When Nigel informed Roshan that he’d successfully persuaded Schumacher, Roshan seemed genuinely pleased.
As it turned out, Schumacher had been at the training grounds since early morning, sparring with the other knights. He’d won every match, and his attitude afterward had been exemplary, which clearly impressed Roshan. Joining the order was one thing—making it clear he deserved respect was another, and Schumacher had done just that.
Maybe he got along well with them—Schumacher spent the afternoon hanging around the training grounds with the knights who were off duty. Since Inas wasn’t around, Nigel watched from behind the window as Schumacher mingled with the others. He couldn’t hear the conversations, but from the looks of it, things seemed to be going just fine.
In moments like this, it was clear—Schumacher wasn’t lacking in social skills or tact. Thinking about the way he must’ve been mistreated just for being a commoner left Nigel feeling oddly sorry for him. It wasn’t like nobles and commoners were fundamentally different, after all.
Nigel was a noble too, raised steeped in the usual ways of thinking. But now and then, he couldn’t help but question it. How meaningless was it, really, to divide and judge people based on their birth? Especially when Kay—the actual Protagonist of this world—was a commoner.
Of course, in the future, Mikhail Schumacher would become a villain without fail. But that didn’t mean he had to. The current Schumacher was someone kind enough to help a lost child without hesitation. Sure, he always ended in tragedy, but still.
The fact that Schumacher had taken up the cursed weapon without a single exception meant that not doing so would be something truly special. Maybe this time, things really could change. And Nigel would make damn sure he chose a different path.
If this world truly was on its final timeline, it wasn’t just personal sympathy anymore. It felt like a mission. Nigel repeated his resolve to himself again and again.
The satisfying day came to a close, and morning arrived.
It was finally the day he would meet the king. Though it was a private audience, this was still his first time formally appearing before the monarch, and the servants were visibly tense. In preparation for the midday appointment, Nigel had been pulled into grooming and dressing from the early hours.
The preparations wrapped up earlier than expected. Even with a leisurely departure, there was still way too much time left.
“I’ll rest alone for a bit,” he said, pulling away from the bustle. He wanted to relax, but lying down wasn’t really an option in his formal wear, so he just sat stiffly. When he was still the Duke, he used to go about in far more comfortable clothes. With a sigh, Nigel gazed out the window.
A gentle spring breeze drifted in through the open window. Almost as if riding that breeze, Inas quietly approached his side.
“Nigel. Are you tired?”
“Haven’t even done anything yet. I’m fine.”
“Don’t push yourself.”
“Mm.”
Nigel gave a short reply, then looked directly at Inas. There was something on his mind—that was obvious. Nigel reached out and lightly fidgeted with Inas’s fingers. At that, Inas hesitated, watching Nigel carefully before finally speaking.
“…Once you’re inside the palace, would it be alright if I monitored you?”
Nigel looked at him in disbelief. Inas lowered his gaze.
“But Nigel, you know as well as I do—the palace is a dangerous place.”
“What? No, it’s not. I’ve been going there all the time.”
“But you’re young, and if someone were to… snatch you away—”
What kind of nonsense—this wasn’t some desolate back alley. Who was going to snatch him from the royal palace? Nigel glared at him sharply.
“Forget it. The way you’re talking, it sounds less like protection and more like surveillance.”
“I won’t listen in on your conversations.”
“You can read lips.”
For someone who’d been through countless loops, lip-reading couldn’t be that hard. Inas clamped his mouth shut, not even trying to argue. At least he wasn’t lying.
“Inas… We agreed. No spying, remember? Just use as much power as we need, no more. Did you forget?”
“…But Nigel. Isn’t your life more important?”
“You saying that just makes it weird.”
You’ve killed me more than a few times, remember.
Still, he wasn’t wrong. Even when he was just the second son of the Duke of Magnus, Nigel had always needed to be cautious. Now, as the one and only divine messenger of Glarus, his safety was more critical than ever. While nothing was likely to happen today, a bit of extra caution wouldn’t hurt.
The problem was, today Nigel knew he was going to be inflicted with a status effect. He opened his Skill Window again to check.
Divine Mastery
Leaves the user with 1 HP and 1 MP, but completely heals all of a target’s HP, MP, abnormal statuses, and even permanent damage. User will suffer a random abnormal status.
A random status effect.
Given that it was a skill bestowed by Glarus, it was unlikely to be anything trivial. If it ended up being something painful, and Inas happened to witness it in real time… his fury might explode. And if that happened, even Nigel couldn’t predict what would come next.
He wouldn’t die from a status effect… right?
“Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen.”
“…Okay.”
“Just wait patiently. Oh, and we’re still going out this weekend, right? I’ll go wherever you want. If there’s something specific you wanna do, think about that. Okay?”
“…Alright.”
Nigel’s gentle tone seemed to sway him. Inas quietly relented, and maybe even looked a little pleased that Nigel had agreed to his terms. Nigel ushered him out softly.
When the time came, Nigel boarded the carriage to the palace. Though he was familiar with the place, his nerves tightened slightly—probably because the context had changed. He stepped down from the carriage with stiff posture.
Someone was standing in front of it. When Nigel saw who it was, he barely managed to suppress his grimace and bowed deeply.
“Greetings, Your Highness. I am Nigel Grau Montstein. I have come at His Majesty’s summons.”
The one who’d come to receive him was none other than Prince Esian.
Of all people…
Esian and Nigel were technically meeting for the first time in this loop. But in Nigel’s memories, Esian was a lecherous prince. He’d run the country decently enough, but his personal life was a mess. He picked fights with Nigel constantly—and according to Inas, there had even been a loop where Esian had tried to forcefully claim him.
Nigel had no desire to spend even a second alone with him—but it wasn’t like he could start trouble with a prince. He raised his head and lowered his gaze in silence.
Esian’s eyes swept up and down Nigel’s body, unashamed.
“So you’re Nigel.”
He grinned and grabbed Nigel’s chin, lifting it.
“They say you’re the messenger of the gods. Seems like the gods chose their envoy based on looks, huh?”
He wouldn’t have spoken this casually even to a commoner, let alone a noble. Nigel smiled awkwardly, unsure how to respond—but Esian only grew bolder.
“Heard you can heal Countess Diaramin?”
“Yes.”
Esian narrowed his eyes, staring at Nigel like he was a con artist.
“If you’re lying, His Majesty might hang you upside-down from the palace gate.”
“It’s not a lie.”
“If you come clean now, I can help you out. Could turn out real nice for you…”
His voice trailed off suggestively as his eyes raked over Nigel.
What a fucking lunatic.
The pathetic intimidation and lust from a boy who hadn’t even come of age was laughable. Did he really think a bit of threatening would scare Nigel into submission?
It wasn’t frightening—just pathetic. Frankly, Nigel pitied his past self, who’d once had to serve this guy as king.
He remembered how Esian had always antagonized him, picking fights like some thug pretending to be royalty. No wonder Inas had gotten serious whenever his name came up.
Esian jabbed Nigel lightly in the side, snapping him out of his thoughts. Nigel flinched instinctively, and Esian burst into laughter.
“You’re jumpy.”
“……”
“Let’s go.”
“Yes.”
When Nigel’s expression darkened, Esian cleared his throat and started walking as if nothing had happened. Fortunately, the carriage had been allowed past the inner gates, so the royal audience chamber wasn’t far. Nigel quickened his pace, wanting this over with.
“So? What’s your answer?”
“…Pardon?”
“Do you need my help? Better to ask before you end up in a tough spot.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m not trying to scam anyone.”
“But didn’t you lose your spot as heir to some weirdo? If you’ve got nowhere else to go, you might consider coming to me.”
He hadn’t really lost it, but whatever. If he had, the phrasing would’ve been offensive. Esian clearly wanted to see him break down in anger or despair—but Nigel responded calmly.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be alright.”
“Hmph…”
Esian’s brow furrowed at the anticlimactic answer. Unfortunately, not giving him the reaction he wanted didn’t seem to dampen his interest in the slightest.
“You got any plans later?”
“Yes.”
“How about staying in my quarters for a while? Bet we’d have some real interesting conversations.”
He ignored Nigel’s answer entirely and made the offer anyway. Nigel barely suppressed a sigh.
“I’m honored, but I must return to the duchy.”
“You’re so uptight.”
“……”
Nigel could feel his patience running thin. Maybe telling Inas not to spy had been a mistake. If he had been watching, he probably would’ve hexed Esian on the spot—and Nigel wouldn’t even blame him. Sure, it’d cause a political scandal, but part of him… kind of wanted to see it.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to endure this bullshit much longer. They soon arrived at the door to the king’s private chamber.
“Well, think about it.”
Still grinning like a clown, Esian gave a playful wink and sauntered off.
