Cleio Aser, who registered at age 17 (4)

    “Such things happened a few times. When I was twelve, on the day a boy I didn’t know opened the door in the successor’s room that Ishiel used to use.

    Even though I saw him for the first time, his face looked familiar. The sickly child ghost that came out of Ishiel’s room looked exactly like that.

    The kid was Ishiel’s sixth cousin, and the ‘male’ heir that nobody wanted. What I saw wasn’t a ghost, it was just the future.”

    Arthur explained in detail about the “visions” he saw.

    Under his blank expression, Cleio’s mind was turning in complex ways.

    ‘It feels like deleted drafts got mixed up with new content and made some kind of weird internal consistency. Maybe, because he knows the future, the character “Arthur Leognan” completed himself earlier?’

    “…I see. If those things really happened, it means you can predict other visions will surely come to pass someday.”

    “Yeah.”

    Arthur’s answer was half resignation, half resolve.

    “Then do memories of the future exist regarding the other princes too?”

    “Aha, memories of the future! That’s the perfect way to put it. Yes. The second oldest ‘future memory’ is about Melchior. He raises his hand while standing in the midst of blood and points at me. Then he declares: ‘Destiny will be fulfilled. You are…’ The vision always cuts off right there.”

    Cleio, not good at faking expressions, had to try hard to keep up his blank look. That scene too exists in the latter part of the manuscript.

    ‘This is a minefield of spoilers.’

    “Every time I dreamt that one, I was so scared I’d go knock on my mother’s door. So the next one ended up feeling less scary.

    In the third oldest vision, my sight is dyed red with blood and Aslan is strangling me with all his might. He says, ‘You shouldn’t have been born.’

    Well, he actually said that in real life so many times, it doesn’t even have much impact anymore!”

    Having finished, Arthur laughed briefly, as if amused by his own joke about Aslan.

    It really felt like the prince was telling nothing but the truth. Of course, this wasn’t at all something a seventeen-year-old should be recounting so calmly.

    Only because the sequence of memories changed, the main character of ended up living a much harder life than in the previous version. The deterioration of the palimpsest also seemed to affect the content’s changes.

    Cleio let out a sigh from deep within.

    ‘No, he’s already grown to this point—how can I fix that now? Maybe all I can do is keep cushioning things so he doesn’t collide with it all at once when something happens.’

    “Ray, since I answered everything, answer just one thing for me. Is that stigmata related to ‘prophecy’?”

    “You could see it that way.”

    He answered Arthur the same as he had Dione. If he used different lies, he’d forget them himself later.

    ‘If something like an “editor authority” gets found out… that won’t end well. If this guy turns malicious and brings about the end of the world, what a stupid way to go. For now, I’ll keep obfuscating as much as possible.’

    “You really never give a clear answer.”

    “You, of all people, should know best. Prophecies are always revealed in incomplete forms. The future I can read also has holes all over, contents that don’t make sense. Until something actually happens, it’s ambiguous what it’s even referring to.”

    “‘Read,’ huh. So your unique skill manifests as a form of reading.”

    “…Yeah.”

    Dione and Arthur were both talented at digging into the ends of statements. Cleio again felt as though he’d been caught off guard.

    “Can you tell me? What have you read?”

    This time, he didn’t need to make anything up. Instead, he simply recited a sentence from the manuscript that his 「Memory」 called up.

    “The prophecy that there will be a conflict between the two princes and between the two rivers. The augury that an era of war approaches.”

    “……”

    ‘And that’s your era. Your trials are proof that you’re the ‘chosen person’.’

    The ‘protagonist’ who was about to become the eye of the storm stiffened, startled by something.

    Then, as if chewing over Cleio’s words, he rubbed under his chin with his thumb.

    A habit from when he fell deep in thought. At least this detail hadn’t changed from the previous manuscript.

    In the forest, in the afterglow of the sunset as it cast shadows, crickets chirped as if bidding farewell to the last era of peace.

    Cleio strengthened his words with drawn Aether.

    “‘I speak with faith.’ I, Cleio Aser, will surely stand by your side where I am needed.”

    ‘I speak with faith.’ was an old idiom for Aether control, also found in basic fencing textbooks.

    It was just an expression of trust. Since it wasn’t a magic formula, there was no penalty for breaking it, and since it wasn’t a [Pact], it didn’t guarantee loyalty.

    What was there was a declaration based purely on trust.

    “I know your purpose and your will. I’ll devote myself wholly to help you realize them.”

    “How long does the promise last?”

    “Until Arthur Leognan becomes the one and only king of Albion.”

    It was a direct statement with no roundabout or figurative language. At Cleio’s soft but firm assertion, Arthur’s eyes opened wide.

    Even just saying such a thing would be treason and blasphemy, but Cleio spoke lightly.

    This unmotivated, unremarkable friend was always like this. Somehow, he always breezed through places you’re not supposed to pass.

    While Arthur was still overwhelmed, Cleio waited for the acknowledgement of the ‘promise’.

    The string of characters flashed a beat later than usual.

    [? The user’s narrative engagement is rising steeply.]

    ‘The author wants this development. This time Arthur does too.’

    “Aren’t you going to do a [Pact]?”

    [Pact] was the oath knights swore to the king upon formal investiture.

    It was what Ishiel Kision did to Arthur Leognan at age twelve. And what Arthur reciprocated to Ishiel at the same age.

    Arthur hoped for such a lifelong vow from Cleio.

    Even if he could receive the same [Pact] in return, Cleio had no intention of granting Arthur’s request.

    “No. I don’t want to.”

    “!!!”

    Aether [Pact] words remained as an unbreakable vow. To break a [Pact], you would, by penalty, lose the memory you held most precious.

    Even in the previous manuscript, knights who broke their [Pacts] appeared.

    ‘When I only read the previous draft, I didn’t get why that happened, but after hearing about the War of the Roses, it makes sense. The knights who lost memories had broken the [Pact] of loyalty made to King Edward, and instead supported Philip, thus getting penalized.’

    The memory lost differed from person to person. Some forgot little things like a horse they’d raised or collected weapons; some forgot about their family or lover.

    The problem was, you wouldn’t know what you’d forget until it happened.

    That was a price ‘Kim Jeong-jin’ could never pay.

    He had decided to remain as Cleio and live as Cleio, but losing memories was something else.

    ‘I can’t go against the author’s will anyway, but there’s no need to double-bind myself. If I don’t make the [Pact], only Arthur will be anxious, not me.’

    If Arthur were to die somewhere along the journey, everything would disappear with him.

    At that point, at least, he wanted to meet destruction with his memories intact.

    ‘I know it’s pointless. From the moment I woke up here, I’ve been in a disadvantaged position as an NPC. So what. I’m not doing the [Pact].’

    The author was as good as this world’s god, and the world’s protagonist was the god’s legitimate son and rival.

    The author wanted characters to obey the plot, and the character, who had life of his own, had his own desires.

    When these two wills clashed, the world was torn; when they matched, the progression’s force became overwhelming.

    He knew well that he was only a chess piece in the story. ‘Cleio’ could never equal Arthur.

    But the ‘Kim Jeong-jin’ inside the character’s shell had one thing he could not lose.

    His mother’s rough but warm hands, the peaceful sound of his sleeping younger sibling’s breath—memories of people who would be totally forgotten if ‘Kim Jeong-jin’ forgot them.

    That was all.

    Kim Jeong-jin’s life was shabby, and the hardships that shadowed his 32 years were without purpose or meaning.

    Unlike the life of Arthur Leognan, who was the center of ‘this world’.

    “Arthur, someday you’ll understand. Right now, this world is spinning for you. That’s incredibly unfair, but at the same time, entirely natural.”

    ‘Because you’re the protagonist of this story.’

    In a world where the divine right of kings is common understanding, Cleio’s words would just sound like a typical metaphor. Especially to Arthur, who is looking toward the throne.

    Even so, Cleio chooses to speak. As a ‘person’ standing at the edge of the story being written.

    “But I will never become your vassal. Instead, I’ll be your supporter.”

    Cleio held out his hand for a handshake with Arthur. It was a greeting between equals.

    He had his own calculations.

    ‘It’s not just a matter of feelings—people always feel different before and after going to the bathroom. This guy is bound to keep increasing his followers anyway; if I want to get everything out of it, it’s better not to sign an exclusive contract.’

    The prince did not hesitate.

    Arthur took Cleio’s outstretched hand in a firm grip.

    “‘I speak with faith.’ I, Arthur Leognan, gladly accept Cleio Aser’s acceptance.”

    Arthur’s response was likewise an expression of trust.

    There were no contracts or coercion in this, so both would have to renew their intentions at every moment to maintain this faith.

    “Don’t expect to be treated like a prince from me anymore.”

    “You say that as if you’ve ever treated me like a prince before?”

    “That’s how it started. Or did you want some super-honorifics?”

    “Ugh, just imagining it feels awkward… Anyway, forget that—don’t you want anything from me?”

    “I was wondering when you’d ask. Of course I do. When everything is over and Zebedee is at retirement age, give me the position of Royal Magician.”

    “What? That’s an honorary post with no real power.”

    “But it pays a pension. Three times a professor’s salary.”

    “…I can’t tell if you’re humble or greedy.”

    “I’m not humble. Magic stones, magical tools, cash—those three are always welcome. If I get a chance, I’ll squeeze as much as I can out of you.”

    “I wouldn’t begrudge such things to the future archmage, but do you know I’m flat broke? I don’t even have a proper sword, let alone magical tools.”

    “We’ll see about that. Just don’t go back on your word later.”

    ‘Once the dungeon opens, it’ll be a whole different story anyway.’

    “Alright. But Ray, is that also part of your prophecy?”

    “Ten thousand dinar per question. No free answers.”

    “Ahahahaha! That’s a good joke, really.”

    Arthur’s clear, vigorous laughter pierced the darkness. So Cleio missed the timing to reply, “It wasn’t a joke.”

    Still, laughter was infectious, and even Cleio, who had been scowling, ended up snickering along with Arthur.

    At that moment, the string signifying the ‘promise’ popped up again with a message Cleio had never seen before.

    [? The user’s narrative engagement is rapidly growing.

    ?Calculating the cumulative ratio of narrative engagement (□□%)]

    ‘What, narrative engagement can be displayed as a percentage too?’

    Fixated on the new entry of ‘cumulative ratio’, Cleio didn’t notice the peculiar glimmer that flickered from the Gate of Mnemosyne behind him.

    A faint light rose soundlessly at the center of the empty doorframe, then quickly went out. The battered edge of the broken wall vibrated slightly after.

    Birds, sensing the anomaly before humans did, flew far away, while the boys, unaware, left the forest.

    Gugugung—

    Kukung

    The tremor from beyond the otherworldly gate shook the sleeping earth.

    Note