1

The cold autumn air made the sky clear. Dazzlingly bright stars twinkled in Akiba’s night sky.

In the world of Elder Tales, there were more stars than there had been in the old world, and they were brighter. No one knew if this was because the air was clean or if it was due to the game’s art design, but in this other world, the nights were ornamented with stars.

On this night, the night of the Libra Festival, the town of Akiba bustled until late.

Akiba was an Adventurer hometown, and its urban functions were extremely sophisticated.

In this case, urban functions meant gates, the bank, guild halls, the Temple, and a market that required registration. In the Elder Tales game, these five facilities had been all Adventurers needed to get by. Sophisticated meant there was nothing unnecessary. In other words, being sophisticated in terms of function meant that, other than the five indispensible types of facility, there had been nothing there.

Before the Catastrophe, there had been no living facilities in the town of Akiba.

Of course, taverns and inns had existed as town objects, but these had been put in as background, in order to express the medieval fantasy worldview, and although players had used them to role play—in other words, to pretend—the buildings hadn’t seen practical use in day-to-day life.

However, since the Catastrophe, Adventurers had been compelled to use this town as their home base and to live there in the truest sense of the word. This meant that even if they stayed only in town, they needed certain facilities. The earliest change had been that the restaurants had prospered; after that, various types of stores, private shops and service businesses began to thrive.

Some of these shops were run by Adventurers, but most were operated by Adventurers and People of the Earth working together, or simply by People of the Earth.

There were several reasons for this, but one of the biggest was the wage differential. Adventurers were able to earn greater rewards in less time than the average Person of the Earth. If they got serious about it, even a midlevel Adventurer could put down field monsters and earn more in a day than a Person of the Earth farmer could earn in a month.

The difference in production wasn’t as great as it was in combat abilities, but even so, it was clearly there. From the Adventurers’ point of view, even craftsmen considered experts by the People of the Earth only seemed to have subclass levels around 60.

Of course, with Chefs or Tailors and the like, if their level was 20, they could make items whose quality was good enough for use in everyday life. For Chefs at that level, that meant fresh-baked bread and delicious soup, crispy fried potatoes and golden roast chicken. For Tailors, it meant comfortable shirts, loose slacks, vegetable-dyed tunics and leather vests.

The People of the Earth could make these “items that were good enough for everyday use” as well. That meant the Adventurers naturally drifted into work territories only Adventurers could handle, while the People of the Earth took charge of creating the sort of items that were in common circulation.

Through this change, Akiba lost its game-related efficiency and acquired rows of all sorts of shops and facilities. Naturally, the number of People of the Earth also doubled, and the speed at which their population increased was accelerating. As a result, shops run by People of the Earth opened in rapid succession.

There was one more reason behind the growth of the People of the Earth population.

From the Adventurers’ perspective, a player town was nothing more than their base camp. Almost all Adventurers thought of it simply as a place where adventures began, a convenient place to make preparations. However, for the People of the Earth, it meant something different.

To the People of the Earth, Adventurers were beings that were completely unlike them: immortals with powerful combat abilities. To them, player towns were the frontline bases these Adventurers had built in their world.

Most People of the Earth felt grateful to the Adventurers, and they respected them. Adventurers often protected them from the wastelands and monsters of Yamato, and in this world, they were beings that could be relied on. However, at the same time, they felt great dread. This was true with regard to the player towns, but also their Temples, the devices they used to resurrect. They might actually have felt a greater fear of the places—as forbidden lands—than they did of individual Adventurers.

The People of the Earth who made their homes in the town of Akiba were special people who’d lived there for generations. In a way, their family lines might have been similar to those of mikos or Shinto priests who served dangerous, mercurial gods. Organizations such as the bank and consignment sales were maintained by this special People of the Earth demographic.

However, that age of dread was past.

The Adventurers had used their fearsome strength to save the People of the Earth from goblins, orcs, and powerful monsters such as dragons time and time again. Meanwhile, though, the Adventurers had always seemed to insist on transient relationships, those of “clients” and “solution providers.” The only relationships Adventurers would form with the People of the Earth were temporary ones. That was simply common sense.

However, a short while ago, the first ever formal treaty had been concluded between Adventurers and the People of the Earth.

The meaning of that signature between Eastal, the League of Free Cities, and the Round Table Council was certainly not trivial.

The People of the Earth had taken it to mean that the Adventurers had turned to face them, not as well-intentioned helpers who were just passing through, but as participants in this world.

One symbol of this had been Princess Raynesia’s transfer to Akiba.

Raynesia had shown that she wasn’t just a representative of the nobles, but was living in the Adventurers’ town as a representative of the People of the Earth.

With these circumstances in the background, Akiba’s People of the Earth population was growing by the day.

Originally, many of the buildings in Akiba might as well have been ruins, but as the town took in more People of the Earth, the townscape itself gradually changed. Rubble was cleared away, and buildings that looked as if they might have been haunted were cleaned.

Most of the Adventurers living in Akiba were Japanese.

For better or for worse, they were good-natured, and when they saw People of the Earth industriously repairing the town, some of them thought, Well, I’m bored, anyway. I might as well go help out a little, and went. When they worked alongside each other, they talked to each other, and eventually they opened up to each other.

By now, the number of Adventurers in Akiba who employed People of the Earth had grown markedly, and the number of People of the Earth who did business with Adventurers had increased more than tenfold.

This place, Linguine, was one of the taverns run by People of the Earth.

It was a pub and eatery that was geared toward professionals, but on the first night of the Libra Festival, even it was crowded with people.

“This tomato stew is a mewr de force.”

“It is delicious, isn’t it!”

Near the back of the shop, which was noisy with voices, Log Horizon’s adviser (or rather its leader) Captain Nyanta and Serara (the Crescent Moon League’s newbie caretaker, who was a newbie herself) faced each other across a table.

The shop wasn’t that big, and it was jam-packed with customers. It was already October and the night wind was cold, but even though the heater wasn’t on, it was hot inside the restaurant.

For the past few days, many People of the Earth had come to the town in preparation for the festival. Naturally, all the lodging facilities in town were full, and the zones the Round Table Council had readied as temporary lodging facilities were being used as well.

The restaurants were no different: Everywhere, business was booming. This backstreet eatery prided itself on the flavor of its food, and even it was bursting with Adventurers and People of the Earth who were having a drink to fire themselves up for the next day, when the festival would begin in earnest.

The new cooking method the Round Table Council had announced had traveled like the wind and spread to all corners of Yamato. However, that didn’t mean there were many Adventurers or People of the Earth who could use it well. On the contrary, since it was limited by skills, only a small percentage of the population could. These people used limited ingredients to turn out new dishes, day after day.

In comparison to the Adventurers—who tended to try to re-create the dishes they’d eaten in Japan—the inexperienced People of the Earth rifled through the recipes in their libraries and created dishes in their own styles. Their cooking methods were still simple, but this resulted in unaffected flavors, and some establishments grew quite famous.

Linguine was one such eatery.

It was known for a stewed dish that was a bit like tomato-flavored oden, and this, together with the fact that it was around the time when liquor was served, meant the place was filled with a low-class din. The eatery was a bit too rough-edged for a girl, but Serara was content to be able to have a late dinner with her beloved Nyanta. It was a small restaurant, too, and the thought that they were close enough for their knees to bump under the table made her feel bubbly and happy.

“Are you tired, Nyanta?”

“Not at all.”

Although Nyanta had said that, he’d been hugely busy doing all sorts of things that day. The Crescent Moon League would be running several shops during the Libra Festival. Snack Shop Crescent Moon was being revived, the sewing department would be giving a demonstration and conducting sales, and the Blacksmiths were selling weapons with names engraved on them.

The Crescent Moon League was a small guild, and each of its departments had five people at most. Nyanta had been helping out by acting as an assistant and teacher for the cooking department.

“They came out well…didn’t they?”

“They’re right as rain, Seraracchi.”

“I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”

“So am I.”

The thought of the busy day she’d spent with Nyanta, and of how, when dawn broke, she’d be working as a salesgirl all the next day, made Serara happy and excited. In this case, the happy excitement was due more to the bit about spending a whole day with Nyanta than the part about being a salesgirl all day.

To be honest, when Isuzu had left the Crescent Moon League and switched to Log Horizon, Serara’s heart had wavered a bit. Serara had loved Nyanta since the day he’d saved her in Susukino. Saying she didn’t want to transfer to be with him would have been a lie.

However, Serara was in charge of looking after the Crescent Moon League’s newbies. Unlike Isuzu, who’d just come from Hamelin, Serara had people who were counting on her.

She’d apologized to Nyanta once. I can’t go to Log Horizon, she’d said. She hadn’t wanted him to think her affection was a lie.

Nyanta had smiled and said, “Mew’re an admirable girl, Seraracchi.” Nyanta, who was mature and a gentleman, had always been kind, but since then, she felt as if he’d grown even kinder… As if he really listened to what she said. As a result, Serara was quite content with her current position.

The tomato-stewed seafood and vegetables were delicious, simultaneously refreshing and substantial. The iced orange water was good, too. Serara was having fun talking with Nyanta about nothing in particular, and was happily working her way through her meal.

Just then a sharp smash rang out, and the commotion in the eatery died in an instant. Apparently a server had dropped a dish. The shop’s famous tomato stew had splashed all over the place, sketching geometric patterns like bright red flowers on the stone floor.

The white porcelain plate had shattered and was scattered across the floor, but this was a restaurant, and these things happened. It was a very commonplace sort of trouble. However, just as the commotion began to return, it was cut off again by the sound of a blow.

Serara, who had been on the point of lowering her eyes to the table, saw a falling waitress and a man looming over her.

“Don’t give me that! Just look at this stain! What are you going to do about it?!” the man shouted.

Quickly, Serara checked their statuses. It was likely that both were People of the Earth. Their main classes weren’t the Adventurer kinds. The man was still young, and he looked like an aristocrat; the clothes he wore were expensive. He berated the waitress for her clumsiness in irritated tones, then spat out that it wasn’t an amount a lowly serving girl could pay for.

The eatery was hushed; everyone was holding their breath. The atmosphere seemed to please the man. He grew even more high-handed and began insulting the restaurant: It was small. Dirty. Noisy, without a shred of class. He’d come because he’d been informed it was famous, and he’d been sorely disappointed. Well, he said, at least it was quiet now.

Serara’s mood began to sour.

They’d been enjoying their meal.

The food was delicious, and yes, it was a bit noisy, but there was nothing wrong with that sort of atmosphere. As a matter of fact, everyone had seemed to be having fun. This was that sort of restaurant, and people who liked that sort of restaurant should come here. It wasn’t polite to disturb other people’s dinners. Those were her honest thoughts.

“Is that guy an idiot?” someone in the eatery muttered.

The man had the wrong idea. The eatery wasn’t the sort of dedicated palace dining hall that the man—probably a noble—was accustomed to eating at, nor was it a ristorante patronized by fashionable society. It was a backstreet eatery that served good tomato stew.

He’d gotten one other thing wrong as well: The place hadn’t gone quiet because people were cowed by his authority. They were just disgusted by the depth of his stupidity.

“Who was that?! Who mocked me?!!”

At the man’s enraged voice, three Adventurers stood up. Possibly sensing a threat from them, People of the Earth warriors who looked like bodyguards and had been eating at a separate table from the man rose as well. The situation was strained to the breaking point, and the atmosphere in the eatery began to grow tense.

“Nyanta…”

As she spoke, Serara huddled down.

It wasn’t fear. Serara was a full-fledged Adventurer herself, and she’d played a part in the battle for Choushi, the worst part of the Zantleaf Defense. She even had experience fighting the undead and magical beasts. In combat, tension on this level wouldn’t come close to qualifying as a scene of carnage. However, being right there when humans were hurling emotions at each other was different from the tension of combat. The wish that everyone would just get along was being trampled underfoot, and this turned into an indescribable pressure that threatened to swallow her.

“There’s no need to worry.”

As Nyanta stood and turned around, he casually reached out and grabbed the young nobleman by the scruff of the neck, just the way you’d pick up a cat. Caught off-guard and dumbfounded, the young man’s eyes darted this way and that.

“Mew mustn’t cause mischief, mew know. This is a place where everyone comes to eat and enjoy themselves.”

“Silence, peasant!”

“I’m an Adventurer.”

At Nyanta’s response, the man was momentarily at a loss for words, and a look of confusion raced across his face. Right: This was Akiba. The People of the Earth population might have grown, but even now, over half the people who moved through the town were Adventurers.

Possibly he’d forgotten that fact. The man’s face twisted in frustration.

“Then it’s really nothing to do with you!”

“Ermmm…”

“This is People of the Earth business. There are differences in rank among us. Stay out of this! It’s nothing to do with you Adventurers. I don’t intend to interfere with you!”

“Oh yeah? It sure didn’t look like that.”

“You were talkin’ quite a lot of smack about our favorite restaurant.”

The three who’d stood up at the back of the eatery really were Adventurers. One of them was casting a recovery spell on the young waitress.

The man’s warrior bodyguards were licking their lips frequently and glancing uneasily from side to side.

The difference in skill levels was clear from a glance at their equipment. The Knights of Izumo would have been one thing, but the knights kept by the various lords were no match for a high-level Adventurer. The bodyguards assigned to a noble’s profligate son were probably no more than level 10 or so.

Even to Serara, the bodyguards looked as if they could be taken down instantly.

“Young master, if you’d, uh, please just—”

“This is the town of Akiba. Akiba has its own order that Akiba must protect. Mew mustn’t cause trouble.”

As Nyanta interrupted the bodyguard’s words, he began walking toward the door. The young aristocrat tried to yell and struggle, but he was boggled by the fact that Nyanta—who was thin, and didn’t look young—was easily dragging him along with one arm, and his mouth only flapped uselessly. When Nyanta reached the doorway, he held the young man up in front of his eyes without seeming to put out much effort.

“Mew don’t need to pay. We’ll say this was on the house. There’s a festival today, so enjoy mewrself, and stay out of trouble.”

When Nyanta tossed the man out the door, the man’s bodyguards followed him hastily, crying, “Young master, young master!”

That wasn’t enough to trigger a response from Akiba’s guard system. It was common knowledge among the town’s residents that unless you drew a sword or inflicted direct damage, the guards were surprisingly lax.

“Nyanta.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Let’s go back to our meal.”

At Nyanta’s calm words, Serara relaxed.

In the same way, the tension went out of the eatery’s atmosphere, and the noisy mood returned. The serving girl went around apologizing to everybody, but the only responses she got were voices telling her not to worry about it, that it was only natural. The girl turned bright red and thanked them.

“Still, that was unusual, wasn’t it…”

“Well, there are more People of the Earth now. Besides, there’s a festival on today, and lots of folks who aren’t mewsed to the town are visiting.”

Nyanta put tomato stew on a piece of bread he’d carefully torn off, then took a bite.

“The People of the Earth have a kind of aristocracy, mew see. They may be bewildered by the atmosphere in Akiba.”

“‘Bewildered’…” Serara trailed off.

Serara had lived almost exclusively in Akiba. She’d been in Susukino for a short while, but she’d spent her time there in hiding, and she couldn’t say she knew what the town’s atmosphere had been like. As a result, she wasn’t familiar with the atmosphere and customs of People of the Earth towns, but she thought it would be sad if discrimination and violence from aristocrats were routine.

However, the People of the Earth were the other protagonists in this world. They had the right to conduct their own culture and lifestyles as they wished. In fact, the Adventurers might be the ones who had no right to upset the system. She’d heard Nyanta and Shiroe say something along those lines. The words hadn’t really made sense to her before, but now they soaked heavily into her heart.

“Well, even so. Our town is our town. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Smile when mew eat delicious food. Enjoy mewrself at festivals. …When it looks as though a fight may break out, we’ll just have to be careful together, that’s all.”

In response to Nyanta’s words, Serara nodded, relieved.

While this festival was for Serara and the other Adventurers, it was also the very first event to be opened to People of the Earth. They might get more of the sort of trouble they’d had today. Still, they had no intention of turning back. Serara thought, without needing to be told by anyone, that this was necessary.

Inside the pub, the warm, noisy atmosphere had returned. The minor trouble of a few minutes before might have left doubts and unease inside their hearts, but apparently there were no Adventurers who would let that discourage them. If a fuss that small could have unsettled them, they’d never have managed to live in another world.

These past five months had trained the Adventurers of Akiba very well.

…And so things would be all right. Reassured, Serara smiled at Nyanta.

2

That same night, somewhere else, another pair was working with desperate energy.

It was Marielle and Henrietta, the beautiful (?) duo who led the Crescent Moon League. They fired off a storm of orders, one after another, moving forward with preparations for the temporary shops and show that would open the next day.

The Crescent Moon League currently had sixty-five members. Their numbers had grown with the Hamelin incident, but at this size, they were still firmly midclass. Naturally, they didn’t have the strength to set up stalls on a huge scale like the three major production guilds.

However, there was also the fact that this festival had originally been proposed by the small and midsized guilds.

New ideas weren’t produced exclusively by the big guilds. All it took for all sorts of new products to be created was a skilled artisan with a flash of inspiration. That was what Akiba was like at present. When the item was created at a big guild, they were able to announce it far and wide. However, if the artisan belonged to a small guild, in terms of strength, the guild had trouble promoting that item.

The idea that had been thought up in response had gone through various incarnations before becoming the current Libra Festival.

In other words, since the Libra Festival would attract participants and visitors from all over, if the small and midsized guilds participated, it would be easier to make sure lots of Adventurers and People of the Earth merchants saw their items.

The Crescent Moon League was planning to bank on this effect and set up stalls as well.

Of course, the internal circumstances were extremely cheerful. Even Marielle and Henrietta had continued working until this late hour only to enjoy the cultural festival-like atmosphere to the fullest. …But did that mean it was simply a game, with a complete disregard for profit? Not at all.

In the current situation in Akiba, it looked as though even the small and midsized guilds would have the opportunity to make a bundle, and all such guilds, including the Crescent Moon League, welcomed the atmosphere.

It was already the middle of the night.

Their Crescent Moon League companions were probably down for the count here and there around the guild hall. The center of the room they were in held a table that was about the right size for a game of Ping-Pong, and wooden crates were stacked up around it. The layout of the new guild hall, which had room to spare, had created this work space.

Marielle, who’d been packing vegetable-dyed tunics into a crate, rolled her shoulders, paused for breath, then spoke to Henrietta.

“Say. Don’t’cha think we’re about done?”

“Mm…”

On the other side of the table, Henrietta checked several documents, wrote numbers on some nearby tags, then pasted them onto boxes.

“Let’s say yes, shall we?”

At those words, Marielle drew in a big breath.

The Libra Festival would begin in earnest the next day.

At the intersection of the two big streets that divided Akiba into quarters, many stalls would be set up according to the assignments they’d been issued in the Liaison Committee’s lottery. The Crescent Moon League had also received a modest exhibition spot on the central avenue. They were planning to resurrect Crescent Moon there and sell the legendary Crescent Burgers for the first time in a long while. Of course, the prices would be considerably lower than what they had been back then.

“That was price gougin’, wasn’t it.”

“It certainly was.”

Tired from packing crates, the two continued their conversation, their expressions dazed.

As they drooped in the workroom, both Marielle (the Crescent Moon League’s big-busted, beautiful, Kansai-dialect-speaking guild master) and Henrietta (the glasses-wearing, intellectual, sophisticated type that everyone wanted to be scolded by) were no different from ordinary female Adventurers.

Henrietta, who thought they were in danger of taking naps right there, said, “Marielle, straighten up,” and shook her partner’s shoulder. However, as a rule, Marielle wasn’t terribly disciplined to begin with. She nodded in agreement, but she still slumped listlessly.

Coaxing Marielle along, she’d managed to bring her to the sofa, but then Marielle seemed to have put down roots on it. If she was going to sleep, her bed would be better, but she stubbornly said she wanted to shower first, leaving Henrietta at her wits’ end.

“If you want to shower, then shower.”

“I’m just takin’ a li’l break. My hit points are in trouble.”

“Your HP bar is completely green. In any case, if you’re in trouble, you can just heal yourself, you know.”

Adventurers’ physical specs were high. Even Henrietta, a Bard, only felt a little warm, as if she’d been exercising, although she’d spent ten whole hours packing boxes. She was far from being worn down enough to be exhausted.

Henrietta thought that Marielle’s state was probably mental fatigue, rather than physical weariness from working.

“Lemme rest a li’l.”

With a deep sigh for her fretful friend, Henrietta sat down beside her.

“What is it, Mari?”

“Nothin’.”

“You lie.”

Henrietta shrugged her shoulders. Marielle’s attitude was too cute; she didn’t feel like taking the time to meticulously prepare a nuanced, profound verbal jab.

She could imagine why Marielle was sulking, after a fashion.

It was probably the matter she’d been teasing her about for the past month.

Henrietta ran her cursor along the menu she’d pulled up in her mind.

“—Yes. It’s me. Yes, mm-hmm. …No, no, I apologize for calling at such a late hour. And, in advance, yes.”

Having established a connection, Henrietta spoke into thin air. She was using the telechat function. Since the audio from the other party was played back inside your ears, it looked as though you were talking to yourself, but this magic contact made it possible to talk with faraway acquaintances.

Marielle knew this, and so she showed no signs of wondering whether Henrietta was talking to herself. However, instead, her dazed expression grew gradually serious, then began to look flustered and confused.

“Henrietta? Who’s that? Who’re you talkin’ to?”

“Fu-fu-fu-fu. Yes, yes. That’s right. Honestly! She’s so limp she hardly bears looking at. And the sulking, for goodness’ sake. Mari is just toooo adorable. Her chest is quivering like jelly, you know.”

“Who is it?! Who are you talkin’ to?!”

“I’m in the middle of a telechat, Mari. Could you be quiet, please?”

“How’m I s’posed to be quiet when you’re talkin’ about me?!”

Henrietta kept chuckling, and Marielle began to shake her shoulders. However, Henrietta had been her friend for a long time, and she was quite used to this. She tickled Marielle behind the ear with a white finger, then heartlessly tore her away and pinned her back against the sofa.

“Yes, mm-hmm. We have mountains of cargo here. If you’d be so kind as to help us out, Naotsugu— Yes, Marielle will be delighted as well.”

Completely ignoring Marielle, who’d frozen at the word “Naotsugu,” Henrietta calmly continued her telechat.

“If you would, please. Yes. Yes… We’ll see you shortly, then.”

Turning with a sunny smile, Henrietta saw a Marielle who was sulky and dismayed at the same time.

“Why’re you pickin’ on me, Henrietta?”

“I’m not picking on you. You misunderstood me, Mari.”

At that, Marielle scowled, looking as if she wanted to say something. In her face, with its smooth oval outline, her expressive, shining eyes were quite attractive. That said, even if Marielle was adorable, Henrietta had no intention of showing her mercy. Persecuting her and encouraging her were both Henrietta’s hobbies.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right like that? Naotsugu should be here in a bit less than an hour to help.”

“Now?! In the middle of the night?!”

“Yes. After all, as ladies, it will be hard for us to transport everything on our own,” Henrietta answered nonchalantly. As though someone had suddenly switched on her power, Marielle stood up straight, snatched up a nearby cardigan, and broke into a run. She was probably headed back to her room to take a shower.

“I-I! I’m gonna go pick some flowers!!”

Marielle ran off, leaving a transparent euphemism for “freshening up” behind her. Henrietta waved at her back, saying, “Give it your best,” then sat down on the sofa.

Mari is as cute as always. I doubt this will turn into anything anytime soon. Goodness gracious me. But, that aside…

Henrietta flipped through a sheaf of papers she’d taken from her bag.

She’d heard a bit from Naotsugu about what Shiroe had been like, and it had reminded her of something that had been bothering her.

They were materials that had been compiled by the Liaison Committee: A list of guilds, shops, individuals, and groups that hoped to exhibit. The exhibitor fees had been set low, but even so, the revenue from those alone would be significant. That was how far beyond their expectations the festival had grown.

The main cause was the People of the Earth. Merchant traders and noble merchants were coming, not just from Eastal but from the West as well. Akiba’s economic scale was larger than could be inferred from its population. People of the Earth society had noticed this and begun scrambling to make inroads into Akiba, and this was the result.

Calasin and the other members of the Liaison Committee had anticipated this as well, but a closer look revealed that the level of attention had been far higher than they’d predicted. At the festival that would begin tomorrow, the small and midsized guilds in particular would be startled by how good business was.

Most of the stalls, which were treating this like a school festival “by Adventurers, for Adventurers,” would probably sell out in a heartbeat. After all, the People of the Earth merchants had come to lay in stock. They were fundamentally different from Adventurers, who’d carefully examine the items they wanted and buy them for themselves, one item at a time.

But…

Henrietta pushed up her glasses with a fingertip.

Her slim, silver-rimmed glasses, which were practically her trademark, glinted very slightly over her expression as she concentrated. Something was tugging at her: Her experience as a working adult. Although she could never have called herself a veteran of such a thing, her experience with flipping through the books as a self-acknowledged accountant was telling her that something wasn’t quite right.

The mysterious, murky sensation was unpleasant, and Henrietta bit her lip.

What would Master Shiroe…?

She remembered the young man’s profile, which had grown familiar to her somewhere along the way.

Come to think of it, his profile was all she remembered. It wasn’t that she’d never talked to him face-to-face, but Henrietta seemed to remember always watching that obstinate young man’s important scenes from the side. During the conference where the Round Table Council was established, and at that meeting where Raynesia had taken a stand. Henrietta had always played a supporting role, watching that profile from a step away.

The young man whose profile held a strong will and sharp intuition might expose the true form of Henrietta’s unease for her.

She was so tempted by that thought that she scanned through her address menu, but in the end, she didn’t contact him. This was a conclusion she’d reached after repeated consideration.

Shiroe already had his hands full with odd jobs for the Round Table Council.

Calasin and Henrietta had made a pact not to trouble him with miscellaneous tasks for the festival. Of course, it hadn’t been said in so many words, but they were both aware that the Round Table Council was driving Shiroe too hard.

Besides, at this point, Shiroe had Akatsuki and Minori. From Henrietta’s perspective, both girls were as appealing as could be.

Akatsuki, a lovely girl with black hair like a Japanese doll’s and a smooth, slender, graceful figure reminiscent of a swallow.

Innocent Minori, who was delicate and made you want to hold her close, yet seemed to embody strength and a sense of responsibility quite unlike a young girl.

When she looked at the feelings those two harbored for Shiroe, there didn’t seem be any part left for her to play.

Henrietta considered herself plantlike by nature.

She couldn’t really understand the animalistic emotions that surrounded romance, and communication founded on the sort of physical affection Marielle demonstrated seemed alien to her. What she did with Akatsuki was done in the spirit of dressing her up and admiring her, and Henrietta understood that it was different from the romance between men and women that everyone talked about.

Because Shiroe came to mind frequently, she thought it might be that sort of thing. However, it wasn’t so strong that, as in popular songs from the old world, she was madly desperate to meet him or form a connection with him.

“The best there was, for a man.”

Henrietta had once evaluated Shiroe that way.

Although they were very pale, she was aware that her feelings were that type.

In short, I suppose I have an indifferent nature…

The fact did make her feel a little lonely. Having the face of a beloved someone in mind day and night was something she admired quite strongly, but she was aware that she didn’t have that sort of tenacity of purpose, though it was probably fun in its own way.

To Henrietta, Akatsuki was adorable and a friend she wanted to treasure, and Minori, a new face, was also a friend she felt close to. She was glad she’d be able to get by without cutting in on their romance.

She couldn’t support either one, but she was prepared to congratulate the one Shiroe chose.

As for Shiroe…

She wanted that unparalleled con man with the severe profile to be happy.

Henrietta thought Shiroe might be the type of person who could make the people around him happy only by first becoming happy himself.

Although those three are maddening to watch.

Henrietta sighed.

In that sense, both girls and Shiroe seemed incredibly clumsy. They might be the type who’d manage to have a brush with disaster just by going to an empty, grassy plain for a picnic. They were a troublesome trio, and it was frustrating not to be able to help them.

At some point, as she thought about the romantic circumstances of their companion guild, Henrietta had forgotten about the feeling of wrongness from a moment ago. Akiba was terribly busy these days, and there was just too much to think about.

3

Dawn broke.

In the early morning, the town of Akiba was wrapped in brisk October air. At this hour, when the sun wasn’t really up yet, the air was damp, cold and filled with silence.

The topography and general structure of Akiba were the same as Akihabara in the old world, but naturally, some things were different.

The town was enveloped in greenery: It was enfolded by ancient trees, and moss and grass grew on its broad avenues and in its scattered plazas.

Deciduous trees and bushes with tiny, jewellike fruit covered the town. Akiba’s mysterious landscape fused the ruins of tall buildings with nature.

Onto that greenery, an autumn morning mist fell softly.

Feeling its drops on her advancing toes, Minori hurried to the guild center.

It was the morning of the second day of the Libra Festival.

Unlike on the first day, when anticipation toward the kickoff festivities had gradually built from noon onward, the second day was packed with a solid series of events.

This festival’s main events were the exhibitions and sales, the dinner party being held in Princess Raynesia’s name, and the Akiba “Everything” Market that would be held from the evening of that day—the second day—through the night and continue into the third day. Yes, the main Libra Festival began today.

Perhaps because of the sense of anticipation, people were busily carrying cargo here and there, despite the town’s typical schedule to be asleep this early in the morning. Each person was probably transporting merchandise for their stalls or hurrying to get items they didn’t have enough of and hadn’t noticed until the day of the festival.

As you’d expect, when she reached the entrance to the town’s guild center, the commotion was clearly greater than usual. She saw several Adventurers going in and out. Forcing herself to greet people cheerfully, Minori entered the obsidian building.

Log Horizon was one of the eleven guilds that made up the Round Table Council, and Minori often visited the guild center as Shiroe’s assistant. She was already acquainted with the People of the Earth ladies at the reception counter, and with several of the Adventurers stationed here.

She didn’t head to the floor that held the Round Table Council’s reference room and office, where she’d once gone to help out. Instead, today she made for the Production Guild Liaison Committee. She’d stopped by once on an errand for Shiroe, to pick up some materials, so she found it right away.

Even though it was early morning, the floor was enveloped in a flurried atmosphere. The big oak double doors were flung wide open, and several crates had spilled out into the hallway.

The PGLC had a central role to play in the festival. For that reason, even at this hour, it was buzzing with energy. From inside, voices barked orders in near yells, and people were hastily running out or carrying things in.

Minori quietly slipped through the door, bowing to an Adventurer she knew. She was fairly sure the woman was a Shopping District 8 artisan.

“What is it, Minori?”

“I, um… Is Calasin here?”

Minori was vaguely uncomfortable. It felt a bit as though she were visiting the clubroom of a school club she didn’t belong to.

The artisan laughed at Minori’s restlessness, however, replying, “Sure, he’s inside. Go on in. You’ll have to excuse the mess, though!” She spoke loudly, probably because she was wired from pulling an all-nighter. Timidly, Minori went deeper into the office.

There was a reason she’d come here so early in the morning.

Last night, when Minori had seen Akatsuki and Shiroe’s quiet scene, she’d been depressed by her own wretchedness, but the goal she’d set herself for this festival was to wipe out Shiroe’s bad reputation.

The first method she’d come up with was to participate in the cake buffet, attracting attention as they did so, and gain an invitation to the great dinner party. If they attended the dinner party and chatted with the participants, public opinion of Shiroe would improve.

Although, in the end, that failed…

Twelve whole cakes had been far too impossible, Minori thought.

That was bullying. Honestly! But, there was no point in thinking that.

However, a failure was a failure, and if she wasn’t going to give up, she had to think of another way to complete her mission. She’d racked her brains, and had hit on the idea of appealing directly to the Production Guild Liaison Committee.

Fortunately, she knew Calasin of Shopping District 8, who was running the committee. If they had invitations left over, couldn’t she ask him for a couple and get them that way? That thought had brought Minori to the Production Guild Liaison Committee.

However, Calasin didn’t seem to be in any shape for that sort of thing. The central office of the PGLC—or was it a conference room?—at any rate, that big room was packed with a literal wall of documents.

She was used to seeing vast quantities of documents in Shiroe’s study, and since there were no computers in this world, she’d heard that they multiplied rapidly, but Shiroe’s study was nothing compared to the level of confusion in this room. At the very least, you could see a focused desire for order and efficiency in Shiroe’s study, while the only things in this office were chaos and entropy.

On a corner of a table in the center of the room, Calasin and a young male colleague were desperately trying to protect a work space, or “civilization.” However, their efforts were in vain, and their weak lords were in dire distress from the threat of the surging barbarian hordes—in this case, the disorderly reports.

Calasin looked fierce, and Minori hesitated to speak to him. Just then, a man who’d entered the room behind Minori began to deliver a report in an energetic voice.

“Mister Calasin! Here’s the merchandise list and the reports for the south block! Thanks for your help!”

The young man added a stack of papers to the table and left immediately, but that attack completely changed the balance of power on the table. A tower of documents that had been teetering unsteadily fell, slipping from under the fingers Minori stretched out. In a chain reaction like collapsing dominos, the encroaching barbarians began to light the signal fires of invasion, one after another.

“Aaaaaah?!” “Yeek!!”

Calasin and his assistant shrieked. Their faces were pale with despair. Under the circumstances, that was only natural. After they’d sworn and railed for a bit, the pair had dejectedly begun to pile up documents again when Minori spoke to them.

“Shall I help you?”

“Damn and blast. Of all the… Huh? …Um…”

“She’s one of Shiroe’s. Minori, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Here, let me help.”

Minori rolled up her blouse’s long sleeves. She couldn’t ignore a mountain of documents this chaotic. She also calculated that if she helped here and improved Calasin’s impression of her, he might listen to her request.

“Sure, thanks. …Taro, get us some tea. Strong stuff.”

“Yessir, understood.”

The boy staggered out the door; there was no telling how long he’d worked without a break. Calasin and Minori watched him go, then set to work collecting the scattered sheaves of paper. At a glance, they seemed to be forms for the day’s exhibitions and sales. Forms related to business deals, written inquiries, instructions, tax payment forms and all sorts of other things were mixed together, and they’d been sorted by paper size alone and piled up in heaps.

“Calasin…um… These are all different types.”

“I know they’re all over the map, but once the stack falls, there’s no telling what the categories are. Actually, since we didn’t have set forms or formats to begin with, even if the files are for the same thing, the sizes are all different…”

Calasin groaned, shoulders drooping.

“I didn’t think it was going to be this rough. I tell ya, the People of the Earth are hard to deal with. I wonder if they’re paying taxes.”

“Did something happen with the People of the Earth?”

“Well, this is business, so it’s normal to change or add things right beforehand, but… We didn’t think we’d have this many people. The files are slipshod, too; maybe it’s because our cultures are different. If it were just our fellow guilds, it would be all right, but the Round Table said to keep records this time around.”

Calasin shrugged his shoulders as if to say, You know how that goes, right? True, the chaos was so bad it was a bit off-putting. They knew they had to organize it, but even as they worked, inquiries and reminders continued to arrive in a constant stream. Once a file had disappeared into a mountain, it was hard to track it down again.

Of course, Shiroe’s high opinion of Calasin’s on-site management abilities had been correct, and the staff seemed to be diligent as well. Their responses to inquiries were prompt, and their decisions were immediate.

That advanced decision-making ability kept the office running even if the reports and files weren’t getting organized, making it possible to postpone the problem. Even if things were all right now, Calasin would gradually be driven into a corner. A backlog was building, both from the papers that had been turned in beforehand and from the files that were increasing moment to moment.

“I’ll help out here today.”

“Are you sure? Log Horizon has several things going on today, too, doesn’t it?”

After giving it a little thought, Minori offered to help. The cake buffet route had been cut off, so it was true that she did have time. Shiroe had said they’d be helping the Crescent Moon League, but if necessary, he could contact her via telechat no matter where she was.

“Yes. I’m free.”

“In that case, I’m sorry, but please do. …To be honest, we don’t have enough people to deal with the documents. Apparently Henrietta’s busy today, too.”

In response to Calasin’s words, Minori nodded. Shiroe had told her that Henrietta was involved with the Liaison Committee’s duties as well. The situation might actually have gotten as chaotic as it was because she’d stepped out for the exhibition and sale today.

“For now, I’ll start putting things in order.”

Minori lowered a nearby tower of documents to the floor, then took paper and ink out of her pouch. The items’ rank certainly wasn’t high, but she’d made them herself.

Using her sheathed dagger as a paperweight, she began reading through the documents, starting at the top of the stack—not hastily, but quickly. This one was a receipt for cargo that had been taken into a warehouse. Minori nodded, setting it down in a small open space. One receipt. That was followed by an offender report from a watchman. One report.

It was the first step. Even if it was small, she mustn’t let that discourage her. She’d only just begun, so of course the results would be small. The important thing was staying dedicated to the task.

After all, I haven’t done anything.

She’d idolized Shiroe, and she loved him, and yet she hadn’t even begun to move. The pain from last night, when she’d discovered that about herself, still burned in her heart. Up until yesterday, she’d still been inside her eggshell.

In that case, she had to start something.

If she loved Shiroe, she wanted to do something for him.

She was still just an ordinary middle schooler, the sort you’d find anywhere, but Minori wanted to become the sort of person who could give Shiroe something, so that she could be proud of having been in love.

That was the conclusion Minori had come to after getting through that night of heart-searing pain.

Before, she’d simply idolized her teacher’s back without giving it much thought, had made it her goal just so she could be with him, but now, inside Minori, that back had a different meaning.

If she’d wanted only to follow Shiroe, to see the same things he saw, it would have been all right to make his back her goal. However, if she wanted to help him, she had to acquire a different sort of strength. It would probably be very hard to walk the same road while working toward a different power, but that was the course Minori aspired to now.

The improvement in Adventurers’ physical capabilities applied to vision and reflexes as well.

Minori put these to work, sorting documents with astounding speed. Files that seemed to need immediate action after she glanced through them were tossed into a crate she’d borrowed from nearby, one after another. She’d probably need to have Calasin check it regularly. She sorted the other files into categories.

Minori’s current subclass was Apprentice. She hadn’t liked Tailor and had wanted to change her subclass as soon as possible, but she hadn’t been able to decide what to change it to. At that point, Shiroe had recommended Apprentice.

Although Apprentice was one of the subclasses, it wasn’t a “class” in the general sense. It was similar to a role-play Accountant or Fortune-Teller, but it was a system with much stranger characteristics.

Apprentices were able to register other players and “copy” several of their subclass abilities that could be acquired at a low level. Minori was carrying paper and ink she’d made because she’d apprenticed herself to Shiroe—in other words, registered Shiroe as her master—and had copied his skill.

An apprenticeship came with an experience points acquisition bonus, and it leveled up fast. In addition, because some skills could be copied from masters, it wasn’t a hard subclass to develop. However, because the skills Apprentices could copy were limited to skills below midlevel, and because the subclass didn’t have many of its own unique special skills, it wasn’t a very popular one.

What really set Apprentices apart came after they’d developed: With the exception of special subclasses that had class-change conditions, it was possible to transfer into almost any subclass, and you could take your experience points with you.

For example, if an Adventurer raised their Apprentice subclass to level 30, then transferred to Chef, it was possible for them to start as a level 30 Chef instead of having to start from level 1, as they would normally have had to do.

If you wanted to end up in a subclass like Blacksmith, where leveling up took time, people said that getting there via Apprentice wasn’t a bad idea. That said, in that case, there were still problems: You needed a master, and although you’d leveled up, the number of recipes in your item creation menu hadn’t increased, so another kind of effort would be necessary in order to build your repertoire.

These drawbacks didn’t bother Minori in the least.

In the first place, she was in this subclass so that she could imitate Shiroe, so handicaps on that level weren’t meaningful handicaps at all. Besides, right now, her Scribe skills—the same ones Shiroe had—were serving her well in this struggle with the chaotic documents.

Minori copied all the documents that had to do with items people wanted to sell into forms she’d hastily created on cheap paper. When she’d accumulated a certain amount, she “copied” them, then put the originals in a crate. In the course of helping Shiroe, she’d gotten used to summarizing mere forms into materials that could actually be used.

Minori looked around at the mountains of documents.

On this battlefield, there had to be something that Shiroe had already acquired, but which couldn’t be learned in battles in Elder Tales. At the moment, she didn’t know what that was, or whether it had meaning or not.

There were several hints hidden in the knowledge Shiroe had taught her up until now. The “things Shiroe had told her” had been buried in a vast amount of methods for conquering the Elder Tales game, but that certainly hadn’t been all there was.

Guild administration. All sorts of past feuds. The things that had made him happy about his MMO gaming career. The things that had made him sad. Things he couldn’t forgive, and things he’d tried to forgive. The various situations in which battles of will had gone beyond game combat. The secret to that something had to be hidden among the many anecdotes Shiroe had related to her.

However, Minori’s inexperience held her back, preventing her from putting them into practice.

…And so, she would stay here.

The decision Minori had made was to keep fighting. This was Shiroe’s old battlefield, and the battlefield on which Minori’s present was buried.

“You’re good at this, Minori.”

“Because I’m Shiroe’s Apprentice.”

As Minori answered, smiling, her expression held strength that hadn’t been there the day before.

4

“Thankyewverramuch!”

“Carryout complete. Five more wagons to go!”

“Hey, I’m freed up now. Hand ’er over!”

Day Two of the festival. That morning, commotion enveloped the town.

After all, the festival was full of firsts. Nobody had a complete grasp of the whole thing. That was probably true even for Calasin, who stood at the top of the Production Guild Liaison Committee, which was running the festival. Initially, the event project had been nothing more than a collection of volunteers from the small and midsized guilds who wanted to show off the new items they’d created to the whole town.

As the scale expanded, the Liaison Committee should have been swamped with central paperwork, plunging the town into chaos.

However, due to the youth and the Japanese temperaments of the Adventurers who lived in the town, this didn’t happen.

In this fantasy world, many Adventurers had more physical capabilities than they knew what to do with, which meant that, in other words, they were bored. If that boredom acted in a negative direction, they’d grow desperate and despair, and if it acted in a positive direction, it added to the enormous merrymaking.

On Akiba’s main street, in the square beside the carriage lot by the Bridge of All Ages, a large pavilion tent had been set up. Although they called it a tent, it was really only a roof with heavy iron support pillars at its four corners, a bit like a field battle headquarters. The stern-faced members of the Knights of the Black Sword were rushing in and out of it. In the center of the tent, the guild master, Black Sword Isaac, sat majestically on a folding chair.

“Gimme water.”

“We don’t have enough Summoners. Send one over!”

“We’re short on Summoners. If you’ve got a job that needs muscle, do it yourself. If you need heat or ice, ask a Sorcerer.”

“We ain’t Summoner substitutes. Lousy solo classes… Dammit. Hey, your ice is ready. Here ya go.”

The inside of the tent was noisy as well, as if the town’s commotion had been copied into it.

The Knights of the Black Sword was one of Akiba’s leading combat guilds, one that only admitted Adventurers who had neared the upper level limit, a hard-line organization designed for conquering raids. Naturally, their membership was made up of hard-core gamers, and they boasted steel solidarity—or so outsiders assumed. In fact, they were just a noisy group.

“Yo, people! Pipe down!”

The loud warriors were thundered at by an even louder rough voice. It was their guild master, Isaac. He was a Guardian who was famous even in Akiba, with bright red hair and an intense smile that was bursting with confidence.

“Shaddup, General.”

“Just sit there, Boss.”

“You’re dumb, Chief, so don’t think.”

As the people around him spoke to him this way, Isaac guffawed as though he’d been complimented. This was how the Knights of the Black Sword did things. To Lezarik, who stood nearby and was sending him pitying looks, he roared, “They’re full of energy today, too!”

“Zone Patrol Team Three is back.”

“Hey. Good work.”

Isaac spoke to a group of three who’d just returned from outside. He thought that noticing this sort of thing promptly meant you were fit to be a general, and that it was just like him to be so considerate. It was definitely a skill based in charisma.

“And? How was it? Hm? Did something happen?”

“Yes, we rescued a wagon that had gotten stuck on a side road, mediated four arguments, and handled one suit for payment… Wasn’t that it?”

“Great, that’s the way!”

Isaac nodded magnanimously, affirming his members’ report.

The Knights of the Black Sword were conducting voluntary town patrols.

By now, the Libra Festival had gone beyond the boundaries of Akiba’s small and midsized guilds and its production guilds, and had come to the attention of nearby People of the Earth aristocrats and merchants. Crowds of producers and merchants were surging in, attempting to sell their products. Fielding them and sorting out trouble required a realistic number of people.

The Production Guild Liaison Committee was working hard, but the organization’s reason for being was to balance interests between guilds. Where this matter was concerned, its main duties had been holding discussions and the lottery to select exhibition spots. It probably didn’t have enough people to handle any trouble in town proper.

With that in mind, Isaac was running patrols and inspecting incoming People of the Earth.

This was the Bridge of All Ages, which spanned the Kanda Irrigation Canal on the southern edge of town. Merchants from Izu and farther west crossed this bridge to enter Akiba. The entry checks were simple and cursory. Knights asked for the merchants’ names, and confirmed the number of people and wagons in their party as well as their main cargo. These items were written in a ledger, and that was it.

Compared to an actual customs check, it was full of holes.

However, Isaac thought that, with this sort of thing, what counted was fighting spirit.

In other words, power.

Knights of the Black Sword in rugged armor would break that lot’s morale by beating them to the punch. They’d hammer them with the intent to strike back hard if anyone caused trouble in town. It was all about fighting spirit and drawing lines.

“You look bored.”

“Shaddup. How’re things on your end?”

Isaac turned his sharp gaze on the individual who’d just entered. Like Isaac, the big man with glasses was one of the eleven guild masters who made up the Round Table Council: Krusty, the intellectual warrior who led D.D.D.

He was at the top of the town of Akiba, a man Isaac acknowledged as superior. Both as a guild master and as a Guardian, he was the only one equal to Isaac on the server.

“No particular problems on our end, either.”

Krusty’s lips turned up slightly. Isaac decided that was how this guy with glasses smiled.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t been known to each other back in the days when this was a game. Although they led different guilds, they were both top players on the Yamato server. They’d spoken several times, and more than that, it would have been a lie to say that they hadn’t been on each other’s radar.

For raid guilds like the Knights of the Black Sword and D.D.D., the competition to be the first to attempt a raid was very important. A new expansion pack was applied, and new raid content was added. These were brand new challenges, like untouched, new-fallen snow.

And they were very difficult, of course.

Raid content was another name for high-end content created just for serious veterans, those who’d played through all solo and party content. In order to break through that obstacle, you needed crazed junkies who’d trained to the highest level, had a full range of equipment at the highest level, and whose strength of will was at the highest level as well.

In most cases, the raid content that was added with expansion packs consisted of between five and seven dungeons. Ordinarily, their difficulty was stair stepped. First, they’d test their skills by charging what was thought to be the easiest dungeon. The result had always been complete annihilation.

At that point, Isaac and his comrades would lick their lips, undaunted.

It meant, This one looks like it’s worth tackling.

Making attempt after attempt, accumulating original ideas, and steamrolling a powerful raid boss brought an indescribable sense of achievement. As perks, they acquired fantasy-class items that held powerful, brand-new capabilities, and their companions’ military might increased. They’d use the items obtained that time to beef up their forces, then tackle the dungeon at the next difficulty level. And then, the cycle simply repeated.

Of course, Isaac and the Knights of the Black Sword weren’t the only ones attempting that race. D.D.D., the biggest, toughest guild on the Yamato server, was capturing them in the exact same way. Who would take that boss down first? Who would manage to clear this dungeon first? What raid guilds were after was the race to be first.

They were guilds that fought for fame.

To Isaac, that was what raid guilds were.

The fantasy-class items that came along with them were perks, nothing more than tools.

Greeders, players who were dazzled by high-class items, weren’t warriors in the true sense of the world. The Knights of the Black Sword had no use for guys like that. That was what Isaac thought.

“Right. But hey…”

“Mn?”

Still seated on his chair, Isaac looked up at the man in front of him. “This ‘nothing happening’ business blows. Think somebody’ll start something?”

“I wonder.”

“The People of the Earth ain’t picking any fights.”

This calm, expressionless giant of a man was the same type of person as Isaac. Level, special skills, equipment, and money were all no more than footholds. They were true gamers who had vied with each other for the position of top guild on the Yamato server. That was precisely why they were able to keep patrolling the town this way, when there was no hope of any return. It led to fame, and most important, it kept them from getting bored.

“With this great a disparity in combat strength… Well, I’d guess it’s fifty-fifty.”

“Hahn. You rate ’em pretty high.”

Isaac was already used to the way the young man with glasses spoke. If this man said it, it was probably true. Besides, Isaac felt it as well.

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“That guy. The Machiavelli guy. Whaddaya think of him?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?”

Isaac’s question came right back at him. Isaac shot Krusty a glare, but he didn’t seem to have been dodging the question. Isaac shrugged and went in deeper.

“Machiavelli. Is he smart or an idiot?”

“I imagine it isn’t impossible to be both.”

“Y’know… I asked Machiavelli to join up one time.”

Did the guy in question remember it, or not?

He’d evaded the matter at the conference, but Isaac remembered it clearly. It had been several months after the Debauchery Tea Party had suddenly disbanded. He’d figured the Tea Party would reform as a stand-alone guild, but it had just disappeared. Most of the members had withdrawn, seemingly without regrets, and returned to playing solo.

Unusually for that group, Shiroe had been a player whose log-in frequency hadn’t dropped.

“After the Tea Party, Machiavelli took part in raids all over the place, as a mercenary. When he came to ours, I asked him to join up. I didn’t ask him because of the Tea Party name, either. I’d seen him play.”

“And?”

At Krusty’s words, Isaac rolled his head, cracking his neck, and answered.

“Turned me down. ‘That invitation’s too good for me,’ he said. So then I stopped caring. If a guy has the guts to rip through a raid monster, I’ll ask him to sign on even if he can’t stand it, but I’ve got no use for guys who are dried up and done.”

Isaac really had given up on Shiroe.

However, he’d never imagined that Shiroe would grow again, and that he’d come to have influence in Akiba that way. Had his eyes been clouded? The thought had been bothering him.

If Isaac were asked whether he wanted to fight alongside Shiroe, the answer was yes.

He’d thought it would be fun to fight beside that eccentric-looking guy with glasses. He’d probably use methods as crooked as his expression to yield maximum military results. When he’d come to help out, although their MP should’ve run out entirely, somehow he’d managed to recover it for a dozen players at a stroke.

“Is the guy a strategist or a gambler? …Is he washed up, or can he still go?”

“Shiroe’s… He’s probably the type who does best when ‘anything’s possible.’”

“When anything’s possible—”

“I don’t think he’s a strategist. He doesn’t care how it looks, he lets the end justify the means, he doesn’t expect any return, doesn’t pay attention to anything except the goal. Under circumstances like those, he shows unmatched strength. He’s a type of demon sword.”

Isaac didn’t understand a word of what Krusty was saying, but as he listened to his voice, it suddenly all made sense to him.

The Shiroe Isaac had seen back then must have been just Shiroe’s shell.

The spirit he’d shown at that conference had been Shiroe getting serious. When he thought of it that way, Isaac grew absurdly excited. He guffawed at the tall man standing beside him.

“Then that demon sword’s buried in files and groaning, huh? Well, now. I wonder when it’ll get drawn next. I bet the best is yet to come, yeah? All right… I guess I’ll head out to take in the festival! Hey, Krusty! C’mon with me.”

After chewing out a subordinate who’d come to deliver a report, Isaac issued an invitation to Krusty, and they turned their steps toward their own hometown, which was seething with Adventurers and People of the Earth.

5

A short while earlier in another corner of town, the women of the Crescent Moon League were making preparations for the exhibition and sale of winter clothes.

The venue was a newly created hall known as the Silver Hall.

In the old world, the site of the building in which the hall was located had held a huge composite electronics emporium, but, as usual in this other-world Akiba, that had been replaced with a ruin.

That ruin had been remodeled over two months, and the result was Silver Hall. Even if it was a ruin, the upper floors had only been sheared off; the foundation had still been completely intact, and its structure, like a high-ceilinged hotel, was convenient and had made the remodel relatively easy.

They’d developed a process of making molds with wooden frames, pouring cement into them, then shaping the surface with stucco, and this had made remodeling ruins much easier. This was another discovery that had appeared after the establishment of the Round Table Council, and the work had progressed rapidly. The Adventurers’ ability to create items in very little time had worked to their advantage, along with the fact that they had spirits and other on-site labor to command.

The interior of Silver Hall had been divided into several large exhibition spaces. The main venue for the autumn festival was a first-floor ballroom, the largest one in the building. Inside, many guilds were making final preparations at their sales booths.

As one of these many guilds, the Crescent Moon League’s clothing and accessories team had decorated their booth.

The booth was about five meters square, and between the crates packed with merchandise and the table for the cashier, there wasn’t much extra space. It held chests that had been made over into display shelves, and they were hanging up the all-important exhibit: the vegetable-dyed tunics.

Marielle and a few members who worked with clothing and accessories were acting as sales clerks. Akatsuki, who had been kidnapped to assist them that morning, was being dolled up in a corner of the booth by an uncommonly enthusiastic Henrietta.

“Akatsuki, dear, you’re adorable. I mean it! I truly think I’m going to fall for you…”

“This is enough…”

Akatsuki spoke firmly, glancing up at her as if she was troubled. The sight made Henrietta scatter heart marks around. Even so, when Akatsuki tried to get away, she held her wrist firmly, mercilessly declaring, “Not yet.”

Akatsuki was dressed in a vegetable-dyed tunic blouse that was being displayed as merchandise, coordinated with a black undershirt and an asymmetrical cotton wrap-skirt. The fringe on the skirt’s hem and the necklace of wooden beads looked ethnic and cute.

“Since we’re at it, let’s add a little makeup.”

“I’m not… Rrgh. I’m not good with that sort of thing.”

“Don’t worry. It’s going to be just fine.”

Henrietta knelt on the floor, as if to put herself on Akatsuki’s eye level. Feeling an ominous premonition, Akatsuki tried to run, but when Henrietta took an eyeliner out of her pouch and began to draw it on, she froze, and there was no way for her to escape.

In this other world, women’s skin was much better than it had been in the real world. To Akatsuki, it was good enough that there seemed to be no need for makeup at all.

However, makeup wasn’t the sort of thing that was done simply because it was “necessary.” As a rule, there was no limit to the desire to look attractive. They might be pretty enough, but it was feminine instinct to aim even higher.

Even Akatsuki wasn’t denying makeup itself. In the real world, she’d worn a little as well. (…Awkwardly, as camouflage, but even so.)

Not only that, but in this other world, gazing fixedly at her own face in a mirror made her feel guilty, as if she were seeking some sort of narcissistic pleasure.

It was something she’d done quite casually in the old world, but now that she thought about it, makeup was a rather outrageous act. Why, in game terms, it would have meant changing your texture. It was successfully disguising yourself as a different person.

In any case, even during her time in the old world, Akatsuki hadn’t put on makeup properly. Simply painting on gloss had blurred the edges of her lips, and she’d never used mascara at all.

“Uuu.”

“You’re a Japanese beauty, Akatsuki.”

“Erg?”

Gently but quickly, Henrietta made up Akatsuki, who’d been recalling her own history with cosmetics. Using a thin brush, Henrietta outlined her lips. Akatsuki just stood stiffly, unable to resist.

“Don’t worry. It’s light makeup, so its effect on silly men who don’t know the difference between natural makeup and no makeup will be excellent. Besides, since you’re a traditional beauty, your atmosphere’s a bit too rigid for this sort of clan-casual outfit. We need to increase your color saturation. Let’s pull your hair back with a barrette as well.”

Akatsuki could do nothing but agree.

When she looked down at herself, it was true that the patterned wrap skirt was ethnic—or rather, rustic—and it seemed as if it might not go that well with her black hair.

Obeying Henrietta’s instructions, she closed her lips on a piece of tissue paper a few times, removing excess oil. “Ooh… You’re just too cute!” Henrietta smiled and hugged her.

Up until a little while ago, she would have been mad about being treated like a mascot, but strangely, in the world of Elder Tales, she was able to tolerate it.

Maybe it’s because I don’t feel like people are making fun of me?

Even so, it made her uncomfortable, and she struggled a bit. Perhaps Henrietta noticed and took pity on her; she combed her hair a few times, clipped it back with a barrette, and released her. She was shown to the mirror, and she found that though her hair hung as straight and long as always, she looked just a little more mature. Maybe because her hair was bound back by the clip.

She’d avoided this hairstyle because she’d assumed it wouldn’t work well with her short stature, but in combination with the light makeup, she felt as if it might not actually look bad on her. In spite of herself, Akatsuki came close to smiling.

“Mature.” …I like the sound of that!

“What do you think?” Henrietta asked.

“Nn…… Mm-hmm.”

Akatsuki was at a loss for words. She was happy, but acknowledging it clearly in words would be embarrassing. Besides, she would have really hated it if it sounded like she was bragging. That said, Henrietta had gone to a lot of trouble for her, and it would be mean to seem as though she was denying it.

Of course, that was true even if this makeup and costume were decorations for the sale and the show.

“Doesn’t it please you? —She does look sweet, doesn’t she, Master Shiroe?”

“Uh…huh?!”

However, her hesitation lasted only until she heard those words from Henrietta. Akatsuki froze, unable to move, just as if she’d been glared at by a Medusa. An uneasy Don’t tell me crawled its way up her spine.

“Mm-hmm. I think it looks very good on her.”

The perfectly calm, familiar, vaguely troubled voice Akatsuki heard behind her belonged to her liege, Shiroe.

“How long—”

“Since a little while ago. They called me here to help, too.”

Shiroe shrugged and continued, but Akatsuki couldn’t even meet his eyes. She thought she’d tremble so hard her mouth would twist into a weird shape; she didn’t feel like herself.

Henrietta, who wasn’t aware of these circumstances, said, “What do you think of this ensemble?” and pushed Akatsuki—who was trying to hide—forward.

Akatsuki hastily tried to circle around behind Shiroe, but Henrietta gently restrained her, and she couldn’t move. Shoving her away and running would have been easy, but it would have been far too outrageous an act.

“Rrgh.”

As a result, Akatsuki resigned herself to being put on display any way they wanted. She stared accusingly at Henrietta and Shiroe. Akatsuki meant the look as a glare, but the flaw in the gem was that, to the other two, it looked for all the world as if she was gazing up at them and pleading.

“It’s all right, Akatsuki. It really does look good.”

She resented the absurd way her temperature jumped when Shiroe set his hand upon her head. To Shiroe, the words were probably more of a conditioned reflex, or perhaps diplomacy, than anything. The problem was that they made her happy anyway.

Grr! I’m a failure as a ninja!

She desperately pulled her expression back together, but she couldn’t muster as much confidence as usual today.

“What did you want me to do?”

“You’ll be wearing these clothes, Master Shiroe.”

When Shiroe unfolded the clothes Henrietta gave him, his shoulders slumped. The outfit looked comfortable, but apparently he didn’t like it. Akatsuki thought it served him right.

That’s what you get for embarrassing me, my liege.

Besides, Shiroe always wore roughly the same thing, and she wanted to see him in casual clothes. Akatsuki had just begun to say something when a clear chime sounded from outside the venue.

For an instant, a hush fell over their surroundings. Then there was a cry of anticipation, like several hundred gathered sighs. Then a burst of applause began, although no one in particular had started it.

When Marielle came up to the three of them, she was applauding happily, too.

The doors had opened. It was the first festival held by Adventurers in this other world. At its main event—the exhibition and sales here in Silver Hall—clothes and accessories of all sorts were on display.

“All right, let’s see who stops by today! I hope we sell a ton. …I think makin’ a hundred sets might’ve been too much, but anyway, let’s do our best.”

“They’ve opened the doors. Master Shiroe, Akatsuki. …Thank you in advance for your help over this next half day. You’ll be show models and salesclerks. Let’s sell, sell, sell!”

Giving in to the pair’s happy smiles, Shiroe and Akatsuki nodded.

The second day of the Libra Festival. Just like this, the curtain rose on its main event.