couple?”
Connor blushed (an impressive feat, given that he didn’t yet have blood) and went to deny the claim, but before he could Death had embraced him in a hug. She gave him an affectionate kiss on his ethereal cheek as he stood there, frozen in terror.
“Just go with it,” she hissed into his ear. To the king she was altogether more polite. “Are we a couple? Are we a couple? Why of course we’re a couple - I love this man with all my heart.”
In spite of himself Connor blushed once more.
The king’s eyes lit up, and he began to jump up and down in his chair, beaming in excitement. “Then, possibly you could- yes, I think that would work- if you were immune to her charms- yes, that will do nicely.”
Internal discussion done, he stared them straight in the eyes. “I can offer you nothing but my gratitude; but if you will save this kingdom from the vile threat awaiting it, that you shall have for eternity.”
Death swept down into a proper curtsey, her head nearing the floor. “With all our heart and mind we shall undertake the task.”
***
“Did you have to tell him we’d undertake the task ‘with all our heart and mind’? I don’t know if you noticed, but neither of us have much of either, and I feel uncomfortable lying,” Connor muttered to Death, as they prowled the hallways of the castle not half an hour. Death shrugged him off.
“Enhh, tomato tomato. He has both of ours in spirit, and it’s the spirit that counts.”
“Not true - the execution counts too.”
“‘Execution’? Who are you planning to kill? Besides the Otome Game Villainess.”
“I beg your pardon,” Connor replied, as he admired the crown moulding in the halls. “I’m afraid my language lacked an appropriate degree of precision. I meant that the enactment, or manifestation, or actualisation, or what have you, of the spirit is just as important as the spirit itself; hence any spirit we may bring is worthless without a body.”
“Which is why I’m counting on you, my body,” Death returned, manipulating his words yet again. “Now, pay attention. Do you have that technique from your System?”
“Yes,” replied Connor. Death had initially asked him if he had something called the [Yang Eyes], which was apparently a part of his Leifu Exorcistic Arts, but he hadn’t unlocked it yet. Hence they were relying on his [Geocaching] skill to carry the day and help them locate the insidious romcom protagonist. It was Rank 0, but a skill was a skill even if it was useless.
“Good. I want you to see if you can combine [Geocaching] with [Master of Exorcism]. If you can, you should be able not only to track the Otome Game Villainess, but to see auras, too.”
Connor nodded. “Makes sense. How do I do that?”
Death stopped walking six inches in the air. “How should I know?”
“Well, I only thought-”
“You thought wrong, Phone-kun. All my knowledge is about the mechanics of Systems, and that’s only from the dead. I know nothing about the experience of using a System among the living.”
Connor stopped too. He debated remonstrating with her, but frankly she had a point - he could depend on her for knowledge, but only to a point. When it came time for action he could only trust himself.
He gazed about the hallway. Frankly, this was as good a place as any - the marble hallways were quiet and empty, the gilt on the stairwells without any words to speak. None were watching them, save the silent inhabitants of the paintings.
He closed his eyes and breathed in, letting the essence of his System course through him. It fizzed and popped, and there was a vague impression of pure blue, the cold clear sky mingling with the briny sea in absolute form, its cerulean essence crashing upon him.
The four Systems floated about, inside, outside, upside down. Slowly he extended his consciousness, like the tendrils of an octopus, teasing the relevant skills out of them. These he let swirl about him, mixing like the water and the sky, commingling and mixing until a forget me not bloomed in the waters of his heart.
Ding! Congratulations, Host, for unlocking [Yang Eyes] 0.
Connor opened his eyes just as the noble lady came around the corner. All the world was a brilliant grey - bright and luminescent like a silvery twilight - all, except for her.
She was surrounded with flowers of every description, all of them in full and perfect bloom. With her passage - light and airy, a fluttering fairy over the earth - came the tinkling of music, a shalala echoing in his ears.
He knew immediately it was her. With a cry of rage he charged, and tackled the screaming woman to the ground.