The Simulacrum - Chapter 102

“Look, ue-sama! Look! They have massage chairs over here!” Ichiko exclaimed and ran across the entire lounge, making some frankly comical noises as her bunny slippers slapped against the tatami-mat-covered floor.

“Did you say ‘massage chair’?” our Mr. Eagle perked up at once and followed after the tiny miko, despite still holding his enormous bag under his arms.

“Why don’t you put the luggage down first?” Morgana spoke up while accompanying him, but he only scoffed at the idea.

“Oh please, Sister Morgana. I told you, my back is fine.”

“And you should make sure to keep it that way,” Ms. Gorgon retorted and all but pulled the big duffel bag out of his hands before handing it over to the nearby Galatea, and she accepted it with a dutiful ‘Affirmative’.

“These really remind Rinne of her homeland,” Mountain Girl mused, followed by a forlorn sigh. “Rinne’s high school class used to visit the local onsen during Tanabata, and Rinne would spend hours relaxing her muscles after soaking in the yang energies of the hot spring.”

“That’s right!” the foxy miko agreed, though she was considerably more upbeat about the topic, and quickly climbed onto one of the massage chairs with an ear-to-ear grin.

That was an eclectic collection of people if there ever was one. If someone told me ‘A shrine maiden, a ninja, two knights, and an android walks into a hot springs resort’, I would’ve immediately braced myself for a very lame (and equally tortured) dad joke, yet here we were. Not that the average onlooker would’ve even suspected that there was anything out of the ordinary with these people, considering they were all wearing casual clothes, yet my point still stood.

In detail, Rinne was still sporting her usual ensemble, but as for Ichiko, we managed to convince her to switch her flashy miko outfit out for a more season-appropriate sweater and leggings combo, while Arnwald decided to follow the trend set by his epic sideburns and donned a black leather biker jacket and a pair of thick jeans. Even Morgana let loose a little, literally, as she undid her usual hair bun and wore a black sweater with blue jeans. The only odd one out was Galatea, as even though she wore a sensible beige jumper with equally plain white pants, she still had her robotic earmuff things on her head. They were apparently very, very crucial and couldn’t be removed, so in the end we agreed that if anyone asked about them, we’d say she was really into cosplay.

Not that there was anyone who could potentially ask any questions here, as my initial fears had proven to be far from unfounded. According to the receptionist lady at the main entrance, mom-in-law seriously reserved the entire place for us. Now granted, this wasn’t one of those huge bathhouse complexes, but rather more of a mid-sized traditional establishment, but the main lounge still felt way too empty with just us in it.

Speaking of the lounge, it was yet another example of the oddly yet consistently eclectic cultural mish-mash of Critias. As I mentioned before, the floor was covered with thick tatami mats that made soft creaking noises with every step we took, yet the walls were more reminiscent of one of those picturesque mountainside wooden lodges, with some vaulted ceilings and carved wooden columns thrown in, for good measure. At the far end of the hall, the first batch of our group was busy observing the four leather recliner massage chairs, facing a huge flat-screen TV. It was currently tuned in to some kind of wellness channel, but that was neither here nor there.

The wall on our right was occupied by a row of arcade cabinets, with a fancy air hockey table serving as the centerpiece of the gaming corner, while the rest of the floor was taken up by various sitting apparatuses, from modern sofas in front of the large windows to padded divans couches arranged in a circle in the middle. Last, but not least, I could see a large map of the resort in the back, with a bunch of arrows pointing at various services provided by the establishment. At a glance, I could already make out the ones pointing at the open-air baths, the normal sauna, the special sauna, and then the large gate leading into the indoor baths, but there were a couple of others that were hander to identify.

I was just about to walk over and take a closer look at the map (and maybe figure out what made the special sauna so special), but I was interrupted by someone practically pushing me aside.

“Comin’ ben, comin’ ben!”

Our Mr. Minotaur, unsubtle as always, pushed the swing door open with his foot and made his way into the lounge. It would’ve been hard to recognize him at a glance (if not for his voice, of course), as his face was hidden behind the small mountain of cases, luggage, and other assorted bags he was carrying.

“Be careful, Duncan,” Roland pushed past him, though only to keep the door open.

“A’m aye canny,” the big guy scoffed and placed all that baggage onto the floor, and then he theatrically stretched his back. In stark contrast with the rest of us, who were dressed at least nominally season-appropriately, he was wearing an honest-to-goodness tacky Hawaiian shirt with a pair of cargo shorts and a baseball cap. Was he trying to invoke the stereotypical annoying tourist look on purpose, or by chance, I wondered?

“Thanks, Duncan! You’re a life-saver!” my redhead sister chirped with a bright smile, and entered with a raised hand. Unlike the big guy, she was properly dressed for winter, scarf and beany included. Incidentally, it only made Duncan stick out of the crowd even harder.

“Na kinch, Penny-gurl!” The big oaf grinned back and gave her a high-five.

“Yes, thank you,” my other sister added once she arrived at the scene, and this time Mr. Minotaur responded with a much more subdued, “Yoo’re welcoom tay, Ah s’pose.”

“Snowy, look! They have games here!” Penny all but squeed the moment she laid her eyes on the arcade-corner, and pulled my Abyssal sister over before she even had a chance to object.

“Kihihi! Sure, we can try making a catalyst like that!”

“Can it be put into the Magiformer?” Josh inquired, appearing in the company of our resident mad scientist, and after some thinking, Fred sent me a glance.

“Probably? We should ask the boss about it.”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Before either of them could reach, Josh was forcibly pulled over by her childhood friend, currently sporting one of those curled sideways-ponytails that never made much sense to me, combined with a large beret. She made it work, somehow. “We’re on a vacation! Stop talking about business!”

“It’s not really business…” Josh moaned, but followed her lead as she pulled him over to the map. In the meantime, Fred made his way over to me and let out a jaunty whistle.

“Wow, boss. This place is pretty neat!”

“Looks that way.” I waited for a beat, then decided to prod him a little. “What were you talking about with Josh right now? Some kind of catalyst?”

“Kihihi. Don’t worry, boss. It’s just a side project. Purely theoretical at the moment.”

I let out an intrigued hum, but before I could ask for details, Fred was displaced by my girlfriends closing our procession. Elly was looking all over the place like a kid in the candy shop, though I was pretty sure she must’ve had seen much fancier hotels and resorts already, while my dear assistant was seemingly absorbed into the brochure she was holding.

“Oooh! This place is so cozy! I love it!” my draconian girlfriend exclaimed as she entwined our arms, inadvertently pushing Fred aside. He didn’t seem to mind too much though and soon headed for the group at the massage-chair corner, leaving me behind with my girlfriends. Also, Duncan and Roland, but they were busy organizing the luggage on the floor, so they didn’t count.

“It sure is,” I spoke a tad absentmindedly as I tried to peek at what Judy was reading. I couldn’t really manage, and using Far Sight for something like that was wasteful, so I simply asked, “What did you find?”

“I’m looking at the VIP room service options,” my dear assistant told me without looking up from the pamphlet. “We need a breakfast menu that’s rich in protein. The same goes for lunch. Dinner too.” She paused here and glanced up at my other girlfriend. “Elly? Did we pack the energy drinks?”

“They’re in the blue bag,” the princess responded without missing a beat, and Judy let out a content hum in return.

There was something that caught my attention just now, so when neither of them spoke up again, I quickly asked, “What was that about VIP service?”

“We’ve got the VIP suite,” Judy told me matter-of-factly and showed me the brochure on her own. “Or rather, one of them. There’s three of them.”

“How come I’m not surprised?” I mumbled under my breath and was just about to take it from her when we were suddenly interrupted.

“Elly!”

Angie ran to us like she wanted to tackle my girlfriend, but came to a screeching halt just before she hit us, and enthusiastically pointed behind herself.

“Look over there!”

My draconic girlfriend first blinked in surprise, but then her gaze followed her finger and landed on the air hockey table.

“Oh? Is this a challenge?” my dear princess inquired with an uncharacteristically wolfish grin.

“You bet!” our friendly neighborhood Celestial answered with a matching smirk of her own, and before I knew it, Elly already let go of me and followed after her.

“Oh, come on, girls! At least unpack first!”

My pleas, predictably, fell on deaf ears. My other girlfriend, in the meantime, took the princess’s place like it was the most natural thing in the world and gestured for me to pay attention.

“It says here that all of the rooms are for two, with separate beds.”

“All of them?” came a surprised question from our left, and I found Josh leaning over my dear assistant’s head to take a peek at the brochure.

“When did you come back?”

“Just now,” he responded with a shrug. “There’s not much for me to do once Angie gets fired up like that, so I figured I’d come over. More importantly, what was that about two-bed rooms?”

“Aye. Whit’s that aboot?” came the next new voice, this time from Duncan, who was peering over my shoulder.

“It says it right here.” Judy unfolded the paper in her hands and pointed at a text box. “The standard rooms are all upstairs, and they come with standard room service and unlimited communal bath and sauna usage, while the VIP rooms are on the ground floor, and they not only come with extra breakfast menus, they have private outdoor spring pools.”

“That’s not what we’re curious about,” Josh cut in and reached over to poke at the pamphlet. “Are you saying all of these rooms are for two people each?”

“I believe that’s what the receptionist said, yes,” Roland butted in, adding to our impromptu huddle. “Is there a problem with that?”

“Erm… Maybe? Let me count.” Josh glanced around and pointed at everyone in turn before he returned to the conversation. “And with me, that’s fifteen. Do we have enough rooms?”

“Of course we do,” I spoke up, followed by an eye-roll. “Do you seriously think we would’ve made an elementary mistake like that?”

“Hey, I’m just asking,” my friend backpedaled, and in the meantime, Judy turned the page around and pointed at the smaller version of the same map I’d already seen on the wall.

“It says three VIP rooms and twelve standard rooms. It should be more than enough.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Josh nodded, then after a beat, asked the question on everyone’s minds. “Sooo… Who’s getting the VIP rooms?”

“Dibs,” Judy declared, causing everyone to look at her funny. “I said dibs. One is ours.”

“I believe that was self-evident,” Roland noted on the side, and the rest of us nodded along.

“So long as we’re clear on that,” my dear assistant grumbled, no doubt feeling a tad embarrassed. That was cute, but if I said that now, she would’ve thought I was teasing her, so I only patted her back.

“The girls are getting the second one,” I stated, on no uncertain terms.

“Dae ye mean Penny-gurl ‘n’ th’ white lassie? Fair ‘nough, ah suppose.”

“Nepotism strikes again,” Josh noted on the side.

“Careful, Josh. Keep poking me like that, and you might just get a standard room,” I jested, but it made my friend raise a brow that was both intrigued and alarmed at the same time.

“Wait. I’m getting the last VIP room?” I nodded. “With Angie?” I nodded again. “Are you serious?”

“Sure. Since you’ve only just started dating, I imagine you’d appreciate the privacy.”

“VIP rooms have their own minibars and toilets, they are separated from the main building and fenced off, making them very private, and since they have their own baths, it’s very convenient to clean up in them. They’re great.”

I sent a wry glance at my dear girlfriend and raised a hand to roughly rub her noggin.

“Too much information, Dormouse. Too much information.”

“I suppose the rest of us have to divide the standard rooms then,” Roland noted a touch absently, but then he paused and cleared his throat to get my attention. “On second thought, there might be a small issue remaining.”

“What do you mean?”

“Since the rooms only have two beds, wouldn’t it pose a problem for the three of you?”

“Right, that’s an issue,” Josh interjected with a troubled frown. “Should we bring over one of the beds from the other rooms?”

“Are we even allowed to do that?” Roland asked back, so before they could get too worked up over the topic, I stopped rubbing Judy’s head and raised a palm to halt them.

“Hold your horses, people. I don’t need a bed.”

“Ye dinnae? Howfur come?”

I glanced over at the big guy behind me and nonchalantly told him, “It’s not a problem because I won’t be sleeping.”

There was a long beat, but instead of any further inquiries, Duncan started snickering, and he soon descended into full-blown chortles.

“What? What did I say?”

Ignoring my confusion, Roland shook his head and stepped away from us.

“I’ll go talk with the others about the room arrangements.”

“Wait, don’t just leave like that!”

In the meantime, Mr. Minotaur also walked off and exclaimed, “Hey, Penny-gurl? Listen tae this! Yer brother’s nae planning tae kip while staying ower ‘ere! Ye get it? It’s coz ay his burds!”

“A-Awawa! Duncan, don’t shout! I-It’s private, and none of our business!”

My knightly sister tried her best to rein in the still cackling oaf, with little success, and even Josh excused himself in short order, leaving me in the sole company of Judy.

“We barely arrived, and we already had our first misunderstanding,” I grumbled, followed up by a shallow sigh. “This does not bode well.”

I expected my dear assistant to agree with me, but instead she looked up at me, cocked her head to the side, and after a long beat she simply uttered, “What misunderstanding?”

The VIP suite was, once again, a great example of how deeply Japanese tropes were entrenched into some weirdly specific parts of Critias’s culture. Case in point, the room had the same kind of tatami-matted floor as the lounge did, though maybe a touch softer and less creaky. Not only that, but the main room had one of those fancy kotatsu things. It was practically just a short table with a heater under it and cloth flaps on the sides, and while these things were always hyped up as super-comfy, we had little reason to try it out, considering how balmy the temperature was inside the room.

Through the huge insulated glass sliding door (which covered about a third of the wall), I could already see the steam rising from the small hot spring pool just beyond the veranda. It was lined with huge natural rocks, surrounded by bamboo stalks, and had a wooden stepladder leading into it, creating a small, hot oasis in the otherwise snow-covered yard. So far, so Japanese.

Then I turned ninety degrees, and blam! A western-style bedroom with a pair of simple, wood-framed beds, two nightstands, and a walk-in closet in the far wall. It even had fancy table lamps and a bearskin rug of all things, though I was pretty sure the latter was a replica. In short, the two styles clashed like nails on a chalkboard. The girls didn’t mind or even notice the issue though, so I decided to follow their example and walked over to the beds to help with the bags instead.

“How about ‘honeybunch’?” the princess spoke up, holding a spare dress in her hands, and my dear assistant shook her head.

“You’re focusing too much on the word ‘honey’,” she told her while rummaging through her bag, currently disemboweled all of her bed. “You’ve already used it in ‘honeybear’, ‘honey bun’, ‘honey pie’, ‘honey fritters’ and…” My dear assistant’s hands slowed while her words gradually trailed off, and when they completely stopped, she sent a sideways glance at my other girlfriend. “Are you just hungry? The resort has a buffet.”

“No, I’m not,” the princess responded in the company of a pout, but it only lasted for a second. “How about a name that reflects something about Leo in particular?”

“That’s a start.” In the meantime, Judy’s hands started moving again, and I silently helped her unpack. “Do you have something specific in mind?”

“How about… ‘my knight’?” Elly proposed a touch uncertainly. “Since he calls me princess, calling him ‘my knight’ in return should be thematic, right?”

“Yes… but you don’t sound very confident about that. Or comfortable.”

Once Judy pointed that out, the princess quickly gave up and slouched her shoulders.

“I’m still not used to it. Whenever I say the word ‘knight’, my mind just automatically wants to add ‘accursed’ to it,” she admitted while hanging up a one-piece swimsuit.

“I don’t think it’s a great idea, to begin with. There are a lot of Knights around us, and if things work out, there are going to be even more of them in the future, so it might lead to confusion.”

“Oh, right. That’s something I didn’t think about.” At first, I thought that was the end of that conversation, but then Elly’s eyes lit up again. “What about ‘handsome’?”

“It’s somewhat on the generic side,” Judy responded without looking up from her bag. By this point, she was in the process of unpacking her underwear, and while I wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable around frilly (and occasionally risqué) underclothing, I figured it was best to leave handling them to their owner. It was about high time I started unpacking my own bag anyway, so I silently stepped aside.

As for why the girls were discussing my potential nicknames again, I hadn’t the foggiest of clues either. When we entered the room, we were still talking about more obvious things, such as whether or not we should push the two normal-sized beds together to form a makeshift queen-size bed, when apropos of nothing, the princess suddenly brought the topic up, and they’d been going on about it ever since then. After the first failed attempt back in November, I thought Elly already gave up on finding me an endearing pet name, but I was apparently wrong about that. Oh well. So long as it wasn’t ‘pumpkin’, I was willing to live with it.

More importantly, I picked up my travel bag and, since the beds were already taken, I opened it up on the floor. I didn’t plan on unpacking my clothes at all (I didn’t bring too many to begin with, since in case of an emergency, I could always just Phase home to grab more), but there were still a couple of things that had to be prepared. Such as my ‘Nightly Activity Survival Kit’ (patent pending).

Jokes aside, Judy had already made her intentions for this research excursion blatantly clear, so I went ahead and brought practically everything from my nightstand along for the trip. Yes, that included the lubes as well. Yes, even the crème brûlée flavored one, because it was best to be prepared for anything. Also, Elly liked it, but that was neither here nor there.

I packed all of those into the closest nightstand, fittingly enough, and then dove back into the bag for another round. I could’ve made my life much easier if I just took out all my clothes and put them back after I was done, but I naturally didn’t, so I had to spend a disproportionate amount of effort to push everything aside so that I could retrieve a long package from the very bottom. Once I unwrapped it, the canvas cover revealed a familiar sword sheathed in a richly decorated scabbard.

“{Young knight! I believe I told you I do not appreciate being tucked away for so long! I can only sleep so much when I’m not within my stone!}”

And naturally, Cal started complaining the moment I put my hands on them. I didn’t even know what I was expecting.

“Well, sorry, but I couldn’t exactly wave you around while we were traveling around the island, now could I?”

“{Traveling, you say? Hmmm? Indeed, the mana of this area tastes much richer than usual.}”

Restraining the urge to ask how a sword could taste anything, let alone ambient mana, I slightly pulled the sword out of its scabbard.

“How’s the fit?”

“{Very satisfactory. Please communicate my eternal gratitude to the polite golem with the pointy ears.}” I was pretty sure he meant Galatea, as she was the one who did most of the machining on the sheath, but before I could ask to make sure, Cal beat me to the punch by inquiring, “{Tell me, young knight, what is the goal of this expedition?}”

“It’s… complicated, so let’s just say we’re here to have a vacation and test some theories while we’re at it.”

“{I completely understand,}” they said, even though they obviously didn’t, and my hunch was proven not a moment later when they added, “{I do not wish to appear a braggart, but I am well-experienced in the art of war, and I’m more than willing to share my knowledge with you, both practical and theoretical. After all, it is my role to guide you in your—}”

“Stop. Don’t get too worked up about that. We’re not talking about those kinds of theories.”

“{Then did you perchance mean the arts of leadership? I can certainly help you in that regard as well.}”

“No, no I didn’t,” I told him just a touch flatly, and I could feel a palpable sense of perplexity emanating from the blade in my hands.

“{In that case, could you please clarify what you meant by theoretical knowledge?}”

“It’s not…” I began, only to click my tongue when I realized where the disconnect in the conversation was coming from. “When I mentioned ‘theories’, I meant it in the scientific sense. As in, we’re going to use the opportunity to collect a lot of data related to a very specific situation we have in mind, and we hope to either prove or disprove some of our hypotheses about the metaphysical nature of the world. In a way, you could consider our stay here a big experiment, except without a clear protocol, no blinding, we’re part of the experiment, and there’s no peer review.”

It was only once I said that out loud that I paused and let out a conflicted grunt. By all modern metrics, we would make terrible scientists, but unfortunately, this was the best we’ve got. Just because any self-respecting scientific journal would laugh us out of existence if they heard about our methodology, it didn’t mean we were automatically doomed to fail. Newton discovered and described gravity through observations and mathematics, without actually understanding why gravitational forces existed, and while I couldn’t exactly claim to fill his shoes, I was at least trying to follow his example. Gravitation, narrative… they’re what keep things together, so they’re practically the same thing, right?

“{I… I’m afraid I didn’t quite understand that, young knight.}”

“I don’t blame you. The last time you were awake, the term ‘scientific method’ wasn’t even established yet.”

“{Indeed… But, since I lack the knowledge to help you with your methods of scientificness, I can’t help but wonder why you brought me along for this… vacation? Was that the word?}”

“Yes, and… well, it’s because I’m probably going to need you to be around during the nights.”

“{Is that so? Do you expect an ambush? Or are you planning to conduct a raid yourself?}”

“No, it’s… well, never mind. You’ll see it yourself.”

I could practically see the question marks circling around Cal, but I didn’t say anything more. I had no idea how they would’ve reacted if I told them I took the Knight’s supremely powerful kingmaker Excalibur-expy with me just to take advantage of its ability to heal and rejuvenate me by being nearby. I had a feeling it would’ve broken its nonexistent heart, and I would’ve had to listen to another tirade about how this was the darkest of times. Again.

Instead, after concluding the conversation, I firmly re-sheathed the sword and put it under the bed. As I said, proximity was important. Then, just as I was about to return to my bag…

“Starlight?”

“Yes?”

Seeing Elly call out to me from the edge of the vision, I automatically responded, and she was immediately elated.

“You see? He listened to it!” she told my other girlfriend with a triumphant grin, and it was only at this point that I realized what was going on.

“Wait, are you guys still going on about nicknames?”

“Yes,” my princess stated matter-of-factly. “Do you like ‘starlight’?”

Before I could even ask where that came from, Judy raised a finger to forestall me and addressed the other girl.

“You don’t need to ask for permission. The Chief never asked for anyone’s permission either.”

“I know, but I don’t want to give him a name he doesn’t like.” She paused for a beat and stared at me intently. “Do you like it?”

“It’s not terrible, but kind of lacks… personality?” I muttered, and after some consideration, the princess let out a thoughtful hum.

“True. How about this then: You’re the Lion Knight, so staying with the topic of stars… What is the official name of the Lion constellation?”

“Leo,” Judy uttered in a deadpan voice, and my other girlfriend shook her head.

“That’s not good. That’s literally your name. In that case… do the stars in the constellation have names?”

“Of course,” my dear assistant nodded and then started listing them like they were common knowledge. “There’s Regulus, Denebola, Algieba, Zosma, Chort, Al Minliar, Alterf, Subra…”

She continued rattling the names off one after the other, and for I while I couldn’t decide whether I was impressed by her memory, or worried about why she even looked up these stars in the first place.

“… Gliese 436, and Wolf 359. There are a few other Messier objects too, such as—”

“No, wait! It’s good.” After cutting her off, the princess held her temple, no doubt suffering from sudden information overload. “I need to think about this. Let’s… continue this discussion later.”

“I second that notion,” I said, raising my hand over my head.

“I still have some clothes to unpack though,” Judy noted, gesturing towards the pile on the bed. How did we even fit all of that into a single travel bag, I wondered? Anyhow, after a long beat, my dear assistant said, “Do you have any other topics?”

“Well, we didn’t finish the one we started on the bus,” I proposed, and Judy immediately agreed with it.

“True. We were discussing the Medieval Stasis, weren’t we?”

“Yes, and Leo gave his Watsonian explanation already,” Elly chimed in, as if there was any need to refresh the memory of someone who could casually list all the stars in a constellation, but I digressed.

“In that case, let me use this Doylist explanation as a jumping board to explore a new hypothesis I have.” Even while saying that, Judy was still folding clothes, and Elly soon joined her. As for me, I only gestured to show that she had my full attention. “While you had provided a hypothetical explanation for why the Celestials might maintain Medieval Stasis in the Elysium, I find that it misses the bigger picture.”

“Which is?”

“Let me answer your question with a question of my own: what was your reaction when you first encountered the trope in the Elysium?”

I considered her question for a moment, admittedly expecting it to be a trick one, but it seemed pretty straightforward no matter how I looked at it, so I told her, “Honestly, I thought it was weird. Also, I was fairly intrigued. Is that important?”

“Yes,” Judy declared, but then left me hanging while she shelved her pajamas, and only continued once she returned to the bed. “Put bluntly, according to my current theory, it’s entirely possible that the Simulacrum created this Medieval Stasis scenario specifically just to draw your attention.”

My initial reaction was to roll my eyes, but I restrained the urge and instead noted, “So you’re telling me the Simulacrum stratified Celestial society just to make me interested in them. Doesn’t that strike you as way too over the top?”

“Not at all.” When I continued to give her a skeptical look, she paused her packing efforts and used her hands to pantomime the shape of a small box. “Chief, you have to consider the Elysium for what it used to be until recently: a Schrödinger’s Cat box. Despite having access to both the Hub and Angeline, we had practically no reliable information on what was inside of it, right until you used your Far Sight to infiltrate it, at which point its current state was canonized into existence.”

“I don’t know about that. I mean, sure, we didn’t know about how the insides of the Elysium looked like until recently, but other people had to. Changing it would’ve required an enormous retcon, and doing it just because of me sounds a little far-fetched,” I told her, and Elly agreed as well.

“So far, I’m on Leo’s side.”

My dear assistant let out a long sigh and raised both of her palms to quiet us.

“Disregarding the fact that the existence of retcons is already a proven fact, I would ask you to listen to my whole argument first. In my opinion, the Elysium being purposefully changed by the Narrative to steer the Chief in a certain direction isn’t a new development, but just another example of a chain of similar occurrences.”

These kinds of declarations required long, dramatic beats, and while that was going on, I crossed my arms and thoughtfully pinched my chin.

“Oookay then. Consider me intrigued.”

I didn’t have to say that twice, and after a deep breath, Judy started by dropping a bombshell right away.

“I believe the Narrative is actively tuning the plot and the Simulacrum to indirectly manipulate your actions.” Once again, a big declaration like that demanded a dramatic pause, after which she pointed at me. “You told me that on the first day of school, you were overcome by the urge to follow your role in the plot, and you only broke out of it due to an irreconcilable conflict with your character.”

“Really?” Elly blurted out, drawing our attention to her. “This is the first time I heard about that.”

“I’m pretty sure I talked about this to you before,” I mused, admittedly feeling a little uncertain about it, but she shook her head.

“No, you only said that you ‘broke out of your programming’. What was that ‘urge to follow the plot’?”

“Just a persistent headache that didn’t go away until I went to school,” I told her, skipping a lot of the details in the process.

“Oh? And the ‘irreconcilable character’ thing?”

I glanced at Judy, then back and the princess, and groaned.

“It wanted me to tell a terrible joke, and I refused.”

What followed was a very, very long beat of silence, during which Elly kept blinking at me like she was expecting a punchline to drop at any second. It, obviously, never did, and once she realized that, her previously blank expression twisted as she descended into a fit of giggles.

“That’s…. That’s so you, Leo!”

“Yes, yes, I know,” I muttered a tad awkwardly, but since it didn’t seem like she was going to stop giggling any time soon, I lightly cleared my throat at addressed my dear assistant again. “What does any of that have to do with the Elysium and its tropes?”

“Simply put, on that day, you broke out of the designs of the Narrative, and you dragged us along with you. My hypothesis is that, since the Narrative had no direct control over you anymore, it switched to using tropes you would show a strong reaction to in order to steer your actions.”

All of a sudden, I had one of those moments. The kind where a chain of thoughts started cascading down like a line of dominos through a Rube Goldberg machine until the last one caused a single missing piece to fall into a puzzle on the floor you didn’t even know existed before. There were all kinds of gears grinding and fireworks going off my head, but at last, I managed to gather my wits.

“Wait. Hold on. Let me see if I get this straight. When you talk about tropes I would react to, what exactly do you mean?”

“Right now, I consider the sentai tropes provided by Friedrich and Galatea and the tournament arc for sure, while the presence of Medieval Stasis in the Elysium is more circumstantial at the moment. There are likely more, but those are the outstanding examples.”

“So you think the Narrative created those sentai shenanigans just to get a rise out of me?”

“Yes. Consider this: would you have gotten as involved as you did with the events if not for trying to avoid a potential genre shift?”

“Well, no, probably not,” I told her, and she immediately pressed on.

“If you look at the big picture, the sentai tropes appeared without any prior indication, and the moment Friedrich was apprehended, they completely vanished without a trace.”

The princess, finally done with her giggling fit, spoke up at this point, sounding genuinely surprised.

“You’re right. Back when we had to fight them, I never really thought much about it, but the way Friedrich and Galatea were conducting themselves really feels out of place in retrospect.”

“Okay, let’s grant you that,” I cut in, one hand already massaging my temple. “Let’s say that all the sentai stuff was just to ensure I would act against them. I have an issue with that.”

“Namely?”

“If you remember, I was given leads by Lord Grandpa, which led me to Rinne and the reanimated Chimera. I think we had concluded that those were my own sub-plots, specifically designed to keep me busy with a side-quest and not interfere with the main plot of Fred scaring Josh. Whether we look at it through a Watsoninan or a Doylist lens, the way it was structured makes it obvious it was one of those Narrative shenanigans.”

“Agreed.”

“Do you not see how that conflicts with your hypothesis?”

“Oh, I do!” Elly interjected with an intrigued look on her face. “If Judy’s idea is true, then the Narrative wanted to distract you from Robatto and his Sprockets, and yet at the same time it also wanted you to want to get rid of them by giving them those sentai trope things you hate.”

“Precisely! Also, while it’s true that I still consider tournament arcs a rancid boil of the face of storytelling, what exactly did the theoretical Narrative achieve by introducing one?”

“It made you try to ruin it,” Judy pointed out, and I promptly shook my head.

“So it didn’t want to have a tournament arc and wanted to me sabotage it? Then why did it introduce it in the first place?”

Judy remained silent as she was thinking, then answered, “There’s also a chance that it was used as reverse psychology. Since you didn’t want anything to do with it, the Narrative could limit your interactions in some way.”

“To what end?”

“I don’t know. There are too many variables,” Judy finally admitted. “But that doesn’t mean my hypothesis is necessarily wrong.”

“No, it doesn’t. However, it not only presumes a conscious Narrative that actively plans out these things, but it also presumes that it has direct access to my brain to know all the clichés, tropes, and genres I hate, and is also willing to enact vast systemic changes in the Simulacrum just to affect me in some way we currently can’t make sense of.”

“And it also contradicts itself,” Elly added, as a side note.

“Yeah, it does that too.” I could see that Judy was getting disheartened by our objections, so I decided to stop and offer and olive branch. “I mean, this isn’t a terrible hypothesis, but it raises just as many questions as it answers, and if anything, it only brings your idea of this all-controlling, all-seeing, near-omnipotent Narrative into question.”

“It does… but only if we give it those attributes,” Judy suddenly countered, taking me aback for a moment.

“What do you mean by that?”

“In short, what if the Narrative is incompetent, or at the very least can’t deal with your actions?” Suddenly reinvigorated, my dear assistant once again pointed at me. “You have mentioned that, when you accidentally spied on the architects of the Simulacrum, they talked about how it was under stress due to too many variables. You also told me that you recalled the term Free Actor, and that the two things were related. What if all of these examples were just the Narrative flailing around and trying to adapt to your influence and out-of-context abilities?”

“It’s… an interesting thought experiment, but I would personally first try to figure out if there’s even an actual, sapient, scheming Narrative to begin with before I would start speculating about its competence level.”

“Here you go again, questioning the existence of the Narrative,” Judy scoffed and crossed her arms.

“I’m not questioning its existence, I’m simply dubious about its exact nature and just how active it is,” I countered. “I mean, you have to admit that the idea that it would focus so much on me is a little silly.”

“No, Chief. If there’s anything silly here, it’s your dogged refusal to accept that you absolutely are at the center of the Simulacrum and the Narrative’s attention.”

“Even if I were to grant you that, and that’s a big ‘if’, don’t you think that it would do something as outrageous as pushing half a pre-established magical civilization back into the middle ages just to make me curious about them?”

“Chief, please don’t talk like we don’t have firsthand experience with the existence of retcons.”

“That is one thing, this is something else entirely.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s most definitely not.”

“Yes, it’s most def—”

“Wait! Stop, you two! Don’t fight!”

I was honestly taken aback by the princess jumping between the two of us (which, incidentally, meant she was standing on top of the bed) with her arms open, as if trying to distance two angry dogs from each other.

“We aren’t fighting,” Judy took the words out of my mouth, but I felt obliged to follow her up anyway.

“Right. This is just academic discourse.”

“Really?” When we both nodded, Elly finally let her arms down, but still looked just as stumped. “From where I was standing, it really looked like you two were fighting.”

“Nah, that was just a small intellectual disagreement, right, Dormouse?”

“More or less,” Judy agreed with me, and that finally got the princess off the bed.

“Is this kind of thing common?”

“Not really,” I answered by reflex, but then as I thought about it, I sent a questioning glance at Judy. “Right?”

“It’s not uncommon enough, but it’s been a while since we last disagreed like that.”

“Eh, it’s just because it’s been a while since we last had a new hypothesis to discuss. Those are much easier to argue over.”

The princess glanced back and forth between us and put her hands on her hips with a disapproving huff.

“Well, I still don’t like it, so I’m going to moderate you. From now on, if you can’t keep things civil while debating, I’ll bonk you over the head!”

For emphasis, she raised a fist and shook it at me, at which point Judy let out an amused hum.

“You heard that, Chief? You better keep things civil.”

“The same goes for you,” Elly cut in, and shook her fist at her as well, for good measure. “I’m an egalitarian moderator.”

“Very scary,” I noted, and Judy once again agreed with my assessment.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, how free scientific debate was once again subverted by the demands of the bourgeoisie. How were we supposed to have make-up cuddles after a fight like that? I mean, after a debate like that? How very unreasonable!

“I don’t feel like debating anymore,” Judy told us out of the blue. “Why don’t we go and get some fresh air?”

“Good idea! Let’s check out the buffet,” the princess switched gears on a dime, and her comment even earned an amused twitch of the lips from my dear assistant.

“I knew you were hungry.”

“Maybe a little,” my draconic girlfriend sheepishly admitted, which naturally painted a smile onto my face.

“Chief?” Upon suddenly addressed, I blinked at Judy, so she directly asked, “Are you coming along?”

“Before that, shouldn’t we finish unpacking your clothes?”

“Don’t worry about that. We still have a lot of time until sunset.”

I couldn’t help but sense a hidden meaning in her words, but for the time being, I ignored it and followed after the girls. However, as much as I tried to pretend that the previous conversation was behind us, there were still a few brand new ideas gnawing at the back of my mind as a result of it, and one, in particular, was giving me all kinds of ominous chills.

We had discussed the idea that the Narrative was trying to guide me through employing tropes that annoyed or intrigued me. We had discussed what its potential goals could’ve been, and whether it was competent or not. However, there was one more possibility we didn’t talk about that didn’t let me rest. The question was, did we have contradictory elements in Judy’s hypothesis because the Narrative was incompetent and was sabotaging itself, or because there was more than one ‘Narrative’ in play?

That was a scary thought. Not necessarily because it made the world even more chaotic than we previously imagined, but because I had no idea how this idea would affect Judy. She was already coming up with some crazy theories when there was only one hypothetical Narrative running amok. I had no idea just how deep she would fall into the rabbit hole if she got into her head that the Simulacrum was a five-dimensional chess game between two of those things.

As such, I shelved the idea for the time being and followed the girls to the buffet, concluding that I’ll have plenty of opportunities to explain it once we actually got any solid proof of anything. Hopefully, that would happen before the heat death of the universe, but hey, at least until then, we’ll still have plenty of opportunities to debate these topics, wouldn’t we?

I was still lost in my thoughts when the three of us arrived at the lounge. By this point, most of the guys had already settled into their rooms and were busy exploring the resort all over again. At the back, I saw Rinne and Galatea making full use of the massage chairs, while by the sounds of it, the childhood friend couple was in the process of teaching Ichiko how to play Street Kombat. Overall, things were calm and cozy at the moment, just as expected. It was too early for hot springs episode shenanigans.

While I was looking around, Judy and Elly came to a halt in front of the large map of the complex, so I hurriedly followed after them.

“Why does a resort of this size have both a buffet and a restaurant?” the princess mused while pointing at a specific part of the map, and my other girlfriend gestured at the densely packed text in its lower-left corner in turn.

“Over there it says that the restaurant is only open from eleven in the morning until two in the afternoon, and then from six in the evening until nine.”

“Isn’t that a bit odd,” I chimed in, and my dear assistant let out an ambivalent grunt.

“We’re in the off-season. During high season, everything is open twenty-four-seven.”

“Really? Where did you read that?” Elly whispered while squinting at the text.

“It’s there, in the fine print.”

“How can you read that?” the princess grumbled and stepped closer. “Did they write this for ants?”

While she was busily deciphering that, I also took a closer look at the map, and had to admit that it was surprisingly detailed. The resort had three buildings in total. The main one had the reception, the lounge, and the VIP rooms on the ground floor, while the second floor was completely taken up by the standard rooms. To the west (if the small compass in the upper-right corner was to be believed), there was a big indoor bathhouse connected to the main building, and right next to that, there were two large outdoor spring baths, one smaller and one bigger.

The other building, to the north of the main one, was completely separate, with a footpath leading to it through a stone garden. It housed both the buffet and the restaurant on its ground floor, while its first floor had a small shop and an internet café combined with a small library.

“It’s a good thing we haven’t changed out of our coats yet,” I noted and pointed at said building.

“So it should be… that way!” Elly exclaimed, ready to move out, yet my dear assistant to didn’t budge and only pulled on my sleeve.

“Yes, Dormouse? Is there a problem?”

“Just something I noticed,” she said in a low voice and gestured at the scale indicator at the bottom of the map. “This is not only a highly accurate map, but it also allows exact measurements of distances between the different rooms and buildings.”

“So?”

“So… Chief? What is your opinion on the whodunit genre?”

That question threw me on a loop for a moment, but then I tentatively answered, “No strong feelings either way. Why?”

“Because this map looks like it was put here to serve as a prop to be used during the investigation.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Elly wedged herself back into the conversation by literally sticking her head between us.

“Judy’s talking about murder mystery tropes all of the sudden. Don’t ask why; I don’t know either.”

“It’s very logical, my dear Watson,” Judy stated and pointed at the map again. “Imagine the following scenario: someone is found dead in their room. The detective comes around, takes a look at this map, and using the measuring mark at the bottom, he can immediately tell how far everyone else was from the crime scene. Then he interrogates people, and suddenly, eureka. One of the testimonies doesn’t add up, claiming that they couldn’t have heard someone’s cries for help even though they were only twenty meters away. With that, the case is cracked wide open, and soon the culprit is apprehended in a final showdown of deductive might. It’s all very elementary.”

“… I still don’t get it,” Elly admitted, and I was just about to agree with her, if not for Judy promptly explaining her rationale.

“We just established that it’s highly probable that certain plot developments and tropes in the Simulacrum exist just to prod the Chief into taking certain actions. Therefore, I asked if he had any strong feelings on the whodunit genre, to gauge whether or not we should expect a sudden genre shift.”

“I don’t know where that ‘highly probable’ remark came from, but just to reiterate, I don’t care much about murder mysteries either way.”

My dear assistant clicked her tongue and crossed her arms.

“In that case, we could use this for an experiment. By using self-suggestion, we could have the Chief pretend that he really hates whodunit mysteries, and if it results in a closed room murder, we’ll know that the Narrative actively genre-shifts in response to his preferences.”

“Sorry, Dormouse, but I can’t help but notice that this plan of yours would require someone to be murdered.”

“It’s a small sacrifice I’m willing to make to prove that I’m right.”

“That’s… not very funny.”

Hearing Elly’s comment on the side, Judy soon let out a defeated sigh.

“Fine. Joke retracted.” I thought that was the end of it, but then she added, “We could still try it with genres that don’t have dead bodies as a pre-requisite though.”

“… You’re really attached to this new theory of yours, aren’t you?” the princess commented again, but before Judy could give a response, I noticed someone coming over, so I raised a palm to cut the conversation short.

“Hey, guys. Whatcha doing?”

I returned Josh’s greeting with a lazy wave of the same hand.

“Just checking the map before going to grab something to eat. What about you? Is your training session with Ichiko already over?”

The guy shook his head and pointed with his thumb over his shoulder.

“Nah, Angie is still teaching her the basics. She’s enthusiastic, but a total noob. Should’ve expected from a magical sword spirit fox girl or whatever, now that I think about it. She’ll learn. But anyway, I guess that means you saw that we have a Street Kombat II Super Turbo Kollection cabinet, right?”

“It was hard to miss.”

My response earned me a toothy grin.

“Of course! It’s a classic! Also, while I know this matters little to a bourgeois like you, but all the arcade games are free to use here. They have this big red button where the coin slot would be, and you just have to press it, and presto! Free games!”

“Neat, but I’m pretty sure you didn’t come over just to tell me about that.”

“And you would be right!” Josh declared with a snap of his fingers. “Since it’s free, I decided to organize a tournament. You’re in, right?”

“I don’t know… What about you, girls?”

“I’m bad with these kinds of games,” Judy declined right away, and the princess didn’t seem too eager either.

“I never played any fighting games before… but I’m sure it would be fun to watch you compete!”

“Well, that settles it, then,” I told Josh with a shrug. “When’s this tournament of yours?”

“Probably tomorrow. I have to ask everyone first. Ah, speak of the devil!” I followed his line of sight and found Penny and Snowy entering the lounge at the end of it. “Gotta go! I’ll tell you the details once we hammered them out!”

And with those words, our resident protagonist dashed away to intercept my sisters, no doubt doing his best to rope them into his little impromptu project. It was nice to see him being proactive for once, even if it was about something inconsequential like this, and I would’ve already put the whole topic behind me if not for Judy giving me a skeptical look.

“What?”

“Chief, you’re acting self-contradictory.”

“… What?” I repeated myself, and my dear assistant once again crossed her arms.

“You fought tooth and nail against even interacting with the previous tournaments, but you immediately agreed to participate in this one. You’re being inconsistent.”

“Erm… no? This is a gaming tournament, and a small one at that. It’s a completely different thing.”

Dangerously narrowing her eyes, Judy asked, “So you aren’t playing along with a trope you previously hated just to prove my hypothesis wrong?”

“Dormouse, stop. You’re being paranoid.” Before she could answer, we were both interrupted by Elly’s stomach making a low gurgling noise, so I used the opportunity to add, “How about we drop this whole topic and get going before the princess starves to death?”

“I’m not that hungry,” she protested with reddened cheeks, but I locked arms with her and followed the arrow pointing towards the second building anyway.

A beat later, Judy caught up to us and entwined my free arm with her own, and before long, we were already outside. The stone garden was about as neat and impressive as expected, and the thick blanket of snow gave it an extra layer of charm, though I could only pay nominal attention to the environment due to the girls.

“Tournaments aren’t a hot springs episode trope,” Judy told my other girlfriend, no doubt in response to a question I wasn’t paying attention to, and Elly let out a thoughtful hum.

“Then what are?”

“The common tropes?” I chimed in, and she nodded at once. “It’s usually ecchi stuff.” She remained confused, so I further elaborated. “It’s racy stuff that’s titillating but not very explicit.”

“I think you need to give direct examples,” my dear assistant noted, and seeing the question marks over Elly’s head, I had to agree with her.

“It’s scenarios like walking in on someone while they are still changing, or someone’s underwear getting stolen causing a scene, or a group of guys walking into the open air bath while the girls are still inside, so they think they came in to peep on them, which causes a huge commotion until they realize that it was the girls at fault because they didn’t pay attention to the time and it was supposed to be the guys’ turn already, yet despite all that, they still remain offended and blame the guys for being perverts.”

“… That last one was very specific.”

“It’s because the hot spring episode itself is a pretty formulaic affair. It’s almost as bad as a beach episode.”

“It’s also why it’s strange to have a fighting game tournament during one, unless it was brought about by the Chief’s preferences,” Judy noted, and after dramatically rolling my eyes, I did the only reasonable thing and tickled her side.

“Stop harping on that, will you?”

“But it is strange,” she continued to argue, even while simultaneously trying to get away from my fingers and yet hold onto my arm. “Arcades aren’t part of the usual hot spring episode games, to begin with.”

“Hot spring games?” came the next question from the princess. “Like, in the water? Or parlor games?”

“The latter, mostly the card-game variety” I answered her a tad ambivalently, ignoring the other girl trying (and failing) to tickle me back. “I think the most common ones are simple party games, like truth-or-dare and old maid, plus that king’s game thing that’s just a variation of truth-or-dare, but with colored sticks. Mahjong is also pretty common, and then there’s karaoke, but I don’t think this place has a booth. Oh, and depending on the age of the participants, and level of inebriation, strip poker seems oddly common as well.”

“Oh. I don’t like that,” the princess murmured with a disapproving frown. “I-I mean, it’s still a little embarrassing to undress even if it’s only the three of us, and I absolutely wouldn’t want to do it in front of others.”

I wanted to tell her ‘Well, we obviously aren’t going to have strip-poker here, to begin with’, but before I could do so, my dear assistant let out an inspired ‘Oh?’, stopping me in my tracks.

“… Dormouse. Stop thinking the thing I think you’re thinking.”

“Sorry Chief. A thought already thought cannot be unthought. Now I just have to figure out what game we should play where you cannot cheat, and we’re all set.”

Staring unblinkingly at her, I gave her the opportunity to backpedal, but when she remained entirely serious, I had no choice but to resume our previous tickling efforts. They only lasted for a couple of seconds this time, since we were already at the entrance of the second building, so I had no choice but to stop even though the premonition of incoming shenanigans was still weighing heavily on my mind.

The insides of this place were considerably more western than the main building. The floor was covered in dark brown, marble-printed tiles, while the wood-paneled walls and pillars had the same, vaguely Nordic motifs carved in them. It was a strange mixture of the high class and the rustic, but it somehow worked.

More importantly, right after we entered, we ran into Arnwald and Morgana, each of them holding a wrapped-up pita in their hands.

“Your majesty,”/”My liege,” the two of them greeted me at once, and I grudgingly returned the gesture with a nod. I kept telling them to stop calling me that, but my words were like water off a duck’s back.

“Are you on your way to peruse the food court?” Mr. Eagle inquired, and raised his pita without waiting for my answer. “If so, I heartily recommend their gyros! It’s freshly made, and they use pork and authentic tzatziki sauce. Even Sister Morgana approves.”

“You make me sound like I’m some kind of snob,” Ms. Gorgon teased him, and the man let out an awkward chuckle.

“Not at all. I’m simply acknowledging your refined palate.”

Now it was her turn to chuckle, after which she turned to us.

“My tastes are not nearly as sophisticated as Arnwald makes them sound, but I admit this is one of the better gyros I’ve had. It reminds me of home.”

“We should tell Roland about it,” Mr. Eagle proposed all of a sudden. “We often ate doner kebab when we were stationed at the Berlin chapterhouse. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the suggestion.”

After some thinking, Morgana hummed in agreement, and glanced over to me. I gave them the go with my eyes, but instead of leaving through the door we came in, the two of them headed upstairs.

“Chief? I’ve been meaning to ask, but do you think there’s something between those two?”

Faced with the sudden question, I could only shrug.

“I have no idea. They seem to be invested in each other, but I don’t know how far that goes.”

My dear assistant would’ve probably continued this train of thought, if not for Elly’s stomach announcing its presence with another low growl. It was probably triggered by the aroma wafting of the gyroses the two senior knights waved around, so we decided to just move on and continue whatever discussion we had once her tummy was satiated. On a side note, I figured I might as well buy myself a portion. I mean, if we were at it, might as well, and it wasn’t like I was immune to the smell either.

As such, we followed the signpost, ignored the currently closed restaurant, rounded a corner, and soon found ourselves looking at a neat little booth. It had a counter stacked with sandwiches and other readymade food, a salad bar at the back, and right at the forefront, there was the characteristic vertical rotisserie, along with all the pitas and containers full of sliced onions, salads, and condiments.

It was a small outfit, to begin with, probably because it would only play second fiddle to the restaurant during high season, and now that it was only our small group staying over, things were scaled back even further. Still, the smell of freshly roasted meat was certainly tantalizing, even if it was only covering a fourth of the roasting pole, and even my dear assistant seemed intrigued by the foodstuffs on display.

“Customers coming right… up?”

The guy on the other side of the counter, wearing a bright red apron and a matching branded baseball cap, called out to the back, only to freeze when our eyes met.

“Wazzit, boss?” a short guy, wearing the same outfit, poked his head out from the kitchen area, only to also stiffen when he noticed me.

“Is there a problem? Are we out of the spicy sauce again?” inquired a high-pitched yet nasal voice, its owner busy rearranging the sandwiches on display. When he didn’t get an answer, he glanced up at the big guy behind the counter, and he pointed a terrified finger in our direction. At last, the tall one finally looked our way, only to nearly shriek when he saw me. “W-W-What is he doing here?!”

“How the hell should I know, Jones!?” the big guy bellowed in return, causing the small guy in the back to start running around in circles.

“Don’t panic, Pepper! Just stick to the plan!” the lanky guy sputtered as he all but climbed back behind the counter. “Don’t panic!”

In the meantime, we remained completely stock still, and it was only at this point that Judy asked, “Is that the Goldfish Poop Gang?”

“The goldfish what?” Elly blurted out in response, but after taking another look at the trio, her eyes lit up with recognition. “Oh? Aren’t they your friends? You know, from back then? We met them when we went home together than one time.”

“I can’t decide whether to praise your memory for remembering these guys, or ask about what gave you the impression we were friends,” I grumbled, but when she didn’t react, I just sighed and pulled the girls along with the words, “Don’t be too surprised. It’s a small world.”

It’s confession time, once again. Before this day, I thought the reputation of hot-spring baths was overblown and inflated by media. Kind of like how anime and manga made an entire generation believe that katanas were the bestest swords that ever sworded in the history of swording, I figured that hot springs would end up similarly over-exaggerated, and soaking in one would be no different from sitting in a bathtub at home (not that I would know about that either, as I only had a shower).

Yet, despite coming in with expectations so low they were right next to dino fossils, I was completely floored by the experience. Lying in the outdoor pool in the late winter evening, with the Milky Way stretched over the sky above me and the hot water making me relaxed to the point I felt like I could melt at any second…

“I could definitely get used to this.”

But then again, if I did, it would’ve probably stopped feeling special, so maybe it was best to keep things in moderation.

I wasn’t the only one who gained a newfound appreciation for the hot spring either, as Josh let out a satisfied sigh nearby, staring at the starry sky with a peaceful expression. We were in the smaller of the two outdoor baths, and they had the same kind of Japanese onsen aesthetics as the one in our VIP room; lots of rustic, uncut stones, wooden benches under the water to sit on, and even one of those bamboo things with water trickling into them that periodically made a sharp sound.

While I said it was “smaller”, it was only in comparison with the other communal pool, which was currently used by the girls. They were both mixed baths, but since it was only us on the premises, we ended up dividing them up anyway. Also, for the record, while I doubted anyone would’ve minded if we were skinny-dipping, everyone was still wearing swimsuits into the pools, including the two of us.

Speaking of which, after a while, Josh stopped staring at the sky and turned to me.

“Miss Yamako was right. This is great.”

“Yamako?” I repeated after him by reflex, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out what he was talking about. “Oh, you mean Rinne?”

“Of course I mean her.”

“Sorry, my bad. I’m just so used to calling her Mountain Girl that I keep forgetting about her cover surname.”

“Well, I can’t,” my friend uttered, followed by a displeased huff. “You told everyone you’re related, so nobody at school cares how you address her, but if I accidentally called her by her first name, those four bastards wouldn’t leave me alone for days.”

“Oh, I think I know who you’re talking about. If the creepers are bothering you, just report them to Armband Guy. After that whole ‘The Gathering’ stunt, they should still be on probation.”

“I don’t know, man. That feels like being a tattler.”

“What other option do you have?”

Josh remained silent, seriously considering my entirely rhetorical question for way longer than necessary.

“Weeell… I have superpowers, so I could just beat them up during a break or something, right?”

Over the next five seconds, I sent one of the flattest, most two-dimensional deadpan stares at my friend I’ve ever managed to pull off, but when he didn’t react, I was forced to follow it up with a lung-rattling sigh and a facepalm.

“Josh. We live in a civilized society, where governing organizations have a monopoly on violence. They are both endowed with the authority to inflict violence on the people breaking the rules and laws of society, and also to stop people from enacting vigilante justice and inflicting violence on others.”

“… So you’re saying…?”

“Don’t beat them up during school hours, but lure them into a dark alley or something where no one can see you, for god’s sake.”

“Ah, gotcha!”

He flashed me a toothy grin, and I waited until he stopped before adding, “Seriously though, talk to Pascal first.”

“Fine, fine.” He dismissed my nagging with a wave of his hand and fell silent. It lasted for nearly a solid minute, during which I patiently waited for him to speak his mind. I knew the expression on his face all too well; he always looked like that whenever he had something on his mind that he really, really wanted to talk about, but didn’t know how to broach the subject. I was ready to break the ice if push came to shove, but after another silent minute, he clumsily cleared his throat and decided to do it himself. “So… Speaking of superpowers and organizations with a monopoly on violence…”

He trailed off, so I prompted him with a curious, “Yes?”

“So… I’m actually pretty good at fighting, aren’t I?”

“Are you?”

He apparently didn’t expect me to say that, and after the first surprise, he indignantly narrowed his eyes.

“Come on, man! I won a whole-ass tournament less than two weeks ago!”

“Yes, but you didn’t even make it into the finals of our own tournament,” I pointed out in turn, and my friend let out an angry huff and raised his hands, kicking up some water in the process.

“Hey! I thought we were over this! I just had bad matchups, all right?” Fuming, he crossed his arms. “How did you even beat your sister during that whole Arbitration thing? She’s like a freaking red hedgehog on amphetamines!”

“You mean Sanic?”

“Sanic? Isn’t it Sonic?” Josh asked back, his previous indignation evaporating faster than the steam rising from the pool around us.

“No-no. That’s the internet parody. Sanic is the red hedgehog mascot that goes really fast, Sonic is the poorly illustrated pointy red blob that shows up in funny and occasionally disturbing meme videos.”

“Huh. You’d think it would be the other way around,” he mused, and I shook my head.

“Not really. There’s no way a company would try to trademark the name ‘Sonic’. It’s too generic. It would be like calling a lion character Simba.”

“Or Leo,” my friend pointed out with a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah. That too. By the way, what were we talking about? Something about you being good at fighting or something.”

“Right, that.” He paused for a second, probably to collect his thoughts, then tentatively asked, “So… do you remember that orientation day we had at the beginning of last November?”

“Yeah? It’s when Angie literally wrote ‘la presidenta of a banana republic’ under ‘Where do you see yourself in ten years?’.”

Stifling a chuckle, Josh told me, “That was hilarious. Also, kinda your fault.”

“I wash my hands of any responsibility. So?”

“So, back then, I was still reeling from all this supernatural crap flying left and right and didn’t have any idea what I whould do in the future. At least, until recently.”

“Oh? Do go on, don’t keep me in suspense!”

Josh rolled his eyes at my comment, then took a deep breath.

“So, I don’t exactly have great prospects. With my grades, I would be lucky to get into a university, and I never really had much of a passion for anything.”

“What about food?”

“I’m a terrible cook, and people don’t really pay you for eating. More importantly, I never thought I had any kind of talent, but it turns out I have a bit of a knack for combat, right?” He stared intently at me and refused to continue until I nodded along. “I talked with Roland about this too, and he also agreed. Normally I wouldn’t know where to begin making a living with that, but as it just happens, my best pal just founded a brand new organization with a monopoly on ass-kicking, and it’s all about beating up bad guys.”

“Wait… Are you telling me you want to join the Ordo Draconis?”

Josh nodded with the utmost seriousness.

“Yep. I mean, Roland said I would certainly make the cut, and they are already looking into recruiting Draconians into the organization to shore up the numbers, so I would fit right in. I mean, as far as Elly’s dad explained to me after the tournament, everyone thinks I’m a distant descendant of some fallen Draconian clan who won the genetic lottery. I think he called it ‘bloodline recession’?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s ‘regression’, and… that’s actually not a terrible idea.” Josh was looking at me expectantly, so I explained, “Dad-in-law is right; after what happened at the tournament, everyone’s convinced that you’re a Draconian. Since the Ordo Draconis is already recruiting them, we could use it as a pretense to hide your tree in our forest, so to speak.”

“Right. That would… be useful?”

“Of course, it would be useful. Remember, we’re still trying to keep your almighty chosen one status under wraps. The longer everyone’s convinced that you’re ‘just’ a Draconian from an unknown bloodline, the better.”

“Huh. I expected some resistance to the idea,” Josh muttered, then tentatively asked, “Does that mean I’m in?”

“Sure. Tell Roland I gave you the green light, and…”

“… And what?” When I didn’t answer right away, my friend raised his hands in indignation once again. “Come on, man! You can’t just leave me hanging like that!”

Ignoring his protest, I let the gears in my brain spin for a while, and only once I was sure my worries weren’t unfounded did I point a finger at the guy.

“Before anything else, answer me this: How is your relationship going with Angie?”

“Erm… That’s kind of out of the blue.”

“Nope.” I wagged my finger for emphasis. “This is important. Did you two come clear and moved past this silly ‘test dating’ phase already?”

“Well… uh… I was planning to do it during Valentine’s, because it’s thematic and stuff, so… I guess my answer is ‘not yet’.”

I did my best to stifle the groan clawing at my throat and only shook my head instead.

“That’s not good. Get it done ASAP, preferably before we go back home.”

“Do I really have to? And what does my love life have to do with anything we talked about until now anyway?”

“More than you would think.” Josh raised a skeptical brow at that comment, so I resolved myself to explain the situation. “Fine. Listen up: you know that the Draconians are really particular about the bloodlines, right?”

“Yes?”

Ignoring how much his answer sounded like a question, I once again pointed at his dense mug.

“Think about who you are, in their eyes. You’re a young Draconian who came out of nowhere, not affiliated with any of the clans, and as your first public act, you not only subdued a rampaging Knight, you also triumphed over both the heiress of the Dracis family and the young master of the Feilong clan in a big tournament specifically designed to draw attention to young talents. At this moment, you’re probably the single most desirable bachelor on the island, and I wouldn’t be surprised if once the dust settles down, the clans would start throwing every available bachelorette at you.”

“That… sounds bad?”

“It is, trust me. So, if you want to avoid spending every day dodging pretty Draconian girls throwing themselves at you to have your babies, you better put on your lucky underpants, sit down, resolve your relationship with Angie, and start acting like a lovey-dovey idiot couple in public ASAP.”

“Yeah, sure. Because it’s just that easy…” Josh scoffed, like I just told him something unreasonable, but before I could emphasize how important this was, we were interrupted by the glass door (or rather, the small chine attached to it) making a tinkling noise as Roland and Duncan entered the bath.

“I hope we are not interrupting anything,” Mr. Griffon noted as he came over. He had a bright blue towel slung over his shoulder, but otherwise, he was only wearing swimming trunks, showing off his lean yet well-toned body. He even had a solid six-pack, which made me a little jealous, as even though I’ve been consistently working out, I couldn’t quite manage one yet. Duncan, on the other hand, was wearing a speedo, and he was just a silly pose and some body oil away from looking like a young bodybuilder. As for his stomach, he was apparently one of the rare people with an eight-pack, and he was bloody flaunting it.

“‘main ‘en, gie in th’ water! A’am freezin’ mah balls aff ower haur!”

“Please excuse the intrusion.”

“This is a public bath, you’re not intruding anywhere,” I told Roland, and made some space for him. Instead, it was Duncan who jumped first into the water.

“Aw! T’is hoot!”

“Of course it is. It’s a hot spring,” Josh noted with just a hint of schadenfreude, while Roland slowly shook his head.

“You’re supposed to slowly immerse yourself in the water, like this.”

“Aye, aye. Bite me.”

The big guy grumbled, then slipped even deeper into the water, until only his face from the nose up was visible. Meanwhile, Roland slowly acclimated to the temperature difference and settled down next to me.

“I managed to contact Sir Percival.”

“That was quick,” I noted a touch expectantly.

“As it turned out, Penelope had his e-mail address all along. He told me he will arrive on the island sometime next week, and that he’ll message me again once he booked his flight.” He paused here, as if gauging my reaction, then added, “He asked why you didn’t tell him about what happened, and I told him you lost your memories.”

“For the record, I still remember the times when that used to be a big secret,” Josh noted on the side, and then followed it up with a shrug when I didn’t react.

“Did he ask anything else?”

“No. I believe he will want to discuss what happened in private with you. Conversely, if you wish to message him, I can give you his address.”

“No need. I’ll cross that bridge when the bridge arrives on the island. For now, let me rest a bit longer.”

“Yeah, coz ye arenae sleepin’ tonecht,” Duncan chimed in between two chuckles.

“Duncan, please,” Roland came to my defense, but I raised a hand to stall him.

“Just leave him be.” After saying so, I shifted my posture so that I would be submersed up to my shoulders, and after successfully resisting the urge to Far Glance at the girls to find out what they had in store for me, I softly added, “He’s not exactly wrong, you know…”