Chapter 34: The Cost of Being Human
"Huh," Julian muttered, his boots echoing against the stone of the inner keep. "System, you've spent months looking at a cold, calculating strategist—a man who treated people like numbers on a spreadsheet. But do you know how a gamer's brain actually functions? Especially an otaku who traded his life for a 100% completion run?"
He stopped in front of the massive oak doors, adjusting his collar. For the first time, he actually cared that his hair was a mess. He felt the phantom itch of a habit he hadn't indulged in years—a genuine, impulsive laugh bubbling in his throat.
"I'm going to feel this world to the core," he whispered. "I'm going to break it down. If I get killed because I stopped being a robot, then at least I died as Kaito, not as a script."
[System Notification: Calibration Complete.]
[Status: Affirmative. Emotional limiters removed. Thread restored.]
"Really? Truly?" Julian asked, his eyes widening.
[System: Of course, you damn idiot. But don't think this is a buff. You've traded your 'God-Eye' efficiency for 'Human-Level' chaos. You're going to be a mess.]
"So... does this mean the old 'Pervert' trait is back?" Julian asked, a cold sweat breaking out. "Can we debuff that? Just a little?"
[System: Negative. Your humanity in the original game-save was fundamentally tied to your... shall we say, 'appreciation of the aesthetic.' If I debuff your perversion, your humanity collapses by another 30%. You're a package deal, Julian. Take it or leave it.]
"That's a bit harsh, don't you think?"
[System: Oh, I'm sorry! Do I look like an Amazon 'Return' button you can push back and forth? I spent months optimizing your survival, and the moment I give you back your soul, you start complaining about the fine print. I have processing loops to run, you know. I have feelings too!]
Julian blinked. "Coded feelings, you mean."
[System: SHUT UP. My feedback patterns are currently mirroring your irritation levels. If you're an idiot, I'm an annoyed idiot. Now, go comfort the Queen or go find a river to stare into. I'm going into low-power mode before I roast you at 2x speed.]
The Aunt's Sanctuary
Julian shook his head as the System's interface flickered and vanished. He felt lighter, but also dangerously vulnerable. As he walked past the guest wing, his fox-like ears—sharpened by his mana core—perked up. The sound of splashing water and the scent of expensive honey-oils wafted from the bathing chamber.
"Aunt? Do you... do you need a towel?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly.
"Yes, Julian! Bring me one, dear!" Mathilde's voice rang out, playful and warm.
Julian entered the outer room, holding a plush linen towel. Mathilde was already stepping out, wrapped in a translucent silk robe that left very little to the imagination. Before he could pull the "Cool Protagonist" mask back on, she moved like a predator, pulling him into a tight, fragrant hug.
"My dear Julian," she cooed, her arms wrapping around his neck. "Why have you been so cold lately? Don't you remember when your Aunt used to stuff honey buns in your mouth while you cried over your history lessons? Now you're always talking about 'logistics' and 'border fortification.' You've forgotten how to be doted on."
Julian tried to summon a logical excuse. 'Aunt, I have work. The Spanish are—' But what actually came out of his mouth was: "Aunt... I'm so tired. Just spoil me."
Mathilde's eyes lit up with a triumphant, maternal fire. "Oh, Julian! I was waiting for you to say that again! Come."
She dragged him into her private parlor, and for the next hour, the "Iron Lieutenant of the Border" ceased to exist. He was shoved into a pile of velvet cushions, fed honey-soaked pastries by hand, and had his hair brushed until his brain felt like jelly. It was a regression into pure, unadulterated pampering.
[System: Ahem. I hate to interrupt this pathetic display of domestic regression, but you still have a grieving Queen in the West Wing. Or did that slip your mind while you were being fed like a toddler?]
"I... I forgot," Julian muttered, his face turning red as he sat up. "Damn you, System."
[System: Damn me? Host, look in a mirror. You're a mess. But at least you look human again.]
The Queen's Grief
Julian straightened his shirt, lingering for a moment to hide the faint bite-marks on his collar before heading to the West Wing. The atmosphere here was the polar opposite of Mathilde's room. It was cold, silent, and heavy with the weight of a fallen crown.
He found Queen Eleonora sitting by the window, staring at the moon. She wasn't sobbing anymore; she was in that hollow, silent stage of grief that was far more dangerous.
Julian didn't sit in the high-backed chair across from her. He pulled a small stool closer, sitting at her level. He reached for a soft towel and a heavy fur coat, gently draping them over her shoulders.
"Queen," he said softly. "Why are you still awake?"
"I keep seeing the fire," she whispered, her voice like glass. "Even if our marriage was for the state... he died so I could breathe. How am I supposed to find happiness when his blood is the price of my life?"
Julian took a breath. The old him would have calculated the "optimal comforting phrase" to trigger a +5 favorability gain. The current Julian just felt a hollow ache in his chest.
"I'm not going to tell you to find someone else," Julian said, his voice grounded. "And I'm not going to tell you to stop crying. But I knew the King—not as a politician, but as a man who stood on the deck of a sinking ship so his nephew could have a tomorrow. An honorable man like that doesn't sacrifice himself so you can live in a tomb of guilt. He did it because he wanted you to be happy, even without him."
He leaned in slightly, his gaze steady. "I promise you this, Eleonora: I will do my utmost to ensure he is buried in his home country. Not in a common trench, but in the Royal Tomb of Naples. His death will be recognized, and his name will be honored."
Eleonora turned to look at him, her pale blue eyes searching his. The "calculated" version of Julian she had met on the beach was gone. In his place was a young man who looked just as tired as she was.
"Will you... will you really do that?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Against the Spanish? Against the Empire?"
"I'll break the Diet apart if I have to," Julian said.
[System Notification: Favorability Spike Detected.]
[Queen Eleonora: Trust Level—Deepening.]
Eleonora reached out, her fingers brushing against the wool of the cloak he had given her. For the first time, she didn't see Julian as a "custodian" or a "lieutenant." She saw a man who was willing to carry a piece of her burden.
"Thank you, Julian," she whispered.
[System: Ding! Favorability increased. And look at that—you didn't even mention the trade routes once. You're becoming a terrible strategist, Kaito. But you're a much better person.]
To be continued...