4 - Noble Son, Tell

As expected, things had gotten quite bad.

Sakurako crawled out of her Miraive Gear Cocoon and gazed off into the distance, a recreation of Kirschwasser’s gaze in the game. There was a dignity about her not usually seen in ladies in their late twenties. Sakurako Ogi had been through a few bloody battles in the first half of her life. Not as many as her master, but she had certainly had her ups and downs.

“Mmm!” Sakurako stretched her arms out wide to get her blood flowing, then left the game room. First things first: she needed lunch. With Ichiro gone, she didn’t need to make anything too fancy, but one of the cup ramens from the stock in her room wouldn’t be filling enough to serve as battle rations.

“Maybe I’ll make udon...” She could take advantage of Ichiro’s absence to make curry, but that would take a long time, and there would be a lot to clean up. She needed time to charge up her soul, so it would be best to make something quick. Tempura would be nice, but the effort of frying things...

Thinking it over, she entered the kitchen.

Nem’s statements had made the situation clear enough. Ichiro had clearly treated her badly, but at the same time, her own devotion to him was excessive. For better or worse, she was a rich heiress.

If she was Megumi Fuyo, as Ichiro had said, then she should be about the same age as Sakurako. However, she also seemed to be a rather sheltered girl. She probably didn’t know how to vent pent-up feelings of resentment. This likely would never have happened, had Ichiro treated her with more care... but that was one thing that was impossible to hope for.

But that was just fine; cleaning up after her master was a maid’s duty. Being the self-declared “perfect life form,” Ichiro didn’t leave her many opportunities to clean up after him, which made this a valuable chance. As a loyal retainer, she could finally achieve one more of her longstanding desires.

“La la la, lalala, la la la...” Humming the theme song of her favorite robot anime, she came and went from the big kitchen. Just then, the landline phone suddenly rang, and Sakurako was forced to stop both her preparations and her humming. She flew out of the kitchen — liveliness she wouldn’t usually show when her master was around — and grabbed the phone.

She picked up the phone, steadied her voice to its usual tone, and answered. “Yes? Hello?”

“Oh, um... S-Sakurako?”

Sakurako narrowed her eyes at the unexpected voice. “Oh, Asuha. You call us so rarely... This is Sakurako, yes.” She could count the number of times she’d spoken to Ichiro’s cousin on one hand, but she still remembered her very well. “What’s wrong? You need to make sure you eat lunch, okay? We only have an hour, after all.”

“Y-Yeah... I guess you really are Mr. Kirsch, huh?” Asuha asked.

“Hah hah hah! How are you doing, by the way?” Sakurako returned to the kitchen with the receiver still in hand, more shameful deportment she would never show in Ichiro’s presence.

“W-Well...” Asuha said. “Um, she’s picking a fight, right? With us... I mean, with Iris.”

“I see. You’re worried about Iris?” Sakurako smiled as she went about preparing everything for her udon.

“Of course I’m worried,” Asuha said. “What are we gonna do?”

“Good question,” said Sakurako. “I’m sure I don’t need to say this, but we do want to try for a peaceful solution. Nem has something she’s unhappy about, something she can’t reconcile, I suppose. We need to find out for sure what that is, and—”

“She loves Itchy, right?” Asuha interrupted Sakurako’s meandering reply.

But of course, it was only natural that Asuha would be sensitive about that.

“We won’t know that unless she tells us...” Sakurako began.

“But, but... I know she does,” said Asuha. “It’s obvious. You’re an adult, right, Sakurako? You must be able to tell!”

“One doesn’t need to be an adult to be able to tell.” Sakurako’s lips moved into a wry smile. She had been a late bloomer when it had come to 3D romance in her youth, so Asuha’s precociousness was a bit amusing to her.

“What about Itchy? Does he know? Is he avoiding her? Or does he have filters over his ears so he only hears what he wants to hear?” Asuha demanded.

“You know very well that that is not how Ichiro-sama behaves,” Sakurako said. “I’m sure he’s made his intentions clear to her, in the most heartless way possible.”

“Oh, well,” Asuha said on the other end of the phone after a moment’s pause. “Then he settled it, right?”

“Asuha, life is not like a romance manga or a dating game,” said Sakurako. “Such things cannot be ‘settled’ so easily. The ‘game’ will continue for as long as she wishes to pursue it. It cannot be called under the mercy rule.” Sakurako held the receiver between her cheek and shoulder as she swiftly chopped her ingredients. The chopping was a bit rougher than usual, but she was enough of an experienced chef to still make them roughly uniform and bite-sized.

“Oh...” Asuha sounded a little impressed. “Wow... That’s deep. You really do sound like an adult woman!”

“That is what makes it so cruel,” Sakurako continued, her voice carrying a note of sadness. “It would be fine if things could be clearly broken off, so you could just say, ‘Now it’s over.’ But first loves often linger.”

“Sakurako, did your first love linger?” Asuha asked.

“Yes, about as long as anyone’s did,” Sakurako replied.

“Oh, tell me! What was he like?”

“A soldier for the Principality of Zeon. An extremely talented mobile suit pilot who served the Sahalin family.”

“Uh?” Asuha asked.

“Oh, but never mind about me,” Sakurako said as she dropped the udon in the boiling water. “We don’t actually know for sure if this is Nem’s first love or not, but one way or another, regardless of how Ichiro-sama has acted towards her, it is clear that she hasn’t given up entirely.”

“Uh-huh!” Asuha nodded.

“Then, before she managed to sort out her feelings, she found Ichiro-sama showing interest in a clearly inferior designer: Iris. It’s only natural that she would find it upsetting. She may feel as though her very existence has been rejected.” Sakurako quickly took the udon out of the boiling water, then plunged it into the ice water she’d prepared in advance. “I believe all of that is making it hard for Nem to come to terms with it. That’s why I’m hoping she might calm down if they can discuss it with cooler heads.”

“From the... um... way that you talk about her... do you know Nem?” Asuha asked.

“I’ve never spoken to her personally,” said Sakurako. “I don’t believe she knows of me, either.” She was speaking only of what she knew from the fact that Nem was Megumi Fuyo, an acquaintance of Ichiro’s, and something of a celebrity. Everything Sakurako was positing about the woman’s personality was based on hearsay and conjecture. That was why she was hesitant to try to analyze any deeper, for fear of leaping to false conclusions.

“I see...” Asuha said.

“You aren’t going to ask about her?” Sakurako asked.

“The Kiryuhito incident taught me that it’s bad manners to reveal someone’s IRL information.”

“Precisely right,” said Sakurako. “Good girl.”

Asuha responded with a flattered laugh.

At last, Sakurako drained the water, poured the udon broth over the noodles, and then piled Japanese yam, egg, onion, and ginger on top. A rather lazy udon, in the end. She put the bowl on a tray and took it to the dining room.

“Hey, Sakurako, could I ask one more thing?” Asuha asked.

“Certainly.”

“You sound like you hope that talking will calm things down, but if it doesn’t, then what do we do?”

A wrinkle formed on Sakurako’s brow. It was a reasonable concern. In fact, it was overwhelmingly more likely that that would be the case. “We’ll have to resort to force.” Her mixed feelings about the thought came through in her voice. “Of course, I don’t believe that will solve anything. But Nem having recruited two mercenaries is a sign that she’s either willing to resort to it, or is expecting it to be used against her.”

Fighting between players, also known as PvP, was “passively endorsed” by the NaroFan development staff. Players were permitted to settle quarrels through force if that was what they wanted.

Taker and Sorceress, the two players Nem had brought with her... Matsunaga and Amesho seemed to know them. Because they had been wearing swimsuits, it was hard to know for sure, but it was easy to imagine that Taker the Anthromorph was a combat-specialized front-line bare-fist fighter, and that Sorceress was a magic support character.

If Nem was bringing those two around with her, she was probably prepared to “resort to force.” But without knowing what Nem wanted to do, or what she wanted Iris to do, they had no way of knowing what might trigger the violence.

“If that happens, I’ll back you up!” Asuha declared. “With my miracle pitch, the Hydro Blaster!”

“I’m very glad for your support,” Sakurako said.

“Okay. I’m gonna eat lunch, too!” Asuha cried.

“Yes, I’ll see you later!” Sakurako agreed.

With a cheery goodbye, Asuha hung up her phone.

Sakurako found herself letting out a sigh. She returned the receiver to its proper place and faced her udon once again. Then, with perfect — or perhaps awful — timing, the phone rang again.

But she wouldn’t be a good maid if that was enough to frustrate her. Sakurako picked up the phone once more with a smile.

“Yes? Hello?”

This time, it was a very familiar voice. “Hello, Sakurako-san. It’s me.”

“Oh, Ichiro-sama.” Sakurako couldn’t help but smile wryly at the thought of getting a phone call from the person who was at the center of this swirling vortex. Even so, it was unusual for her master to call her in the middle of an outing. She wondered what had happened.

“Has something happened?” he asked her.

“Ah?” She was about to say, “That’s my line,” but Sakurako hesitated. Something had happened. She knew that Ichiro demonstrated striking intuition from time to time, but she wouldn’t have expected him to call just over a hunch.

He added, “I had a hunch that something had, but if not, I’m glad to hear it.”

It seemed he had called just over that.

“I’ve known you so long that any unexpected behavior becomes all the more surprising...” she breathed.

“Ha ha ha.” The man laughed, seeming to be overjoyed from the bottom of his heart. Ichiro Tsuwabuki was an easygoing man who was rarely in a bad mood to begin with, but today his mood seemed especially good.

Just as long as he’s having fun, Sakurako thought. “Has something good happened to you?”

“Not yet. But it might, I suppose,” he said.

“Oho...” Sakurako found herself intrigued. “May I ask?”

“Certainly.” Ichiro explained how he was going to get to talk with the artificial intelligence developed by NaroFan’s creator, Azami Nono, during her school days. Sakurako’s understanding of the term “artificial intelligence” was limited to what she had picked up from subculture — the robots of the Brave series, for instance. But in the real world, despite the promulgation of quantum computers, artificial intelligence was not really “intelligent.” If Ichiro was excited, regardless of that, then...

“It’s a smart AI, then?” she asked.

“A stupid way of phrasing it, but yes,” he agreed, his own phrasing a very mean one.

“Well, I think I understand,” she said. “So you’ll be back late, right?”

“Even in the event of a very enjoyable conversation, I’ll be back by evening.”

“I see, Ichiro-sama,” she said. “By the way, today...”

“Yes?”

“Oh, ah. Nothing.” Sakurako was about to tell him what was on her mind, but she stopped herself.

“I see.” Ichiro was the kind of person who would not pursue if you said, “It’s nothing.” There were few men you could afford to be so careless around. “Now, Sakurako-san. Has something happened?”

“O-Oh, are we back to that?” she asked.

“It is the reason I originally called, after all. It’s Nem, isn’t it?”

The seemingly divine intuition that Ichiro demonstrated from time to time was enough to make one think that he wasn’t actually intelligent, but he just had an unwavering tendency to be right about whatever happened to pop out of his mouth. Ichiro had lived with the frustration of getting one question wrong on his university entrance exams when he was nine years old. But if he had determined all the answers with the roll of a die, he probably would have gotten them all right.

“Sakurako-san?” Ichiro prompted.

“Oh, um, yes sir?” she asked. There was nothing recriminating in Ichiro’s voice as he brought Sakurako back from her mind’s ridiculous tangent. “Ah, well, you’re right. I see I cannot hide anything from you, Ichiro-sama.”

In the end, Sakurako told him everything. That Nem had appeared while they were playing on the beach. That she had hired two mercenaries, Taker and Sorceress, and that Matsunaga and Amesho seemed to be helping her, as well. Nem had spoken provocatively to Iris, but they still didn’t have a clue of what, concretely, she wanted.

Then, as a dutiful maid, Sakurako also politely but concisely explained about the fact that they could not go swimming properly on the beach without Skills, and about the friendly exchanging of conversations they had had with friends such as the Knights and the Kirihitters.

Ichiro listened to it all, and at last said, “I see.” That was all. “I had a feeling that Nem might try something, but this is outside the realm of what I was expecting.”

“I believe you underestimate maidens in love, Ichiro-sama,” Sakurako said.

“Indeed, you may be right,” he agreed. “I tend to underestimate the vitality of others. I’ll have to reflect on this.”

Sakurako sighed. His reflection would do nothing to repay Asuha or Nem for what he’d done to them.

“But if Nem is acting in this fashion, perhaps I should step in directly,” Ichiro put in. “It’s a shame that I’ll miss the AI, but I’ll return at once.”

Ichiro said this in exactly the same tone as he had said everything else, but the five years that Sakurako had spent with him had gifted her with hearing sensitive enough to detect the 0.0001-millioctave quaver in her master’s ever-cool words.

“Ah, Ichiro-sama,” the loyal retainer offered. “If you made a commitment, please see to that first.”

“Hmm?” he asked.

“I’ll figure out a way to deal with Nem,” Sakurako said. “She offered you that invitation. You can’t just blow it off, right?”

Sakurako doubted that Ichiro felt any sense of responsibility to them. But she did know that he sought aesthetic consistency in all things, and he needed things to be logical in his own mind. The erratic Nem was trying to cause trouble for Iris and their guild, so it was true that if he tried to intervene, he could probably solve it.

But on the other hand, she was sure that he had found President Azami’s proposal extremely appealing. When he had said, “It’s a shame,” before, his tone had been as emotionless as ever. And yet, he had seemed to genuinely find it a shame. Sakurako had been able to tell that much.

“I could reschedule with President Azami and do it tomorrow, though,” Ichiro offered.

“But you wanted to have the talk today, didn’t you?” Sakurako pressed.

For once, even Ichiro fell silent. She must have been right. Despite the way he presented himself, Ichiro could be very childish, indeed.

“You’ll be back by evening at the latest, right?” Sakurako asked. “Even if I can’t resolve it, I can at least hold down the fort. Please, believe in your maid.”

“I believe that I always believe in you,” Ichiro said. She felt she could hear his cool smile on the other end of the phone line. “Very well, Sakurako-san. Thank you.”

“Okaaay!” She struck an internal victory pose. She’d beaten him that time.

Sakurako Ogi’s life as a maid was an eternal battle. There was always an element of competition in her interactions with Ichiro. To borrow her master’s words, he “underestimated the vitality of others.” That was generally a defeat flag for a demon king like him, so she hoped he would fix that tendency at once.

All that aside...

Sakurako hung up after her discussion with Ichiro. He hadn’t given her many instructions, but he had taken her offer to stay where he was and enjoy himself, which meant she had to take care of things until he returned. In other words, to make sure that no one made trouble for Iris or Felicia.

Nothing else disturbed Sakurako during her lunchtime, so she was able to stock up on vim and vigor in preparation for her second login of the day that afternoon.

Incidentally, one misfortune had struck her during this long string of phone calls: her udon noodles had gone completely soggy. Of course, she still ate the entire thing, leaving not a single onion behind.

“Who was that?” Azami asked.

“My reliable servant,” Ichiro answered. He had called because he’d had a feeling someone might have started trouble, but he wasn’t sure if it had been the right decision. Ichiro didn’t like relying on his intuition. It was right so often that it made life less interesting.

Sakurako was acting very confident, so he’d decided to leave it to her for now.

Ichiro closed his cell phone, then walked back to Thistle’s main building with Azami.

“Now, Azami,” Ichiro began, looking up at the sky. “What sorts of algorithms did you use in this Rosemary?”

“I use subsumption architecture as the foundation for a knowledge accumulation database,” she said.

“But it’s not completely bottom-up, is it?” Ichiro asked.

“It’s top-down in its ability to output multiple hypotheses based on the accumulated database, yes,” said Azami. “Of the two, that one’s more important.”

“Oho.”

From the way President Azami spoke, she was very proud of the work she had done with the Ten Sages, of which Rosemary was part. That was perhaps only natural, given that she used them to help run the game. If Rosemary was parsing all players’ brainwaves as quantum information, and amassing them in a bottom-up format, then that really was impressive technology. Then, on top of that, she could actually suggest subtle changes to the system based on it. Almost like the mythical...

No, that was nonsense.

Ichiro was not an atheist, but he was a stubborn man who would not declare his allegiance even if he met God face-to-face. Whatever those artificial intelligences were in the game, it was nonsense to question their value.

Either way, one rarely had a chance to talk to such an advanced artificial intelligence. It was truly unexplored territory, a brush with the unknown, and Ichiro intended to enjoy it.

Just as Ichiro and Azami returned to the Thistle Corporation’s main office, a man in a suit came out of the building, trailed by a woman who seemed to be his subordinate. Azami immediately stiffened.

It was Shinya Otogiri, the CEO of Pony Entertainment whom they had run into on the way out. They didn’t know what he was doing at the office, but it seemed he had been there for quite some time. He was talking energetically to the woman standing at his side, and he seemed to be in quite a good mood.

Ichiro could understand that Azami might not want to talk to this man, but the way she was trying to hide behind his back was certainly not behavior becoming of a company president.

“Why, it’s Ms. Nono! So we meet again!” the man cried. Otogiri’s senses seemed to be finely-honed, as he seemed to notice her immediately regardless. He waved with both hands, a bright smile on his face.

This, too, was unbecoming of a company president. The man was even more childish than Ichiro’s father had told him.

“Junior’s with you, eh?” the man asked. “How was the curry? Delicious, right? Jinbocho’s curry town, after all! Though personally, I prefer ramen. I’m so happy we’re seeing more of the junk food ramen that’s awful for your health. You know, the kind that uses tons of greasy back fat? It’s like eating solid lard. Of course, I prefer it to have a little kick, so thank goodness for the shops that leave chili oil and super-spicy paste on the counter, eh?”

With a big smile on his face and his hands held out on either side, he crossed the street at the crosswalk, despite the light being red. The honking of car horns suggested traffic was stopping abruptly.

“I dislike excessively greasy things, myself, but perhaps I shall try it some time, on your recommendation,” Ichiro said politely.

“That’s no good, being a light eater at your age,” the man said. “You should eat things that are worse for your health.”

Otogiri, clearly in better spirits than he had been the first time they met him, gave a “now, then” and walked behind Ichiro to address Azami.

“Hey, now, no need to be scared. I’m hurt,” he said. “It’s not as if I’m trying to take over Thistle.”

“As I said before, your proposal is incompatible with my company’s mission statement...” Azami began.

“Yes, yes. I know, I know, that’s true, for now. But you’re just so bad at running your business,” the man said. “I’m worried that your company will fold, and the NaroFan service will be forced to shut down.”

He was certainly a talkative man, Ichiro thought, somewhat hypocritically.

“So, Mr. Otogiri, you do play NaroFan?” Ichiro asked.

“Me? Ah, I do,” the man said. “I was availing myself in a Cocoon in one of Thistle’s waiting rooms. Lots of fun!”

That sounded like an abuse of authority, but none of the people present would object to it. Even the secretary-looking woman Otogiri had brought with him had been spending the entire time silent and nearly invisible.

The summer sun beat down on the sidewalk. An old woman walked leisurely nearby, pushing a handcart.

The combined personal bank accounts of the three people debating there in the used bookseller town of Jinbocho was astronomical, yet no one watching would have known that. They simply looked like a disagreeable but attractive young man, an earnest female college student, and a goofy old man.

“Well, if Ms. Nono won’t talk to me, I suppose I’ll be on my way,” Otogiri said. “I have to look in on our newly-opening arcade in Akihabara.”

“Ah, I saw that on the way here,” Ichiro said. “It was very large. Does Pony run that one directly?”

He was referring to the arcade that the Thistle employee had mentioned had bought a lot of Cocoons. Apparently, they were trying to get it billed as an official Narrow Fantasy Online arcade, and it was the first amusement facility in Japan purely dedicated to online VR games.

“That isn’t fully settled, actually,” the man said. “The snap decision to start the construction was a problem, and with arcades declining now, there’s a risk associated with building something that big. An online VR game amusement facility is an unproven market at the moment. There are lots of companies involved, including mine, and we all think that if we can succeed without taking the risk, it could be quite a lucrative venture.”

“That’s quite common,” said Ichiro.

“Indeed, it is. Well, we’re investing, but in the end, the authority lies with one of our subsidiaries. If the enterprise goes down in flames, we can just cut them off, like the proverbial lizard shedding its tail. Nothing personal against them, of course.”

Otogiri’s words were businesslike, and Ichiro did not find them especially cruel. It was natural for a top company to want to hedge their risks. Some might find it reckless for the man to talk this way out in the open, heedless of the ears of others. But Ichiro, as someone who also did not care what others thought, did not mind at all.

“Oh, I stayed around longer than I meant to,” Otogiri said. “Well, once it’s done, I hope you’ll drop by and play. If you drop the money and get their business on track, they’ll be spared the fate of so many sad scapegoats.”

“I dislike crowds,” said Ichiro.

“Hahaha, I thought you’d say that. Shall we, Ms. Hishoyama?” Still chucking, Otogiri took his leave, and the woman — who had not said a word the entire time — followed him.

It wasn’t a long walk from Jinbocho to Akihabara, but it still took admirable nerve to forego a car in this blazing sun.

“He says he’s looking after his health lately,” Azami murmured after he was gone.

“Oh? How admirable.” That was Ichiro’s entire opinion on the subject. “It occurs to me that Otogiri is trying something of a hard sell on you.”

“Well... yes...” said the usually lucid career woman with rare hesitance. “Pony seems to be quite eager to absorb us. As you know, Thistle’s developers don’t have a very good reputation...”

Discussion between deeply knowledgeable players like Kirschwasser, King, Edward, and Matsunaga often involved extensive criticism of NaroFan’s game balance. The technicians were so obsessed with technical recreation that they put effort into things that didn’t matter very much, all while ignoring the actual enjoyment portion of the game. From the perspective of the game itself, perhaps being absorbed by Pony, with its copious experience in such matters, really would be good for them.

“But you find that difficult to accept, Azami?” Ichiro asked.

“Yes. Because NaroFan is my baby, in a sense,” she said.

“I see. Well, I think that’s fine.” Ichiro himself had no interest in interfering with her running of her own business, so if that was how she wanted to do things, he would accept it. He intended to enjoy the game as a player to the end.

In that regard, his agreement to the favor President Azami had asked him for was in something of a gray area.

Ichiro added, “But I would advise you to take care. Though I’ve never dealt with him directly, I’m told that Mr. Otogiri is quite shrewd. I don’t mind if you use my name as backing, but I have no intention of investing directly in Thistle, or in giving you advice on how to run a company.”

“R-Right...” The young female president nodded, grim determination on her face. She didn’t say it, but Ichiro got the impression that they had had many verbal sparring sessions prior to this, and that man had always won.

“Ichiro, you’re exactly as Fuyo described you,” Azami said just before they entered the building.

“Am I? I do wonder what Megumi might have said about me,” commented Ichiro.

“That you’re someone who never does things the way one would expect.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Ichiro said with a slight shrug.

“Anyway, Ichiro, let me take you to Rosemary,” said Azami.

“Mm,” he agreed.

“I told you before that the artificial intelligences I call the Ten Sages are connected directly to a knowledge accumulation system,” Azami added. “But Rosemary is the only one of them that has shown interest in you, Ichiro. She seems to have a harder time understanding you than the amalgamated average.”

“I think it’s good to not be able to understand the actions of a single person,” Ichiro said. “But she’s quite a discerning artificial intelligence, to have taken interest in me.”

Ichiro couldn’t count the number of times someone had taken interest in him. He’d been approached by numerous beautiful women, and he found some amusement with them, despite finding them all nonsense. But this was his first time with an artificial intelligence.

Most of the time, the suggestion that his behavior was outside the norm wouldn’t bother him at all. “Normal” was a standard decided by others, and since he found the opinions of others to be nonsense, it was only natural that he would not fit within it. That was what he thought, and those who knew him well knew that, too.

The first floor of the Thistle building contained the reception area and the server room; the second floor was the office; the third floor was the meeting room and break room; and the Ten Sages Azami referred to were all stored on the fourth floor. It seemed that each program required the hardware of a supercomputer. Azami led him into the room, lined by ten sterile machines on either side.

One of the ten was Rosemary. It was the same name as one of the kinds of herbs Ichiro grew on his building’s roof. The herb was native to the Mediterranean Sea, an unassuming shrub with small lavender, white, or pink flowers. Sakurako sometimes collected the leaves and dried them for use in cooking.

“Shall I just talk to it?” Ichiro asked.

“Yes,” Azami said. “It understands spoken English and Japanese. Use this headset.”

It was a cheap set that looked like it had probably been found in an Akihabara bargain bin, but Ichiro didn’t mind. He’d had a few nonsense conversations with NPCs in the game, but very little experience talking directly to an artificial intelligence like this. He was looking forward to seeing what kind of conversational capacity it had.

“Hello, Rosemary,” Ichiro said, deciding to start with simple pleasantries.

After a few moments of silence, a synthetic women’s voice responded over the headset. “Good morning. Please tell me your name.”

“I like the way you get right to the point,” he said. “I am Ichiro Tsuwabuki. President Azami brought me here claiming that you wanted to know more about me.”

“Ichiro. Are you the Dragonet avatar in Narrow Fantasy Online?”

“Yes, I am his player. But I am not talking to you through the game.”

“Understood,” said the voice. “I have insufficient information regarding you. I seek new input to resolve this problem.”

Expected thought it was, Ichiro couldn’t help but find it a mechanical, uninteresting exchange. But from what President Azami had said and from Rosemary’s own statements, it was possible to infer that she possessed an algorithm that directed her to “resolve” any “problem” she discovered that her artificial intelligence could neither decode nor hypothesize about. It was a simple, primitive thing, but one that could be called a “thirst for knowledge.”

Would that curiosity propel her to take humanlike actions? He couldn’t fully control his excitement. He was glad that he had taken Sakurako’s suggestion. This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

“Then, Ichiro,” said Azami, “I’ll return to my office, so let me know if you need anything.”

“Mm, thank you,” he said. “You don’t need to stick around to make sure I don’t fill ‘her’ head with any wild ideas?”

“I trust you, Ichiro.” Azami gave him a slight grin. “And as Rosemary’s creator, I don’t want to lock her out from knowledge she’s seeking, either.”

Behind her thin glasses, the girl’s eyes blazed with quiet fire that belied her less-than-twenty years. It was a sign that she really was less of a game designer and more of a technician, a researcher.

After watching Azami leave, Ichiro turned back to Rosemary’s server. “Good. I’ll tell you what you want to know. Where shall I start?”

“I cannot understand your behavior in the game,” said the voice. “I recognize your fundamental behavior puts priority on what is known as ‘appearance.’ But as the game’s primary goal is to clear quests, I do not understand why you do not care about ability.”

“Nonsense,” Ichiro said, as if it went without saying. “I need not care because I am the strongest and the coolest, even without them. And I’m not the only one who seeks appearance over ability. Though there may not be many of them.”

“I understand that,” said the artificial intelligence. “But it is not right.”

“Nonsense. I decide what is right,” Ichiro said. What other response could he give? “It is important to act in accordance with what you wish to do, and what you believe. I’m sure not all humans are that way, of course. As most humans are swayed by emotion, societal norms are necessary. ‘The way of things’ is needed to a certain degree. But not in my own personal case. I do what I wish to, nothing more or less.”

“You are aware that your words and deeds have created a number of problems in the game?” the artificial intelligence queried.

“Living life as I wish to is bound to lead to rough waters here and there,” Ichiro replied. “Some fear that, and they check their actions so as not to cause such trouble. I take no issue with that way of living, but I personally dislike it.”

This was a sort of test by Ichiro to see how organically “she” was capable of thinking. Was it possible for him to get Rosemary, merely a quantum program in the end, to understand his creed?

Of course, this was not a form of disdain, or contempt for her as a mere program. He wished to challenge her because he found her worth speaking to; it would be the same with anyone else.

“What do you think, Rosemary?” he added to the AI, who had fallen silent. Her reply came a few seconds later.

“Currently processing new information. Please wait.”

“Mm, very well.” Ichiro smiled slightly to Rosemary (though she had no sense of sight) and sat down on a cheap-looking folding chair.

Now that he thought about it, Rosemary and the Ten Sages were monitoring the game 24 hours a day. She was collecting information in real time as they spoke.

He wondered how Kirschwasser was doing.

But a moment later, he drove that thought from his mind. Sakurako had told him to leave it to her. To doubt her would be poor manners.

Ichiro turned his attention back to Rosemary, and waited silently as she ran her long calculations in search of a conclusion.

By the time Kirschwasser logged back in, Iris and Felicia were already on the beach, anxiously waiting for the meeting to start. Quite a few others sat around them in silence, including Matsunaga, Amesho, and (for some reason) the Kirihitters.

It was a little after noon now, which meant there were more people on the beach in general. The rare site of female avatars in swimsuits was attracting a lot of interest, and while that made Iris and Felicia uncomfortable, Amesho was actively bearing the brunt of the attention. Despite her childlike silhouette, she used her swimsuit to great effect, and her flirtatious poses and swishing tail appeared to be irresistible to a certain segment of male players. Watching the game’s greatest damsel player in action was a truly impressive sight.

“Welcome back, Mr. Kirsch!” the players shouted out in chorus.

“Ah, thank you.” Kirschwasser responded. “Has Lady Nem not yet returned?”

“Yeah, she’s not back yet.” Iris grimaced and folded her arms as she looked all around. “But...”

A crowd of obvious rubberneckers had formed around them. It wasn’t clear where they had heard about the argument, but they had clearly come out in force to see what that Iris Brand had gotten up to this time.

Kirschwasser looked at Matsunaga.

“It wasn’t me,” the Elf man answered with his usual sticky smile as he took a calm bite of another strawberry milk-flavored Shaved Ice Potion. “Of course, I would be remiss not to write an article about something that’s drawing this much attention, and it was in my own personal interests to introduce Nem to Amesho. Still, if I had gathered the onlookers myself, I wouldn’t have shown myself to you.”

“Oh, it wasn’t meow, either,” Amesho said, turning back from posing for screencap requests to respond. “It’s against my creed to tell on a friend. Unless, of course, it’s in their best interest.”

It was probably true. Matsunaga was one thing, but Amesho didn’t seem like the type of person to lie about things like that.

“It just goes to show that you attract a lot of attention,” the head of the Kirihitters, Kirihito (Leader) said with a warm smile as he hugged his inner tube. “The Glasgobara incident, the Delve Necrolands incident... I don’t see Mr. Tsuwabuki here right now, but the rumors say that he’s the one behind the trouble this time, too. Lots of people find his behavior galling, so they’re excited to see what his guild, Iris Brand, will do when he’s not around.”

“They’re like vultures...” Iris muttered.

Felicia, cradling Gobo-Two, seemed to feel the same way.

“Well, the both of you can rest easy,” Kirschwasser said, maintaining a level tone. “I will do everything in my power to keep you from harm.” His silver armor clinked.

Sakurako Ogi had spent a year learning how to comport herself as this elder male avatar. To Felicia and Iris, she likely seemed the very picture of the quietly confident, reliable gentleman Knight. She was a true performer. It was in times like this that her cosplayer’s soul, first sparked when her two older brothers had put a maid costume on her at ten years old, could truly shine.

“Okay. I’m counting on you,” Iris agreed.

“If things get really bad, I’ll help, too,” Felicia said, hugging Gobo-Two. It seemed she really wanted to use her miracle pitch, Hydro Blaster, at some point.

“But what will you do, Sir Kirschwasser?” Matsunaga asked, pointing his slender spoon at him. “I believe you already know this, but Nem’s true issue is a matter of the heart. It’s not something you can solve by walling them off, is it?”

“In that regard, all that I can do is speak with sincerity and hope that she understands,” Kirschwasser said with a shrug. He wished it were something you could resolve by pitting your Will stats against one another, but regrettably, human interactions in the game were still just extensions of ones in broader society. His personal desire, as a gamer, was to keep real world drama out of the game, but if his master’s insolent attitude was the root of it all, then as a loyal servant, he had no choice but to do everything he could to clean up after him.

“Forgive the wait.”

And there it was. As Kirschwasser renewed his resolve, he heard Nem’s voice in his ears.

He turned to see the now familiar Elf woman, still dressed smartly in a suit, leading her two mercenaries, Taker and Sorceress, behind her. They were still dressed in their swimsuits.

“I have been waiting.” Determined to act as ambassador, Kirschwasser stepped forward and bowed amicably.

Nem scowled slightly. “Mr. Kirschweitzer... was it?”

“‘Wasser.’ It’s pronounced with a v.”

“Veitzer?”

“‘Vasser.’”

“Oh, whatever! Mr. Kirschwasser!”

“Yes, ma’am?” he asked, the very image of calm in the face of Nem’s red-faced frustration.

“My business here is with Iris,” she said. “Could you please step aside?”

Behind him, he could hear Iris suck in her breath.

“Iris is my guild’s designer, and I am here acting as her messenger,” said Kirschwasser smoothly.

“But she’s right there!”

“Yes, well...” It seemed it wouldn’t be easy to work around this. Kirschwasser decided to give up on that and just broach the subject frankly. “I was hoping to talk this out calmly, but as it appears you are still quite emotional, Lady Nem...”

“I...!” As Nem prepared to go off on a rant, a level voice whispered from behind her.

“It’s all right, Leader. I’ll take over.” It was Sorceress. A female avatar, childlike yet mysterious, with mesmerizing eyes the color of the deep sea. Of course, she was in a swimsuit.

There was a burst of excitement from the onlookers.

Sorceress offered her parasol to the tall Anthromorph standing next to her. “Taker, could you hold my parasol?”

“No,” he deadpanned.

“Oh? How uncooperative.” But Sorceress showed no signs of being hurt, and just stepped in front of Nem, twirling her parasol. With a gloomy smile that did not suit her appearance, she turned those deep blue eyes to Iris. Guided by her gaze, Kirschwasser also turned. Iris swallowed hard.

“I’ll explain things simply,” said Sorceress. “I believe you more or less know this, but Nem doesn’t like Iris. Or perhaps I should say, she cannot accept her.”

Sorceress’s calm, so dissimilar to Nem’s own behavior, caused a new hush to fall over the crowd. The sound of the rolling waves could even be heard in the background.

“It might be damaging to her maiden’s sensitivity to say more, but I shall continue nonetheless,” Sorceress went on. “Nem is a fashion designer in the real world. She does what Iris does in the game. As you can see, she has excellent fashion sense, and she is acclaimed in her field. She owes her decision to enter that business to a man.”

A new buzz began to run through the crowd. They probably hadn’t expected this to start turning into a soap opera.

“He is mold-breaking and free-wheeling, but he has excellent aesthetic sense relative to the general populace. One day, this man came to visit her, wearing a devastatingly ugly brooch. Iris, the one that you made.”

No one would blame Iris for losing her temper in the face of such an unnecessary insult, but she decided to swallow it back.

Sorceress was describing real world events, but of course, nearly none of the onlookers were aware of that. Not even Iris would have expected Ichiro to wear that brooch in the real world.

“Nem, of course, found that unacceptable,” Sorceress went on. “She cares for him, despite his eccentricities. Yet he will not even look at the things that she designs, while a brooch made by a rank nobody gets the loving place of pride upon his lapel.”

“L-Loving?” Iris echoed, looking somewhat green around the gills. It was the face of someone begging someone else to stop joking.

Kirschwasser let out a cough, and started again. “That’s quite a selfish motivation, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yes, it’s selfish,” giggled Sorceress. “But your guild’s leader has been far more selfish, by shifting the consequences of his actions to someone else. Don’t you agree?”

Kirschwasser couldn’t argue. There was no player to whom the word “selfish” applied more than to Ichiro Tsuwabuki. He had never seen someone act so utterly unreasonable to nearly everyone he had met, and unlike his master, Kirschwasser had not yet mastered the impudence required to laugh that all away as “nonsense.”

“Of course, the responsibility lies with that man,” continued Sorceress. “But Nem has the right to take actions to work through the situation on her own, doesn’t she?”

Kirschwasser let out a groan and fell silent. Her argument was certainly convincing.

“Th-Then how do you plan to accomplish that, Lady Nem?” Kirschwasser asked. “What must you do to come to terms with the situation?” It took all the fortitude he could muster just to say those words.

The eyes of the onlookers all turned back to Nem. She was silent for a little while, and then, turning her gaze to Iris, said this: “First, I want to see Iris’s true design skill.”

“And if you do, you will be satisfied?”

“Yes. I want to know what it is about Iris’s designs that Ichiro likes so much.”

Kirschwasser cast a glance back at Iris. She was shaking her head fervently. It was understandable; even though it was not a competition, the conclusion felt obvious from the start. Nem had been right when she had declared Iris’s designs “nothing,” and there was nothing more to see.

This isn’t good, Kirschwasser thought.

It was almost exactly like the Edward incident. Seeing Iris at work wouldn’t satisfy Nem. The only one who knew why Ichiro liked that butterfly brooch so much was Ichiro himself.

“I just want to see what she can really do,” Nem muttered. “What’s so wrong about that?”

At last, Nem had begun to grumble. Kirschwasser did understand how she felt, but he couldn’t see how her request would be to either woman’s benefit.

“I just... I really don’t think I can measure up to you, Nem...” Iris admitted.

“Yes, that’s more or less it,” said Kirschwasser. “Knowing the sort of person Tsuwabuki is, I doubt that inspecting her designs will give you any new understanding...” Kirschwasser was hoping to cool things down, but his words seemed to have the opposite effect.

“Knowing the sort of person Tsuwabuki is?!” Nem snapped, her voice suddenly trembling. “What would you know about Ichiro? Who do you think you are?!”

“As I told you earlier, I am merely his servant—”

“Then do not speak as if you know him!”

Twitch.

Sakurako Ogi was known for her warm personality. Her report cards at school read, “A quiet girl who rarely gets angry or starts fights.” Her specialties were housework, fighting games, and quiet smiles.

But in that instant, it was extremely difficult to hide her irritation. She would be hard-pressed to explain why, but Kirschwasser’s response to Nem’s grumbling was this:

“I know him much better than you do, at least.”

A loud kpish! echoed across the beach.

The sound of the slap resonated beneath the blue sky. The damage visual above Kirschwasser’s head read “0,” showing that no physical damage had been done. Still, it had sounded painful, and it caused Iris to cringe.

Nem had struck Kirschwasser’s cheek. It was true that his words had been extremely provocative, and it seemed they had struck a nerve.

“I can’t believe he said that...” Iris murmured.

“Y-Yeah...” Felicia had frozen up, too.

She wasn’t sure why Kirschwasser had said it, but Iris quietly agreed that Nem didn’t know much about the young heir as a person. Was it the rose-colored glasses of love, perhaps? Still, ugh. She just couldn’t understand that one bit.

Nem’s anger did not seem to have cooled, but she quickly withdrew her hand. Her dangerous aura swelled, as if powered by the rising emotions she no longer had a place to release. At this point, talking things out calmly seemed too much to hope for.

“That’s enough, Leader.” Taker, who had been silent up until then, tossed aside his shark inner tube and spoke. “We’re not getting anywhere talking like this. We’ve gotta finish it.”

Nem blinked at his words, then turned around. “B-But... Taker...”

“Hey, you.” Taker ignored her and fixed his red eyes on Kirschwasser. “You still think talking is gonna do one damn bit of good?”

“I do not,” Kirschwasser responded evenly. His back was now to Iris and the others, so she could not see his expression.

The majestic-yet-bestial Taker shrugged in agreement. “Yeah, I figured. But we’re mercenaries, so we can’t just call it quits here, either.”

“Mmm,” Kirschwasser agreed.

“Let’s settle things now, two-on-two. If we win, you have to do what we say.”

Felicia, standing at Iris’s side, murmured, “I knew it.”

“I knew this would happen,” Matsunaga said, matching her sentiment. He seemed to have finished his Shaved Ice Potion, and he walked to stand on Iris’s other side. Felicia hid behind Iris, as if avoiding him.

“What do you mean, you knew?” Iris asked.

“Precisely what it sounds like,” Matsunaga said with a bright smile. “She wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of bringing two combat-class players if this wasn’t going to be her final resort. It would have been happy for you if you could have talked it out, but that simply wasn’t the way the wind was blowing. Of course, verbal promises made within the game aren’t exactly binding, but a duel will get the onlookers on the winner’s side, and peer pressure can be a powerful thing.”

So just as in real life, in the game world, the last resort was always the use of force.

Of course, Kirschwasser could still refuse them. He had no reason to accept, and no one could force him into agreeing. On the other hand, putting off the resolution hadn’t solved anything so far, and the developers even encouraged powerful players to settle their in-game grievances with duels.

Kirschwasser turned back to Iris.

Iris didn’t know what to say. If she could just agree to Nem’s proposal, then Kirschwasser wouldn’t have to be drawn into this stupid fight...

“Very well. I accept,” the Knight responded, whether or not he knew what was going through her mind.

“Okay,” Taker replied simply. “So what’s the condition if you win? That we never bother you again, or something?”

“I do not know, as Iris seems not to have made up her mind yet,” said Kirschwasser. “Part of the reason I am agreeing to the duel is to buy time, you see.”

The onlookers seemed enlivened again as a duel seemed close on the horizon. VR games added a special up-close-and-personal quality to PvP, which made such fights very popular as spectacle. Some players pulled up video recording apps from the menu, and prepared to start broadcasting it live on streaming sites.

Taker and Sorceress stepped forward. If it was a two-on-two duel, then naturally, they would be the ones fighting. They opened their menu windows and called up their equipment, switching from swimsuits to battle clothes. In both cases, their armor seemed suited to their personalities; Taker was dressed in a raggedy robe, while Sorceress wore a Gothic Lolita-style dress.

“Okay!” Felicia said from beside Iris as she took a big step forward. At some point, she had used “Shapeshift” to change Gobo-Two’s size into roughly that of a softball. “Looks like my miracle pitch, the Hydro Blaster, will finally—”

“Ah, Lady Felicia, please stand back.” Kirschwasser waved her away, without even turning back.

“Huh?! But, but, but, but, but... it’s two-on-two!”

“I promised Master Ichiro that I would protect the two of you,” Kirschwasser said, fortifying his defenses with his Knight template equipment, the Knight Sword and Kite Shield.

“Sir Kirschwasser, I’ll help you.” The head of the Kirihitters, Kirihito (Leader), who had been nearly invisible up until then, readied his light novel tie-in weapon as he took a big step forward.

“Ah... I appreciate the sentiment, but no, thank you.” Kirschwasser waved him away, as well, without turning back.

Downcast, Kirihito (Leader) returned to the cluster of his fellow Kirihitos.

“You sure about this, chief?” Taker asked. “It’ll be two-on-one.”

“As Master Ichiro would say: nonsense.” Kirschwasser raised his sword and shield, fixing his eyes on the two players in front of him. The spectators instinctively fanned out into a circle around them, forming an impromptu duel ring. Since the beach was not a city area, but a field area, fighting between players was allowed without the formal submission of a duel.

But Iris’s attention was focused on Nem. Nem was watching Taker and Sorceress with an almost chagrined expression on her face. It was almost as if this development was not what she’d wanted. Still...

“Taker, Sorceress, I’m counting on you both,” Nem said, at length.

Feeling a gnawing, formless agitation inside of her, Iris said to Kirschwasser, “Mr. Kirsch...”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry...”

“There is no need to apologize. I am doing this because I wish to,” Kirschwasser said with his usual calm smile.

But even that wasn’t enough to calm Iris’s growing anxiety.

“Okay, chief, let’s get started.” Taker’s tattered robe fanned out behind him as he turned to Kirschwasser, taloned fingers bared. “I am Taker, and I’m gonna steal your karma.”

“Ohh...” Kirschwasser let out an admiring noise, and after a pause, asked a trepidacious question. “Forgive my insufficient knowledge, but what are you quoting?”

“It’s original!” he cried.

Looking at the scarlet-faced Taker, Iris couldn’t help but feel like this was all a bit of a farce.