The sun hung low like a lazy god, its golden light gilding the rooftops of the castle town as we made our way back. My arm still ached faintly from where the dagger had slipped past my defense. My head ached more—still processing what it meant to be used like a puppet.
Regina hadn't said a word the entire walk back. She didn't hum, didn't scold, didn't offer any sign of acknowledgment—not for the attempted murder, nor for the fact that I'd taken a knife for her. Maybe she wasn't used to gratitude. Maybe she didn't know what to do with it.
But there was one question gnawing at me, clinging to the corners of my mind like cobwebs.
I finally asked it, my voice quieter than I intended:
"Why doesn't the Count live with you in the mansion, Miss Regina?"
She flinched—just slightly. A twitch of the shoulders. Barely noticeable. But I caught it.
She didn't answer.
Not a word, not even a grunt.
Just silence.
We reached the mansion in silence, passed the gates in silence, and ascended the stairs in silence. Only the distant hum of drills from the camp and the occasional chirp of a streetbird broke the quiet.
I handed her the tea she requested. Warm. Fresh. Exactly as she liked it—half sugar, no milk.
And then—
[Scholar's Mate System Notification]
Pawn Activated.
You may now summon a Pawn unit or integrate its base stats temporarily into your own.
Summon: The Ambitious Footman
HP: 60
ATK: 12
DEF: 8
SPD: 14
MRES(magical resistance): 6
Mana Cost: 1 Unit (Low)
Weaponry:
Iron Short Sword
Round Buckler
Passive Abilities:
Interlock Formation – Gains +10% DEF, +5% MRES per adjacent Pawn (up to 3).
Echo of Ambition – Upon death, buffs nearby allies with +5% ATK for 10 seconds.
Appearance:
Dressed in deep blue velvet trimmed with silver. A crescent moon insignia gleams on the shoulder.
Helmeted, posture rigid. Young. Familiar.
It looks like… me.
I nearly dropped the tray.
"You okay?" Regina asked, sipping without looking up.
I nodded stiffly, hiding the floating screen behind my blinking eyes. The Pawn looked like a polished, uniformed version of myself—a loyal footman clad in crest and iron. The devotion in its expression unsettled me. Was that what I'd look like if I actually belonged somewhere?
---
She finally spoke again, her voice slow—like every word had to bypass invisible thorns in her throat.
"Father hasn't come home… not since Mom died."
I blinked. That wasn't the answer I expected.
"He was away in the capital when it happened. Official duties. He's a Count—he can't afford to be present when it matters, apparently."
Her voice didn't rise. It didn't tremble. It just… flattened.
"There were attacks before. They always failed. But the last time…"
Her eyes drifted to the window. The castle's silhouette loomed beyond the glass, basked in sunlight like a fairytale lie.
"She died saving me."
Silence again.
Then, softer:
"Mother was a visionary. Said mana wasn't divine—it was just energy. Like heat. Like wind. Not something sacred. The Church didn't like that."
She let that hang, curling steam from her tea fogging the space between us.
"They couldn't move against her openly. Not while she had influence, and not while Father supported her. So they got creative. Cowards always do."
I swallowed hard.
So the Countess had been an innovator. A rebel. A heretic.
And the Church?
They'd made sure her fire was snuffed out.
"She wasn't just smart," Regina added, "She was strong. Her sister—Commander Rose—took after her. But Mother had this fire in her. She never needed to shout to be heard."
I thought of the woman I now served. The quiet, sharp glances. The sociopathic detachment. And beneath that? Something raw and still bleeding.
"She had long black hair, like Aunt Rose," Regina murmured. "And amethyst eyes. One of mine comes from her."
She didn't say anything else.
---
I left her room in a daze, the new Pawn data still pulsing at the back of my mind. My stats had shifted ever so slightly, but it wasn't just that. The whole Scholar's Mate thing—it felt like the board had moved again. The pieces weren't just concepts anymore.
They were real.
And something about that—the terminology, the synergy bonuses, even the stats themselves—felt eerily familiar.
Like this wasn't native to the world I was in.
Like whoever made this system had known my world.
Was there… someone else?
Was I really alone in this isekai nightmare?
Or had someone been here before me… and left behind their blueprints?