Since her first encounter with Blanc three years ago, Noir began forging her own path, not as one who merely walks a road, but as one who creates it.
Unlike the original Noir, who walked the royal path of nobility and served as an exemplar for her peers, this Noir’s footsteps were decidedly tyrannical, asserting that the path she trod was, in itself, the noble way.
Yet, despite diverging from the original, this transformation was not inherently negative.
Even treading such a domineering path, Noir’s fundamental nature remained more benevolent than anyone else’s, preventing her from becoming twisted; moreover, unlike the original Noir, who endlessly pondered the true meaning of nobility, the current Noir strode confidently along her own unique course.
Still, to say it wasn’t bad didn’t necessarily mean it was good either.
In the original story, Noir stumbled upon a book titled [The Duty of a Noble] in a used bookstore, subsequently giving up her recreational novels; however, the current Noir, influenced by ‘Blanc’ rather than [The Duty of a Noble], not only failed to abandon them but found herself reading novels with even greater frequency.
“Hehe, hehehe…”
It was late into the night.
Noir, who devoured any novel with the relish of a hungry dog eating its meal, was once again reading late into the pre-dawn hours.
[The Former Assassin of a Secret Organization Becomes a Maid and Obsesses Over Me, an Academy Student,]
A bizarre title, dizzying just to look at.
Like many readers of recreational novels, Noir would encounter titles such as these and think,
‘Ah, these days, novels just have to have long titles.’ ‘Can’t they come up with something normal?’
Despite her criticisms, it was truly contradictory that she only ever read novels with such titles.
Moreover, it was truly lamentable to see her, occasionally overcome with emotion while reading these novels, scribble her own fantasies into a notebook, transforming them into stories.
What’s more, the very Noir who so vehemently criticized sentence-like titles had written a novel in her own notebook titled [The Former Crime Syndicate Maid Swears Loyalty to the Ducal Daughter]…
What a truly pathetic and miserable sight.
Perhaps it was a blessing that Noir had not yet personally sought out the forbidden realm often referred to as ‘sublime novels’ in the underworld.
While she occasionally read ‘sublime novels’ that Anjel, a maid living in that underworld, had left behind in the lounge, those instances were purely unintentional accidents, never something she sought out to read.
Of course, even when she did encounter such books, she would read them diligently, her face flushed and nose bleeding.
“It’s about time I went to sleep.”
Even so, it was a small mercy that Noir, unlike her past self, no longer drastically cut down on sleep to read novels.
Although she had merely reduced her early morning study hours and replaced them with reading, the fact that Noir, who used to pull all-nighters, had increased her sleep was undeniably a positive change.
–”My Lady. I worry that your habit of going to bed so late every night might be detrimental to your health.”
Of course, this change wasn’t Noir’s own idea but rather a habit she altered because Blanc had expressed concern, yet, ultimately, a good outcome is a good outcome, isn’t it?
Noir slipped the novel she had just been reading into a cover titled [The Structure of the Aios Federation], then lay down in bed, concluding her day’s activities.
****
It shatters.
It burns.
It collapses.
This world, sculpted by gods, fragments into shards of glass, scattering, and the long history carved upon it by humanity vanishes into ash.
Over a millennium, all civilizations and achievements humanity had forged burn away, and within the rifts in space, the forms of a new world manifest.
From the collapsing world, a man’s voice echoes.
At the heart of the crumbling world, he stretches both hands toward the heavens, singing a hymn to the new world appearing within the rifts.
The chariot of the sun-driving god raced not across the horizon, but upon the very earth.
The land, where the Mother of Nature had vanished, withered and cracked, while the enraged ocean hurled its fists skyward.
From the sundered earth, the armies of the underworld marched upon the world, and at the focal point of all their hatred stood a pure white girl.
“■■, ■■■-!”
“■■■- ■■■■■■-!”
Following the gods’ advance, ancient calamities, banished long ago, were resurrected.
Awakening from their seals, they unleashed their wrath upon gods and humanity alike, while figures in white masks stood at the center of the white girl, observing the entire spectacle.
“■■-!”
‘Why is that child at their center?’
The black girl, watching the scene, tried to call out the white girl’s name, but only unpleasant noises, utterly devoid of linguistic form, escaped her lips.
‘I must save her.’
‘I must tear that child away from their side.’
The black girl reached out to the white girl, but before her hand could touch, it began to shatter into glass fragments, scattering across the world.
An unknown figure, cloaked in a hood and wearing a white mask, approached the girl.
As he placed a hand upon the girl’s head, who radiated an aura unlike her usual self, the concepts of space and time crumbled, and the rules governing the world began to break one by one.
The gravity that sustained humanity vanished, the boundary between sky and earth that separated up and down blurred, and the land and sea that divided the world from the outside intermingled, transforming their very forms.
<Behold, the dawn of a new world.>
The world collapsed.
In a world where gods advanced and calamities ran wild, the black girl watched helplessly.
The black girl’s body shattered like glass and crumbled, the fallen shards turning to ash and crumbling in the inferno that consumed the world.
The world collapsed, and the brilliant universe, instead of embodying the mystery of infinite possibilities, took on the color of death, where all melted into ruin.
Starting with her hair, which flowed like black waves, the girl’s body gradually dissolved into the cosmos.
“Noir.”
As the girl’s body melted into the universe, the illusion of the dream began to shatter.
Through the crumbling cracks of the illusion, the light of the world called reality enveloped my body.
Within the breaking illusion, the black girl, unable to reach the white girl, turned to me and said,
‘You are not too late.’
And with that, the illusion named ‘dream’ utterly collapsed.
****
“Haaah…!”
Early morning.
Noir barely opened her eyes, emerging from a terrible nightmare.
“What in the…!”
‘It was a dream. Definitely a dream.’
‘It has to be a dream. But why do the sensations feel so real?’
Noir hastily checked her right hand, the one she had extended in the dream.
Her right hand, which had clearly shattered into glass fragments and scattered, moved perfectly fine, and only then could Noir be certain that it had all been a dream.
“What on earth was that…?”
Dreams are akin to mirages.
No matter how much they might make a person happy, sad, or afraid, just as a mirage eventually vanishes, so too do the memories of a dream fade away like one.
Noir’s dream was no different.
Her dream memories, like the world she had witnessed, shattered into glass fragments and scattered into oblivion.
Yet, the unsettling anxiety that gripped her did not disappear, quietly settling into a corner of her heart.
–Knock, knock.
As Noir was still replaying the shattered fragments of her dream, a rhythmic knock sounded from the door.
“My Lady, it’s Blanc.”
“Oh? Ah. Come in.”
The familiar voice of a girl.
Only upon hearing that voice could Noir finally feel relieved, knowing she had escaped the dream and returned to reality.
“My Lady, have you risen… My Lady? Why are you crying?”
Hearing Blanc’s words, Noir carefully brought a hand to her face.
Perhaps it was the lingering effect of the dream she had just experienced, but upon seeing Blanc’s usual demeanor, tears streamed endlessly from her eyes.
“Ah, My Lady?”
Unable to control her emotions, Noir rushed directly to the door, embracing Blanc tightly and burying her face against her.
‘It’s Blanc.’
‘This warmth, this touch in my hands.’
‘And her flustered voice, the slight bewilderment showing through her usual impassive expression.’
‘This is definitely the Blanc I know.’
‘It’s not a dream.’
‘I can reach out to Blanc like this. I can touch Blanc like this. I can hug Blanc like this.’
“Just, just let me stay like this for a moment.”
“Yes, My Lady. I don’t know what troubles you, but if I can be of any help in this way, I will wait as long as you need.”
Though startled by Noir’s sudden actions, Blanc gently stroked Noir’s head, which was buried against her chest.
Only after feeling Blanc’s maternal warmth, which leaned more towards being ample rather than small, and her comforting touch for a long time, was Noir able to compose herself.
“Th-then, I’ll go ch-change my clothes!”
“I shall assist you with dressing, My Lady.”
“I can do it myself!”
However, the surge of excitement and embarrassment, distinct from the emotions she had just composed, was an entirely separate matter.
“Uwaaah!”
Noir chased Blanc out of the room, then promptly threw herself onto the bed.
‘What on earth have I done?’
‘I buried my face in Blanc’s chest, all because of a dream!?’
‘What must Blanc be thinking of me…!’
“Hiiieek!”
‘Bang! Bang! Bang!’
–”Ah, My Lady? What is that noise…?”
“It’s nothing!”
Overwhelmed by shame, Noir completely covered herself with her blanket, kicking it and letting out a silent scream of anguish.
–*Squish*
As she thrashed around on the bed for a while, Noir’s face happened to land on a pillow.
As expected of the Leonhart Dukedom, the pillow possessed a truly magnificent texture.
Just like Blanc’s… whose face had just been pressed against it…
“Kyaaaah!!”
‘Bang! Bang! Bang! Poof-!!’
The blanket burst apart, and only after the feathers it had spewed danced in Noir’s room could she cease her senseless kicking at the innocent bedding.
Though the blanket had already met its untimely, unjust end.
****
“Blanc! I heard from Dorothy! The school uniforms have arrived, haven’t they!?”
It was evening.
Having finished dinner preparations, when I went to My Lady’s room to call her, she asked me, her eyes sparkling.
‘How did she find out…!’
‘I tried to handle it as discreetly as possible…!’
‘Come to think of it, the knight in charge of guarding the annex maintained quite a good friendship with Lady Dorothy.’
‘Since he also received deliveries for the annex, perhaps the fact of my uniform’s arrival was leaked through the guard.’
‘I trusted him…!’
‘I didn’t specifically ask him to keep it a secret, but I still trusted him!’
“Blanc, so I have a favor to ask….”
‘Please, My Lady.’
‘Please, not that favor…’
‘Please, My Lady, just forgive me this once…’
“Perhaps, could you show me Blanc’s uniform first…?”
‘Ah…’
“My Lady, as a maid, wearing casual clothes freely within the mansion is…”
“Isn’t it also improper for a maid to refuse such a small request from her Lady? Just show me for a moment, truly.”
‘No.’
‘I haven’t even braced myself mentally yet!’
Changing out of my maid uniform and into other clothes is tolerable, but being asked to wear such a fluttering school uniform skirt? That is absolutely out of the question!
‘It would be like I’ve become a woman…!’
Of course, I am a woman now, but wearing a girl’s school uniform still evoked a certain sense of repulsion.
It might seem like a sudden, nonsensical complaint, but surprisingly, since coming to this world, I had never once willingly worn women’s clothing.
I had always worn only the sacred maid uniform, a garment that transcended the concept of gender, and before that, I wore the commoner’s attire typically worn by boys.
I had often wondered how no one found it strange for a girl to wear boys’ clothing in a medieval setting, but this world was, after all, not a medieval period from the real world, but a game-world medieval era created by otaku developers (TL Note: ‘Otaku’ refers to a person with an obsessive interest, typically in anime, manga, or video games.), so nothing was truly out of place.
The trope of a beautiful girl dressed in men’s clothing has considerable demand.
In the first place, if one were to nitpick historical accuracy regarding gender rights and sexuality in the early modern era, one should first take issue with the very existence of an academy in that period where students, regardless of commoner or noble status, wore modern, uniform-style school attire.
In the past, such loosely constructed historical accuracy had been quite convenient, but today, more than ever, I wanted to curse the developers who had crammed school uniform skirts into an early modern setting.
“My Lady.”
“Wear it.”
“Yes…”
Though I tried to resist My Lady’s will, as someone clearly bound by the master-servant relationship of a Lady and her maid, I could not refuse her request entirely.
Ultimately, suppressing the urge to cry, I had no choice but to enter the room and change my clothes.
‘Right… it was bound to happen someday anyway.’
‘Let’s just, let’s just think of it as the timing being moved up.’
****
“M-My Lady… I-I… I’ve put on… the Academy uniform….”
“As expected of Blanc. With such a good figure, any clothes suit you.”
‘Kyaaaaah!’
Seeing Blanc in her school uniform, Noir internally let out an immense cheer.
Although she questioned whether a school uniform could truly be called casual wear, this was the first time in three years Noir had seen Blanc in anything other than her maid uniform.
Furthermore, the clothes Blanc had worn back then were commoner’s pants and tops, not something so feminine; thus, the impact of Blanc in a school uniform far surpassed Noir’s wildest imagination.
Blanc, perhaps embarrassed by wearing clothes different from her usual attire, hung her head low, her face flushed, but this unusual side of Blanc only excited Noir further.
“Lady Dorothy also says so, everyone seems to like these uniforms…”
“Wait, Blanc. Dorothy? You mean you showed that appearance to Dorothy too…?”
“Yes… I happened to run into Lady Dorothy…”
‘So, I wasn’t the first one to see Blanc in her school uniform…?’
‘Dorothy, that child, stole Blanc’s first time…?’
Noir closed her eyes, imagining Dorothy’s reaction upon seeing Blanc in her school uniform first.
–”Oi oi, Lady Noir… I’m sorry, but Blanc said she wanted to show her uniform to me first, didn’t she? Kyahahaha!”
This was a slander so egregious that if the actual person knew, they would leap up and down, expressing ‘demonic injustice,’ yet Noir’s delusions showed no sign of stopping.
Although recreational novels are often perceived as lowering one’s intelligence compared to literary fiction, they are exceptionally effective at giving wings to a person’s imagination.
Naturally, Noir’s delusions—no, her imagination—had already far surpassed that of a normal person.
–”P-Please, Lady Dorothy… My uniform must only be shown to My Lady first…”
In Noir’s mind, honed by years of reading recreational novels, even a pathetic image of Blanc, in tears, showing her uniform to Dorothy, was being conjured.
“My Lady…?”
Eventually, Noir’s imagination, growing in magnitude, reached a size she could no longer handle, and her mind promptly ceased to function.
Her mind quickly restarted at Blanc’s call, but instead of regaining composure, Noir’s brain merely resumed its error-ridden delusions.
[I Became the Shuttle for the Hero’s Party.]
[The Hero Released into the World 15 Years Later.]
Suddenly, two novel titles flashed through Noir’s mind.
Although Noir did not read lewd novels, let alone the insidious and cruel demonic novels known as NTR (TL Note: Netorare, a Japanese term referring to a subgenre where a character’s partner is stolen or seduced by another, often against their will.), those novels were infamous enough for even Noir to be aware of them.
They were novels that many malicious individuals would recommend as introductory reads, alongside [Light Road], if they saw a novice picking out their first book at a bookstore.
The very fact that these two novels were associated with [Light Road] might sound like blasphemy to avid readers who consume all genres, but unlike [Light Road], which at most ends with anger, unpleasantness, and emptiness, these novels were truly distasteful pranks, as they could inflict incurable wounds on a novice if they were not careful.
Though she hadn’t read them, Noir’s hands and feet trembled at the thought of their titles.
‘Dorothy… How dare you do this to me…!’
‘Ah, aah… Dorothy…!!!’
‘One week’s worth of snacks confiscated…!’
“Hieeek!”
In the maid’s lounge.
As Dorothy was eating snacks with Anjel, an inexplicable chill ran down her spine.
“Oh, Rosy. What’s wrong suddenly?”
“Ah, Sister Anjel… I suddenly felt a chill…”
“Is it a cold? The weather has been warm lately, but please take care of yourself.”
“Yeah… I will…”
The next day, Dorothy discovered her portion of snacks had vanished from the snack basket and collapsed onto the spot.
‘Why… why are they playing such a demonic trick…?’
‘What kind of demonic person would play such a trick…?’
Dorothy stared at her empty snack basket for a long time, and just before she burst into tears, Blanc offered her own share of snacks, finally calming her.
