“So what do you say?” Death prompted, hands on her hips. Connor hung his head.
“…Sorry.”
Death motioned for him to clarify further. Connor coughed twice in embarrassment.
“S-sorry for tackling you to the ground for no reason.”
“Well you better be,” said the very irate noble lady, brushing her dress off for the umpteenth time. “That was an entirely inappropriate way to interrogate a suspect.”
Connor winced. Death considered him sympathetically, and decided to lighten the mood a smidge.
“Enh, it was maybe a titch too enthusiastic,” Death teased lightly, “but still, we do need to talk to her. You said you saw wreaths of flowers?”
“And heard a shalala,” Connor added helpfully.
“Neither of those are signs that she is the Otome Game Villainess, per se, merely signs that she's met the Otome Game Villainess.”
The noble lady tried to sneak away from the two crazy people talking about Otome Game Villainesses - she’d certainly know if there were weird demons in the neighbourhood (though the whole involuntary dress thing was vaguely bothering her, as were the occasional flowers she saw floating disembodied in the air) - when the weird woman slammed her hand against the wall.
It didn’t hit the wall - rather, it stopped a single half inch from the wall, in a move that would have made the philosopher Zeno a happy man - but it produced a thud all the same, and the noble lady winced at the sound.
“Now hold on just a moment, when did I say you could leave?” Death asked. She smiled politely. “I recall saying it was uncommonly rude to tackle you - highly disrespectful, you know, tackling a noble lady without her consent - and I recall saying that you were probably not the Otome Game Villainess. I also, however, recall saying that you had probably met the Otome Game Villainess; and, therefore, can provide crucial clues in isolating and destroying the real Otome Game Villainess. So start talking.”
“What is this, some sort of bad cop bad cop routine? Isn’t one of you supposed to be the good cop?” The noble lady jested, but without spirit, fear clear in her eyes.
“Nahhhh, this is the evil cop - evil cop routine, except I’m merely a normal evil and he’s a transmigrator,” and the weird woman motioned to the ethereal, slightly gelatinous figure with the glowing bones.
The noble lady started screaming and backed up hurriedly, slamming into the wall and continuing to push against it, as if she could break through it and into the next hallway. The strange creature with the incomplete body started to speak, but this prompted only another and yet louder bout of screams.
Death slammed her hand into the wall again. “Be a good lass and try to keep from pissing yourself. This is an evil cop - evil cop routine, after all - so if you’re good, and I mean very good, then Krampus need not bother you, even if you only get coal. Now, tell me, which women have you met lately?”
“Okay, okay, I’ll talk, just don’t let that thing near me,” the noble lady screeched at the top of her lungs. Said thing looked rather hurt - he’d only been standing there. (Okay, and maybe he’d slammed her to the floor not five minutes prior.)
“I’ve been very sick recently, and in the last month I’ve only been in contact with three women. One was the prince’s fiancée, that absolute hag - she’s a vicious woman, with all sorts of nasty rumours surrounding her, and they say she’s a terrible villainess.”
“I’m sure,” Death deadpanned. “I bet she kicks puppies too.”
“Oh? I hadn’t heard that before, but now that you mention it…” said the noble lady. Death rolled her eyes.
“And the other two ladies?”
“Right, right. One is the ‘saintess.’ Emphasis on those scare quotes - sure, they say she’s the saintess, and sure the goddess confirmed it herself, but frankly I think she’s a fake saintess. The way she constantly hangs around the prince, seeking to ingratiate herself to him - why, I’ve heard she’s even been seen pursuing his attendant. The attendant, of all things! What sort of noble lady in good standing would ever dare speak to an attendant? The horror!”
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
Death hooked a finger at Connor. “He’s a farmer.”
“Yes, but he’s a farmer transmigrator. They’re all despots and tyrants, and thus are basically princes in potentia.”
“If you say so. And the last lady? Is she also a hag?”
“Of course - how did you know? The last one is the witch.”
“The witch?” Connor asked. The noble lady nodded.
“Our kingdom only has one. She used to live in a small thatched hut in the wilderness, where she pursued a slow life, away from the hustle and bustle of civilisation. But then, not too long ago, the prince brought her back to the capital. There she was put up in a room in the castle at his expense, and has lived on the royal dollar ever since. Along with the prince’s fiancée and the saintess she’s one of the three women who are constantly hanging around his majesty, obsessing over him. When she’s not hanging over the shoulder of his majesty she sells poultices and powders and attends tea parties. I received a very lovely smelling salts pack from her just the other day.”
The noble lady looked about the hallway to make sure they were alone, then leaned in conspiratorially.
“Rumour says,” and here she leaned in yet closer, “that she’s been dating the prince recently.”
Death gasped melodramatically. “Oh, say it ain’t so.”
“No, it is so. At least, as per the rumours. Whether you want to believe them is of course another matter; I certainly pay no heed to such things.”
And the noble lady laughed haughtily, fanning herself with a slightly dented fan. Connor winced at the sight of his handiwork, making a mental note to send her a replacement fan later.
“But if that’s all, I'll be leaving now. I hope that’s alright,” the noble lady said sardonically, and before either of them could respond had pranced off, zooming away before she could be asked any more questions or spend any more time in the company of a transmigrator.
“So, do we trust a single word she said?” Connor asked, when they were sure she had left.
“At least three, yes. Laying aside the fascinating… details she provided on court politics, and on which I can only look askance,” Death admitted, “she likely wasn’t lying when she said she’s only been in contact with three women, and they were the fiancée, the saintess, and the witch. My soul has a sensitivity to such things.”
“Oh? Remind me not to tell you I haven’t been seeing other women, dear,” Connor quipped, and was gratified to see Death colour involuntarily. Good. If he was going to be drawn into one of these fake romance farces then at least he wouldn’t be the only one to suffer.
Death cleared her throat, trying to make it look like she’d merely been pensive. “At any rate, we now have a viable starting position. To find the truth, we need only question the fiancée, the saintess, and the witch-”
“What about me?”
The pair froze. Once more, they’d been surprised in that hallway (they really ought to have picked a place to hobnob which had less protruding - and thereby less concealing - corners).
The witch looked at them, right hand on her truly impressive hips. Her left held a box containing every variety of witchy paraphernalia - bunches and bunches of candles, piles of crystals and other enchanted rocks, random tree branches. She raised one carefully manicured eyebrow, her horn-rimmed glasses magnifying her disdain.
“Well? What about me?”
Death began coughing, bending over to hide the blush consuming her cheeks. Connor decided to take on the dreadful task of speaking to the woman, even though he would have had a negative charisma stat, were such a stat actually part of his System.
“We heard wonderful things about your healing powers and, being but humble travellers in this great kingdom, wanted to witness them ourselves.”
“Sure you did,” the witch said sardonically, tucking one strand of bright blue hair behind her ear. Her moon earrings swung from their loops. “Listen, buddy, I know a lie when I hear it. What you really want…”
Connor held his breath, terrified at being found out.
“…Is to see if I’m all that.”
Connor blinked. The witch smirked at his confusion.
“Well you’ll just have to wait some more, mr…. Well, whatever you are.”
And so saying, she walked off, striding confidently down the hall.
It took a solid three moments for Death to stop dying of laughter. When she finally did she looked at Connor expectantly.
“So, did you find out if she was the Otome Game Villainess?”
“What? How could I do that?” Connor asked in confusion.
“…With your Yang Eyes?”
“Oh, shoot.”
Connor’s Stats:
Name: Connor Crinkle (formerly known as uPhone 12 model MX0169)
Age: 22
Race: Ghost of a Demon
Occupation: Exorcist
Physiological Stats:
[Leaves] 0 [Fruit] 0
[Xylem] 1 [Phloem] 0
[Bark] 2 [Heartwood] 3
[Roots] 5
Physical Stats:
[Geocaching] 0 [Lacrosse] 1
[Pole Vaulting] 1
Other sports to be unlocked later
Master of the Leifu Exorcistic Arts:
[Master of Exorcism] 1
[Master of the Storm] 0
[Yang Eyes] 0