1

In front of the crate that held her clothes, Minori was at a loss.

Not like that. Not like this, either. She took out garments and held them up to herself, but to her flustered mind, none of them looked quite right. However, she didn’t toss aside the ones she’d taken out; she folded them neatly and put them away, which was just like her. Mentally, though, she was stretched to the limit.

Since Shiroe had given his permission, they’d be participating in the cake buffet, but Minori’s objective wasn’t free cake. This was all for Shiroe and his guild, Log Horizon.

This one looks sort of little kid–ish. This one matches Touya’s. And this one’s…too drab. Well, it is work clothes, after all.

Carefully, Minori folded up yet another outfit, a chartreuse overall.

This room was hers.

To Minori, who’d been forced to room with a whole group of people at Hamelin, it was so spacious it seemed to be almost too much of a luxury for her.

When they’d joined Log Horizon, in light of her skills, Minori had asked to share a room with Touya. However, Shiroe and Naotsugu had said, “The building’s big, so don’t stand on ceremony,” and had gotten a private room ready for her.

It was such a nice room that comparing it to Hamelin seemed rude. The breeze that blew in through the window had become one of Minori’s favorite things.

However, it wasn’t that the room was decorated grandly. It was simply big. Even though it was only for her, it had about ten tatami mats’ worth of area, and both the floor and the walls were made of wood. There wasn’t much furniture in that big room: just a few crates, a bed and a low table.

Because this was Minori’s private room, and the other guild members acknowledged it, she could decorate it any way she liked. If she asked, they were sure to help her carry in furniture, and they might even make something for her themselves. However, Minori’s innate frugality and reserve made her hesitant to buy items that cost large sums of money.

She might still be middle class, but lately, Minori had been earning quite a bit.

One major factor was that she went to the fields and hunted regularly. The main objective was for the four midclass players—Minori, Touya, Rundelhaus, and Isuzu—to get combat practice, but naturally, even if it was training, they got loot.

There were all sorts of items that could be acquired after battles: meat and fur from animal-type monsters; equipment, money, and goods from intelligent monsters. These were collectively known as drop items, and many of them were exchanged for cash or used as materials within the production classes.

In Log Horizon’s case, they kept back items that Nyanta the Chef or Shiroe the Scribe could use, but they exchanged all other items for money.

When the four of them went out training together, they quietly slipped a good portion of what they earned into the guild’s bank account. No one had actually suggested it, but it was something thoughtful that had become a habit for the younger group (which was what they’d come to call the lower-level players) somewhere along the way.

However, if a leader like Naotsugu or Nyanta was with them, they couldn’t accomplish this. The amount was divided neatly and equally among each person present and promptly pushed into their hands. According to Nyanta, “When mew’re suitably rewarded, it fosters professional attitudes.” They understood the logic, but it was hard to just nod and accept it.

This was true for her companions as well, but Minori felt indebted to Shiroe and Log Horizon.

In addition, this guild had its own dedicated cook in the form of Nyanta.

In Akiba at present, a large part of the cost of living was food-related expenses.

The only thing that resembled heating and lighting expenses was lamp oil, and even there, half the classes could substitute magic for it. Housing expenses included inn lodging fees or guild fees, but these were very cheap. Not only that, but if they felt like it, there were plenty of ruins to camp in.

That meant the largest part of living expenses in Akiba was the cost of food. As a result, the Adventurers’ Engel coefficient didn’t bear looking at. It was so bad that many Adventurers spent a percentage of income that would have been equivalent to rent in the old world on food.

Thanks to Nyanta’s home cooking, food-related costs—that greatest expense—weren’t necessary at Log Horizon.

Since Minori and the others belonged to it, even if they were putting money into the guild as well, there was no way their own savings wouldn’t grow. Minori’s account already held quite a tidy sum.

As a result, she had money to spare.

There was enough for her to get a complete set of furnishings for her room. …Provided she was discriminating about level, of course.

Since this world had originally been a game, the range of item types was truly vast. For example, there was infinite variety even among beds, which ranged from wooden beds meant simply as places to sleep to canopy beds that were works of art, carved from ivory and obsidian. Beds were made by people with the production subclass Woodworker, and the successive level expansions had continued to add items that were higher level and hard to make but could be sold at high prices. As a result, even though they were all beds, the item variations had acquired a several-hundred-fold price spread.

This meant that—although extraordinarily expensive, high-rank items did exist—as long as you chose low-rank items, furniture wasn’t an expensive purchase at all. Elder Tales had originally been a game, and no matter what production system they belonged to, items included in its recipes could be completed in ten seconds simply by selecting them from the menu. Prices were influenced only by the difference in difficulty of obtaining the material and the level of the artisan who processed them, and there was no concept of hours worked.

As such, a bed or chest of drawers that used Japanese Cedar or Oak—items which could be gathered in low-level fields—could be purchased for the cost of a single meal.

Even so, all Minori had purchased were several wooden crates to store her belongings in and a bed that was plain but comfortable. A single low table that looked a bit like a kotatsu. A futon set, and several cushions. That was it.

It was a very plain room.

The bottom line was that Minori’s nature just wasn’t suited to lavish spending.

For that very reason, all the clothes Minori was rummaging through now were quite respectable. They were well tailored; sturdy and not worn down; clean-looking: the sort of things she’d never have to be embarrassed about wearing when she passed people in town… But, unfortunately, they weren’t very interesting.

This just won’t do, will it…

She held up a light blue dress, but it looked too young as well. She didn’t think she could even set Shiroe off to advantage in clothes like these.

I’ll go get something better.

Making up her mind, Minori opened her clasp coin purse. This old-fashioned wallet belonged to her. In the days when this world was a game, currency had simply been listed on the character screen as a weightless item, but now you had to put it in a wallet and carry it around with you. Wallets were a surprisingly popular item.

Minori’s objective was to rehabilitate Shiroe.

“Rehabilitate,” or “debut,” or possibly “advertise.”

Frankly speaking, Shiroe’s reputation in Akiba wasn’t very good. Of course, Shiroe was one of the eleven guild masters. Since he was one of the representatives of the Round Table Council, it was safe to say that his name recognition had jumped compared to what it had been a little while ago.

To begin with, the Round Table Council itself had come about in large part because of Shiroe’s plan. In Akiba, this was common knowledge among people who were even slightly well informed. However, the problem wasn’t the sheer height of his name recognition, but the content of his reputation.

The unanimous opinion of the general public was that Shiroe was a counselor type. However, in combination with his “Machiavelli-with-glasses” byname, the idea that he was underhanded and merciless was circulating through Akiba.

Apparently, the speech in which Raynesia made her appeal for military volunteers had been lethal.

During that speech, it had looked as though Shiroe was persecuting Princess Raynesia. Starting about then, Shiroe’s image had become that of a schemer who, although competent and a born counselor, was cruel and completely lacking in human warmth.

This was painful for Minori.

To her, Shiroe was a hero.

Nobody understood, but he was a kind person. Minori truly believed that there were very few players as kind as Shiroe.

When Minori and the other newbie players had been trapped by Hamelin, hadn’t Shiroe been the only one who’d tried to save them? No one other than Shiroe had directly confronted what everyone else had averted their eyes from.

Shiroe was Minori’s hero.

So the fact that many people had the wrong idea about him made her sad. On top of that sadness, it was sure to cast a shadow over the guild’s future operation. Log Horizon was just one of the smaller guilds that had put down roots in Akiba. There was no telling what sort of disadvantages this negative image would inflict on it.

At the very least, Minori knew that Shiroe was a good, kind person. She loved everyone else in Log Horizon too, and the guild was the place where she belonged now. She wanted to clear away as many of the bad rumors as possible.

Then this festival had come along.

In truth, some of the responsibility for Shiroe’s weird image did lay with himself.

In the first place, Shiroe was in charge of planning and investigation; he didn’t put in frequent appearances at artisan meetings like the guild master of a production guild, or have many opportunities to conduct joint expeditions with lots of members from other guilds and return in triumph, the way combat guilds did.

The guild masters of big guilds seemed to consider public relations and recruiting to be part of guild activities. At least, that was what Minori had heard. As a result, even the ones who had a general reputation for disliking people didn’t hesitate to come into contact with them, both at public and private events. Many guild masters were surprisingly sociable, conscientious individuals.

In contrast, although Shiroe wasn’t a misanthrope, he was indifferent about social activities. And especially of late, he’d been buried in mountains of reports and living like a hermit.

In other words, since the root of the problem lay in Shiroe’s failure to go out more often, all she had to do was present him to the people of Akiba more frequently. Free cake buffet aside, if they won there, they’d be invited to the great dinner party on the final day. She’d heard somewhere that staff from Akikuro—Akiba’s newspaper—would be there too, and if everything went well…

As Minori gave wing to her fantasies, she was abruptly pulled back to reality.

But still, we’ll be eating cake together, so…

Wearing a drab outfit really would be a problem, too, so…

Technically, unless Shiroe coolly solved a town issue or gave a rousing speech, his reputation in Akiba wouldn’t change so easily. However, Minori was optimistic.

Shiroe is dashing, so that won’t be a problem.

This was sheer personal preference, but Minori seemed to have let that slip past her entirely. There was also the question of whether this “dashing Shiroe” Minori mentioned was a maidenly delusion, but there was no one to answer it.

In general, at this point in time, there was no one who was particularly concerned with the identity of the emotion inside Minori.

Nobody knew whether it was trust for a guardian, a pastel adoration, or something more definite.

This was because even Minori, the person in question, hadn’t given a name to what she felt.

2

Meanwhile, Akatsuki had noticed her own symptoms.

Like Minori, she’d retired to her room. She was sitting on the tatami, as silent as a figurine, but internally, she was badly shaken.

When she sat like this, kneeling formally on a floor cushion, Akatsuki looked adorable. Her long, glossy black hair spread out behind her, and her small, seated shape had the air of a small, elegant animal about it.

However, even if she was short, she was a university student. The amount of information she had was decidedly different from what Minori, a middle schooler, had. The fact that she couldn’t state positively that her amount of experience was different made Akatsuki sad, but she was fully aware of that fact, and it made her agitation all the more violent.

Why do I have to feel pressured by a middle schooler?!

Akatsuki writhed in agony, hugging her knees.

On top of having no experience with romance, she had many uncalled-for complexes, and there was no possible way she could keep her cool under the circumstances. Self-control didn’t accumulate as easily as age did.

It was all because she was short. That was the root of the trouble.

Akatsuki heaved a big sigh and thought back, touching her bangs with a fingertip.

Things had been fine when she was in elementary school. She’d been an elementary schooler who looked like an elementary schooler.

Then she’d become a middle schooler who looked like an elementary schooler.

Even in high school, she’d been no more than a high school student who looked like an elementary schooler.

When she started college, people had finally begun mistaking her for a middle schooler, but by that time, she no longer had the energy to talk back.

She didn’t think her appearance was all that bad, but in any case, she had no experience with love. The only people who approached her were men with certain interests who’d gotten the wrong idea. You couldn’t even hope to date in an environment like that.

Of course, she had had someone confess to her seriously. But.

That was…

Akatsuki’s shoulders slumped.

The year she’d started university, a neighborhood middle schooler had told her he liked her. He seemed to be under the impression that she was a middle schooler from another district. She’d turned him down, of course, but it had been such a shock that she’d come down with a fever, and even now, the psychological trauma remained.

That said, it wasn’t as though Akatsuki herself had wanted romance no matter what. Of course, as a woman of a certain age, she’d been interested in boyfriend-girlfriend relationships, but she hadn’t been so desperate she would have fallen for just anyone. She’d thought that adoration without a definite object was foolish.

What Akatsuki was starved for was a much drier relationship, one built on abilities. Her cute looks and short stature meant she’d been treated as a mascot at all times, wherever she went. Even at home, her own little sister had treated her like a little sister.

For that reason, she’d idolized “partner,” “collaborator,” and “colleague” relationships. If not those, then “subordinate” or “follower” would have been fine. The sort of relationship where each acknowledged the other’s skills and made up for the other’s shortcomings.

After all, no one had ever treated her that way.

She was a hard worker, and when she was working toward a goal she was determined to reach, she had an earnestness that was capable of single-minded focus and dogged effort. However, because of her adorable appearance, that effort had never had a chance to be evaluated fairly. That was why, in the world of Elder Tales, she’d pretended to be a taciturn male Assassin.

Even that only lasted until the Catastrophe, though.

That horrible incident had changed everything.

In the midst of that hellish chaos, her one stroke of luck had been her connection to Shiroe. Shiroe, and after him, Naotsugu and Nyanta. Then Log Horizon, the guild she could call home.

In Elder Tales, after it had become another world, Akatsuki had gained true friends—something she’d never managed to make on Earth—for the first time. Human relationships in which people didn’t make fun of Akatsuki for her short stature or make a pet of her.

Of course, she was still treated like a mascot sometimes.

Her looks were a part of her, so that probably wouldn’t change in the future, either. There was no help for it, and she’d grown able to permit it. This was because she knew that, in this world, skills and abilities could be seen just as clearly as appearance.

The fact that these were shown in a clear way to those who looked for them—the fact that level existed—had been welcome news for Akatsuki.

In parties, if she pursued her own role seriously, she could win respect from everyone. There were lots of frightening and painful things here, but Akatsuki thought in that one respect, this other world was wonderful.

When Shiroe had given her his Appearance Reset Potion just after the Catastrophe, she’d called him “my liege” because she’d wanted to repay him. She’d insisted on being his subordinate, because she wanted her skills to be acknowledged.

No matter what, she hadn’t wanted to be saved for free because she was a little girl.

However, Shiroe had been an even better liege than Akatsuki had imagined. His open-mindedness, the certainty of his tactics, and the strength of will to foresee a range of events so vast it was beyond Akatsuki’s imagination and then in turn to choose a future from it: Being able to be Shiroe’s partner was affirming.

On top of that, Shiroe had an ideal flaw: his combat abilities.

At the very least, his attack power was so low that he couldn’t put an end to a battle. Akatsuki was able to assist Shiroe on that point, and he also seemed to acknowledge her craftsmanlike plays.

As a modern person, risking her life in battles with monsters frightened her, but she had studied kendo when she was little, and it was nothing she couldn’t overcome. At the very least, it seemed far better than the humiliation of never being treated like a full person no matter where she went.

To a bystander, she might have seemed like a ninja who didn’t have a shred of loyalty, but to Akatsuki herself, there was reason enough behind her actions to suit her own objectives. …Though, of course, there was a strong component of hiding her embarrassment within her actions as well.

It didn’t seem to have taken much time for that feeling to deepen beyond trust. Even Akatsuki didn’t know what had triggered it or when it had started, but being near Shiroe was slightly embarrassing and pleasant.

Maybe it’s because of the griffin?

When she remembered what it was like to ride on its back, her face softened.

The feeling of acceleration, as if she was plummeting straight down in the midst of strong wind and thrills. Spending that time clinging to Shiroe’s back or wrapped snugly in his arms gave Akatsuki a powerful feeling of excitement and comfort.

It might be what people called the suspension bridge effect, but it charmed Akatsuki so much she didn’t care.

At this point, just being close to Shiroe made her happy for no reason. She was so hooked that she’d gotten serious about practicing silent walking and sneaking up behind him.

It embarrassed Akatsuki to give that feeling a name, even if it was just inside her mind, but in a word, it was affection. Akatsuki was aware that it was the sort of affection that had to do with the opposite sex.

That said, Akatsuki would have been perfectly happy never to realize this.

What she’d wanted was the partner seat. To be respected and acknowledged as a comrade. Even if she felt affection, there was no need for that affection to be returned in kind. Most of all, Akatsuki had noticed that comfort only recently.

Just having this feeling growing inside her, like a vibrant flower or silent music, made her days overflow with happiness.

…But then Minori had appeared.

She had no grudge against Minori herself. Minori was earnest and considerate, intelligent and hardworking, and there wasn’t an atom of her that was worthy of reproach. Akatsuki thought she was a good companion and an adorable junior member. What depressed her was her own bad luck.

…Or was it good luck?

She’d escaped from the prejudice of being seen as a middle schooler and encountered a friend who, at the very least, seemed likely to see her as a person in her own right. Her feelings had been stirred by that friend. That was a good thing. A very fortunate thing. Akatsuki somehow knew that at the very least, that friend didn’t dislike her, either. The experience was exhilarating.

However, the rival who’d appeared at that point had been an actual middle schooler. What ill-starred fate was this?

Rrgh… Am I really that much of a Loli staple?

It made Akatsuki want to throw a cushion and Assassinate it.

Come to think of it, that might not be…too bad. Maybe.

Akatsuki had a complex about her looks. She might be cute, but it was a mascot kind of cuteness, and she couldn’t rid herself of the doubt that no one would ever see her as a candidate for romance. In that sense, it might be a good thing that Minori was her rival. After all, the other girl was an actual middle schooler. She wouldn’t have a handicap as far as figure went. That said, the idea made her feel as if she’d never escape the middle-schooler category, no matter how far she went.

When her thoughts had taken her that far, Akatsuki abruptly raised her head.

Earlier, she’d felt as if she’d been issued a challenge, and since she’d had the same flyer, she’d taken it out on reflex, because she’d been riled. However, would this be a date? If so, there were probably things she’d need to do to get ready.

Suddenly ill at ease, Akatsuki began to fidget on her floor cushion.

If it was a date, wouldn’t she have to dress properly? Impossible! Akatsuki shook her head. It really was “Impossible!”: The only clothes Akatsuki had were as black as black oxide. On Earth, in order to function in society, she’d had a few feminine outfits, but in the world of Elder Tales, all she had were dark-colored Assassin clothes.

As a ninja who served Shiroe, there hadn’t been a problem with that, and she hadn’t needed anything else.

However, it really wouldn’t be a good idea to wear them on a date.

Wait, what if I went as a ninja accompanying my liege on his incognito outing?

Akatsuki nodded. Shiroe was going to go eat free cake. In that situation, she’d have to go along as his bodyguard whether she wanted to or not. Phew, she thought, but immediately shook her head violently. No matter how she thought about it, it wouldn’t work. After all, she was the one who’d dragged the bewildered Shiroe out, impelled by a feeling of rivalry toward Minori.

If, tomorrow, she were to say, “You wanted to go eat, didn’t you, my liege? I’ll guard you,” Shiroe would look at her as if she were someone to be pitied. If worse came to worst, he might even be disgusted with her.

In that case, I could have Henrietta coordinate something…

She considered that idea as well, but she was reluctant. Even if she put up with being petted and fawned over this time, Henrietta’s extremely girlish taste would be a problem. It might be all right in other situations, but Minori was a real middle schooler, and she’d be at too much of a disadvantage against her in little-girlish clothes like those.

In the end, if she needed to get some sort of outfit ready, it would probably be safest to pick it out herself.

On that thought, Akatsuki sprang to her feet.

Outside the window, the rain gently enfolded Akiba, but the evening was still light enough.

If she went to the central plaza, she should find for sale lots of the handmade clothes that were all the rage lately.

3

The town of Akiba was enveloped in slightly giddy commotion.

At this time, with the festival nearly upon them, the Adventurers who would be exhibiting at the festival were hard at work getting ready, but the exhibitors weren’t the only ones.

Even without looking at Akatsuki’s and Minori’s cases, if there was a festival being held, there would be people who wanted to do something at it. On top of that, this was a huge event that involved all of Akiba. It wasn’t only players with production subclasses: All the Adventurers who lived in Akiba, and even the People of the Earth, were busy making preparations.

For example, those who intended to cook some sort of special dish on the day were looking for ingredients, and those who were planning banquets were buying up food and fruit. As a result, materials were running low, which meant traveling merchants were welcomed, and the number of Adventurers who went hunting in hopes of getting drop items skyrocketed. And like Akatsuki and Minori, female Adventurers were thinking about buying stylish clothes.

Even without going that far, work to remove rubble and expand the plaza was being conducted in Akiba to coincide with the festival, and officially authorized work quests from the Round Table Council were issued day after day. At the very least, it was Japanese human nature to think that one should clean the entryway and walls of one’s own guild house at times like these.

Jobs for Carpenters and furniture artisans increased, and the workshops bustled for days on end.

Even in Akiba, the busiest place was the Production Guild Liaison Committee, and at its center was Calasin, guild master of Shopping District 8.

Swearing all the while that he’d been cursed several different ways, Calasin continued to field telechats.

Calasin thought that, although he’d always liked talking to people and had many acquaintances, he’d never dreamed he’d be this swamped with inquiries: So many telechats were coming his way without a break that he was unable to leave the room. It was all the fault of that young man with glasses and unpleasant eyes.

Although the Adventurers of Akiba called them the three major production guilds, the truth was a bit different.

Shopping District 8 hadn’t originally been a production guild.

It had been a chat guild.

Just as the word implied, chat meant “talking.” When this world was still a game, there had been a certain number of users who had used the game to chat. They’d adventured, too, of course; they’d also leveled up, collected items, and produced things. However, they’d done so because it gave them things to talk about with each other. To them, the game’s greatest pleasure had been chatting.

Elder Tales’ noisiest time had been from eight PM until the middle of the night—aka after dinner. During that time, many users had logged on for a leisurely chat with their friends.

These “chatter” fans were the polar opposite of “raiders,” who enjoyed the game’s hard challenges.

Shopping District 8 was a guild created by chatters. The commerce was simply there to create opportunities for conversation. Shopping District 8 conducted business because it enjoyed entertaining customers.

They were somewhat different from the Roderick Trading Company, which collected fantasy-class recipes and attempted to create rare items, and the Marine Organization, which had begun when Adventurers who’d ended up in production classes had begun to purchase materials as a group.

Naturally, as the leader of that guild, Calasin’s position was different from that of either Roderick of the Roderick Trading Company or Michitaka of the Marine Organization. Calasin was no more than the leading member of the merchants affiliated with Shopping District 8. He wasn’t a ruler with vast authority. He was its representative, its face, and he was respected by its members, but no one pledged their loyalty to him.

However, he was the leading member. The central figure of a guild of chatters. He had 980 names registered to his telechat list, a number very close to the system’s limit.

Calasin was putting that contact network to good use and receiving reports in rapid succession.

“Aye-aye. Got it. I’ll tell † Koumei. † ”

“Hm? Ah. That’s probably too expensive, don’t you think?”

“Brzzzzt! No, none of that, thank you. The Liaison Committee doesn’t play favorites. You’ll get the stall location you drew in the lottery. We expect strict compliance.”

Even as he switched between telechats, Calasin was quickly jotting down several notes on the papers in front of him.

The desk held an enormous amount of plans and applications. The disorder was just as bad as it was in Shiroe’s office.

“Hey.”

“Ah, Michitaka.”

The huge man who’d entered the office was Michitaka. He was holding a bundle of papers under his arm. Setting them down on the desk, he looked around the area.

“C’mon, now. You’re doing this all by yourself?”

At Michitaka’s words, Calasin laughed.

“Well, there’s no help for it. We’re like a jumbled mob of small merchants. With a festival like this one, everyone’s buying and selling like there’s no tomorrow, and it makes them want to join in, too.”

“Yeah, I guess it would.”

There was a scorched smell about Michitaka. He was a Blacksmith, and he’d probably come straight from his workshop. The Marine Organization was the leader—and the largest—of the production guilds in Akiba. Apparently its leader had been in the workshop himself.

“We’re more of a workshop than anything, see. Our job is to make good things and sell ’em, and we’re not so good at haggling and hawking. Well, we’ll leave that stuff to you. I’ll admit that, just for this fair, the festival mood is fun.”

In MMORPGs, there were several types of player who specialized in production. Some, like Calasin, had fun chatting with other players. Others, like Michitaka, mass-produced items in their workshops, enjoying the game as a production and sales sim. Then there were collectors who, like Roderick’s group, wanted to collect rare materials and recipes.

The Libra Festival, it seemed, involved a huge variety of production classes.

“Never mind that. You okay?” Michitaka asked.

“No, not at all. Well, I guess there’s no way around being short-handed.”

With a disgusted expression, Calasin gestured behind him.

There were items of every variety imaginable back there packed into crates, and at a glance, there seemed to be several dozen crates. It was a veritable mountain of junk that reached the ceiling. They were all prototypes of items that would be for sale, collected from Libra Festival participants.

They’d asked for submissions with the intent of making sure there were no dangerous items, but the result had been a washout. With this many items submitted across such a wide range, there was no way Calasin could check them all by himself. Actually, even if he’d had ten people on it, it was doubtful whether they would have made it in time.

“Wow. That’s—”

“—impossible, no?”

“Impossible for sure.”

Calasin and Michitaka nodded together.

It really couldn’t be done.

“Well, no help for it. That idea blew up in the hangar. Just gonna leave ’em?”

“We’ll probably have to. You know, it might be hell starting tomorrow.”

Calasin, who was past desperate, answered cheerily. At this point in time, this was all it was. However, the fact that it was at all held a definite warning. The Libra Festival had begun to swell to a size far greater than Calasin or Michitaka imagined.

Calasin and Michitaka did register that trend, quite clearly.

As a matter of fact, all the guild masters on the Round Table Council had noticed the signs to some extent. However, the pace at which it was swelling was faster than they’d anticipated.

Calasin, in the heart of the Libra Festival at the Production Guild Liaison Committee office, first sensed the impending crisis on the night before the festival.

That said, at this point in time, even Calasin failed to notice the focused malice.

4

Viewed from the outside, the record Shiroe had accumulated probably looked spectacular.

For example, in the days of the Debauchery Tea Party, he’d given strategies to a group of individual players who hadn’t even formed a guild, and out of the whole Japanese server, that little group of comrades had managed to conquer the Hades’ Breath raid at a fairly early stage. Among players who knew the circumstances, that achievement was held in extraordinarily high regard.

The Debauchery Tea Party—which had pioneered combat on huge raids that had gone down in the history of the server, such as Radamanteus’s Throne and the Nine Great Gaols of Halos, even though they were only a small group—had become a legend of sorts.

In addition, those in the know were aware that the sequence of events surrounding the establishment of the Round Table Council had been Shiroe’s doing. When it came to huge, critical strategies, the war record of Shiroe the Strategist positively shone.

However, that was only when the results were seen from the outside. To Shiroe himself, those were only a fraction of countless battles. Of the battles he’d fought, there were many that hadn’t been big, and many where advance investigation had been useless. If those battles were added to the statistics, was his percentage of victories really all that high? That was how he thought about it.

Shiroe didn’t have a very high opinion of his abilities as a strategist.

I’m probably going to bring my win rate down again today…

For a while now, Shiroe had been feeling vaguely uncomfortable, and as he thought, he tried his best not to attract attention.

“Quit fidgeting, my liege.”

“That’s right, Shiroe. It’s a shame; you look so good.”

“Grr.”

“Huh? He…does look good, doesn’t he?”

“My liege is my liege. Looks don’t matter.”

However, reality was heartless.

The two girls who sat on either side of Shiroe wouldn’t let him lie low.

On Shiroe’s right sat a girl whose body, which had the slimness of her years, was wrapped in an intelligent aura. This was Minori, Log Horizon’s Kannagi.

Today, she looked even more feminine than usual in a long denim skirt, an off-white blouse and a beige-pink cardigan. She seemed a bit like an upper-class young lady, but Minori tended to take care of people, and the look suited her very well. When the light shone through it, her black hair turned the color of dark chocolate, and as expected, the way she wore it tied up with a black lace ribbon was sweet.

On Shiroe’s left was an old friend: Akatsuki, the self-proclaimed ninja, whose sense of loyalty was a bit of a mystery. Akatsuki’s black hair, which was glossier than ever, hung loose, and she was staring fixedly up at Shiroe with eyes that were as dead serious as always.

What was different was that she wasn’t dressed all in black. She wore a lilac kofurisode—a kimono-style top short enough to allow for a separate type of bottom—and she paired it with a pair of indigo hakama-style trousers. The costume gave her the air of a university student, and on the beautiful, slightly feline Akatsuki, it looked almost too good.

Akatsuki was a girl so lovely that if you asked a hundred people whether she was beautiful, all one hundred would tell you she was, while Minori had definite future potential. Under the circumstances, one could really say he had “a flower in each hand.”

However, as he sat between those two, Shiroe looked a bit unwell.

He couldn’t have said what was wrong, or what the reason was, but his discomfort was real.

They were very near the center of Akiba, at a special café that had been set up in the large intersection. Shiroe was sitting here at the request of the two girls.

Prompted by his innately cautious nature, Shiroe had investigated the cake buffet in advance. The preliminaries for the buffet were being held several times. He could probably have gone with Akatsuki, and again with Minori, at different times.

However, Shiroe would have felt bad about trying his luck at a free event twice. Even if it was a festival, wouldn’t that have made him like the kid who eats all the samples in the samples corner? On that thought, Shiroe had come up with a plan.

If Akatsuki and Minori wanted to go enjoy cake, then the three of them could just go together. If the quota for two people was eight pieces of cake, and the three of them ate their way through twelve pieces, there shouldn’t be a problem.

Fortunately, the guild master of Danceteria, the guild that was presiding over the cake buffet, had come to negotiate with the Round Table Council several times. If memory served, she was a woman with an artisan’s temperament who was friends with Henrietta.

When he went to ask for permission, Madame Kanako, the Danceteria guild master, had welcomed Shiroe. No doubt the bright smile she’d worn when she received him had been because he was a member of the Round Table Council, but it hadn’t inconvenienced Shiroe at all, so he hadn’t hesitated to ask for permission.

He’d said he wanted to attend with two girls from his guild, and asked if they could strike a deal with twelve pieces of cake.

Madame Kanako had been startled at first. Then she’d narrowed her already narrow eyes even further in a smile, and had asked him for all the details of the situation. The circumstances weren’t so important that they needed to be spread around, but there also wasn’t any particular need to hide them. Log Horizon acknowledged itself to be a very open-minded guild.

As the result of his explanation, the guild master, whose smile was now extremely bright, had agreed to let the three of them participate together. The worldly wise way she’d smiled had bothered him a little, but the doubt was minor enough, and the convenience to himself great enough, that he’d been able to ignore it. That was how Shiroe had gotten special permission for the three of them to attend the cake buffet together.

…And so Shiroe and the others were at the open café, waiting for their cake to arrive, but Shiroe had already begun to get a mild stomachache.

Since he hadn’t eaten a single bite yet, it probably wasn’t heartburn from the food.

It was probably because, although Minori and Akatsuki weren’t on bad terms as a rule, they were both exuding an oddly tense, prickly atmosphere.

When he’d reported via telechat that the three of them would be able to go together and told them not to worry, Minori had been one thing, but when Akatsuki responded, her tone had been rather odd. Shiroe thought the reason probably had something to do with ninja loyalty, but he didn’t really get it.

On the other hand, Minori was full of enthusiasm. She’d been cheerfully striking up conversations with Shiroe for a while now, and her attitude was so energetic and positive that it startled him. Minori had always been a hard worker, and Shiroe thought it was cute—and very much like a middle schooler—that she was looking forward to cake this way.

However, Akatsuki kept fiddling with her hakama and shooting glances at Shiroe, and taking terribly practical-looking kunai out of who knew where, so that, for the past few minutes, Shiroe had been having an awful time scolding her.

When he looked around, he saw there were about twenty pairs of men and women, each sitting at their own little table, smiling and talking.

At dusk in October, the wind was cool. The open café was illuminated by orange lamplight, and its atmosphere was peaceful and friendly. Bards might have been playing somewhere: A slightly old-fashioned pop song from Earth mingled with the wind, and the sound was nostalgic.

Absently, Shiroe thought that most of the pairs sitting at the other tables might be couples.

It had already been five months since the Catastrophe. True, this was another world, but that might be enough time for strangers to become acquaintances, and then friends, or even lovers.

In a corner of his mind, Shiroe did think, Hey, come on! Do you know just how crazy these past five months have been? You can’t possibly have had that much free time. We’ve had an emergency on our hands! On the opposite side, though, another voice said, No, but wait: Young couples’ love might burn brighter precisely because this is such a world of thrills and suspense.

Personally, Shiroe didn’t know much about love, and he’d never had a clearly acknowledged girlfriend.

For that reason, he couldn’t declare that even under these circumstances, love was possible or it wasn’t possible, but it was, in the best sense of the word, nothing to do with him. If the people in question were both happy, then it was fine, and he concluded that there was no need to pursue the issue.

When one was only watching them, couples were heartwarming, and Shiroe didn’t dislike them. He’d rather not hear someone gush incessantly about their lover or have them ask him for advice on romance, but looking at them from a distance made him feel warm. And so, now as well, Shiroe watched them absently.

“My liege. My liege!”

“Oh, um. Sorry. What is it, Akatsuki?”

When he turned back to Akatsuki—who was far more restless than usual today—she was fidgeting. “Why are you making that dumb face? It’s sloppy,” she said.

From his other side, Minori proclaimed, “That’s right. Show some spirit!” Shiroe thought it was weird to talk about showing spirit at a cake buffet, but when he tried to tell her so, Minori’s serious expression kept the words from coming out.

Minori certainly seemed to be showing spirit.

She clenched her hands in front of her chest, flexing her muscles in a tiny fist pump. The gesture made her look adorable, like some kind of animated character. When she made her sweet expression as serious as she possibly could and said, “Let’s do our best!” instead of looking dignified, it looked more as if she was trying to do something that was a bit beyond her, and, rather than encouraging Shiroe, it made him want to smile.

It really was a mystery.

“Umm…”

“Grr.”

“Miss Akatsuki, that traditional outfit is lovely.”

As he was searching for something to say, Minori started a conversation for him. She probably hadn’t done it to help him out, but Shiroe was grateful to have been given a topic.

“Those really are amazing. It’s rare to see you in Japanese clothes, Akatsuki. What happened?”

“Do they look strange on me?”

Akatsuki’s face looked troubled, but also as though she was putting up a brave front, and the two of them told her “No, not at all” in unison. The pattern on the pale lilac kimono—a scattering of Chinese bellflowers—was subdued, but when petite Akatsuki wore it, it looked so good it might as well have been made for her. In general, she was a taciturn, lovely girl who seemed a bit like a small animal, but in this kimono, she was particularly gorgeous.

“Miss Akatsuki, you look awfully good in traditional clothes.”

“It’s just like grad—”

“Don’t say ‘It’s like a graduation ceremony.’”

“Erk.”

Akatsuki had cut him off at the pass, and Shiroe found himself at a loss for words. Glaring at him, Akatsuki muttered, “Even if it’s you, my liege, I’ll kick you. With my knee,” but when Shiroe and Minori kept repeating that they really did look good on her, her mood must have finally improved, because she let him off the hook.

“Yours look good on you, too, Minori.”

At that, the middle-school girl smiled shyly.

Apparently, Isuzu had coordinated her outfit for her. When she explained in detail about where the blouse and cardigan had each been purchased, and how much they’d cost, and what Isuzu had said when she’d picked them out, she looked as if she was enjoying herself. Even Akatsuki, who had been stiff at first, seemed to have grown interested: She was listening, holding on to Shiroe’s sleeve.

Seeing this, Shiroe finally relaxed a bit.

Advance investigation, strategy… They just aren’t any help when women are involved.

It had been that way in the Debauchery Tea Party, too. For example, with incidents or discussions in which the female Adventurers Nazuna and Yomi were involved, no matter how much advance investigating he did or how well he laid groundwork, he’d never seemed to end up with good results.

That said, it wasn’t as though it had caused any major trouble. Most of the time, things faded out before anyone was aware of it, or the problem itself turned out not to have existed—incomprehensible and disappointing results for a strategist.

She was different, though, Shiroe remembered. Just her.

She had been the founder of the Debauchery Tea Party, and—technically—its leader. The technically was there because the Debauchery Tea Party had been a group of free spirits, and because, as a rule, everyone in it had been able to look after themselves.

To borrow Nyanta’s words, it had probably been the case that everyone knew what they had to do in order to make a comfortable place for themselves. As a result, they hadn’t needed a leader in the ordinary sense of the word.

Even so, she’d been the leader simply because she was the most willful member of the Tea Party. In a way, she’d always yanked the Debauchery Tea Party around.

Saying she wanted to see the midnight sun in Iceland, for example. She said some awful things like they were nothing…

Her willfulness had been global, and as a result Shiroe’s war record had gotten worse and worse. There had been no “vague results” or “fade-outs under the cover of…” Most of the time, they’d died in action. The time when she’d gone on an expedition to the European server, taking everyone who wanted to go with her, but had lost the quest item so that they’d been unable to get into the Aurora Zone… That had been really exhausting. Shiroe wasn’t a worrywart for nothing.

Compared to that, Akatsuki’s and Minori’s requests had been positively cute. If things went on this way, Shiroe thought, their wishes just might come true.

5

“Oh, that looks delicious!”

As she watched the service begin, Minori’s eyes were round. Although they hadn’t yet come to Shiroe’s group, adorable shortcakes were being brought out to the tables. The strawberries were a bright, splendid color.

The Danceteria guild members had said, modestly, that they weren’t nearly as magnificent as cake shop products back on Earth, but from what he saw, that probably wasn’t the case. It wasn’t just their appearance: The light, sweet fragrance that drifted from them whetted his appetite.

“My liege, my liege. This looks fairly promising, doesn’t it?”

“Aren’t they pretty?! Oh, this is exciting!”

With a girl in high spirits on either side of him, Shiroe also began to enjoy himself, just a little. Possibly because he’d had a busy day, he thought he’d be able to polish off four cakes of that size without any trouble at all. Minori and Akatsuki probably felt the same way. None of the three of them had the slightest doubt that they would be able to finish everything. Not until that moment, that is.

Waitresses in café costumes continued serving, and several varieties of shortcake had been set out on almost every table. When it was finally Shiroe’s table’s turn, the guild master herself appeared, her face wreathed in smiles, personally carrying out a silver tray.

The silver tray held whole cakes. Strawberry, apricot, chocolate, cheese, black current/yogurt and apple pie, and a slightly early mont blanc.

Twelve cakes.

However, they were twelve whole cakes.

“Hmn?”

Minori looked puzzled, but Akatsuki’s expression had already tensed.

“What’s…?”

In response to Shiroe’s questioning look, the Danceteria guild master beamed.

“Compliments of our guild, sir.”

“No, I mean, I think there’s too much…”

“We’re very considerate here, sir.”

She steamrolled him with a smile, then set dessert after dessert on the little table. The first was apple pie. A young Person of the Earth girl dressed as a waitress said, “I’ll serve it for you,” and sliced it. Once cut into eight equal pieces, the circle was transformed into the usual, familiar triangles, but it was one whole pie.

Of course there was no way that many cakes would fit on a small café table, so a wagon was hastily brought out, parked by the table, and loaded up with whole cakes. Eight of the varieties were the same as what all the other participants had, but four special types seemed to have been added. These were decorated with little dolls made out of sugar candy: a man flanked by two women.

“Shiroe…”

“My liege…”

Of course, as they watched the apple pie being cut up in front of them, the two girls wore strained expressions as well. The apple pie looked delicious, and if he’d had four about this size, Shiroe was confident he’d have been able to eat them all. If the other two said, in that way girls had, We’re full already, he was even prepared to take one piece from each of them and eat six.

He knew from experience that when women pretended to have small appetites that way, it was camouflage, but she had drummed into him the idea that it was a guy’s duty to accept the ruse at face value.

Even so, he could handle only five or six pieces. These cakes had been brought out to them whole, so in simple terms, the amount had octupled. Not only that, but the crazed dance of round cakes in front of him struck Shiroe with an impact that was more than just numbers.

“Well, for starters, should we have a piece?”

At Shiroe’s haphazard words, which had no goal other than buying time, the three of them began to eat the sole pie.

Delicious. The brisk sweetness of the plentiful apples and the faint fragrance of cinnamon were pleasant. As he savored the soft, moist apples, he polished off a piece easily.

Just when Shiroe was on the verge of embracing a naïve hope—You know, this just might…—the remaining five-eighths of the apple pie were set down in front of him.

By Akatsuki.

“Oh, c’mon! Why?!”

“I’m serving you, my liege.”

“Serving? That’s the whole thing!”

“Ah! I’m sorry. I’ll cut it!”

That hadn’t been what he’d meant. The instant he tried to check Minori, Minori was already on her feet, leaning over, and had begun to dexterously cut up the apple pie with a knife. Her expression was serious, and every time she moved the knife, her hair with its black ribbon swung nearer Shiroe’s ear, giving off a faint, sweet scent.

Oh, even if she’s in middle school, I guess she is a girl, he thought, and just then, from here and there around the café, he began to hear mutters: Die, No Lolita lovers allowed, I hope yours falls off, Break your glasses, and on and on.

Akatsuki looked mystified. When he slid his gaze to the side, written on the decorated cakes in clumsy letters were: “Two isn’t fair, you know.” “I hope yours falls off, Mr. Lolita Complex ,” “Two-Timing Tastiness.”

Aaaaaaah?!

At that point, for the first time, Shiroe accurately understood the situation.

A minefield.

The instant he got it, that word popped up in his mind. Shiroe, Akatsuki, and Minori were in the middle of a minefield, littered with mines in the form of misinterpretations from the people around them. It wasn’t only Shiroe’s reputation; two of his precious guild members were being targeted by the same prejudice.

Not good! If this keeps up, they’ll both get dragged in. And people think I’m a strategist… This is pathetic. For now, we have to leave the café unobtrusively, without causing a fuss, keeping the damage to a minimum, then regroup, or else…

Shiroe examined countermeasures, his brain spinning at high speed.

Since he didn’t know how far the misunderstanding had spread, and it wasn’t even clear where the situation had begun, even if he grasped the situation, he couldn’t bring it under control. In that sense, Shiroe couldn’t even shift into controlled encounter mode. Akatsuki held a fork out to him.

“My liege, here.”

On its tines sat a cute, bite-sized piece of apple pie.

“You want me to eat that?”

Akatsuki nodded. You’re shoving the rest off onto me?! he almost shot back, but her large black eyes were watching him steadily, and he found himself unable to retort. Akatsuki always dressed plainly, but today she was wearing an imitation-bellflower hair ornament. That only made it harder.

Shiroe was scowling, fighting embarrassment. Akatsuki tilted her head slightly, looking perplexed, then pushed the fork she held in her right hand toward him.

“Eat, my liege.”

She held it out to him, but to Shiroe, this was a big problem.

As far as the world was concerned, eating from a fork someone held out to you meant they were having you say, “Aaaah.” One look at Akatsuki’s sulky, too-serious face made it clear that the act didn’t stem from affection, but the people around them probably wouldn’t understand that.

If this kept up, he’d be disgraced as a guy with a Lolita complex.

If he stepped on this land mine, forget losing a leg; he might lose his whole lower body. The looks he was getting from the people around him already hurt. On top of that, this was an open café, and it was the biggest event of the first night of the festival, so they were getting cold looks from people on the street as well.

“Come on, it’s going to fall.”

Still, when the slipping fragment was forced on him, he had to take it. Stealthy giggles from the people around him and the image of fingers being pointed at him rose in his mind, and Shiroe wished the ground would open up and swallow him.

“Shiroe!”

When Shiroe turned around, even Minori had cut a tiny sliver of golden pie and was holding it out to him, eyes sparkling. When confronted with a look of innocent expectation from someone nine whole years his junior, he couldn’t treat her coldly.

No matter how you look at it, they’re both far too clueless about this situation. I’m telling you, now is the time to beat a retreat. We’re making a spectacle of ourselves!

“Is it good?”

“Of course it is, isn’t it, my liege.”

“Yes, it’s good, but listen. …The matter’s gone beyond that level, don’t you think?”

He tried retorting, but the couples around them were also doing the “Aaaaah” thing. He’d vaguely suspected as much, but seeing the reality with his own eyes this way completely shattered Shiroe.

Apparently, the town of Akiba was more filled with love than he’d thought.

If he assumed most of the giggling whispers were simply the playful sweet nothings of couples in love instead of ridicule aimed at Shiroe’s group, they might still be saved. Shiroe tried to console himself with the thought, anyway, but of course it didn’t solve the problem.

One advances through reality with an endless series of small steps. This was symbolized, unmistakably, by the cakes piled high in front of him.

6

Just as reality isn’t something you can overcome simply by trying, it was only to be expected that Shiroe, Akatsuki, and Minori’s attempt failed. If it had been three of them and twelve pieces of cake, they would have had a chance, but twelve whole cakes made it a completely different ballgame. Since their stomachs weren’t magic bags, it wasn’t possible.

The three of them had tried very hard, but even then, they’d topped out at eighteen pieces, or in other words, a little more than two whole cakes. Shiroe had been responsible for nine of those, and frankly, he felt so sick he didn’t want to move.

Having lost the cake buffet battle, the three of them dejectedly returned to their guild house. Of course, since they hadn’t been able to finish everything, it hadn’t been free, so Shiroe had ended up paying for twelve whole cakes.

In terms of time, it was probably close to eight PM.

Shiroe was currently relaxing on the guild house’s third-floor terrace. …Or, more accurate, he was pinned there, his stomach so heavy that he didn’t feel like moving.

They’d originally planned to wander around the festival and browse after their cake escapade, but Shiroe had felt as if the mass of cake was weighing his insides down, and he was thoroughly worn out. He wasn’t in any shape for a walk, and so, even though Akatsuki and Minori fared a little better than him, they’d gone back to the guild house.

According to the blackboard in the dining area, Nyanta and Naotsugu were both out at the festival. Isuzu and Rundelhaus had written, “Taking dog for walk.” They’d probably gone on a date.

Having confirmed this, Shiroe then went out onto the terrace and lay on a cedar bench by himself.

It was probably safe to say he was down for the count.

In any case, the world could be only what it was, and today, Shiroe had lost.

You see? You just can’t count on advance investigation.

Now that he thought about it, the Danceteria guild master really had been extraordinarily smiley back then. She’d probably already been planning to counterattack with whole cakes. True, it had looked as if he was tackling the event with a pretty girl on each arm, but they weren’t in that sort of relationship. He didn’t think they’d had any call to be so jealous.

And anyway, twelve whole cakes, just for going with Akatsuki and Minori? What sort of calculation was that? …Oh. Wait.

Having hit on an idea, Shiroe set up a telechat. He was planning to tell Soujirou he should go to the cake buffet. The free buffet would be held at the open café at different times throughout the next day as well. Soujirou, his harem-prone former comrade, was sure to enjoy the event to the fullest.

On the other end of the telechat, Soujirou seemed to be spending time at the festival with his guild members. He couldn’t tell what they were talking about, but behind the conversation with Soujirou, he could hear several feminine voices. Apparently, as usual, Soujirou was surrounded by “flowers.”

Soujirou thanked Shiroe over and over for recommending the buffet. His trusting attitude did sting Shiroe’s conscience a little, but an honest escort like himself had been mistaken for a two-timer and targeted by a whole-cake attack. He told himself an actual harem-believing being should be given appropriate treatment.

After switching off the telechat function, Shiroe leaned into the back of the bench and looked up at the sky, feeling just a little relieved.

Log Horizon’s guild house had one extraordinary feature: An ancient tree pierced the building’s floors, growing up through the roof. The old tree spread its branches wide over the building, and its crown enfolded the spaces where Shiroe and the others lived.

A blanket of green leaves gently swayed in the wind, jutting out like a roof over the terrace where Shiroe lay.

Possibly because of the festival, more lights than usual were lit along the wide avenue. The sun was long down, and the orange light that seeped from stores here and there cast a dreamlike illumination over sidewalks, along with the lamps that hung above the streets. The sidewalks were covered in green moss, and the buildings decorated with tree branches and ribbons.

The Log Horizon guild house was decorated just for the festival too, albeit modestly, with a green wreath and an orange ribbon. Minori and Touya had probably done it.

I haven’t been able to look after the guild much lately, Shiroe thought after ending his telechat with Soujirou.

Ordinarily, a guild master’s most important job was running his guild. He was expected to manage things by having a complete grasp of the guild, accommodating member activities, and setting up and leading action plans.

However, circumstances at Log Horizon were a bit different from what they were at other guilds.

The first was their membership numbers. Log Horizon currently had eight members. In Elder Tales, there were six members in a standard party. That meant that if they formed a party from their eight guild members, no matter how they did it, two people would end up staying home.

There was also a sizable spread between member levels, and on top of that, they were split into two level tiers. The older members—Shiroe, Naotsugu, Nyanta, and Akatsuki—were all level 90, while the younger members—Minori, Touya, Rundelhaus, and Isuzu—were all currently around level 40.

It wasn’t easy to organize a party across those two level groups.

In an average guild, the high-level players and the low-level players would probably have split up and gone around with players in their own level groups most of the time. That was how things naturally went.

However, Log Horizon’s high-level group was made up entirely of veterans who were good at looking after people. Naotsugu and the others thought nothing of using the Coach System to put themselves on the same level as the low-level players, and thanks to them, their numbers went around well.

So, as far as leaders were concerned, they had a full, talented lineup.

Nyanta was an ideal adult, with the humor and patience necessary for instructing low-level players. Technically, the guild master should have taken the initiative in looking after these players on low-level adventures, but Nyanta did it perfectly, and he seemed to enjoy it.

Naotsugu had that aptitude as well. He was far more rough-and-ready than Nyanta, and he seemed suited to leading large groups. When newbies came from the Crescent Moon League to plan three-party joint hunting expeditions, Naotsugu was the one new players from other guilds admired most.

Although she was a poor talker and rather shy with strangers, Akatsuki had no problem with leading newbies, either. The newbies would go out hunting, bag some prey, and return home. During that time, they would never see Akatsuki, but she would be constantly watching them and protecting them from high-level monsters. In her own way, she enjoyed being a leader.

In other words, Log Horizon had all the personnel it needed to lead and plan hunting expeditions, the things guild masters had to do at other guilds. That was what had enabled Shiroe to work exclusively on Round Table Council business in the first place.

However, although delegating guild master duties caused no issues with day-to-day operations, he couldn’t say there were no problems when it came to human relations within the guild.

When he thought back on it, of all the high-level players, Shiroe had spent the least time with the new members. Of course, he shifted his schedule around so that he could have dinner at the guild house and work on cultivating friendships, but Shiroe sometimes noticed dubious looks, particularly from Rundelhaus and Isuzu—Our guild master isn’t a lazy hermit, is he?—and he’d been thinking he needed to do something about it.

As far as the dignity of a guild master is concerned, Naotsugu and Captain Nyanta both have me beat… Even Soujirou manages his harem—I mean, his guild—like that.

It made Shiroe feel oddly sad. Of course, he couldn’t take every role people wanted him to play, and the current situation was the result of assigning the right tasks to the right people, but he constantly felt as though he should spend more time with the Log Horizon members.

Shiroe thought that might have been the reason Akatsuki and Minori had gone out of their way to pull him outside.

This festival might be a good opportunity. The Round Table Council business… I guess I can’t just drop it, but I’ll cut back a bit. I need to make time to spend with everybody.

“My liege.”

Shiroe jumped.

As he thought about so many details, Akatsuki spoke to him—not loudly—from very close, startling him.

“What’s the matter, Akatsuki?”

“Nothing, really…”

Akatsuki was wearing the same charming kimono-style top she’d worn earlier. She sat down quietly next to Shiroe. The cool, nocturnal October wind stroked their cheeks, and the sound of slow string music drifted up to them from the town.

“I hear music.”

“Oh. Mm-hmm. I…think it’s probably the Seventh Marching Band. I heard they were holding a concert tonight.”

“I see.”

Sitting on the bench, Akatsuki stretched out her legs. The bench was low, and even though Akatsuki was short and sitting down, it looked as though she’d kicked her legs out in front of her. With her toes peeking out from the tail of her sober hakama, Akatsuki wiggled her ankles back and forth slightly. Shiroe spoke to her:

“You’re kind of quiet.”

“I’m always quiet.”

“True, but…”

In this world, where electric loudspeakers hadn’t yet been invented, concerts were limited to the actual volume of the performance. The melody the wind carried up to them still held hints of liveliness, but it was broken and distant.

Shiroe looked at Akatsuki.

The wind that brushed their faces had grown cold. In the midst of it, Akatsuki was gazing into the distance with her usual, unreadable expression.

“My liege.”

“Hm?”

“Do you…um.”

“Yes?”

Shiroe responded to Akatsuki politely. Although his small friend didn’t say much, he knew she tended to pay attention to others’ needs, so he didn’t rush her.

“Do you not like cake?”

“……”

Asking if he didn’t like it, as though he hadn’t been able to eat it all because he didn’t like it, was problematic. He’d eaten nine whole pieces. Shiroe thought he’d put up a pretty good fight. Had there been some kind of misunderstanding?

“Or did you not have fun?”

“That wasn’t it at all. Never mind that—I’m sorry. You won’t get to go to the… What was it, the finals?”

“That doesn’t matter. I didn’t care about those. Minori was the one who cared.”

“I see.”

He didn’t understand why Minori would care about an eating contest. Well, if it was necessary, Shiroe thought she’d probably tell him herself. Age-wise, Minori might be fourteen, but she was a thoughtful, responsible girl.

“But…”

“Hm?”

“Were you all right with that cake?”

Akatsuki had turned to look at Shiroe and was watching him steadily. As she stared at him, her striking black eyes gleamed wetly in her small face but conveyed no warmth. Her beauty added a sense of urgency.

“Huh?”

“No, I mean… You were really worked up over the all-you-can-eat free cake, weren’t you? Was three or four pieces enough?”

“I… I wasn’t really there for the cake, either.”

“No?”

“……”

“It’s hard to keep a conversation going with you, my liege.”

“What am I supposed to do about it? And anyway, you’re the one who’s quiet, Akatsuki.”

Akatsuki had never been the talkative type.

When they were alone together, sometimes conversations just died. At first it had made him feel ill at ease, and he’d tried to come up with things to talk about, but by now, he was fine with just being silent like this. Maybe it was because, while Shiroe was fielding paperwork, Akatsuki often stayed in his room, erasing all traces of her presence, telling him she was on bodyguard duty. The way Akatsuki had spoken had been cute, so he’d answered as if he was teasing her, but they’d only recently become able to banter this way.

“That’s not true. I have all sorts of things to talk about.”

“Then give me something.”

“Hm?”

“A topic, I mean.”

Akatsuki scowled and fell silent.

Her gaze wandered unsteadily to the right, then swam back to the left.

Maybe she was at a loss. Had that been mean of him? Just as Shiroe had begun to wonder about that, Akatsuki spoke after a long pause.

“If you do this, it’s fun.”

Akatsuki’s open mouth was a funny shape, and it trembled restlessly, but she touched Shiroe’s forehead with a slender white fingertip.

“That’s fun?”

Akatsuki nodded.

I wonder if this is more Akatsuki-style master-servant role play… I really think she’s got the wrong idea here. Well, I don’t watch period dramas, so I don’t know either, but…

“I see.”

The wind rose, and the treetop swayed in the darkness with a noise like the ocean. The scent of leaves in the midst of cool wind and stillness. Shiroe looked up at his own forehead, which Akatsuki was touching lightly, over and over. As she stroked his forehead, Akatsuki’s lips were set in stubborn concentration. He had no idea what was fun about this, but “fun” was subjective. He thought there was probably no point in asking.

“You’re okay with something like this?”

“It’s your important job, my liege.”

“Is that what it is?”

He’d spent a long time with Akatsuki.

The confusion after the Catastrophe, many battles, the journey to Susukino, the establishment of the Round Table Council, the political affair at the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice, and the conversation with Li Gan. Then the battle for Choushi, and Rundelhaus’s revival.

Akatsuki had stuck with him through all of it, without a single complaint. He thought there had probably been battlefields he couldn’t have gotten through without her support.

Remembering all of that, Shiroe continued to take this adorable abuse from the girl in the charming kimono.

7

She couldn’t breathe.

It was as though the night air had become liquid: Her throat grew tight, hardening, and her blood became a muddy torrent, thundering in her ears.

If you do this, it’s fun.

That’s fun?

The whisper she’d overheard a moment ago was still there.

The sweet nothings from the black-haired girl, who was desperately trying to hide her embarrassment. The voice of her guild master, Shiroe: somewhat perplexed, yet still kind.

Her knees felt as if they’d turned to foam and were about to drain away. Fighting the sensation, Minori made for the kitchen. She was carrying dandelion barley tea, a digestive aid. She’d thought Shiroe might benefit from some, and so had taken a wooden tray up to the terrace. Still holding the tray, Minori walked mechanically.

She couldn’t stay there. She mustn’t watch that scene.

Her mind was chaos, as though it was filled with several thousand bursts of static, and she had no idea what was going on. It was as if her ethics had pushed her into motion, and it was all she could do to just put that place behind her.

The first thing she felt was shock. The next was an overwhelming confusion. She didn’t have any clear question to ask, but doubt kept welling up inside her heart. She wanted to ask. However, she didn’t know who she should ask, or even what to ask.

A feeling of being confused and wanting to be helped filled her chest, then seemed to descend into her abdomen, changing into something heavy and unpleasant.

Almost without being aware of it, Minori had returned to the kitchen. She set the tray on the dining table and sat down in a chair. She really didn’t know why she felt so stunned.

Only, when she’d seen Shiroe and Akatsuki from the door to the third-floor terrace just now, she’d thought there had been something between them. At the very least, Akatsuki’s expression had held special feelings for Shiroe.

When she’d noticed the older girl’s longing—barely visible on the surface, yet still as clear as day—the shock had made Minori recoil as though she’d touched fire without realizing it.

That shock had made her run back here, to shelter.

Even as she sat here, she was disturbed by incoherent thoughts that blustered inside her mind like a sandstorm, and she couldn’t pull together any questions that were remotely like questions.

At a loss, Minori gazed at the tabletop.

Her mind was completely bleached out. It was as if her thoughts had gone numb.

Time passed, quite a lot of it, and the first thought to surface was that Akatsuki was in love with Shiroe.

That’s right. Akatsuki loves Shiroe.

It was a simple fact.

Today was sunny.

Autumn followed summer.

The guild house was covered in green.

It was a natural fact, just as clear as those, with no room for doubt.

It was a terribly obvious thing, but just murmuring it in her heart resurrected the shock she’d felt earlier, and the sandstorm threatened to cover her mind. That brief fact—only a few words—was broken down into phrases, drawn out, sliced up, grew crumpled and messy, and if she let her guard down, she felt she would be unable to grasp its meaning inside her mind.

Minori collected the scattered fragments of her thoughts and twisted them together, taking several deep, deep breaths.

The unpleasant feeling between her chest and her stomach seemed to have acquired a physical form, and she couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen. Even her heartbeat seemed to be suppressed, and she could feel her temperature falling.

In the midst of the anxiety of not being able to breathe the way she wanted to, and from an uneasiness as though her spine was being slowly skewered from behind, Minori finally came face-to-face with it:

I love Shiroe, too.

This was the first love she’d known, and it didn’t taste faintly of lemons.

It was dark and painful right from the beginning, and it smelled like burnt iron.

All the joints in her body loosened, shaking as if they’d fly apart every which way. In the midst of this, Minori confronted something about which nothing could be done. She hadn’t felt so powerless since the night Touya spent in the Intensive Care Unit.

She was only sitting there, but she felt as if she might scream something and break into a run; it hurt to restrain herself. She’d been raised with Touya, her twin, and while she’d helped her little brother, whose legs wouldn’t work anymore, even she’d come to think she had a calm, responsible personality.

She’d never known she could have feelings so intense she couldn’t handle them.

I love Shiroe.

Just thinking it made pain run through her, as though her heart were being crushed by steel claws. It was far too fearless; it seemed almost as if she’d forgotten her own place. It was the pain of her terror at her own conceit.

However, it was also true that a speck of sweetness had crept into the pain somehow.

The sweetness wasn’t a premonition of happiness, the idea that she might be united with Shiroe.

It was more like the tempting compulsion to confirm the heat of the blood that flowed from a wound, even though you knew touching the wound would hurt. The lure of the stinging wound was a degenerate one, but even so, it was the sweetness of the pain of the first love she’d known.

Minori couldn’t think of a single reason why Shiroe would choose her, but she could think of dozens—or even hundreds—of reasons why he wouldn’t.

For that reason, the sweetness might have been given to Minori as an anesthetic.

The age difference. The difference in their talents. The difference in their business abilities. The difference in their combat capabilities. Her own immaturity. Her timidity. Her wretchedness. Even in terms of appearance, she was mediocrity itself compared to Akatsuki… In short, Minori was a perfectly ordinary middle schooler, nothing more.

Then there was her own ugliness, which she’d just discovered.

Minori had thought this when Akatsuki touched Shiroe:

Not fair.

That’s my place.

There had been no reason for it. It had been simple selfishness. When it came right down to it, it had only been a false accusation. Of course it had been. Akatsuki was free to fall in love with somebody, too.

Even so, Minori had thought Not fair because, somewhere in her heart, she’d thought of Shiroe as hers.

When she’d been Hamelin’s captive, during that long, painful, lightless time, Shiroe had encouraged her. Shiroe had rescued her from her captivity. She’d idolized him as the star she should aim for and had tried to follow in his footsteps. That was what Shiroe was, and on some level, Minori had thought of him as hers.

I thought Shiroe would always be there… I thought he’d always be my teacher.

What arrogance.

The thought of her own contemptible ugliness made Minori feel as though her insides were smeared with mud. Viscous flames were slowly roasting her from the inside, as if heavy oil had been set on fire. The pain made her want to thrash around, but even if she screamed, it wouldn’t help.

It hurt. She hated it.

And what was more, the realization that she’d had these emotions hidden inside made her dizzy.

The impudence of thinking of Shiroe as hers, of all things, as if she had some sort of right of ownership to him… She hated that conceited self so much she wanted to kill it. More than anything, she was appalled by her own unconscious arrogance, the arrogance that she hadn’t even realized existed until just a moment ago.

“Not fair”…? Why would I… That’s just—

A long time passed.

In the darkness, Minori continued to breathe, bearing up under pain that felt like she was being slowly ground down or ripped apart. As always, the air was clammy and heavy, as painful as a lump of sand.

For such a long time she didn’t know how many hours had passed, Minori sat motionless, facing the pain inside herself.

“Minori?”

The kitchen grew bright: Touya had come in with a Bug Light Lamp. Minori hadn’t noticed her little brother until he was right beside her. For a moment, she thought he was some sort of illusion, and she stared at him with a foolish expression.

“Minori, what? Geez, your face…”

Touya had taken a hand towel out of his pack, and he roughly wiped Minori’s face with it. When he caught her nose through the towel, and it snuffled when he wiggled it back and forth, Minori finally realized she’d been crying.

“Touya…”

“What is it, huh?”

“Touya.”

“Yeah?”

Touya sat down on the chair next to Minori, loosened the straps on his leather armor, then dropped it and his pack with a thud. He was his usual self, the little brother Minori was so proud of. In spite of his blunt attitude, she could tell he was worried about her.

Her own arrogance, which she’d just discovered: She knew she had no right to be jealous, but no matter how much she told herself that, she couldn’t control the emotion. At the sight of her brother’s familiar profile, that jealousy subsided, just a little.

“Touya, listen. I…”

“Uh-huh.”

“I think I like Shiroe.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, you do. You like him.”

Touya spoke without even turning to face Minori; he was using a belt to bind up the armor he’d taken off. His tone was so natural he might have been talking about the weather.

“Huh? What? Why are you reacting like that?”

“You’ve been crazy about Teacher Shiroe for ages, Minori.”

“For ages? Have I?”

Had she really been? She might have been. She had been. …Minori downshifted through three stages straight to depression. To Touya, this pain might be old news as well. Still, even so, when Touya was there with her, she felt as though the pain—a pain as if she were chewing sand—had faded a little.

“That’s a problem.”

“Why?”

At Minori’s voice, Touya looked her way for the first time. Lit by the faint white light of the lamp, he looked more grown-up than usual.

“‘Why’? Why would you ask me…?”

“It’s not giving you trouble, Minori. Is it? You don’t have a problem. It just hurts.”

Her heart leapt.

Those words pierced Minori.

It felt as if he’d seen right through her.

She remembered the finger Akatsuki had gently stretched out—her fingertip had touched Shiroe’s forehead as if she were trying to hold herself back but couldn’t quite manage it. Minori sensed that she was jealous of that fingertip.

The feeling wasn’t the least bit right, but even so, she couldn’t stop herself, and the ugliness just kept piling up.

That bitterness, and the pain, really did hurt.

Even so, she didn’t want to throw them away or leave them behind. She’d first noticed her feelings for Shiroe within that pain, and they bloomed sweetly inside Minori.

“Is that…okay?”

“There’s no help for it, is there?”

Maybe there was no help for it, Minori thought.

She wasn’t looking for an excuse for herself. It was her heart, trying to find something she could still use in the midst of her darkness and pain. In all the thick, muddy ugliness, her heart was longing for something that hadn’t rotted away, something that had value.

Minori drew a deep breath, the way Shiroe had showed her, and strained her ears, listening to the distant noises.

Shiroe…

She remembered Shiroe.

The words he’d said. The look in his eyes, behind his round glasses.

The way he chose his words carefully when he answered her questions. The way he looked when he unrolled a map and explained something to her.

The slightly troubled gesture he used to adjust his glasses.

The obstinate way he pursed his lips. His pale, determined profile.

The strength in his voice when he’d agreed: Leave it to me.

In Minori’s mind’s eye, transformed into a devastated wasteland by chaos and pain, those memories alone glowed with bright, vibrant color.

So as not to make a lie of it. So that she wouldn’t betray it. She wanted to exchange all the gray noise for that brightness.

In the kitchen, where Minori and Touya sat, a murmur that was like the breath of the town echoed very, very far away. After she’d spent a long time in the flickering light of the Bug Light Lamp, Minori gave a small nod.

“You’re right. It isn’t…a problem. It just hurts. That’s all—I haven’t lost anything, and nothing’s bad, and I haven’t done anything. …That’s right. I haven’t managed to do one single thing yet.”

The first feelings she’d known weren’t pastel-colored sugar candy.

They were like leaping flames or flowing blood, in the midst of darkness and cries of pain like rough static, and they had a brightness that cut her when she touched them. There was so much contrast in the feelings hidden in her heart that they made her dizzy, but even so, Minori smiled at her brother, just a little. The tears that ran down her cheeks hadn’t dried, but she had no intention of denying those tears.

There was no use in holding on to this pain when she hadn’t managed to do anything, Minori thought. Since they hadn’t begun, she told herself, they hadn’t ended, and she gave up.

She hadn’t repaid Shiroe at all, hadn’t caught up to him in anything. That meant her pain and suffering was only natural.

Minori got through the long night with Touya’s help.

It was the first night to temper that blade of blue steel, but Minori was well aware that it wouldn’t be the last.