I Have A Damn Family Again - Chapter 95

Chapter 95: The First Step

‘This marks the first step towards my ultimate goal.’

Escaping that suffocating house, achieving true independence, required a solid financial foundation. Food, clothing, shelter, the basic necessities of life, demanded resources. Money, a universal currency, the key to survival, regardless of the world you inhabited.

My escape from House Bagrand hinged on the same principle.

Even in this pixelated world, this RPG realm, financial independence was crucial for Carsein’s survival. I knew, from my countless playthroughs, that progress was impossible without securing a reliable source of income.

And how, exactly, would I acquire those funds?

Lusmire, this isolated territory, offered a solution.

Building trust, meticulously cultivating affinity, completing sub-episodes to demonstrate my sincerity, raising their perception of me to “Fame,” a status that granted me authority, the right to collect taxes, a steady stream of income flowing into my personal coffers.

That was the solution I’d discovered, the key to Carsein’s financial independence.

The minimum Reputation Level required to issue commands as lord? C Rank. A significant hurdle, considering Carsein started at the lowest level, F Rank. But my recent efforts, my unconventional approach to the Lusmire episode, had catapulted me to B Rank. I was ready to enact my plan.

I handed the pouch of coins, extorted from Hemnon, to Barak.

“Spend this entire sum today, Barak. Purchase food supplies, essential goods, repair materials, anything you need to defend against the beasts. Acquire everything from the neighboring territories.”
“All of it… today?”
“Yes. Even if it means mobilizing every single villager, you must spend it all.”
“May I inquire as to your reasoning, Young Master? This sum, if used frugally, could sustain us for several months…”

Barak wasn't a fool. He understood the value of those coins, having meticulously managed this impoverished village for years. He wouldn't have survived in this role, as village head, without a keen understanding of their precarious financial situation.

In fact, his presence, his careful stewardship, was likely the reason Lusmire had managed to endure for so long.

But this situation, this sudden influx of wealth, demanded a different approach.

“The moment those neighboring territories learn about your newfound wealth, they’ll attempt to isolate you once again.”
“…What?!”
“They’ll inflate prices, manipulate the market, ensuring that every single coin you spend ends up back in their pockets.”

Lusmire, reliant on those territories for essential goods, was at their mercy. And those nobles, their greed masked by a facade of concern, would likely redistribute a portion of their ill-gotten gains amongst their own people, appeasing them, maintaining their control.

Lusmire, once again, would be left with nothing.

“To prevent that, you need to spend it all today. And the same applies to the tolls you collect. Don’t expect to purchase goods at their usual prices. They’ll exploit your situation, their greed insatiable.”
“But that’s… we’re struggling to be self-sufficient. We need those trade routes…”
“Then establish new ones.”
“New… trade routes?”

I pointed towards a distant mountain range, its peaks shrouded in mist.

“There.”
“But that’s Mount Waglu! There’s nothing there…”
“Surely, you’re not suggesting we attempt to establish trade with the villages beyond the mountain?”
“You already know the answer, Barak. Why ask?”

The villagers, their faces etched with concern, voiced their objections.

“Young Master, crossing that mountain is… impossible. While it’s not the primary route for the beasts, it’s treacherous, impassable. We can’t transport goods through those dangerous paths.”
“We’re better off paying inflated prices, using the tolls to cover the difference.”
“We could even increase the tolls, Young Master. That would solve the problem.”

Their suggestions, on the surface, seemed reasonable.

But accommodating those greedy nobles would only embolden them. They’d exploit Lusmire’s vulnerability, their control over the trade routes a weapon to be wielded without mercy. Lusmire, on the other hand, would suffer, its isolation a festering wound.

In the worst-case scenario, they might even sever all ties, cutting off Lusmire completely, ensuring their demise.

There was only one solution.

“Lusmire was once known for its… sculptors, wasn’t it?”
“How did you…?”

I nodded towards Camilla, acknowledging the source of my knowledge.

“Ah, yes, Lady Camilla… But what’s the point? We’re no longer capable of producing sculptures.”

A wave of sadness washed over them, their faces etched with regret. Barak, his voice heavy with resignation, continued.

“We’re struggling to survive, Young Master. Our sculptures, once sought after by nobles, from simple ornaments to elaborate architectural pieces… But the market has shifted, and…”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“Sculpture is… an art form, subject to trends and whims. And Lusmire, its skills abandoned, its artisans scattered, had no choice but to… adapt.”
“What if this… shift… was orchestrated by those nobles?”
“…What?”
“Lusmire’s sculptures, renowned for their beauty and craftsmanship, were seen as a threat to their own artisans, a challenge to their authority. They couldn’t stand the thought of those… inferior… craftsmen producing works of such quality, selling them at such… low prices…”

Their arrogance, their need to maintain their superiority, their fear of being surpassed, would have driven them to drastic measures.

“They sought to eradicate Lusmire’s legacy, to erase your history, your traditions, to bury the very existence of your sculptures.”
“That’s… impossible…”
“I doubt it. Even I was aware of Lusmire’s sculptures. They likely sought to maintain their… illusion of superiority… by suppressing your talents.”
“...”

Silence descended upon the room, their anger simmering beneath the surface, the realization that their skills, their heritage, had been deliberately suppressed, a bitter pill to swallow.

And then, I offered them a new possibility, a glimmer of hope.

“That mountain, it’s a solid rock formation, a single massive bedrock, isn’t it? So, ────.”

My suggestion, a radical idea, a departure from their traditional approach, stunned them into silence.

Some might have scoffed, dismissed my words as the ramblings of a madman. Others might have questioned my sanity, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and amusement. And perhaps, a few might have even accused me of being no different from those nobles, my actions a betrayal of their trust.

But they remained silent, their gazes fixed on me, their minds grappling with the implications of my proposal.

And then, after a brief, hushed conversation, their spokesperson, his voice a hesitant murmur, spoke.

“…Your idea… it has merit.”

They could do it. They believed in the possibility.

***

That night, I remained in Lusmire, forgoing my return to the ducal manor.

Episode II: Rejecting Hands, typically concluded with the defeat of the beasts and the expulsion of the meddling nobles.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that my accelerated progress, my deviation from the pre-determined path, might have unforeseen consequences. This game, its focus solely on Carsein's perspective, its intricate web of choices and consequences, couldn't be trusted.

I needed to observe, to monitor their progress, to ensure my actions hadn’t inadvertently triggered a hidden disaster.

The following morning, my anxieties eased. No major issues had arisen.

Their B Rank Reputation, a testament to my efforts, ensured their compliance, their actions devoid of any resentment. Barak, under my instruction, had mobilized the villagers, securing essential goods from the neighboring territories, their purchases completed before prices could be inflated.

The tolls, collected diligently, had been met with disgruntled grumbles from the passing nobles, but my authority, my official claim to Lusmire, deterred any overt acts of aggression. The beasts had returned, their nightly assault a predictable ritual, but they’d been repelled, their carcasses this time claimed as valuable resources.

The village's defenses remained a concern, but I could easily address that by dispatching a few knights from the ducal manor.

All in all, a satisfying outcome. A significant improvement over my previous playthroughs. And this episode, its true completion a long-term endeavor, wouldn't be resolved overnight.

I could finally return to the manor, my anxieties quelled, my mission a success.

However, one lingering question remained, a mystery that had plagued me since the Snowflake Festival.

The ring I’d won, a symbol of my supposed relationship with Harnie, a token of affection crafted in the Wederos Kingdom.

I hadn’t given it much thought. Lusmire, isolated, its people struggling to survive, wouldn’t be concerned with such trinkets.

But an elderly villager, his eyes widening in recognition, had identified the ring, his words filled with surprise.

As I was preparing to depart, gathering my belongings, he’d approached me, his voice a hesitant murmur.

-Young Master, that ring… may I examine it for a moment?

I’d agreed, curious about his interest. And then, he’d gasped, his voice trembling with astonishment.

-This is… from the Wederos Kingdom…! Young Master, have you experienced any adverse effects while wearing it?
-Hmm? No, not at all.
-No… adverse effects…?

He’d stared at me, his bewilderment growing. Before I could inquire further, he’d excused himself, rushing off with a frantic air. He’d returned moments later, accompanied by Delphina, the young girl who’d received the milk.

-Delphina possesses the ability to cast Appraisal magic. Please, Young Master, extend your hand and hold still for a moment.

He’d handed her a scroll, its surface etched with Appraisal runes. Delphina, following his instructions, activated the magic.

The ring, bathed in the glow of the Appraisal spell, began to shimmer, a faint hum vibrating through the air. And then, an intricate symbol, a mark of unknown origin, materialized above it.

The old man stared at the symbol, his voice a hushed whisper.

-This is… This is truly… a symbol of the Wederos Kingdom…!

He’d continued to mutter, his words a jumble of disbelief and confusion, his body trembling, his mind struggling to comprehend this impossible truth. And then, he’d collapsed, his eyes rolling back, his consciousness fading.

They’d assured me it was simply shock, an overwhelming surge of emotion… but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this story.

His words, “This is truly…” suggested there were counterfeit versions of this ring, a cheap imitation of Wederos craftsmanship.

And those adverse effects? What did he mean?

The mystery remained.

◆ Wederos Kingdom Ring

To my eyes, it was just a simple ring, its properties unknown, its significance a blank slate.

-Ding!

▶ Late Arrival Event Triggered! ◀

The carriage, having reached the Ducal Manor, rolled to a stop.

I stepped out, the familiar notification appearing before me, confirming the inevitable.

This was a recurring event, a consequence of my accelerated progress, my frequent excursions beyond the manor walls. Chapter 2, its episodes demanding my attention, my time spent away from the stifling confines of my so-called home.

The question, then, was who would greet me upon my return.

“You return at the break of dawn? Where have you been? And why didn’t you at least inform us of your… extended absence? Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

Claire, her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed, her tone laced with annoyance, stood before me.

Of course it had to be her. My luck, as always, was abysmal.

Claire, during these Late Arrival events, was notorious for her relentless interrogation, her choices designed to inflict maximum damage upon Carsein's affinity.

The only saving grace? Her relatively high affinity level. A few percentage points wouldn't make much of a difference.

“What I do, where I go… it’s none of your business.”
“What was that?”
“I should be asking you that. You never cared before. Why the sudden interest in my… activities?”

The more defiant my response, the greater the impact on her affinity. However, it also minimized the drain on Carsein’s Stamina and Time, two precious resources I couldn’t afford to waste.

Of course, in this new reality, choosing this path might result in a physical confrontation, Claire's temper well-known.

As expected, she advanced towards me, her face contorted with anger.

“Watch your tone, Carsein! How dare you call it “interference” when we’re simply concerned about your well-being?!”
“It’s the truth, isn’t it? Just pointless interference. Or are you simply looking for an excuse to lecture me?”
“You…! You disappear for an entire day, without a word, and you have the audacity to speak to me like that?!”

-Ding!

“You truly don’t see us as family, do you?”
“Think whatever you like.”

I brushed past her, her indignant question hanging in the air.

The notification, a confirmation of her decreased affinity, didn’t even warrant a glance.

***

Claire’s heart ached. Flora, her beloved youngest sister, was the culprit behind the cruel acts that had plagued Carsein, casting a shadow over their household, a stain on their family’s honor.

Disciplining Flora, meting out punishment for her transgressions, had been necessary, a duty she couldn’t shirk.

But a knot of unease lingered within her, a sense of helplessness that refused to dissipate. She hadn't been able to answer Flora’s tearful question, her plea for guidance, her desperate desire to make amends.

And then, she’d received news of Carsein’s departure.

The timing, as always, seemed to conspire against her. She’d hoped to speak with him, to discuss the situation, to offer a glimmer of hope to her remorseful sister.

But he was gone, his absence a gaping hole in their already fractured family.

He’d return eventually, of course. Time, a healer of wounds, would bring him back to the manor, and then, she could finally address this issue, offer her apologies, seek a path towards reconciliation.

Dinner, the perfect opportunity.

He’d be hungry after his excursion, his appetite a welcome distraction. And the Eastern Nobles’ Conference, looming on the horizon, offered another topic of conversation: Shatrain.

‘I should… tell him to stop sending money to those… villagers.’

She’d been using her own funds to appease the victims of the “Shatrain incident,” to minimize the damage to their family’s reputation.

The mere mention of Shatrain, a reminder of Carsein’s past failures, always triggered a wave of judgment, a chorus of condemnation. This time, she’d insist he remain by her side during the conference, a silent shield against the inevitable whispers.

And Flora, her remorse genuine, her desire to make amends sincere… Surely, Carsein, having changed so much, would be willing to forgive her.

Her heart, a mixture of apprehension and hope, beat steadily as she awaited his return.

But time stretched on, the hours turning into a sleepless night, and still, Carsein remained absent.

Dawn arrived, but there was no sign of him. The servants, their faces etched with concern, could offer no information. Even the ever-reliable Heron could only shake his head, his usual composure faltering.

Tasha, the head maid, was the only one who possessed a sliver of knowledge, a vague reassurance that Carsein was on an important errand with his personal maid, Camilla. An overnight stay, a necessity, the details shrouded in secrecy.

She’d questioned Tasha relentlessly, her anxiety mounting with each unanswered query. Only after receiving repeated assurances, her fears finally quelled, had she managed to fall asleep, her slumber troubled by unsettling dreams.

And then, finally, as the morning sun cast long shadows across the manor grounds, the familiar sound of a carriage, its horses snorting, their hooves clattering against the cobblestones, reached her ears.

Carsein stepped out, his face impassive, his demeanor unchanged.

Claire, her words a practiced scolding, addressed him.

“You return at the break of dawn? Where have you been? And why didn’t you at least inform us of your… extended absence? Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

She needed to reprimand him, to express her concern, his disregard for their feelings a source of frustration.

But the lecture, the carefully crafted words of disapproval, died on her lips.

Because this conversation, this encounter, wasn’t just about his unexplained absence.

And then, his words, a slap in the face, shattered the fragile truce.

“What I do, where I go… it’s none of your business.”

Her anger, a simmering ember, flared, fueled by his indifference, his casual dismissal of their concern.

“What was that?”
“I should be asking you that. You never cared before. Why the sudden interest in my… activities?”

Sudden interest?

His words stung, a barb aimed directly at her heart.

“Watch your tone, Carsein! How dare you call it “interference” when we’re simply concerned about your well-being?!”
“It’s the truth, isn’t it? Just pointless interference. Or are you simply looking for an excuse to lecture me?”

Once her anger ignited, there was no containing it. The familiar pattern, the instinctive urge to lash out, to express her frustration through sharp words and a fiery temper.

“You…! You disappear for an entire day, without a word, and you have the audacity to speak to me like that?!”

He’d caused problems, triggered anxieties, disrupted their carefully constructed routine, and now, he dared to dismiss their concern as meaningless, their efforts to connect with him as interference.

And so, she lashed out, her words a reflection of her own pain, her own insecurities.

“You truly don’t see us as family, do you?”

Her voice, trembling with suppressed emotion, hung in the air. And then, a sudden chill, a stillness that seemed to drain the warmth from the air, enveloped her.

A mistake. Words she shouldn’t have uttered, a truth better left unspoken.

She needed to retract them, to apologize, to…

“Think whatever you like.”

His voice, flat, devoid of emotion, a casual dismissal of her heartfelt plea.

-Snap.

Something within her, a fragile thread, snapped.

The fire within her, extinguished, replaced by a bone-chilling emptiness.

His words, a simple, indifferent phrase, delivered with an impassive gaze, pierced her heart.

She watched as he walked away, her body frozen in place, unable to move, unable to speak.

She didn’t stop him. She couldn’t. The urge to reprimand, to strike out, to express her frustration, had vanished, replaced by a hollow ache.

This feeling… this unsettling mix of confusion and… something else… it squeezed her heart, a painful constriction.

‘What… what is this feeling…?’

-Ding!

[ Claire Bagrand ]
[ Affinity: 47% ]