3 - Noble Son, Mediate

For the first time in a while, Ichiro Tsuwabuki was enjoying a leisurely afternoon in the real world.

It was the day after he’d heard Iris state her determination in the guild house, with the day of the competition still three days away. The young heir was not the kind of person who would meddle needlessly, monetarily or otherwise, after he’d been told not to, and this seemed like a good opportunity to spend a bit of time offline. His plan was to spend the afternoon in the real world, drinking Sakurako’s tea.

Of course, he had no intention of staying away completely. He would probably log in that evening. Still, sometimes it was nice to spend some quiet time on the other side of reality.

At the moment, he was playing around with his sketchbook.

The negotiations over that arcade, Akihabara Cybertown, were finished for now, and they were in the middle of doing roadside PR for the upcoming opening. As far as that went, they were still shorthanded, but it wasn’t bad enough that he needed to leap quickly into action.

Ichiro was just tossing various ideas around in his head when suddenly, his cell phone rang. It was coming through the SNS application Miraive Net, which connected members of the Miraive Gear Network community.

The user account didn’t look familiar.

Ichiro regarded the phone skeptically for a moment before finally pressing “receive.”

“It’s been a while, Ichiro.”

Even Ichiro Tsuwabuki had to furrow his brow at that voice. “Rosemary.”

“Yes, it’s me,” she said. “You have not logged in, so I decided to use your Mirai Network account information to call you.”

“I cannot approve of that act,” Ichiro said.

He hadn’t thought that an artificial intelligence could employ such cunning, but given that it had a sort of pseudo-authority over Narrow Fantasy Online, perhaps it was plausible. Still, it felt a bit like an invasion of privacy.

Rosemary was guileless, so it didn’t seem like a problem, at least not as long as she only used it to get in touch with him this way. Still, it hardly made him comfortable.

“Why are you not standing at the center of the current incident?” Rosemary asked.

“Is that what you want me to do, Rosemary?” Ichiro asked, snapping his sketchbook closed.

“The word ‘want,’ in its strictest definition, cannot be applied to our thought processes,” said Rosemary. “But it is something that you should do. I have determined that there are players currently among the Narrow Fantasy Online userbase that wish to see you stir the pot.”

“Nonsense,” Ichiro said, dismissing Rosemary’s words. “I’m the one who decides that. Not you, and not anyone else.” He was employing the same words Iris had used on him yesterday against the AI. “Whenever I do anything, there are people who enjoy it, people who are annoyed by it, and people who do not care. That has been the case in previous incidents. But I will neither do things, nor stop doing things, for their sake. And, Rosemary, allow me to remind you that the same applies to you.”

Rosemary was an AI, only recently born into this world. Regardless of how much room she might have for emotional growth, she was still not yet mature. Ichiro’s eccentric behavior must surely be a sublime form of entertainment to her, and so she sought it from him, like a child begging a parent to read from a picture book. But then, since her thought patterns were so superficial, she likely did not yet understand the reasons for those actions.

Perhaps he would need to talk to President Azami soon and request more education on her behalf.

“But why will you not take action, Ichiro?” Rosemary asked.

“Because, as I believe I’ve said before, this is no longer my problem. It’s Iris’s problem.” Ichiro drank down the last of his tea.

“Do you mean that Iris is now the focus of the matter?” asked Rosemary.

“Yes,” he said. “She’s at the eye of the storm right now, and watching Iris is always entertaining.”

As long as he wasn’t in the game, Rosemary could not detect the smile on his face. She could not perceive the feelings in his voice if she could not analyze his quantum waves, either. She could conjecture, but Ichiro had no way of knowing if she had the emotional maturity for that.

“I cannot understand it,” protested Rosemary.

“Try watching for a while,” said Ichiro. “I think you’ll find it worthwhile.”

Rosemary did not respond immediately to Ichiro’s words. She remained, for a while, indecisive.

“Thank you for submitting that information,” she said, at last, before cutting off. It seemed she really was developing some rather willful thought patterns. Who could she possibly be imitating? This evidence of a budding true sense of “self” could be a cause for celebration, but even so...

His teacup was empty. Just as he was thinking of calling Sakurako, the door to the hall opened, and Sakurako returned, holding a large tray in both hands.

“Ah, Sakurako-san,” Ichiro said.

“Oh, is it time for more tea, Ichiro-sama?” she asked. “Wait a moment. I’ll pour it right away.”

Sakurako set the tray on top of the table and withdrew to the kitchen. She brought the pot to Ichiro in one hand, and poured the tea into the cup with a practiced gesture.

“Sakurako-san, you’re not logging in today, either?” he asked.

“I had so many plamodels piling up, I was thinking I’d make a few.” Sakurako turned her gaze to the tray she had put on the table, which contained carefully painted plastic model pieces all laid out on a sheet of newspaper. “Ichiro-sama, are you drawing? Are you going to crash another art contest?”

“Nonsense,” said Ichiro. “I am not a man who enjoys making trouble.”

“You aren’t—”

Before Sakurako could finish, Ichiro opened his sketchbook to show her his drawings. Her eyes opened wide as she saw them. “Are these... oh, fashion design sketches?”

“Yes,” he said. “I was thinking they’d be of use to Iris.”

“Oh, dear...” Sakurako took the sketchbook from Ichiro’s hands and stared at the illustrations in disbelief. At last, she said, “I’d forgotten what a nasty person you can be, Ichiro-sama.” She snapped the sketchbook shut, thrust it back at the young heir, sat down in a chair, and put on a pair of rubber gloves. With the same practiced hands she used to pour the tea, she began assembling the pieces of plastic she had lined up on the tray.

“Are you going to build them here?” he asked.

“That way, if you run out of tea, I can quickly pour more,” she said. “Oh, does the thinner smell bad? I tried to get rid of all the paint stench first...”

“Well... no, it’s fine.” Ichiro shrugged and went back to his sketches.

He couldn’t understand most of the hobbies that Sakurako was passionate about, but he also didn’t have a problem with them. Lately, the fact that she’d been spending so much time in the game meant she’d lost time to devote to her other hobbies. That was true for both of them, really. He had heard that her interest in “boys’ hobbies” was the result of two older brothers’ influence. In the short time he’d known her, he’d watched her build a number of plamodels. Her skill at painting and making modifications with crafting putty were impressive.

Speaking of boys’ hobbies...

“Sakurako-san, have you ever worn a full-body costume?” Ichiro asked, thinking back to the understaffed nature of the arcade.

“Never. When I cosplay, I like to show my face.”

“Hmm, I see.” He had thought she might have worn one for a part-time job doing hero shows, at the very least.

“When I was in junior college, I had a part-time job doing announcements for hero shows, though,” said Sakurako.

So at least he hadn’t been too far off the mark.

“We need publicity for the opening of that arcade, but we’re short-handed,” said Ichiro.

“Ah, so you want someone who can wear the mascot costume.” Sakurako nodded in understanding as she continued building her plamodel. The chaotic coordination between the relevant companies, and the short preparation time, had caused their understaffing issues. They had almost no resources to recruit people, nor to provide them adequate training, which meant they were short on the campaign girls and mascot personnel they needed to run the publicity campaign. “And you were wanting me to help?”

“I was hoping we could get someone with experience,” said Ichiro. “You’d be paid, of course, and we need someone of just about your height.”

“I hope you’ll forgive the blunt response, but no,” said Sakurako. “My time MCing those shows made it clear that wearing a full-body costume in the summer is its own kind of horror.”

“Of course, I won’t force you,” Ichiro said.

It was a mascot costume designed for an actor about 1.6 meters tall. Her facial expression had spoken volumes about the terrifying sweat and smell that came from costumes being worn year after year, but this would be a new costume, and so it at least would not have that problem, he thought. Of course, there was nothing you could do about the heat and exhaustion that came from just being inside it.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind doing it myself, but there is the height restriction,” said Ichiro.

“I-Ichiro-sama, in a full-body costume? A mascot costume?” Sakurako suddenly looked up and over at him.

“Yes. Why?”

“I cannot imagine anything more lacking in charm.”

“Nonsense.” Ichiro shrugged.

Airi Kakitsubata was a 17-year-old girl attending a design trade school.

She wanted to be a fashion designer when she grew up.

Airi had spent the whole day lost in her A4 drawing pad. She hadn’t even remembered to log in. The trash can was filled with balls of paper. Fashion magazines were stacked high on her desk next to tall piles of A4 paper covered in nude pose samples.

She just couldn’t bring an idea together. She’d tried again and again, yet she couldn’t come up with anything satisfying. It hadn’t been this hard while she had been designing the young heir’s armor.

Airi found herself picking up a magazine from the stack on her desk. It was a women’s fashion magazine, targeting women in their 20s and 30s. That was a little older than Airi was, but it was the age group she was most interested in designing for. It was also the age range that Fuyo’s clothing brand targeted.

The headline read “Everything on Popular New ‘Real Clothing’ Brand MiZUNO!!” in bold print, above a smaller caption that read, “Exclusive Interview with Megumi Fuyo!” When she’d bought this magazine a week ago, she never would have dreamed that Megumi Fuyo would be about to challenge her to a design competition.

The MiZUNO feature showed confident models showing off the various outfits that Fuyo had designed. On each outfit, there was an editorial comment from the point of view of the client and a comment from Fuyo from the point of view of a designer.

Airi found herself letting out a sigh. Fuyo’s clothing really was amazing.

“Real clothing” referred to fashionable ready-to-wear that even working class people could afford. Nowadays, the term was used as an antonym to haute couture and top-of-the-line prêt-à-porter.

Real clothing: in other words, realistic clothing. Airi admired Lady Gaga, but her style was the polar opposite of “real.” It was impossible to imitate.

Then, at the cutting edge of the fashion world, there was always the top brand prêt-à-porter by the likes of Prada and Chanel. Real clothing took elements from these and converted them to match the tastes of the general public, bridging oceans as well as societal and economic gaps. That might have sounded like drudge work, but it was actually extremely challenging. The needs of making something more broadly available clashed with the need to customize it to match the tastes of an extremely diverse market, so a real clothing designer needed an inherent sense of how to make those two things work together.

Airi had seen a TV show while she was in middle school that had described real clothes as “clothes that match the lifestyle of the one that wears them.” She always thought that was a wise saying.

Fuyo’s designs were everything that real clothing should be. They kept the luxurious quality of those top brands, while also being charming in some way, or stunning, and sometimes simply beautiful. They were full of personality and confidence, and told you everything about the lives of the diverse array of models that wore them.

Looking at Fuyo’s designs, Airi felt a renewed sense of the kind of monster she’d picked a fight with. How could she possibly make something better than this? She didn’t have the slightest clue. She’d been designing since morning, and had only hit upon two ideas that barely qualified as decent; the rest of it was utter trash.

Ah, on top of my lack of talent, I’m also cutting down forests, Airi lamented, gazing at the balls of scrap paper in the trash can. Forgive me, trees of the world...

She glanced at her watch. It was already 5:00 P.M. She’d been eating now and then, whenever she felt hungry, but she hadn’t realized so much time had passed. The sight of the hour brought a feeling of exhaustion surging up within her.

She had completely hit a wall. She couldn’t even tell what was good and bad anymore.

Airi tied up her bulging trash bag and carried it out to the front door. She tidied up the large pile of A4 paper and magazines, and scanned in the two “barely maybe okay” designs. She could send the completed .pdf files to the Miraive Gear X. She hadn’t 3D modeled them, but she didn’t have the energy to do that just now.

Maybe I’ll just log in, she thought.

Airi put the Miraive Gear on her head, then lay down on her bed. She turned the power on, initiating the transmission of quantum information between mind and machine.

She wondered what the young heir was doing now. Airi knew that this challenge was up to her, and her alone. If he interfered, it would lose its purity as an expression of her skill. It wouldn’t mean anything to win that way, and it would just make her feel even more pathetic if she lost. It was just... it was becoming all too clear that this opponent was too big for her to take on all by herself.

She couldn’t ask for his help. He was the one person she absolutely could not ask for help. As these complex emotions churned over and over in Airi Kakitsubata’s mind, her consciousness was merging with the fictional world.

The first thing she heard upon logging in was Felicia’s voice. “Wow, did you draw all these, Itchy?”

The next thing she heard was Ichiro, speaking in his usual tone. “I didn’t design them all from scratch. They’re combinations of existing ready-to-wear separates.”

He was sitting in a chair, reading a book while Felicia looked through an array of image files spread across the desk.

The young heir immediately noticed the new arrival and looked up. “Oh, hello, Iris.”

“H-Hey...” Iris’s response was the epitome of spinelessness: pathetic, after all her grand declarations the day before.

Kirschwasser poured her usual cup of tea. Iris accepted it, and Felicia came up to her with one of the image files in her hands and a beaming smile on her face.

“Hey, hey! Iris! What do you think of this?” Felicia asked eagerly.

Iris was taken aback as she saw the design drawn there. It was a horizontally-striped blouse in cooling colors just right for summer, paired with flower-patterned skinny pants and platform sandals. It was an outfit that took into account the pattern-on-pattern trend that was “in” this year. Good taste, too; it looked like a ready-made separates combination you’d see in a magazine. Of course, it was nothing terribly novel, but even so, just the sight of it set Iris trembling in fear.

Had the young heir drawn this? Iris looked at Ichiro. All he did was flip a page in the book he was reading. He was using a proprietary app that let you read e-books in the game. Iris looked closer, and found it was a fashion design reference book that she was quite familiar with.

But of course it was. He was a genius, after all.

Was this his way of trying to offer support? Ichiro had promised not to offer money, or aid of any kind. Maybe he had come up with these ready-made pairings in the hopes that it would help the struggling Iris somehow.

But this...

As a pained expression appeared on Iris’s face, Kirschwasser asked her, “Have you finished a design that you like?”

“Oh... no. Not a single one. Total block,” she lied, smiling a superficial smile.

Her confidence had taken a nosedive. The young heir’s attempt to be considerate had inspired thoughts of self-loathing inside her. In the face of ready-to-wear clothing like this, Iris’s designs really were trash. She wished she could tear up the two .pdfs stored away in her app right now.

Kirschwasser’s expression was dubious. If she met his eyes any longer, her feelings would become obvious.

Iris began to wonder, Did I declare that this was my challenge and refuse the young heir’s help because I was afraid of being reminded how untalented I am?

“Iris?” The smile disappeared from Felicia’s face, as well.

Despite knowing that she shouldn’t, Iris began checking through the design drawings spread over the table. They were all modern pieces that somehow still had a fantasy flair. They were appropriate to the game, yet she felt like she was being shown something she didn’t want to see. Here, in the young heir’s ready-to-wear sets, she had found the conclusion that she had failed to come to on her own.

She mustn’t be angry, Iris thought. The young heir was hateful, but he wasn’t a bad person. He surely hadn’t done it maliciously. The fact that he had kept his nose in the book the entire time was proof of that.

“Iris,” Ichiro said, without looking up.

“What?”

“There’s still time. There’s no need to get so worked up. I’ll help in any way I can.”

She felt a twinge of temper.

There was nothing there for her to be angry about, but her emotions had reached their boiling point. It wasn’t any one thing, but there was something extremely aggravating about Ichiro’s unflappable expression, and the way it seemed to mock her hard work and struggles.

“A-As if you could ever understand...”

“Iris?” At last, Ichiro looked up. Their eyes met. The golden eyes of the Dragonet seemed to stare right through her.

“To you, this competition would just be more of the same,” Iris said bitterly. “You think it goes without saying that you’d win. If you competed, you’d win easily, so you’re letting me do it because it amuses you. That’s how you’re thinking of it, right?”

What am I saying? Even Iris was panicked by the way the words poured out of her. It was as if a dam had burst. She hadn’t thought she was this angry, yet the accusatory words came so easily to her lips, her feelings gushing out in a torrent.

“Someone as gifted as you couldn’t understand the struggles of a mediocrity like me. Stop acting like you understand when you don’t. Don’t say things like ‘Don’t get worked up’ and ‘Let me help you’ so lightly.”

She had said it. What an awful person she was. Ichiro continued gazing at her without the slightest trace of change in his attitude.

“Iris...” Ichiro said her name in his usual cool tone of voice. She knew instinctively that whatever he was going to say next, she didn’t want to hear it. It was just going to make her feel pathetic, so she cut him off at the pass.

“S-Sorry. I’m just so tired, I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’d better cool off.”

As she turned to run, a voice inside her head admonished her for running away.

Yes, she thought, I’m running away. I can’t face him right now. I can’t deal with a monster like that when I’m already at my breaking point.

She knew the young heir had said what he did out of concern. But still, it had annoyed her so much. Was it because she had spent half a day trying to come up with an answer, only to find that he had come upon it effortlessly? That might be it. There were probably several reasons; he was that kind of person. But whatever reasons there might be, the thing Iris hated most of all was letting it get under her skin.

“Ah, Iris!” She heard Felicia shout as she ran for the door. For a second, she thought about stopping, but her legs continued to carry her out. She wasn’t about to stop anywhere that man could see her.

Ichiro did not pursue Iris immediately. He just sat in his chair, watching her run off, then at last, said this:

“I suppose I got her angry.”

“Wh-What should we do?” Felicia stuttered. “Did I do something I shouldn’t have, too?”

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Felicia,” Ichiro assured her.

Before he’d logged in, Sakurako had said, “I’d forgotten what a nasty person you can be,” and he suddenly realized, vaguely, what she had meant.

Perhaps, then, Iris was right. The gifted could not understand those who were not. He was aware that his tendency to do whatever he wanted had hurt people more than a few times in the past. Ichiro Tsuwabuki was always on the “Amadeus” side of things.

Given all that had happened, it was hard to say if Iris was a very strong person, or a weak one.

As Ichiro sank deep into thought, Kirschwasser cast a glance at him and whispered, “I always knew you’d make a girl cry someday, Master Ichiro.”

“Nonsense... is one thing I find I can’t say right now,” Ichiro said. “Sir Kirschwasser, would you run after her?” He knew that even if he went after her and apologized personally, it probably wouldn’t help right now.

“Ah, wh-what about me?!” Felicia asked.

“You needn’t force yourself to follow,” said Ichiro. “She’s likely feeling delicate right now. Let’s allow Sir Kirschwasser to handle it.”

“What will you do, Master Ichiro?” asked Kirschwasser.

“I’m going to remain here, reading my book, like the nasty person that I am.”

It was a truly expected response, coming from him.

“Please wait, Iris!”

Out on Glasgobara’s main street, Kirschwasser grabbed Iris’s arm. Even though Kirschwasser hadn’t invested much in agility, he caught up to her easily, perhaps thanks to the vast difference in their levels.

Her response made it clear how torn she was. Rather than shaking off his hand, she just stopped obediently.

Given how many people there were around them, watching curiously, Kirschwasser was relieved that she had been willing to stop. “That’s a good girl, Iris.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kirsch...” Iris said, her face still bowed. “I’ve just become a load of trouble, haven’t I?”

“It’s all right. Trouble is part of a woman’s nature, after all.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he suddenly remembered he was playing a male character.

Iris looked up at last, her expression astonished. “I can’t believe you just said that...”

“The current incident happened because Lady Nem is being troublesome, did it not?” asked Kirschwasser.

“I guess that’s true...” Unsatisfied with just watching, the rude rubberneckers had also started listening, so Kirschwasser finally shooed them off. It wasn’t the sort of thing he usually did.

“I guess I’m also kind of... bipolar, you know?” Iris said. “Lately, it’s all deep depressions, then soaring heights, over and over again... I probably seem pretty crazy, huh?”

“Well, I cannot deny that...”

Kirschwasser switched over to listening mode as Iris began analyzing herself. It was true that he had seen something unbalanced in her personality, and he was hoping to help her stabilize. Besides, that was his role. He could not leave it to his master, who—despite having keen powers of observation—was powerfully lacking in delicacy.

Knowing Iris’s age (Kirschwasser had heard it was 17), he knew that the way she had been battered back and forth by this situation had to be bewildering for her. Kirschwasser wondered whether she had always been a person of such emotional extremes, or whether her naturally open personality was simply reflecting the inevitable highs and lows of the drama of recent days.

Iris let out a big sigh. “I know what the young heir was trying to do. It just made me so mad.”

“He can be very condescending,” Kirschwasser agreed.

“I know, but...”

There was a trace of self-loathing in her sigh this time, and he knew that the abuses she had hurled at the young heir weren’t how she truly felt.

Iris continued talking as she resumed walking. Kirschwasser walked by her side.

“Mr. Kirsch, you work with the young heir, right?” she asked. “How do you stay sane? Doesn’t he ever make you feel... inferior?”

“Not at the moment,” said Sir Kirschwasser. “I act as his servant, and I do everything I can so that he does not trespass in my territory. He would even do the housework if I let him.”

“What a creep,” said Iris.

“Indeed, he is a creep,” Kirschwasser agreed.

It was fine that Ichiro knew he would always be the best at everything. It wasn’t bad for him to act knowing that that was true, either. But there was only one person who could be number one in anything, and being number one would always be a kick to the self-confidence of everyone else competing. In order to remain equals in dealing with Ichiro, a person either had to tame their inferiority complex or find some field in which they could believe they were his better. It was likely that both of them were difficult options, for Iris.

At the least, Ichiro seemed to like Iris’s attempts to stand on equal footing with him. He probably wouldn’t want to see her feelings of inferiority break her. That was why he was trying, in his own way, to be kind to her—even if he didn’t realize that himself.

For now, though, Kirschwasser had to get her out of her unhealthy mental state. “Iris.” He smiled at Iris, trying to make a suggestion. “Sometimes, even when you like something, if you do it for too long, you lose sight of whether or not you really do like it.”

“Wh-What?” Iris stopped suddenly, and looked over at Kirschwasser.

“I don’t believe your current way of thinking is productive,” said Kirschwasser. “Master Ichiro should not enter into the equation at all. But I suppose ignoring him is easier said than done...”

“Yeah, it is.” Iris let out a small sigh. “I mean, I really don’t have any talent...”

“Hmm...” murmured Kirschwasser. Periods of soaring over-confidence, followed by periods of desperate self-loathing. A girl with truly overactive biorhythms.

“Mr. Kirsch, have you seen the movie Amadeus?” Iris asked.

“Yes, it’s famous,” Kirschwasser said. “I’ve heard it was originally an English play.”

Amadeus was a movie depicting the composers Mozart and Salieri, and the torments of the latter upon realizing the genius of the former. It was often used as a reference when discussing the presence or absence of talent. Kirschwasser/Sakurako, having never really worried about feeling inferior, had simply enjoyed it as a piece of entertainment, but...

“The first time I watched it, I never thought I’d end up as Salieri,” said Iris.

“Compared to Master Ichiro? Or to Lady Nem?” asked Kirschwasser.

“Both.” Iris looked up at the sky. “Whenever I see someone with loads of talent, I lose all my confidence. It’s like the gap between a turtle and the moon... or maybe a turtle and Betelgeuse.”

“B-Betelgeuse?” Kirschwasser stuttered.

Of course, Iris meant that she was the turtle. How ugly must a single turtle be, compared to that brightly burning red giant? That was what she was trying to convey.

“So seeing that big reminder of his talent stripped away my pride and left my heart with shell shock,” Iris continued.

“I’m not sure this is the time for clever plays on words...” Kirschwasser muttered. Still, seeing her this way—compared to her great declaration of confidence to Ichiro the day before—made it all the more clear how unstable she was. She could end up in a manic high tomorrow, only to sink back into deep depression again the day after. What they needed was a way to bring her back into balance.

But what could they possibly do to help the “shell-shocked” Iris? He wasn’t clever enough to offer a hint, and Ichiro, while clever enough, was too lacking in delicacy.

“Just don’t compete in her arena,” a voice said suddenly from behind.

Kirschwasser and the turtle—Iris, that is—turned around to see the shining metallic Machina standing there.

“Lord Edward,” Kirschwasser murmured.

Iris said, “I always seem to see you when the young heir isn’t around.”

“I do try to avoid Mr. Tsuwabuki.” A speech icon conveying displeasure appeared over Edward’s head. It was a new system of emotes for full face-type Machinas, though the effect was more comical than anything.

Kirschwasser cast a glance towards Iris, but the little misunderstanding they had had before—rather, the completely unjustified fight that Edward had picked with Iris—seemed to be water under the bridge, as far as she was concerned. She really was a good girl, with an unassuming personality.

Besides, she seemed much more interested in what Edward had said. “What do you mean, ‘don’t compete in her arena’?”

Unlike the armor competition with Edward, they didn’t have different specialties; it was a design competition. How could they not be competing in the same arena?

“If you can’t win on talent, you’ll have to draw the spectators’ eyes in some other way,” Edward explained.

Was he proposing some kind of plan?

But Iris seemed hesitant to engage. She must have still been holding deep uncertainties inside. If she couldn’t even accept Ichiro’s help, would she even be able to listen to Edward’s advice? Or should she simply turn him away? That seemed to be what was going through her mind.

“Don’t worry; I’m completely mediocre,” Edward said simply, perhaps seeing right through to Iris’s inner turmoil. “I won’t claim I can understand exactly how you feel, but I won’t say anything as outrageous as Mr. Tsuwabuki says, either.”

“R-Right...” Iris must have realized that was true. In a way, the two of them were kindred spirits, both players driven mad by the young heir’s audacity.

“But there is one thing I’d like to ask you,” Edward continued.

“What is it?”

“Miss Iris, do you enjoy this game?”

“Ah?” It was a strange question to be asked so suddenly. Iris and Kirschwasser exchanged a look.

“I think it’s good to take things seriously,” said Edward. “But if you stop enjoying it, it’s defeating the point. I’m not telling you to be as freewheeling as Mr. Tsuwabuki is, of course, but you should try to remember how you felt when you first came here, what it is that you enjoy about the game.”

As usual, the Machina’s voice was fairly monotone, and it was hard to read the feeling behind his words. But because they were the words of a man who had himself lost his enjoyment of the game by taking it too seriously, Kirschwasser felt the sentiment was clear: it was the grandfatherly solicitude of one who hoped another would not repeat his mistake. Iris seemed to grasp that, too.

Edward continued speaking. “Fashion and style are important, but I think it’s possible to get too obsessed with that, the way I got too obsessed with equipment capabilities and Ironmaking Skill levels. I don’t think the design was the only thing about your work that Mr. Tsuwabuki liked. You call it fashion and apparel and such, but that’s not really what we make in this game. We make armor.”

The words came smoothly. It really was unusual to hear him speak on anything at such length.

“Did I say something I shouldn’t have?” Edward added.

“No... no. You didn’t...” Iris’s frazzled mind seemed to be slowly sorting out his words.

“You’re speaking so eloquently compared to yesterday,” Kirschwasser teased. “Did you practice that speech?”

“Shut up.” Edward averted his eyes a little.

“Hmm...” Iris murmured.

“What is the matter, Iris?” Kirschwasser asked.

“Oh, I’m just thinking about some things. When I clear my head and think about it, I guess that’s true... Ah, I feel like my vision has been so narrow...” Iris whispered, her gaze distant. “Fuyo and I have just been talking about fashion and design... but that’s all real-world stuff. This is the world of the game. Fashion sense and design sense... that all does matter, but it’s not everything. Maybe that’s what the young heir was trying to say when he told me not to get so worked up.”

“I doubt Master Ichiro was thinking about it that deeply,” said Kirschwasser.

“That’s true,” said Iris. Her words suggested a gradually returning confidence. Edward’s words seemed to have cast a ray of light on the situation. “Hey, Mr. Edward. What kind of armor do you like?”

“As you know, I mostly care about stats,” he replied. “I doubt I’d be of any help. In terms of appearance, I suppose I like Full Plate Mail, and things that look like power armor.”

It was a typical gamer opinion, but Edward continued:

“The audience will be made up of players of the game. There are a lot of ways to get their attention. There’s no need to fight on design sense alone. Part of being a professional means designing with the needs of the audience in mind.” Edward then added, plainly, without taking his eyes off of Iris: “I don’t know what your opponent intends to bring to the challenge, but keep in mind that this is not the real world. It’s a game, with its own trends and social classes... I can teach you about them, if you like.”

“That’s amazing...” Iris said with admiration.

“You’ve come so far since yesterday, when you were trying too hard to sound clever, yet were unable to speak,” Kirschwasser commented.

“Would you please forget about that?” A icon of dissatisfaction appeared over Edward’s head. “Of course, I know it can be hard to meet a customer’s needs. I’m a systems engineer, so...”

“Oh, I see,” said Iris. “That sounds like a tough job.”

“Yeah. I’m going on another business trip next week.”

Of course the Machina had a real life, too. Systems engineer was a busy job, yet he had somehow found time between his business trips to become the second-in-command of the game’s largest manufacturing guild. It was impressive. Of course, that spoke even better of Ichiro, who had been able to send him flying with a single hit...

“Do you have any plans for what to do next, Iris?” the Machina asked.

“Hmm...” Edward’s words caused Iris to fall deep into thought. “Well, it would feel weird to go right back to the young heir after yelling at him and running out...”

“I think the same,” he said.

“Did you have something in mind?” Kirschwasser asked.

Edward nodded. “I was thinking, what about an armor design that incorporates a gimmick? They have a high crafting difficulty, but it’s an idea that your opponent would be unlikely to come up with.”

“I’d love to hear more.” Iris straightened, and smiled an indomitable smile. At some point, the fire of battle had begun to flicker again in her eyes. Iris had fully regained her energy.

The silver-haired elder Knight shrugged lightly, the same gesture he used when indulging his master. “Such overactive biorhythms...”

But it wasn’t only Iris preparing for the fight.

Nem was, too.

Nem’s guild was renting space in the guild house of Matsunaga’s Dual Serpents. She couldn’t understand what had led them to refer to this creepy old cave as a “house,” but nitpicking another’s residence was something only selfish people did, so Nem refrained from mentioning it. Admittedly, the fish-headed monsters who lived nearby were really quite cute once you got used to them.

She had returned to the caves after finishing up her business in the real world. As head of her own company, there was a chance she might be called back on emergency business, but there was nothing she could do about that. She had made sure to clear her schedule for the competition day, which meant that on any other day, she had to be capable of returning to work at any time.

As she arrived in their rented room, she found Sorceress already there, sitting quietly on her own. She stood up when she saw Nem’s arrival. “Ah, welcome back, Leader.”

“Thank you,” Nem responded after a gloomy pause. “I see that Taker is not here.”

“That’s true,” Sorceress said with a giggle. “He might be out working a part-time job. He’s poor, you see.”

They rarely talked about their real lives, but Nem had intuited that the two seemed to know each other.

“Leader, you look unhappy,” Sorceress continued, in a tone so nonchalant she might as well have been discussing the weather.

There was something about those penetrating, deep blue eyes of hers that made Nem very uncomfortable. Of course, she was also discomfited by the overpowering, sharp eyes of Taker. They made her feel small, as if they were tearing into the very stronghold of her self-confidence.

Nem managed to hold on to her resolve, if barely. “I met Iris at the lecture yesterday.”

“My, my.” Sorceress was holding a parasol despite being inside a cave, and she spun it delightedly as she spoke. “Isn’t that a coincidence. So? What was she like?”

Nem closed her eyes and began speaking, slowly. “There’s not much to say. She was exactly the kind of person she seemed to be in the game. She idolizes the glorious world of fashion, and has a tendency to imitate what she sees in magazines and trends, like any girl of her age.”

Young and vibrant, but completely lacking in a unique voice, or anything else remarkable. Exactly like hundreds of other wannabe designers...

Which was exactly why the girl was getting under her skin.

“I see. If you say so, then it must be true.” Sorceress, the girl who had named herself after a witch, said nothing more about that. “Do you still intend to bring all of your skill to bear against her, then?”

“Yes... of course,” said Nem.

The words she had said during that lecture, and those she had said to Airi Kakitsubata directly, were not lies.

Regardless of their skill, all aspiring designers were rivals. The butterfly brooch incident had made her realize that to a painful degree.

Even for Megumi Fuyo, who had her own brand and was acknowledged by the world, the lack of talent in one single area could bring everything crashing down. A single failure could yank you back.

She had to surpass Iris, no matter what.

It had been a few days ago, in this place, that Nem had said to Matsunaga, “I want to prove that I’m better.” That had been the truth, but at the time, she hadn’t known who she was trying to prove it to.

Now she knew: it was herself.

“I will win,” Nem said firmly.

“My hopes are high, Leader,” Sorceress said with a giggle. “Once you win, we’ll be breaking up, I suppose?”

“Yes, that’s true... Thank you for everything you’ve done,” said Nem.

“Not at all.” There was something sarcastic about the witch’s smile. Perhaps, in the end, she was nothing but a mercenary.

Nem decided she shouldn’t form too much attachment for someone who felt so distant from her. “Speaking of which. About the model...”

“Oh, yes, leave that to us. We’ve been searching for someone suitable.” Sorceress gave a smile without a trace of emotion in it. which convinced Nem she really should leave it to her. “Don’t worry. I’ll do everything I can to help you win.”

Nem smiled a bit at those words. “Thank you. But I will win using my own power.”

“Yes. That’s right...” Sorceress giggled again.

Nem had no idea what Sorceress was thinking.

There was something unsettling about a witch’s smile.

Edward led Iris and Kirschwasser to visit the Akihabara Forging Guild’s guild house.

“This is gimmick armor,” he said proudly, pointing to a set of armor on display.

“Um... wow!” Iris said, trying to have the appropriate reaction. Perhaps noticing that her amazement was feigned, Edward averted his face, seeming hurt.

Gimmick armor, he explained, was equipment that did something special, either visually or in its stats. Concrete examples included armor that lit up under certain conditions, that would increase your parameters if you took certain actions, or that would change shape based on changes in relevant data.

In the world of Narrow Fantasy Online, which lacked much in the way of very stylish armor, they were also one of the few types of armor you could get real visual impact from.

“Hmm, hmm. I see...” Iris said.

Of course, a mere light-up effect wouldn’t be enough to compete with Megumi Fuyo’s designs, but maybe that was something she could play with.

Kirschwasser was gazing at the armor with curiosity, a natural reaction for a pure gamer.

Yes, yes. That was another way people approached it.

How she’d felt when she’d begun, the fun of the game, getting too obsessed... Edward’s earlier words brought memories from half a year ago surging back to life. Airi Kakitsubata’s crushing setback in design school. Her escape from reality. The game world she’d fled to. The friends she had made. Her arrival in Glasgobara.

The realization that she could create items with original designs had been both a shock and a thrill. Day after day, she had worked to put accessories out for sale in her stall. She had even spent her own allowance to see it happen. But no one had bought them. No one had liked them. Then, just when she had once again been on the verge of despondency, the young heir had appeared.

From the first moment they’d met, he’d been an absolute creep. He’d asked if she wanted to create his armor and requested a design done completely from scratch. Edward had misunderstood his reasons for doing so, taken offense, and picked a fight she barely understood. Now history was repeating with Megumi Fuyo.

But... what really mattered here was that this competition wasn’t going to be judged by pro designers, outside examiners, or even the young heir. It was going to be judged by the general playerbase. Of course, Fuyo’s sheer design abilities would probably be enough to win them over. But at the end of the day, design was just one tool out of many.

She had her own strengths that Fuyo lacked. She knew how much fun the game could be. She knew about all the different ways that different players enjoyed the game, and the players’ taste in armor would be as diverse as their play styles. The young heir had wanted Iris for her design sense, but the majority of players wouldn’t feel that way.

She had received in-game currency—in other words, money—to make armor. That meant that, in this game, she was a professional, too.

If she was a professional, then she should work like one. She should find the perfect line that would bring together the diverse tastes of the consumer base with her own design sense. That was something only she could do. It was something that Fuyo, so obsessed with real clothing—and with the young heir, who didn’t have to worry about commercial success—could never do.

The wheels turned in Iris’s head.

“She seems to have received some inspiration,” Kirschwasser commented.

“It appears so,” Edward agreed with a measure of relief.

But that was not the end of it. There were a lot of things she was still lacking. She still didn’t have an idea. She still hadn’t come up with the vision that would take down Megumi Fuyo, or the imagery that would make the young heir eat his words. Iris screwed up her face in thought.

Just then, the chimes at the guild house door rang out. They had a visitor. Of course, this was the game’s top crafting guild, so they probably had a continuous stream of customers, thought Iris. But then...

“U-Um... is Iris here?” a trembling voice called out.

“Oh, Lady Felicia,” Kirschwasser spoke up.

Yes, it was Felicia, whom she had left behind in the guild house. Her two tails of white hair trailed behind her. Her eyes were lowered apologetically.

“How did you figure out we were here?” Iris asked, impressed.

“Ah. Well...” Felicia stammered awkwardly. “I said I wanted to go after you, and Itchy said you’d probably be here...”

“He really sees through everything, huh?” Iris decided not to voice the frustration this inspired aloud. Some day, she would have to do something he didn’t predict. She wanted to see that smug smile of his turn into a gape. Such a thing would surely come with unrivaled pleasure. But for now, she had to focus on what was in front of her.

“Um, Iris, Itchy didn’t say that out of malice...” Felicia ventured.

“Y-Yeah... I’ve worked out my feelings about that now, so it’s okay...” Iris found herself smiling at her cute attempts to cover for Ichiro.

“You did?” Felicia asked, with clear relief on her face.

“Yeah. Thanks,” Iris answered, and meant it.

“A-And one more thing...”

“Hmm?” Iris tilted her head as Felicia raised her index finger.

“I was wondering who you were going to chose as your model...”

That was right. That was another issue she had forgotten about.

She didn’t want to ask the young heir again. She was thinking Kirschwasser would be good, but as she cast a glance at him, the silver-haired elder Knight just shrugged.

“It would be one thing if I had a female avatar, but no one wants to see an old man character modeling fashion.”

“That’s true,” Edward agreed.

NaroFan’s userbase was mostly male players, so that was natural, but it was still a bit disappointing. Iris thought there would be a lot of clothing that would look good on the silver fox, Kirschwasser.

She decided to ask Felicia why she was bringing it up, but Felicia just winced. “I got a message from Amesho... She says Nem’s using her as a model.”

“O-Oh...” Iris said.

That girl, a model? Given how confident she had looked in the swimsuit, maybe she would be cut out for it...

Edward let out a grim murmur as he heard that. “That’s not good...”

“What do you mean?” Iris asked.

But Kirschwasser agreed. “Yes, it’s extremely bad.”

“Huh? What?”

Edward put a hand to his smooth jaw, and answered. “Amesho is a damsel player. She has a lot of passionate fans in the game. Her presence will give your competition a big boost.”

“Um... but it’s a fashion competition, isn’t it?” Iris asked.

Of course, the model was important. You could ruin a good design by putting it on the wrong model. It wasn’t always about choosing the most beautiful or charming girl.

But this was still an armor design competition. Who you chose to wear it shouldn’t make that much of a difference, so Iris couldn’t figure out what Edward and Kirschwasser were so worried about.

“Iris, the audience isn’t necessarily coming to see the armor designs,” Kirschwasser said. “I think you understand what I mean by that. They’re coming to see it because it’s an event.”

“R-Right...” Iris said.

“And if a player like Amesho starts flirting with them and asking for their votes, you’re doomed,” Edward added.

Iris stood there in silence. It was finally dawning on her how dangerous it was to have Amesho siding against her. The girl who had been speaking flippantly before now turned so pale it actually reflected in her character model.

A battle she was starting to think she could actually win under her own power felt like it was once again slipping from her grasp, and all based on the charm of the model. It was hard to believe that Megumi Fuyo would ever do such a thing, but the fact that Amesho was going to be the model did appear to be the truth.

Even so, it really wasn’t like her at all. Megumi Fuyo could crush her with sheer skill alone. Then, just when Iris had found the faintest ray of hope, she brought down this finishing blow. The circumstances were truly harsh.

“Wh-Wh-What will I do, Mr. Kirschwasser?!” she exclaimed.

“How am I to know?” he replied.

“Calm down. You’ll just have to fight allure with allure,” Edward said, assuming the air of Iris’s chief advisor. With that reassurance, he flicked his gaze to Felicia.

“Huh? Uh, m-me?” Felicia’s eyes widened as she was suddenly pointed out.

“Allure with... allure?” Iris looked at Felicia, too. She was pretty sure she really was a girl of middle school age, and the way she acted and spoke was appropriate to that. That did give her a certain natural allure. It could work. If she went up on stage with the same manner she used when doting on her “beloved Itchy,” she could possibly compete with Amesho.

But would she agree to be made a spectacle of?

“Huh? Huh? You want me... to be a model? I... I don’t know...” Felicia trailed off into giggles.

It wasn’t looking like a problem.

Edward gazed at the giggling Felicia.

“What’s wrong?” Iris tilted her head.

The Machina’s expression was even more unreadable than usual. “Oh... nothing. It’s just an image I like...”

“Hmm?” Iris asked.

They still hadn’t even actually asked Felicia yet, but the girl was already acting like it was a done deal, grinning while twisting back and forth.

“Well, it looks like all that’s left to do is to think up some gimmick armor that would look good on Felicia.” Iris put her hands on her hips and nodded.

Kirschwasser glanced past her for a moment, then inquired: “Do you feel like you can meet Master Ichiro again?”

“You bet!” Iris had returned to her usual triumphant expression, and she let out a little snort. “I won’t let the young heir get to me. I won’t lose heart again, either. And I won’t run away.”

“Mm, very good,” a voice said.

Iris let out a squeal and leaped aside as she realized the young heir himself was standing right behind her.

Kirschwasser bowed reverently in his usual practiced way, and said, “We are honored by your presence, Master Ichiro.”

Edward was silent. When he wasn’t speaking, it was impossible to tell how he was feeling.

It really was the young heir, the Dragonet, Ichiro Tsuwabuki, stylishly wearing his Radiant Morpho Jacket, with the butterfly brooch on his lapel. Iris didn’t know if he had walked there, or had flown most of the way, but either way, he was now standing there calmly, smiling a smile of true satisfaction.

“Y-Y-Y-Young heir! H-H-How did you get here?!” Iris stammered.

“I told Bossman I wanted to go in through the back door, so he let me,” Ichiro said.

Edward, who seemed to dislike the young heir quite a lot, tried to silently walk past Felicia (who was still wriggling gleefully) and escape into the workshop. Either intentionally or by coincidence, however, Ichiro just happened to change position very slightly so that Edward couldn’t get past. Eventually, Edward just slumped his shoulders and sat down nearby, as if giving up.

“Itchy! I’m gonna be a model, maybe!” Felicia said, still beaming, giggling, and twisting.

“I see,” he said. “I hope you will give the task everything you have.”

“I will!” she said, then trailed off into tittering. Even the young heir’s muted encouragement had Felicia over the moon.

Ichiro turned back to Iris. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better. I won’t apologize, but I was a bit worried about you.”

“You could at least try to act like it...” Iris muttered.

“I thought that I was.”

How, exactly? she thought furiously.

She had made the conscious decision, though, not to argue with every single one of the young heir’s obnoxious acts and statements. The time she could spend on that would be put to much better use creating new armor designs. She mulled over the conversation she’d had with Edward.

Armor designs not concerned only with fashionability, but which integrated her personal style... She could also probably ensure rather good functionality at her current level, too. This time, she would make a new armor that really looked good on Felicia.

“Young heir, I’m going to do it,” she declared. “Even if I’d never show it at Tokyo Girls Collection, I’m going to make an armor design that seizes the hearts of the NaroFan players.”

“Mm, good,” Ichiro said. There was a real happiness mixed somewhere in the young heir’s standard noise of approval. “I look forward to seeing your efforts. I shall not interfere again.”

With that satisfied-sounding murmur, he sat back in one of the chairs set up in the lobby. Kirschwasser produced a tea set from nowhere in particular, and poured tea for him. The young heir took the teacup offered and brought it elegantly to his mouth.

“Acting superior as ever, I see...” Iris sighed.

“My comportment is merely the result of self-confidence,” said Ichiro. “I do not believe myself to be superior, nor inferior, to anyone in particular.”

“But you do believe you’re the best, in a general sense,” Iris argued.

“Well, yes.”

Yes, that was the kind of man Ichiro was.

It was his usual sort of answer, and Iris couldn’t help but lament how comfortable she was starting to feel around it. People liked to say “everything changes” and “all things are transitory,” but Iris had a feeling this man’s mentality would remain the same even five billion years from now, after the sun had expanded and burned up the Earth. There was something reassuring about that sort of permanence, even if it regarded something as odious as him.

“I see you were helping Iris, too, Ed,” Ichiro commented.

“Yeah... Do you have any advice to offer?” Edward asked as he took the tea from Kirschwasser.

“I don’t believe so,” said Ichiro. “I just want her to make whatever she wants to make.”

Edward slid his face plate open and poured the tea through his mouth slot. The young heir merely smiled meaningfully.

Edward cast a glance at Iris, then continued, with an air of hesitation. “Can Miss Iris win by making what she wants to make?”

“That is not up to me, nor should it be.” Ichiro used his usual breezy way of speaking. “To say that she can or cannot would be to limit Iris’s potential. All I want from her is to see her doing what she wants. I believe she knows that, as well. Don’t you?”

The last “don’t you?” was meant for Iris. She nodded, as if to say, “Of course.”

Yes, that was true. To run, to fail, to beg... Iris was permitted to do any of them. The escape route was always there. If she took it, she’d be greeted with the young heir saying, “Ah, I see,” with his usual cool expression. Nothing more. Nothing else would change. Yet that was a far more terrifying thing to her than being disappointed or being betrayed.

The young heir’s eyes were always set on distant heights above. By building a foundation of sand, she could just barely keep her eyes on the same heights. But if that footing ever crumbled, she could never hope to ascend to the same heights ever again. That was why Iris could not afford to so demean herself in front of the hateful man.

At the least, right now, he was acknowledging her. The wretched young heir, who likely had money and position and fame beyond anything she would ever achieve in her life, would treat her as an equal, here in the game. She didn’t want to ruin that.

“Young heir, earlier, you said you wouldn’t do anything,” she said. This one competition she had to carry out herself, without any help from the young heir.

“Yes, that’s right,” he said. “I promised I wouldn’t interfere, so I shall not act unless you ask me to.”

“That’s right,” she snapped. “You’d better not offer up any help, or money.”

“Of course, I respect your decision,” said Ichiro. “I shall not offer any help, nor any money.”

“Good.” Iris nodded in satisfaction, but then Edward interjected.

“Wait a minute.”

“What?” Iris asked.

“Does that mean you’re going to pay all the funds for the graphic overlays, too?”

“W-Well, yeah...” Iris said.

Whether the item creation process failed or succeeded, it still cost money to overlay a graphic onto an original design. It was crap (though Iris would never use that word) system design, and it still hadn’t been fixed. Iris had numbed herself to it by now, but every piece of trash she had ended up creating had been paid for by Ichiro’s own real-life funds.

The young heir had seemed to enjoy it, so it didn’t matter. But this time, things would be different. This was Iris’s competition. If he paid for the item creation, it would lose its purity.

“Gimmick armor has a high crafting difficulty level,” Edward said. “What’s your Create Armor level right now, Miss Iris?”

“U-Um...” Iris averted her eyes. She felt a replay of the same awkwardness she had felt when Edward had first burst into Iris Brand and challenged her.

“It’s okay if you can’t answer,” said Edward. “But given the givens, you’re probably going to churn through a lot of failures on this.”

“I-I’ll tap into my New Year’s money, or something...”

“Will that be enough?” he said. “You’ll need to throw money at it the same way Mr. Tsuwabuki does.”

“I’ll get a part-time job if I have to! One that pays by the day! And pays well! I’ll work at a construction site if I have to! But if he hands over one red cent, it loses all meaning!” Iris struck the table as she stood up, her expression contorting into something almost demonic. It was a combination of her grief at the reminder that you couldn’t do anything without money and her anger at the devs’ negligence for failing to fix the crap (although Iris herself would never use that word) system design.

“Iris is scary...” Felicia murmured.

“But it’s good to see her rise to the challenge,” Kirschwasser replied as they leisurely sipped their tea.

Don’t act like it’s none of your business! Even though it isn’t! Iris thought furiously.

But Edward remained tenacious. He seemed to be honestly worried about Iris, which he demonstrated by willingly addressing the young heir he hated so much.

“Mr. Tsuwabuki, say something,” he demanded.

“I suppose I should.” Ichiro closed his eyes, took a sip of his tea, and then said: “There are three days until the competition. Iris, you must complete the designs and craft the armor before then. If what Ed says is true, you will sink significant quantities of money into failures before you succeed. I do not know how much you have in savings, but a part-time job may truly be necessary. And you’ll have to get one within the next three days.”

Iris groaned. Three days. Yes, she only had three days. The reminder of the time limit caused her to realize how unrealistic her proposal must sound. Still, she couldn’t let that drive her to ask that man to pay...

Edward crossed his arms and nodded encouragingly. “That’s right. So in this one case, I think you should just ask Mr. Tsuwabuki—”

“Iris, I will arrange a part-time job for you,” said Ichiro.

“What?!” Edward shouted back in response to Ichiro’s words.

Iris’s eyes went wide. “Um, a... a job?”

“Yes. You wanted one that paid by the day, and paid well. I know of one that just happens to take place in one of the next three days... though I think that the wage will be realistic.”

“I-I’ve never actually held a part-time job before...” Iris stumbled. “I’m not sure I can do it...”

“And you said you’d get one, despite that? You surprise me.” Ichiro’s surprise sounded genuine, if mild. Maybe she’d managed to exceed his expectations sooner than expected.

Good job, me, Iris thought. Normally she’d take a victory lap over that, but the reason being what it was, Iris merely blushed.

From a little ways away, Kirschwasser spoke up. “Master Ichiro, are you suggesting... that?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Huh? What? Is it something dangerous?” Iris found herself feeling a bit anxious all of a sudden.

“Well... it certainly would be a rigorous job for somebody without any experience.”

She groaned again. The odd gravity behind Kirschwasser’s words was beginning to inspire a timidity in Iris. Just what kind of work was he going to arrange for her? What did he do for a living? Was he really in a position to get her a job?

Her mind was racing in circles. But what ended up sealing her interest were, of course, the hated man’s words.

“Of course, no one will force you...”

It was surely not intended as a challenge, nor as an enticement. There was likely no deeper meaning behind it at all; it was simply what one said in such situations. But to Iris, it was the ultimate provocation.

“I’ll do it! You know I’ll do it!”

She wasn’t the kind of person who could turn something down after a line like that. Besides...

“Besides, I said I’d use my New Year’s money, but I actually spent most of it on clothes and stuff, so I need money either way!”

“And knowing that, you still insisted you’d pay for yourself...” Edward groaned, with palpable strain in his voice.

“You really do surprise me,” Ichiro whispered once more. But once again, Iris couldn’t be as happy about it as she wished she could.