I thought I would be immediately admitted to the Royal Academy... but it didn't happen that way.
First reason.
It's vacation time.
Schools in the capital all have similar vacation periods, and now it's summer vacation. For reference, not only the Royal Academy, but also the Clockwork Knight School that Victoria attended are in the capital.
And the second reason.
They invited those who helped people in Bern City to the royal palace to honor them. Several, including Victoria.
They say it's a profitable business in terms of maintaining order as public awareness improves just by officially giving awards like this.
However, it's annoying that in all media, only the touching stories of those who helped people in the sudden disaster are coming out.
The story of why such a thing happened is completely missing, and they focus only on individual narratives.
In other words, this Bern City incident is likely to be either fabricated or a fatal problem that's difficult to solve immediately.
Thinking that I look forward to the second disaster, I was shipped to the royal palace.
Yes, shipped.
The afternoon of the day the letter arrived. Literally, an airship stood above the house. And people wearing exoskeletons came down in droves and dragged me to the airship.
They said they were escorting me, but it was no different from abduction in that I had no right to express a different opinion.
I was led by them and arrived at the capital in a day.
I looked down at the royal palace from the airship.
Walls painted as if made of wood, decorations and structures made of brass, and wide glass windows and cast iron frames occasionally visible between them.
On the contrary, high spires built with stone and pointed roofs. Arches stretching in all directions.
Two types of buildings from different eras are in harmony in the middle of a vast garden. And the surroundings of the royal palace are encircled by military bases.
The airship stood at a docking station a little away from the castle.
As I came down, I glanced at the airship.
It has propellers, but they're too small to be used for floating in the air. They probably use a light gas. Since I didn't have time to look closely, I thought it would be interesting if it was hydrogen, and I followed the person wearing heavy armor.
For reference, they resemble the space marines in faded man's memories. It seems human aesthetic sense doesn't differ much more than expected.
Anyway.
I arrived at a certain place in the palace.
It was a place that looked considerably sturdier than others. A building that feels like it reduced aesthetic sense and increased practicality.
I thought I might now be dragged away and made to drink spicy broth through my nose, but nothing like that happened.
After passing through several doors, and with fewer people following me each time I passed a door, when finally only one person remained.
I met a man with a face full of fatigue.
I know him because he's appeared on TV a few times. This person is the king of this country.
"Hello."
As I greeted him, his eyes wrinkled slightly. His face is filled with disgust.
But judging from his expression, it's closer to the disgust that passes by when there's no etiquette or manners, rather than saying he hates people.
Originally, etiquette is a means to control lower people by higher people, and to divide the level between people.
It's the behavioral pattern called habitus.
The reason why people who suddenly became rich are disparaged as nouveau riche is simple. Because they don't know the behavioral patterns that real rich people have, they become just ruffians with a lot of money.
In that way, it's natural for people to frown when they see someone behaving in a way that doesn't match their status.
I must look like that kind of person too.
"Are you Belle? The foreigner who bestowed the miracle called blessing on people."
The way he speaks is strange.
He must have received reports about me, but does he speak like that?
Or is it some kind of test?
I don't know much beyond reading emotions.
Well, I should do what I've been doing. Not lying, and consistently. Do only one action.
"I use the name Belle now."
It means it's not my real name.
"What is your original name?"
"I don't have one. When you're alone, you don't need a name."
There are words that describe me, but there's no other to call that sea.
Ah, of course, if I leave the bottom alone for a long time, something presumed to be of the same kind does appear, but they steal my warmth so I killed them all, and I'll kill any that appear in the future too.
Stealing my warmth?
That's the one thing I can't stand by and watch.
Meanwhile, he's busily examining me.
He looks me up and down, and I stare blankly at that.
There's no reason to be nervous. Of course, as long as there's a potential harvester called a person in power in front of me, I need to somehow coax and persuade them to make a contract to create an automatic harvesting system.
But I don't do that.
No matter how much my head doesn't work well, I know what I know.
The moment I show desire, that will strangle my neck.
I don't arrogantly think I can win against experts fighting with sociality as a weapon. One mistake can be fatal.
Therefore, I hold my breath and endure, endure, and endure until I can certainly bite the neck.
Humans eventually grow old and weak.
Will they be able to resist one opportunity then?
It's extremely difficult. Most humans will succumb.
Living beings can resist pain and being cut down, but it's nearly impossible to resist becoming better. It's not others, but yourself becoming better, right?
You can't even be jealous. Because it's yourself.
If they were full of flesh and suffering from adult diseases, that period would have been a bit shorter.
For a person in power, this person's body is too well-trained.
It's disappointing.
"Yes. I've heard various stories about you. That blessing. Are you willing to use it for our royal family?"
I forcibly held back the smile that was about to form.
Voluntarily becoming a harvester? I want to say, by all means. But here I have to hold back. Not yet.
A little more.
"I do it if you wish. Do you wish?"
I say that the choice is made by themselves, and that I'm just a simple vending machine that does as asked.
It's a question that pushes away, saying that I move objectively, so the subjectivity is only yours.
The king responded to my question like this:
"I wish."
"Yes, I understand."
I nodded. Originally, I should add that it's three people a day here, but in this world, I've already made thousands of people in a day.
Saying three people is not only about controlling harvester production, but from the perspective of the person who has me in their possession, if I make three people a day, they don't have to worry until the next day.
In other words, their vigilance decreases.
Now that I've gained many memories and understand, the reason Yasle let me loose quite freely was because he could feel at ease after making three harvesters.
The foreign being that does everything you say wasn't much of a problem. The problem was other people approaching the foreign being that listens too well.
The target of vigilance changed from me to people approaching me.
In that sense, it was a good choice.
It's already too late, so I'll pass on the regret.
Anyway, the king calmly explained what I would be doing here. Stories like doing as he commands, attending the Royal Academy, and what to learn in the future.
There's no explanation anywhere about why I should do so. It's the way of speaking to a slave.
And he says this:
"From now on, you will stay in the royal palace. If you follow our words, we will also fulfill what you want to do."
What you want from me is what I want. But I swallowed those words. The conversation is flowing so well that I wonder if this is okay.
And the king called the man standing at the door. Surprisingly, he's a general. This person.
Isn't a general someone who should be wearing a uniform and stuck in a place like headquarters? Why is he wearing such heavy armor?
Or is it a world where even generals are consumed?
While I had such trivial questions, the two had a brief conversation and then the king left this room together.
Huh? Am I not going to be thrown into a breeding cage like this?
They told me to follow, so I go somewhere with them.
We left that building and headed towards the outskirts of the palace with over dozens of soldiers, to a place presumed to be a military base.
And we entered a particularly white building there.
The people inside were about to salute the man at the front, but seeing the king behind him, they knelt and bowed.
The king, with a tired expression, told them to get up and took me inside. And he stopped at a certain place.
This is just a space with chairs, but through the window, I can see long hoses and strange devices dangling on people.
Ah.
This was a hospital.
I know that even if limbs are blown off, it can be resolved with magic, but there are quite a lot of people with fatal injuries here.
Some people are covered with blisters, and some have amputated parts turned green. While there are people who look like soldiers, there are also children lying down who can't be considered soldiers.
At that moment, an old man came out opening the glass door.
"Your Majesty. You cannot go in any further than this."
"You're still stiff even after quitting as a royal physician."
It was a rude remark, but neither the king nor the doctor seems to mind much.
The soldiers behind glared at the doctor, but when the man called the general at the front gestured with his eyes looking back, everyone lowered their eyes.
"I'm just doing my job as a doctor."
The old doctor didn't even care.
Then the king pointed inside and said:
"The patients in here. Let's see them here with this one. Perhaps, all can be healed."
At the king's words, the doctor stares at me. His face is full of wrinkles, but his eyes are clearer than young people's.
The doctor put special clothes on me and the king. After bundling us up like that, we went inside with the king.
If you ask, they say all patients who cannot be treated by magic alone are here.
I recited the contract text.
It's okay even if they're unconscious. This is transmitted directly through light.
The hair of everyone inside turned purple. And almost more than 90%, their skin turned blue.
But, without exception, they all regained their health.
While the old doctor was looking at me with examining eyes, the king said to me:
"Thank you."
So I said this:
"You wished for it."
All the responsibility is yours. I have no intention of taking any responsibility.
There are people who are astonished at being revived, people who are amazed that their skin has turned blue, and people who are crying and praying while looking at me.
I look at the king.
Because I read a strange eagerness in his expression.
The attempt to verify my ability is too fast.
There's someone?
Someone who needs me.
Hehe.
It should be easy to dig in.