Appraisal.

A unique skill in this world.

Yes, that was what the not-a-ghost voice has said when I was just born as a baby in Accardi. That ancient and strange idiom with low-toned and rhythmical sounding words was nothing more than the common language of Namör Continent’s Southeast Region. That’s the reason I couldn’t comprehend anything.

Coming to a new world and immediately understanding the language, humpf, that was a privilege just someone as the protagonist could possess.

However, even if I haven’t understand it at that time, that small and still rational part of my brain had memorized all of those sounds, knowing it was somewhat important. And then, later, I could decode what it truly meant.

Well, what to say about it...

> You have earned the title [World’s Designer].

> [World’s Designer] description:

>

> As Accardi’s creator, enjoy a new life as an omniscient ‘non-player character’ (NPC).

> Conditions met. The title [World’s Designer] unlocked the Unique Skill {Appraisal}.

> You have earned the name Mary.

> You have earned the new identity .

> New identity interacted with title [World’s Designer]. Modifications made. Adapted [World’s Designer] description:

>

> As Accardi’s creator, enjoy your new life as a village girl ‘non-player character’ (NPC).

So the voice had said. If there was more, I was already unconscious by then.

I have thought about it for a long time. For some reason, I’m not able to use appraisal on myself and see my own stats window. However, whatever this voice truly represents, it knows about my previous life.

And more. It knows about my specific role regarding this world’s construction. Enjoy your new life as a village girl NPC. To be accurate, in the novel, ‘Mary, daughter of Zet’ is a pretty important character. True, she dies at the beginning of the story, but she keeps living in Kaito’s mind and heart. She is the protagonist’s great shadow and guilty and what drives him to his peak. Therefore, from the novel perspective, Mary can’t be said to be a NPC at all.

But, in a game’s conception, ‘the village girl working at the inn’ personage can be interpreted as such. 

So, even if this Accardi dwells inside the novel’s universe, the voice gave me a title according to my contribution to the game’s settings. After all, the map, the basic background, the countries and cities’ names, they are all mine to claim.

Also, an interesting choice of words. ‘Omniscient non-player character’. In the game, a player does not have access to another’s player info, but as its creator, I do. Information that made me omniscient like the Appraisal skill. And as the game’s programmer, I was also the one who designed the NPC’s settled behaviors and actions. So, we can also say I am the only one capable of controlling a non-player character.

This title was hand-crafted for me. 

In ATWCG (Accardi, The World of Chaos and Glory), the game’s software had a pre-designed set of titles that would be awarded to players who fulfilled determined conditions. Usually, the one who received a title would either 1) gain a new skill related to the title; 2) level up an already existent skill related to the title; 3) improve a stat related to the title or 4) improve an affinity related to the title.

Say all you want to, but I’m certain that from the titles I’ve devised, none of them was called [World’s Designer].

And neither [Protector of the Fluffy], for all that matters.

I kept staring at Dak with a probing gaze. He was just two years older than me, nothing more than a 15, soon 16 years old brat, but he was standing tall like a three almost two meters high. Just one of those overdeveloped arms was as tick as my waist.

Boy, what the hell did they feed you with?

His dark hair was cut short and I’m pretty sure he made it himself, with his own hunting knife, without a care about the final results. Well tanned and with bulging muscles, you may mistake Dak for a bear if you look from far enough.

Hm, I think I may be a little myopic. 

Details aside, then there is the scar. Even before it, Dak’s facial features were really not, hmm, welcoming. Since he looked suspicious, I’ve kept an eye on him (actually, I told Brann to do it). This guy always walks around with a frowned forehead, and his mouth holds a perpetual snarl. Let’s not even mention his jet black eyes that stares at you with an ominous glint. 

If I was not used to deadly stares and scary guys from my past life, perhaps even I would be startled.

The scar recently added on his face just high-light all those unnerving traits and turns him even more intimidating.

Poor Dak, he was born to look exactly like a mob-cannon-fodder-little-villain. Well, blame that absurd writer.

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“Hummm, what the hell you think you are looking at, you imp?” Yep, even his personality is just as one would expect from a cocky ‘I’ll act bad and moronic until the protagonist comes and crushes my pride’ kind of character. 

We both are currently at the village’s gate, a slightly bigger wooden fence that looks nothing extraordinary. From what I noticed it, Dak was planning to leave before I intercepted him. I took a deep breath, organizing my thoughts. I knew I had to talk, so I carefully planned my next words. 

“You. Fallow me.” It almost went as I have planned.

It seems he was a bit surprised from a moment, before the scowl returned to his face. He came closer, bending over me. His black eyes, a bit too small for his large face, were staring at me from up high. 

I stared back at him, my summer red dress blowing with the mild wind. Curious enough, this scene reminded me of Little Red Riding Hood and the Bad Wolf. 

And then I heard rumble from my left, voices getting louder and louder, so I broke the eye contact to check what was the commotion about. It was weird, but all the stares were on us, the villagers whispering to each other, their faces with a contained expression. 

And from the back, isolated from the rest, there was an old man. He looked a bit too handsome and well-built for his age, to be honest. He was standing far from the crowd, the shadow of a nearby three darkening his facial expression, but I’m sure it would look stern and serious. And although I couldn’t see his face clearly, his gaze was, without a doubt, focused on us.

I observed him for a moment. However, I’m not planning to deal with this person just yet. So, let’s go back to Dak’s issue...

Oh.

As I turned back to continue our stare battle, I noticed.

Little Red Riding Hood had just run away.

 ~•~

Life in Doveshire kept its flow, simple and plain. There were fresh fruits in the market, the air was clear and enjoyable. Birds would sing in the morning, crickets would cry at night. 

And I would follow Dak around. 

Alright, I’m not gonna say I’m proud of my recent stalking habits, but there was still no progress with him. And believe it or not, the problem was not the lack of conversation. I think that, apart from grandma and Brann, I’ve talked more to Dak in these few days than I’ve talked to any other villager in the last year.

Is it because there is some comrade feeling around us, both being abused by that evil writer? I mean, I had to read the absurd Angel01 made out of Accardi, while Dak got that face of his. So, because I was feeling particularly generous and also because of this connection of ours, I resolved to help the boy.

I didn’t want him to go astray (more than he has already), while I’m sure he will not like the consequences if he does. That’s why I decided to leave Dak in Doveshire’s most reliable hands: Grandmother Alma’s.

Things didn’t go exactly as I planned from there.

Is he your new friend? Oh, that’s wonderful, sweetheart. En, what’s with that face? You want me to talk to him? Hehehe, don’t be shy. He is your friend, it’s you who have to invite him over. Tell me when young Dak comes, I’ll make a nice dinner.

I couldn’t convince grandma otherwise, so that’s how I was sent to such an arduous mission as inviting someone over to dinner.

And then the previously mentioned stalking habits came to life. The mission is still not accomplished, though, and I wonder why. I mean, like I said, we do talk to each other.

“You.”

 “Do not you call me ‘you’, goddammit! I have a proper name.”

“Dak.” 

“Argg, stop calling other’s people name with such a snobbish face! Just looking at you is annoying.”

 “Meal.”

“Go buy your own food, pighead! Are you that hungry? Just take this one and piss of!”

 “It’s not.”

 “How could there be such a greedy bastard! Are you really an imp? Here, take this and disappears.” 

“...”

I stood there, and for some reason, I had a basket full of food. I was expressionless as I thought that the smell at least was delicious.

I found him later again, outside our village. 

“What the hell! What do you have inside your head, chicken poop!? Are you lost again? Don’t you know this is the path to Gnúis Woods? Scram!”

 “Tonight.”

“Tonight? Don’t come closer to me, maybe your stupidity is contagious! Do you actually want to go back just at night? Well, do it, idiot. A worthless thing like you, it’s better to become some beast’s meal.”

 “There’s a dinner.”

 “...”

Dak didn’t say anything more, he just made his way back to Doveshire. I don’t know what he was planning to do in the forest, but I just shoot a glance at the dark woods before fallowing the boy. I reached him soon enough, and we walked side by side, one in silent, the other grumbling low.

Five days have passed and status quo has remained. Things clearly weren’t working, so I decided to change my methods. After a deep analysis that I’m rather proud of, I met Dak once again.

 “Follow me.” As I said those words, I just started walking home.

“Fuck off. Who do you think you are to order me around?” I heard his angry bull-like voice from behind. “Hey, how dare you ignore me! Come back here!”

To the sound of hurried steps besides me, I just smiled internally. 

The sun was already setting in the horizon, the sky a multicolored screen of untold scenes. Purple and orange with no clouds, there was still some light before evening. 

To be honest, I didn’t head to our cozy cottage, but to the inn instead. Inside the three-floor building, a tempting smell was coming from the kitchen. And then grandma’s voice reached my ears:

“Mary? Is that you? Come help me here.” 

Before the answer could leave my month, heavy footsteps in the wooden floor along with a fierce ‘Hey, you!’ alarmed the person in the kitchen.

“Oh, dear!” Grandma’s content voice traveled to the dinner room where we stood. “Young Dak, is that you? Come here, boy! It’s been some time since we last talk. Come, help me finish dinner for us. Mary, can you set the table, please?”

Hey, grandma, you sounded really happy right now. Was it because you met Dak again or because it means you will get another person’s help in the kitchen? Other than me? Hmm?

Well, anyway, I just silently set the table, and soon enough the two kitchen partners came out with the food. There wasn’t a lot, vegetable stew with scarce chicken lumps floating around and boiled eggs. There were also some fresh strawberries for dessert.

We sat down, Dak being unusually polite. I was sitting next to grandmother while Dak was placed in front of us. Tranquility ruled this dinner until grandma spoke.

“I’m really glad you became friends with Mary, little Dak. You should come over more.”

Dak’s true nature probably couldn’t be controlled anymore. He exploded, the impact of it so strong that, from his neck all the way to his ears, everything was dyed crimson red. 

“Little...? And more than that, fri-friends?! As if! Your granddaughter is just crazy!”

You know, I never truly cared about the things Dak said about me, but, grandmother, as my elder, could you please not chuckle when someone insults me?

 “Fufufu, yes, so thank you for taking care of her.”

“Argg, this old woman...!” Don’t even try, Dak. It’s pointless against grandmother.

“Speaking about you, Mary, what do you think about today’s dinner? It was Dak’s idea to put the chicken together. It does taste good, doesn’t it?”

“Hm.”

“Humpf, it’s nothing much. I just threw the chicken there. If you think it’s bad, no one is forcing you to eat.” Oh, I see, you couldn’t fight the older one, so you try against the younger.

Grandmother chucked again, her voice light and carefree.

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, Dak. You are actually a good cook, look at Mary’s face, she’s truly enjoying the meal.”

Not gonna lie, it was delicious. The boy who was praised remained silent for a while, his fierce, intrusive black gaze on me. And then he said:

“Is that her face of enjoying something? For me, it’s the kind of face a demon would make while planning the world’s conquest.”

This time, grandma couldn’t hold her loud, unrestrained laugh that filled the inn’s dinner room.

“Oh, goddess, young boys these days...” She wiped an escaping tear at the corner of her eyes. “Mary, honey, you’re supposed to say thank you when someone compliments you.”

As expected from grandmother, I can’t keep up with her logic, I thought. Precisely at the same time, an outraged male voice protested.

“It was not a compliment!”