That World of Otome Games is Tough for Us - Volume 2 - Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

Stephanie and Carla

ONCE MARIE HAD BEEN brought to Offrey territory, she was promptly locked in a room of their castle. Maids were always posted at the door, presumably keeping watch to ensure she didn’t escape.

“This place isn’t as bad as I thought it’d be! It’s way more luxurious than my dorm room, and they even feed me. Incredible.”

Marie hadn’t expected such comfortable accommodations. The interior was impressive, as if the Offreys were flaunting their wealth. Even the furnishings were top of the line, as far as she could tell. Aside from the window bars that stopped her from escaping, it was an ideal space.

A round table stood in the middle of the room, set with lunch dishes the maids had brought. Marie hadn’t missed a meal since she arrived. Once she finished feasting, she dabbed her mouth with a napkin and smiled.

“They told me I’d have a boring life, locked away in this room. But frankly, this is luxury as far as I’m concerned. They feed me well, and I’ve got servants to do all the chores—I don’t have to help out. Could this actually be exactly what I always wanted?”

Stephanie probably thought her family was treating Marie coldheartedly, but what the Offreys considered the bare minimum was actually comfort Marie had only ever dreamed of.

“I can’t believe how filthy rich these people are.”

Although Marie was enjoying her environment far more than she’d expected, sudden loneliness overwhelmed her when she finished her meal. Maybe she was still hungry? That thought crossed her mind for a fleeting moment, but she already knew the real reason: It had been a long time since she’d eaten lunch alone like this.

Not long after enrolling at the academy, she’d met Leon, and her days became livelier than ever before. They always had lunch together.

“It’s lonely being all by yourself. I should’ve realized sooner.”

This was the life Marie had hoped for—in a way, at least—but the delicious meals and luxurious furnishings did nothing to relieve her isolation.

She gazed downward. “If this is what it’ll be like, I’d have been better off staying at the academy, regardless of the chaos that would’ve entailed.”

Still, all she had to do was grin and bear this for the next year. As long as the plot played out correctly, the Offreys would be destroyed.

There was only one thing she was particularly apprehensive about. She hadn’t brought it up with Leon. There was a chance that, married to the Offrey heir, Marie might get pulled into the family’s downfall. She would technically be Ricky’s wife, whatever the circumstances of their union, so she would be on the wrong side of the conflict. 

When Olivia and her chosen love interest arrived to take down Stephanie’s family, responsibility for their crimes could conceivably fall on Marie’s shoulders, too. There was no way to know whether she could escape that or if she’d be caught in the undertow.

Regardless, she had no intention of going down without a fight or paying for sins she hadn’t committed. She’d prepare for her escape as the time neared.

Marie sat up straight. “If I were the protagonist, someone would probably swoop in to rescue me. Sadly, I’m a random background character, just like Leon, so that’s not in the cards. This world’s been so incredibly unfair to me!”

Her death in her old world hadn’t been pleasant, ­either, but since reincarnating, her life had been a series of hardships that no viscount’s daughter should’ve endured. Enrolling in the academy and snatching up a love interest had been her only conceivable out; none of those boys had given her the time of day, though. In the wake of all that, she’d thought she finally found a little piece of happiness despite the odds, only for it to be snatched away. And now, here she was.

“Maybe I should’ve told Leon to save me after all… No, I couldn’t. Messing with the plot could spell the end of the whole kingdom.”

Marie bitterly recalled all the Game Overs she’d found while playing the game. Things were better this way. Or so she told herself.

“Hm? That’s odd. My after-dinner coffee should be here by now,” Marie murmured—though she’d realized it only after shaking those negative emotions and focusing on the present. That was one of her strengths: compartmentalizing and shifting her attention from one thing to another.

At that point, the door burst open without any knock or forewarning. An irritable Stephanie marched in, Carla shadowing her.

“Not only do you devour every meal we provide, you even ask for seconds. Aren’t you the least bit depressed?” Stephanie demanded.

Marie shrugged. “My parents taught me never to waste food.”

“Waste?” Stephanie huffed in disbelief. “You’re consuming more than your fair share!”

“Your cooks went to all the trouble of making these meals. I’d be doing them a disservice if I failed to show appreciation. Don’t you think it’s proper etiquette to clean your plate?”

Stephanie sneered. “I don’t buy your excuses for a minute. You can keep them to yourself!”

The dishes the Offreys provided Marie were those prepared for their servants, rather than the sumptuous meals served to actual members of the household. As far as Marie was concerned, however, they were still delicious. She didn’t feel the least bit spurned by her hosts.

Stephanie was so vexed by Marie’s impudence that her expression twisted. She’d hoped to instill fear in her captive—to dash Marie’s hopes to the point that she couldn’t eat a single bite she was served.

“You really know how to piss me off.” Stephanie shook her head, trying to regain her composure. “No matter. Having to marry Ricky will be punishment enough.”

Marie was simultaneously taken aback and disgusted. I mean, I guess she has a point, in a way. You can have an unlucky marriage. But isn’t it a little much to call marrying her brother “punishment”? Fair enough, though—the groom being Ricky does feel like punishment. Is it karma for my actions in my last life? Maybe, if it was karma, it would explain her suffering.

“This is just what you get for messing with another girl’s fiancé,” said Stephanie. “Lord Brad would never so much as look at a woman like you. Still, you must be penalized for even making the attempt, mustn’t you?” She snickered.

Seriously? That’s your motive?! I mean, sure, I shouldn’t have done that, but you really know how to hold a grudge. Nevertheless, that reason did make more sense than karmic retribution for misdeeds in her previous life.

Pity overwhelmed Marie as she stared at Stephanie, thinking of the miserable end that awaited the girl. “Um…I’m sorry?” she said, expression tinged with reluctant sympathy.

“It’s a bit late for an apology now. Do you really think I’d forgive you? And what’s with that weird look on your face? It gives me the creeps.” Stephanie couldn’t understand Marie’s pity, and it unnerved her.

“My lady,” Carla interrupted, “it’s about time.”

“You don’t have to tell me! I already know!”

“M-my apologies.” Carla retreated a step and lowered her head. 

That little interaction was all Marie needed to puzzle out the dynamic of their relationship. For a split second, there’d been a glimmer of loathing in Carla’s eyes. I guess she’s just as human as anyone else, even if she’s one of Stephanie’s followers.

Stephanie hadn’t seemed to notice it at all. Quite the opposite, in fact; there was something about the way she looked at Carla and treated her. On the surface, her words and actions were callous, but that was all bluster; Marie saw straight through it.

Hold up. Is Stephanie actually…? Marie didn’t finish the thought, but she had a nagging feeling she was right. She’d spent enough time working in adult circles to catch on to these sorts of things.

“Keep up the bravado while you can,” Stephanie told Marie. “Your little lover will meet a tragic end himself soon enough. When that happens, I’ll be sure to fill you in on all the details.”

Marie’s eyes widened at the mention of Leon. Amused, Stephanie smirked at her and stamped out of the room. The door slammed shut behind her.

Marie shakily exhaled. “If you mess with him, my ­efforts to bear this will be for nothing. What now?”

She couldn’t shake the feeling that the plot was headed straight for disaster, all of its own volition.

“Oh, Stephanie, you pitiful girl,” she murmured.

***

On the day of Marie’s wedding, the Winged Sharks pirate fleet took formation in the skies above the Offreys’ castle. They deployed all eight of the vessels at their disposal; the largest, captained by their leader, was over two hundred meters long.

The pirate captain was a giant of a man with rippling muscles and an eyepatch over his left eye. His skin was dark as tanned leather, lending him an even more traditionally piratical appearance.

The captain’s shipboard quarters were furnished with the most expensive of his crew’s loot. A chest in one corner sat cracked open, revealing a wealth of gold and silver items piled haphazardly inside.

A beautiful young woman approached the captain, carrying a liquor bottle. She looked starkly out of place on this ship. Setting a glass down beside the captain, she filled it quickly with amber liquid.

“The Offreys are so helpless, asking us to guard them ‘just in case,’” she said.

The captain reached for the glass, grinning. “Managing their gains and losses is more important to them than their pride. They paid us a ridiculous amount in advance, so we’ll play our part as they asked—at least until after the wedding.”

The woman crossed her arms under her breasts. “Do you really think anyone will disrupt it?”

The captain drained his glass. “Who knows? Someone managed to take down Dudley while he hid out in the capital, and he was one of our best men. Word has it the Offreys’ young miss stole the culprit’s girlfriend and dragged her here.”

Forcing Marie to marry Ricky was Stephanie’s way of exacting revenge.

The woman furrowed her brow. “If he took out Dudley, he must be awfully skilled.”

“Doesn’t matter. He’ll be no match for me. I’ve got my ace in the hole.”

“I know, I know. No one out there could defeat you.”

The captain was wrapping his meaty arms around her when a subordinate’s panicked voice echoed through one of the ship’s speaking tubes.

“We’ve got trouble, Captain!”

The captain growled in displeasure, but he released the woman and stalked off to the bridge.

***

“What idiot is picking a fight with us?”

When the captain reached the bridge, enemy warships had already lined up, blocking his crew’s path forward. There were five vessels total. One was a splendid piece of craftsmanship, but the other models were far older. The enemy vessels flew flags with crests, which indicated that they were owned by aristocrats. Sadly for them, they lacked the manpower to oppose a pirate fleet as infamous as the Winged Sharks.

“Only a handful of ships, and they think they can hold their own against us? Must be a bunch of reckless young nobles hungry to make a name for themselves,” the captain scoffed with an exasperated shake of his head.

The weary first mate slid up beside him. “Nah, that ain’t it, Cap’n. Take a good look at the crest on the fancy ship’s flag. That’s House Bartfort. The Offreys warned us about them.”

The captain narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the flag fluttering furiously in the wind. His first mate was right. That was definitely the Bartfort crest.

A fresh wave of murderous rage swept over him as he recalled that a certain Bartfort was responsible for disposing of one of his top men. His mouth twisted into a sneer. “Wonder if the bastard who did Dudley in is on that ship?” he muttered. 

Beside him, his long-suffering first mate scratched his head calmly. “Ain’t confirmed it yet. Still, safe to assume he came to reclaim his girlfriend, right? I figure he’s probably aboard. But couldn’t he scrape together a finer force than that?” Under his breath, he added, “Not much profit to be made off that puny contingent they’ve got.” He was like a predator eyeing the prey in front of him.

The captain was no different. “Suppose the best we can do is capture the Bartfort warship and pawn it. Looks like it’ll fetch a high price.” He licked his lips.

The first mate shrugged. “Plannin’ to take your Armor out there and board ’em?”

“Of course. I don’t give a rat’s ass that they felled Dudley, but no one humiliates the Winged Sharks and survives. I’m gonna take down the Bartfort brat personally.”

There was a twinge of exasperation in the first mate’s expression, but he nonetheless issued orders on the captain’s behalf. “Cap’n’s headin’ out. You all better get your asses in gear!”

***

Eight Armors lined the deck of the Bartfort warship, one with enough extra ornamentation to quickly convey that it belonged to the fleet leader. Nicks was piloting that suit in what would be his first-ever battle.

“How many Armors do those pirates have?!” His nose wrinkled. Fury simmered within him, mixed with anxiety about the conflict to come.

He was flanked by knights he’d known since he was a boy. As impressive as “knight” sounded, though, they were all from the countryside like him. None even looked the part of the strapping warrior, and they were all far too casual and easygoing.

“Don’t charge out too far ahead of us, all right, Young Master?”

“Yeah. We’d like you not to pull the reckless kinds of stunts your little brother always does.”

“If you keep close, it’ll be easier to cover you.”

The middle-aged men’s scruffy faces grinned idiotically at the coming battle. 

Nicks was at his wits’ end with them. “Quit calling me ‘Young Master,’ would you? Get off your butts and let’s go!”

Will these guys really be any good out there?! Nicks was close with all these men, of course. Yet their slovenly appearance lent little assurance that they would do well on a battlefield.

Nicks climbed into his Armor and yanked the hatch shut, closing himself off from the sight of those familiar faces. Safely seated in his cramped cockpit, he paused to draw in a long breath. Tension tingled under his skin as he guided his suit into the skies.

Other Armors from ally ships joined them, but all were older models. They were so battered and damaged that their patchwork repairs jumped out at you. That spoke to the poverty of Nicks’s comrades, making him feel that much guiltier for involving them.

In stark contrast, Luxion had personally prepared the suits Nicks and his knights piloted; they all looked brand new. Nicks had no idea how Luxion procured the suits, but they were incredible. What made him nervous was their lack of numbers. They only had eight of those Armors.

“Leon, I question your decision to drag your friends and family into this,” Nicks mumbled. “I’m not sure we’ll hold our own against an infamous band of pirates.”

***

As he sat in his own Armor, observing the enemy, the pirate captain practically tasted victory.

“Only eight,” he muttered to himself. “Those models look nice, but their allies will be little more than baggage on the field. Guess I’ll start by taking out their best!”

The captain’s suit was significantly larger than the ones around him. An Armor as massive as his would ordinarily be slowed by its weight; that was standard for this world’s technology. Yet though the captain’s Armor was a behemoth, it was nimble. It was also powerful enough to twirl a massive longsword easily in one hand while carrying a rifle in the other. It had been outfitted with extra plating in the form of jagged, spiky ornamentation, as was the captain’s preference. From the look of it, anyone could guess it was a pirate’s Armor.

While his subordinates charged forward, launching themselves into the fray, the captain set his sights on the decorated Armor he assumed was their enemy’s leader.

“You must be this little armada’s commanding ­officer, huh? Good. Best to take off the snake’s head first!” shouted the captain.

As he charged, he fired at the decorated Armor. Once he was in range, he heaved his longsword over his head.

“Your luck ended when you came here to face me.”

As the sword plunged down, his lips curled into a ­maniacal grin. He could already picture the blade cleaving right through the enemy Armor’s plating. 

Yet before steel met steel, a voice echoed overhead. “Take off the snake’s head first, huh? I can get behind that.”

“What?” Inside his cockpit, the captain’s head snapped up. His Armor followed the movement, and an Armor of black and ashen gray—even larger than his own—quickly appeared before him. 

This Armor’s design was decidedly different from the sleek one currently so popular worldwide. It was massive, with thick plating; it was also equipped with a backpack consisting of three separate chambers, which only increased its already unwieldy size. What shocked the captain most was that, despite its unfathomable weight, the suit was also terribly swift.

“Gah!” the captain grunted. He hurriedly fell back, trying to put distance between them.

The enemy Armor whizzed through the air in front of him, plummeting downward. When the captain craned his neck to follow the movement, the black suit had already changed course, swiftly looping around behind him.

“That isn’t the Black Knight, is it?! No, no. It can’t be,” he told himself. “That old man wouldn’t turn up at a skirmish like this.”

He never wanted to face the Black Knight if he could help it. That man was a frightening figure. Pirates and other knights alike quaked at the thought of him. As the captain’s head cooled, however, he deduced the black suit’s true identity easily enough.

This was Arroganz, the Armor that had taken out Dudley. Its pilot was none other than Leon Fou Bartfort.

“You’ve got some nerve, acting as if you’re the Black Knight himself! I hope you don’t think you’ve got a chance in hell against me, kid!” The adrenaline pumping through the captain’s veins made his voice resound; spit flew from his mouth. 

A box he’d brought into the cockpit with him began to radiate light, and his suit’s steel plating creaked and groaned. Extra energy flowed into its magic power reactor, lending him even more power. 

He accelerated faster, pursuing Arroganz. “You bastard! I’m going to crush you myself!” 

The captain aimed his gun at the fleeing Armor. Mana flowed from the box in the cockpit, concentrating itself in his rifle barrel, and a magic circle manifested in the air. Using earth magic, the captain conjured hundreds of thousands of impossibly sharp stones. The moment he pulled the trigger, they launched, traveling as fast as any bullet.

This secret technique had allowed him to rise to his prominent position within the Winged Sharks.

“You’re going be riddled with holes after this!”

Arroganz couldn’t dodge every shot, so some of the stones found their mark, slamming into its outer plating. One, two—and, by the end, dozens more. Even after that barrage, however, its exterior looked none the worse for wear.

The captain’s furor abruptly subsided, giving way to fear. “Why won’t you go down? Why?!”

Arroganz barreled toward him. “Sorry,” said Leon. “My partner specially crafted this suit for me.” As he neared, his left arm shot out.

The captain swung his longsword erratically. “What do you mean, ‘specially crafted,’ huh?! My Armor’s ­special, too!” 

He poured all his power into his attack, but as he gripped the control sticks, he encountered resistance he’d never felt before. Although the steel of his sword should’ve cut right through Arroganz’s plating, it barely left a scratch before the blade shattered into a thousand pieces.

The captain froze, speechless. His eyes followed the scattering silver shards as they fell in what seemed like slow motion.

“You’re gonna return the little trinket that makes you so ‘special,’” Leon replied. “It belongs to Miss Olivia, not you.”

His hand enveloped the pirate’s head—the head of his Armor, anyway—and emitted a blinding light. After that, everything went dark for the captain.