Into the Manuscript (4)
Cleio bolted into the bedroom, fleeing from the cat.
"I should get dressed first. What a sight I must be."
Two identical outfits hung in the wardrobe — clearly a uniform. A white shirt with a stiff, detachable collar, a gray vest, and a long-tailed black jacket formed the set.
Thud—Bang—Mraow—Food!—Mraow!
She hadn't even finished buttoning her shirt when the cat started ramming the bedroom door from outside.
"Ha, now you finally understand what I'm saying, you wretched servant—how dare you defy me?"
The cat leapt at her the instant she opened the door, and Cleio's light body tumbled across the floor under its weight.
"…You talk well for a cat."
"Meooowwwrrrk!"
The massive feline went wild. Entangled on the floor with it, Cleio simply gave up on trying to make sense of anything.
"Well, in a world where people use both swords and magic, maybe it's not strange for cats to talk too."
The cat was warm, soft, and utterly insufferable. It pressed its front paws against her chest again and again until Cleio gasped,
"Ugh, fine, I'll feed you. But you have to answer a few questions first."
"Ha! A stupid illegitimate student trying to think? Do what you're good at and bring my meal."
Quick and nimble despite its size, the cat sprang out of her arms and arched its back, tail lashing. Clearly, it was obsessed with food.
"I'm… an illegitimate student?"
"Don't play dumb. Even a cat like me knows your father poured a fortune into bribing your way in here."
Oh. So the father's rich, but the kid's not too bright, huh.
That background sounded like a blessing.
"Our wise and brilliant cat knows everything, I see. Then, this dull human would like to ask a few things."
"It's true that I'm wise. But what kind of question could justify starving me, hmm?"
"Have I been feeding you every day?"
The cat glared at Cleio, who was still lying sideways on the floor. Its eyes narrowed, whiskers twitching.
Then a golden gleam flashed in its black pupils, and suddenly it rose up on its hind legs.
"You—you're not Cleio Aser!"
Sharp kitty.
Cleio sat up awkwardly.
"And who are you?"
"The one who feeds you."
"Feeding me is obvious!"
"Right, I will. But how can you tell I'm not who you think I am? Can other people—or cats—notice too?"
Even if it was just a cat now, it would be a problem if someone more important realized that the person inside this body wasn't the original Cleio.
After all, she'd entered this world planning to live comfortably on her rich father's money, not get caught up in drama.
"The Eye of Truth that sees the essence of existence—power from before the world was split into nine realms! How could anyone imitate this sacred cat?"
Cleio didn't laugh or react, just stared blankly to humor it.
"Amazing. Incredible. So cool. So only you can see through things like that?"
"Precisely."
Good.
Or maybe it was sad that only the cat noticed the switch. The kid had drowned, and half a day later not a single friend had come looking.
"Anyway, food! Mraowww!"
"You're cuter when you don't talk."
Another whirlwind of "meow-meow punches" struck Cleio.
"You little brute!"
She barely dodged a paw swipe.
"Cat, what's your name?"
"As if I'd tell you!"
"So, you don't have one."
"No one dares name me, the noble feline that I am!"
"So… you don't have a name."
"How dare a mere human—"
Standing upright like a two-legged creature and pointing accusingly at her, the cat really was enormous and pitch-black.
That gives me an idea.
"From now on, you're Behemoth. Sounds great, doesn't it?"
"You dare give me such a blasphemous name?!"
"Our magnificent Mr. Behemoth seems to like it."
"Who said that?!"
"Behe."
"Meooowww…"
"Our Behe."
Now back on all fours, the cat—Behemoth—pretended to protest but secretly seemed pleased with the name.
"Hmph. Since you begged so earnestly, I shall permit it. Address me as the noble Mr. Behemoth, foolish human."
"Sure, sure, noble Mr. Behemoth. I've got a question—ever since I fell into the river yesterday, I've lost my memory."
"You haven't lost it. You're Cleio, but not Cleio."
"Still, I'm Cleio Aser for now."
The cat snorted.
"Which means I need to know a bit about myself. I'd appreciate if the great Mr. Behemoth could guide this humble fool."
Flattered by the gentle coaxing, the cat's nose lifted, and it began to talk freely.
Before long, Behemoth proved to be an excellent informant. Having lived on campus for ages, it knew absolutely everything about the school.
Every year, it watched the new students carefully and picked the weakest one to make its personal food servant—its sharp observation skills were unmatched.
"So, in your eyes, I was the weakest, easiest target among the new students this year."
"At least you're self-aware. But the real Cleio never mouthed off to me like you do!"
"Sure, sure. Go on, I want to hear more of your wisdom, oh noble Behemoth."
"Ahem, listen well. You weren't just lacking ether sensitivity—you also lacked common sense. You stayed locked in your room crying every day, so of course you had no friends. If your father's the richest man in the country, at least spend some of that money, tsk tsk."
It seemed that in this school of ambitious, talented students, Cleio had always been the odd one out.
"I even watched your entrance exam from the window. Your ether sensitivity was so low you couldn't even make a light. Pathetic, last-place student."
"Aether…"
At dawn, Cleio recalled what she had reread in the manuscript using the "Memory" of Promise.
In this world, there existed a unique power known as Aether. Only those born with Aether Sensitivity could harness it.
Swordsmen and magicians trained to store Aether within the vessel of their bodies.
The swordsmen imbued their bodies or blades with it, while magicians projected Aether outward, shaping it into spells through magical formulae.
And the place where the finest swordsmen and magicians of the Dernier Continent were trained — was none other than Albion's Royal Capital Defense Academy.
"Right. Prince Arthur could already sheath his sword in Aether even before entering the academy, but he hid his strength and enrolled as the lowest-ranked student."
But in this version of the manuscript, it seemed that she—Cleio Aser—had taken the spot beneath even that lowest place.
"Well, who cares if I'm not talented? I've got money. I'll just live on as the last-place outcast."
It wasn't like there were thugs around to beat her up or steal her money. If they ignored her, she could just ignore them right back.
"I'm thirty-two years old—like I'd care if a bunch of teenagers give me attitude."
"Hmph. But you—your Aether Sensitivity has skyrocketed overnight."
"Huh?"
"Seems like you won't be crying yourself to sleep because you can't keep up in class anymore."
"Wh—what?"
The cat tapped Cleio's left hand lightly with its paw.
"I can feel a terrifying amount of Aether Sensitivity from this empty little hand. Your Aether Level has jumped all the way to two. Did you eat something weird off the riverbed yesterday?"
Even this sharp-eyed cat couldn't see the ring on her left hand — though Cleio could see the platinum band clearly.
"Promise!"
"Normally, Aether is power that comes from beyond this world… but your level of Sensitivity? Once in a century, perhaps rarer. Ah, I see now — that's why you can finally comprehend my noble words."
"!!!"
Something clicked in Cleio's mind.
'That line — [―Grants the user infinite Aether Sensitivity.] … That's what it meant? If Aether is power from outside this world, then Promise is basically a cheat item!'
At this point, she began to wonder if this wasn't the manuscript at all, but her own delusion. A rich father, effortless genius powers—too convenient to be real.
"Well, Aether Sensitivity is meaningless if your vessel can't contain it. You're too weak and frail to ever become a swordsman."
"True enough. Yeah, that makes sense."
"But!"
"What now?!"
"Show me your right hand!"
The cat's command was so firm that Cleio obeyed without thinking.
"Ha! Incredible! You've gained a Unique Skill! Surely this must be the blessing of a Goddess!"
"A Unique Skill?!"
"I didn't sense it at first — too faint — but on the back of your hand lies a Stigmata! What kind is it?"
A Stigmata…?
Of course, the previous version of the manuscript had mentioned Unique Skills and Stigmata. A Stigmata was proof of a special encounter with a vanished Goddess — the mark of one who'd obtained a Unique Skill.
"Weren't Unique Skills the ones that could create subspaces and unleash massive area attacks? Cool, overpowered stuff like that. What kind of power could come from something that looks like a furniture dent mark?"
Cleio examined the back of her right hand closely.
A faint, rectangular outline — about 2.5 cm wide, 3 cm tall — etched in pale white lines.
She couldn't make sense of it at all.
"I don't know. Behe, can't you tell what it means?"
"If you don't know, how could anyone else? Hmph! I am mighty, yes, and I can at least read the name. It's called 'Editor Authority.' Never have I seen a Skill with such a bizarre name. If you're curious, why don't you activate it?"
"…And how do I do that?"
The cat gave her the most exasperated glare imaginable.
"Must I spoon-feed you even that?! Just think it and it will activate! I've answered all your questions — now feed me!"
Losing its patience, the cat began to thrash around furiously.
She didn't even have to call for help. The cat's howling was so loud that an attendant arrived on their own.
At last, the triumphant cat began devouring a dish of boiled chicken, happily snuffling into the porcelain bowl, ears perked. It was, admittedly, kind of cute.
Watching it eat, Cleio fell deep into thought.
"Am I… actually the imaginative type? Or am I so worn out from life that I've escaped here completely…?"
No — there was no way she could've imagined magic, Stigmata, or any of this on her own. This was clearly the author's design.
[Since you'll be assisting with future manuscript revisions, I promise to reward you properly.]
That line from the author's email… in hindsight, it all seemed to have been leading to this very situation.
"So they pulled me into the manuscript, fine. But why give this passing side character any kind of special talent? And what's with this 'Editor Authority'…"
An uneasy feeling crept up her spine.