Chapter 48
***
It had been a month since I formed new ties with the children.
This year, too, the world had turned white as always.
All I could see beyond the window was a white world.
Outside, snow kept falling without pause, piling up so thickly there was hardly room to step.
In the warm room, the fireplace crackled softly.
I used the sound of the burning logs as my ASMR and waved the teacup under my nose.
'It should be arriving about now.'
Breathing in the scent tickling my nose, I recalled the telegram I had sent to the Order four days ago.
What I had sent was none other than the GIK protocol, a method for treating heart disease using insulin.
'This world still lacks heart medications.'
In this era, the only drug with a heart-protective effect was digitalis.
A world with no nitroglycerin, no diuretics, and no beta-blockers.
In a world like this, even a GIK treatment was something to be grateful for.
'I need to make the other drugs quickly.'
However, in the 21st century, GIK treatment had been kicked out of myocardial infarction guidelines.
It did have a cardioprotective effect, but the inconvenience of having to carefully adjust the IV fluids was too great.
With technology advancing to the point where heart disease could be managed with a pill at the click of a button, why bother with an IV drip?
As a result, GIK treatment had become something you’d only use as a preoperative measure for heart surgery.
'Come to think of it, in the 21st century it was something only cardiothoracic surgery and emergency medicine used.'
Internal medicine had plenty of other good drugs, so they didn’t bother with GIK treatment.
Cardiothoracic surgery, surprisingly, didn’t have that many usable variations.
I'm jealous.
I was mulling over 21st-century medical knowledge like that when—
Knock, knock.
At the sound of someone knocking, my consciousness returned from a 21st-century general hospital to the reality of this fusion-punk world.
“Young master, a letter has arrived.”
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Wilhelm, the head butler, came in carrying a silver tray.
There was a single letter on the tray.
“It arrived through the Mercure Trading Company.”
“Mercure?”
I checked the letter with a fluttering heart.
Had the Order already replied?
It was entirely possible.
Director Shun had stacked up so much favor with the Order that they were rather fond of me.
'Maybe the guidelines will come before next spring— ah.'
But the moment I checked the envelope on the tray, I couldn’t hide my disappointment.
It wasn’t a letter from the Order.
The Order basically seals letters by pressing wax with each branch’s seal.
But the letter on the head butler’s tray had been tied shut with string, not sealed with wax.
'Who sent it?'
At least, since it was sent with string instead of wax, it wasn’t from a noble.
Then it must be either the boss or a scholarship student...
I checked the sender written on the envelope.
Sender — Ayla & Valeria
'Ah.'
It was the sisters Ayla and Valeria.
Our potential saint, or the female lead of a romance-fantasy novel.
And her older sister.
'They’ve already sent a letter.'
The corners of my mouth lifted before I knew it.
Before the blizzard hit, I had sent the scholarship students promissory notes to help cover heating costs.
Unlike Limbus Pit, Civitas Square had good heating facilities, so hardly anyone froze to death.
But that didn’t mean fuel costs weren’t a burden.
So I sent them a small sum for fuel, along with a letter telling them not to catch a cold for no reason in winter.
And this letter seemed to be a thank-you note for that.
This is what makes playing Daddy-Long-Legs worthwhile.
I carefully untied the string on the letter.
When I took out the letter, something else slipped out with it.
It was a pressed flower.
The edges had browned slightly, but it was a flower with white petals.
'A daisy.'
How precious.
In a world without the sun, sending a pressed flower like this was always something special.
All the more so if it had been grown by her own hands.
I placed the pressed flower at the corner of my desk, then unfolded the letter.
======================
To Director Shun,
Hello, Director.
I’m the scholarship student Ayla.
You said I could write to you casually, so I gathered my courage and wrote.
Thanks to the money you sent, I think I’ll be able to spend this winter warmly.
I usually caught a cold before the snow stopped every year.
This year, I’m glad I don’t have to worry about that.
Thank you so much.
The flower enclosed is a daisy I grew myself.
I put the pot by the window and watered it every morning.
I pressed it carefully because I wanted to give it to you.
I hope you like it.
Oh, right. Mother said that when writing letters like this, I should also mention what I’m studying, so I’m writing it here.
These days, while preparing for the second year of the seminary middle division, I’m previewing the history of theology.
I originally wanted to preview healer studies, but Mother says it’s meaningless unless I awaken divine power, so she’s making me study history.
It seems Mother thinks I might not be able to awaken divine power.
I’m confident, though...
Do you think that too, Director?
I’d be grateful if you told me what you think.
If it’s your words, I think Mother would listen too.
Then I’ll end this letter here.
Please stay healthy, Director!
Sincerely, Ayla
P.S. — My sister wanted to write a letter too, so I’m attaching it below.
======================
Below Ayla’s handwriting, the script changed.
Unlike Ayla’s round handwriting, this one was sharp and neat.
It was Valeria’s handwriting.
======================
To Director Shun,
This is Valeria.
Thank you for the mana-stone lamp you sent earlier.
Thanks to it, I can study without worrying about candle wax.
If you leave candles burning too long, wax drips everywhere and makes the desk dirty, and more than anything, the burning smell gives me a headache.
A mana-stone lamp doesn’t do that, so it’s much easier to study.
Mother also said her eyes are less tired, so she’s pleased.
I’m now preparing for the middle division graduation exam and the high division entrance exam.
My graduation assignment is to analyze treaty-making cases between the Empire and the surrounding kingdoms and submit a report, but it’s more complicated than I expected.
But thanks to the scholarship money, I was able to buy textbooks and save the time I’d have spent lining up to borrow them from the library.
I’ll study that much more with the time I saved.
I will become someone worthy of your expectations.
Sincerely, Valeria
======================
I set the letter down.
From the handwriting to the content.
It was easy to see how completely opposite the sisters’ personalities were.
Ayla’s letter dripped with F-type sensitivity, while Valeria’s letter clearly conveyed T-type rationality.
Neither was especially bad.
It just felt amusing.
I placed the sisters’ letters on the desk and thought for a moment.
'Did Daddy-Long-Legs write back in the original story?'
I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t exactly been the type to read the classics diligently.
But I knew web novel conventions well enough.
'I guess I should write back, huh?'
If you don’t, the genre always drifts toward angst and misery.
I picked up a pen and began scratching words across the paper.
There wasn’t anything special in it.
To Ayla, I sent encouragement that she would definitely awaken divine power, and to Valeria, I replied that if she needed more materials, I would send even hard-to-find references.
I naturally included a reminder not to study too late and to watch out for colds.
I folded the letter and melted wax over the candle flame.
Red wax dripped onto the envelope, and I pressed the seal into it.
In the center of the raven illustration, the scrawled word 'Shun' was stamped.
I had originally wanted it to be Schnabel.
But I couldn’t fit all those letters into the seal, so I had to compromise with Shun (Schn).
Because of that, more people in the world knew me as Doctor Shun rather than Doctor Schnabel.
There wasn’t really any difference between the two, so I didn’t bother correcting it.
'Shall I send the letter now?'
But there was something important here.
Namely, that I had to send it through the trading company, not directly myself.
That was because, in people’s minds, Director Shun was a dirt-poor nobody who had succeeded through effort.
At least, that was how the scholarship students saw me.
So the children held onto hope.
That if they worked hard, they could become like that too.
That they could be judged by the path they walked, not the place they were born.
It would not be good if those children found out that I had been born a noble and hadn’t really needed that level of effort.
'An idol is only beautiful if they remain an idol.'
Of course, most of the problems would be handled by the conventions of a misunderstanding story anyway.
Still, I intended to hide my identity as much as possible so I could motivate the children.
Of course, the fact that playing Daddy-Long-Legs was fun also played a part.
I folded the letter neatly and rang the bell on the desk.
Ding.
“Did you call for me?”
“Please send the letter to the trading company. The recipient is written on the envelope.”
“Understood.”
“Ah, and.”
I winked at the head butler.
“Keep this a secret from Freya.”
“…Haha. Indeed, the young lady might get jealous. Understood.”
The head butler took the letter.
His wrinkled hands carefully held the envelope as he left the room.
*
It was dinner time.
Despite the blizzard outside, the Nihirit family dining room was as cozy and warm as ever.
The whole family had gathered at the table.
At the head sat Father, Hendel, and beside him, Mother, Linie.
Across from them were Freya, Eri, and me.
And our youngest, Fried, sat in a child’s chair, flailing his arms.
Tonight’s menu was venison stew, roasted potatoes, and winter pumpkin soup.
I hadn’t made it.
I’d been busy with some research lately, so I hadn’t had time to cook dinner.
“Hmm….”
Father frowned as he checked the menu.
Father kept glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.
“Didn’t you say venison had come in, Yulian?”
What?
What was he trying to say?
No way—was he disappointed that I hadn’t cooked?
'Nah. That can’t be it.'
Both Mother and Father.
Neither of them liked it very much when I cooked.
Because it would count against me in the noble marriage market.
So there was no way Father had been waiting for my cooking.
Besides, I’d been sneaking in and out of the kitchen lately, so there was no way he knew I’d cooked.
“Have you been that busy lately?”
“Yes. I have.”
“…I see.”
He looked oddly disappointed, though.
I decided it was just my imagination.
And so dinner continued.
For a while, only the sounds of utensils rang out.
“Yulian.”
Around the time I had finished half the soup.
Father opened his mouth.
“How old are you this year?”
It was an out-of-the-blue question.
But fathers’ questions were usually like that, so I answered without flinching.
“I’m fifteen, Father.”
“Fifteen. Right. Once the snow finishes falling and New Year passes, you’ll be sixteen.”
The moment I heard that much, I could predict where the conversation was headed.
Though I had already guessed the conclusion, I wiped my mouth with a napkin as if I hadn’t.
“And once another year passes after that, you’ll be seventeen.”
“….”
“By then, it’ll be time to start looking for an engagement partner.”
I knew it.
Imperial nobles generally look for engagement partners once they turn seventeen.
It’s not as if there’s some youth protection law preventing them from doing it earlier.
In a world that runs children like factory workers, what child rights are there?
It’s simply because that timing is the most appropriate.
Nobles originally begin learning magic at twelve.
It takes three years to master the basics of magic, bringing them to fifteen.
Then they spend another year learning arcane magic and become sixteen.
But if they get engaged right away here, they won’t have time to make themselves known in high society.
So they set aside one year to establish themselves, which makes it seventeen.
In some cases, they may get engaged even later.
In any case, most nobles tend to get engaged at seventeen.
“I know this may be a little surprising. I was engaged to your birth mother at your age too.”
“….”
At those words, I nearly choked.
Because a setting I had forgotten came back to me.
Father Hendel’s first love had been my birth mother, not Mother Linie.
But Father Hendel failed to master arcane magic, which meant he could no longer inherit the title, and the engagement fell apart.
My birth mother was a healing priest, in other words a clergyman, so she had no noble title.
If those two married, they’d be demoted to commoners, so they each ended up taking different paths.
...But was it okay to bring that up at the dinner table?
Mother Linie didn’t seem like she’d like it.
I watched Mother, who was seated beside Father, to gauge her mood.
Unlike I expected, Mother’s reaction was calm.
“Yulian, don’t worry. Mother is fine now. Your father chose me in the end, so what does the past matter?”
Well...
You weren’t like that when I was little.
...I almost said.
“Ahem. I suppose I brought up something unnecessary. In any case, at your age, you should soon be preparing for engagement, shouldn’t you?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Especially if you enter as a live-in son-in-law, this period will be more important for you than anyone else.”
That was true.
As I said, sixteen was the age when noble children in this world truly began to circulate in the marriage market.
If I didn’t actively put myself on the market at this stage, I might instead end up sold off later to some spinster who’d missed her marriageable age.
'Good merchandise sells early.'
There was a reason nobles got engaged at seventeen without dragging things out.
However, I didn’t have any particular complaints or worries about this situation of being sold off as a live-in son-in-law.
There was still a whole year left.
Wouldn’t it be enough to just accomplish something that would keep me from becoming a live-in son-in-law?
Even if I did become a live-in son-in-law, I might meet a partner I got along with.
So there was no reason to see engagement as entirely bad just yet.
'I don’t need to be too anxious until then.'
I was quietly chewing over that peaceful self-comfort when—
“That doesn’t make sense.”
Thwack!
Freya said, slamming down her fork.
“You’re the one who cured demon sickness. So why should you lower your head and go into another family?”
“Freya.”
“I don’t understand. You’re not someone who should be reduced to just a live-in son-in-law. If you cured demon sickness, shouldn’t you be able to found a new house?”
Freya’s glacier-clear eyes turned toward Father.
Father gave a bitter smile.
Then he suddenly looked at Mother as if asking for her understanding.
Mother nodded, then opened her mouth in his place.
“Freya. I know why you’re upset. But this is noble society. Your father was the same.”
“Father, too...?”
Beside Mother, Father also nodded with a bitter expression.
“Your father also came into the Nihirit family as a live-in son-in-law. Before he was engaged to me, he was quite a renowned wandering knight. He was someone who reached the Third Tier through aura alone.”
“What? Father did?”
“Yes.”
Mother continued explaining.
“Freya. As you said, if merit or achievements alone were enough to make someone a noble, there would probably be many knights in the Empire who could become nobles. But they don’t. Do you know why?”
“I... don’t know.”
“A noble title requires more than strength. It also needs two other things: continuity and development.”
Exactly.
That was the key.
A noble’s privileges always arise from duty.
A house must protect the Empire across generations, and therefore the ability to do so must definitely be passed on to the next generation.
That is continuity.
And merely continuing isn’t enough. It must grow stronger as it continues.
Because monsters and demons never wait for anyone.
Therefore, as generations pass, that house must be able to become a greater force for the Empire.
That is development.
Only those who prove these two things are granted a title by the Empire.
Whether it’s aura, magic, or medicine, the standard is the same.
“Reaching the Third Tier through aura like your father did is impressive. But there was no guarantee that level would be passed on to his children. The Empire couldn’t be certain that your father’s child would be as strong as he was.”
Your father didn’t create a martial school.
Nor had he proven that talent would be passed on by having children.
So he had proven his ability, but not continuity or development.
That was why Father had no title, and why he entered the Nihirit family as a live-in son-in-law to make up for that shortcoming.
“Families with arcane magic are different. Even if they’re weak in one generation, history has proven that they can rise back to the same level in the next generation, and the one after that. That accumulated history is proof of continuity, and the fact that their arcana deepens over generations is proof of development.”
“…But a treatment method can be passed down through you, can’t it?”
“Right. Continuity is almost proven. But development hasn’t been proven. Since no one has ever become a noble through a treatment method, nobody knows the developmental potential of treatment methods.”
“Then how do you prove that?”
“You get married, have children, and let the child prove it—that the treatment method can evolve.”
“…That’s ridiculous.”
“Whether it makes sense or not, that’s what a title is.”
Mother set down her spoon for a moment.
“Freya. Do you know why nobles are so obsessed with marriage?”
Freya furrowed her brow.
“…To continue the title?”
“Half right. But to be more precise, it’s for loopholes.”
“Loopholes?”
“Ability, continuity, and development. It’s extremely difficult, in practical terms, for one person to prove all three alone. So nobles use marriage to fill in the gaps.”
Mother glanced toward Father for a moment.
“Look at your father. He had enough ability, but he couldn’t prove continuity or development. And the Nihirit family had continuity and development, but lacked ability. So when we married, the Empire recognized the Nihirit family as having all three.”
In simple terms, it was a tag-team scam.
Do you have ability? YES
Do you have continuity? YES
Do you have development? YES
Okay. You may retain your noble title.
Because people take a fairly loose view of how well those three elements work together, it's a loophole that can be used.
“The same goes for Yulian. You have enough ability, and since you can pass on the treatment method, you also have continuity. The only thing lacking is development. So we’re trying to send Yulian to a family whose development has been proven.”
….
“It’s not about bowing your head and entering their house; it’s about trading what each side needs.”
At those words, Freya lowered her head deeply.
“But... it’s demon sickness of all things...”
“I’m fine, Freya. Thank you for getting angry on my behalf.”
“It’s nothing...”
Freya jabbed listlessly at a potato with her fork.
Father, who had been quietly watching her, spoke up.
“Freya. And being a live-in son-in-law isn’t necessarily bad. Have you ever seen me being treated with disrespect in this house?”
“Ah... no...”
“Exactly. Being a live-in son-in-law isn’t automatically a bad thing.”
That was true.
Being a live-in son-in-law didn’t automatically mean having to live on other people’s goodwill.
In fact, as Father’s case showed, there were plenty of cases where a live-in son-in-law ended up taking the family head title.
In the end, the Nihirit family had needed Father’s combat power.
In other words, if you’re good enough yourself, you won’t have to spend your life worrying about anyone’s opinion wherever you go.
“Even if your brother goes into another house, I don’t see him as someone who’d spend his life worrying about others’ opinions. These days he doesn’t even watch my mood and is always running around outside.”
….
Saying it like that makes it sound like I’m out there running wild.
Father ignored my silent protest and went on.
“So don’t worry. We’re as worried about Yulian as you are. I’ll make sure the witch-like future sister-in-law you’re worried about never ends up with Yulian, Freya.”
Father’s usual dry humor seeped through in that last line.
The table went quiet for a moment, then I heard Mother stifling a laugh.
Freya said nothing for a while.
She pressed her lips shut and lowered her gaze to her plate.
The roasted potato she had been poking slowly slid off the end of her fork.
Then, little by little, her expression relaxed.
Freya gave a small nod.
Then Freya suddenly muttered to herself.
“No, wait. If development is the issue, then if it’s someone with the potential for arcane magic...”
Freya turned her head to the side.
Behind my shoulder from her perspective was Eri.
“…Huh?”
Eri, who had been struggling to spear a baby potato all by herself, felt the gaze and looked up.
Eri met Freya’s eyes.
“Wha?”
“No... just... do you have any thoughts, big sister?”
“About what?”
“Do you know what we were talking about?”
“Sorry. I wasn’t listening.”
Freya let out a shallow sigh, then,
“Haah, never mind. Just stay healthy, big sister.”
she shook her head.