Chapter Text
Candidate found. Beginning synchronization.
I hear a cool, synthetic voice speaking from… somewhere. It’s hard to place it, given that I’m not even sure where I am.
Synchronization complete. Beginning System integration.
I feel something like pain, but before I can devote much time to analyzing it, I’m distracted by the realization that I have nothing to feel with. My existence is entirely insubstantial.
System integration complete. Beginning memory upload.
Ah. I must have died.
Strange as the thought is, it brings me some immediate comfort. I’m dead, and whatever oddness is occurring around me can be chalked up to the last firing synapses of a dying brain.
Upload error. Memory data corrupted. Retrying…
Data corrupted? That’s odd. I pull on my incomplete memories, searching for an explanation. Head trauma can interfere with the brain’s ability to retain memories, though if I recall correctly, anterograde amnesia primarily affects information learned after the injury, not before.
Upload error. Memory data corrupted. Retrying…
Then again, I am dead, and somehow still experiencing whatever this is. The rules of normal logic probably don’t apply anymore, so trying to find an explanation would more than likely be a waste of time.
Upload error. Memory data corrupted. Retrying…
I feel a flash of irritation as the voice repeats itself for the third time, and find myself wishing it would just quit already.
Administrative override detected. Beginning partial memory reconstruction.
…Whatever this thing is, it responded to my thoughts. A bit creepy, but cool.
Partial memory reconstruction complete.
I feel an odd sort of mental stretching , which I can only assume is my reconstructed memory fitting itself into place.
Core processes initializing.
Liberator System, version 3.0.13, now online.
The “Liberator System?” Well, the name’s evocative, at least. And the specific term System makes me think of a few science fiction novels I’d read in my spare time. Some sort of super-computer strong enough to warp reality, or at least what the protagonists perceive as reality.
[Welcome, User 3.]
I’m somewhat startled by the fact that the voice seems to be addressing me directly this time. Until now, it was just background noise, but now it’s trying to communicate. Kind of wish I could talk back. I mean, sure, it can read my mind, but that’s still a bit weird for me.
[Stand by.]
I blink.
I… blink.
Blinking doesn’t make much difference—I’m still floating in a featureless void, after all—but it’s really amazing how much you take having a body for granted. You can’t smile or frown without a face, can’t change your tone of voice without lungs and a throat, can’t shift your posture without bones and muscles. I do a quick inventory, flexing my extremities, pleased to feel everything in its proper place.
“That’s more like it.” Hearing the sound of my own voice, a husky contralto, makes me feel as if a missing piece of myself has returned. “Thank you…” I trail off. “What should I call you?”
[There is no “I” or “we.” Past Users addressed their communications to “System.”]
“That seems… I dunno, a little too impersonal. Seeing as I’m only alive right now because of whatever’s going on here, it’d help to be able to conceptualize you as… well, you. Know what I mean?”
There’s a pause, and I wonder for a moment if I’ve inadvertently pissed off this unknowable entity. But then, to my relief, the voice speaks up again.
[Updating User preferences.]
“Appreciate it. So, same question.”
[I do not have a designated form of address. I am an interface designed to facilitate use of the Liberator System by communicating with the User. Past Users addressed their—]
“Yeah, you said that already.” I consider their choice of words, flipping them around in my head. “Hmm… ‘Liberator-User Communications Interface.’ I’ll call you LUCI. How’s that?”
[…Updating User preferences.]
“Thanks, LUCI.” I glance around me. Even with the benefit of eyes, I can’t tell any more about my surroundings than when I was insubstantial. “Think you could move us to… somewhere? Hard to focus on anything when I’m surrounded by the endless void.”
[Stand by.]
I blink.
I’m in a room. Nothing particularly special: the sort of bland tiled ceiling, plain carpet, and blank walls that you might expect in an office building. The table and chairs in the center of the room reinforce that impression. I’m briefly disconcerted by the room’s lack of a door, but LUCI must have picked up that thought, because the far wall ripples for a moment as a door appears. Not that it would go anywhere, but human sensibilities of comfort are hard to shake.
A few final details materialize into place: a blank whiteboard occupying most of the wall opposite the door, a medium-sized mirror hanging to my left, and to my right, a framed landscape of an olive tree growing on a hill.
[Reconstruction of ‘Somewhere’ complete.]
“Cool.”
I approach the mirror and look into it. A young woman with dark irises and deep bronze skin looks back, attractive in a way I’d call handsome rather than pretty: rich black hair tumbling just past my shoulders, a strong aquiline nose, high cheekbones, and eyes framed by long lashes and bold eyebrows. Based on my appearance, my age could be anywhere from late teens to early thirties. I smile at myself, and the expression I get in return has the sort of effortless charm that gets shyer girls tripping over their words. And judging by how natural that thought felt, I can probably conclude that I’m mainly interested in other women…
While there’s nobody nearby to compare myself to, I get the sense that I’m of above average height. LUCI seems to have dressed me in a plain, loose-fitting set of white clothes that wouldn’t be out of place on a hospital ward, but I can still make out the contours of my body beneath them. My curves don’t quite measure up to the lush fullness of the ladies I used to sneak looks at on the beach, but they’re nothing to scoff at, either, and beneath them are muscles built for endurance rather than quick bursts of activity. “So this is me, huh?”
[This body is a manifestation of your ideal self, constructed from your memories and desires.]
“My ideal self? Not that I don’t appreciate the generosity, but I get the feeling this whole thing has some strings attached.” I make my way over to the table and pull out a chair, sitting down. “I suppose I should get the basic questions out of the way, then. What’s this ‘Liberator System’ for, and why am I part of it now?”
[The purpose of the Liberator System is to create a hero who will deliver worlds from oppression. Candidates to carry the System are drawn from the souls of the recently deceased. You are the third such candidate, and thus, have been designated as User 3.]
“The third, huh?” I glance to either side of me, as if expecting two other people to materialize beside me. “What happened to the other two?”
[User 1 and User 2 are no longer connected to the Liberator System. They were inadequate.]
I feel a chill run up my spine. So there are conditions to this, after all. I expected as much. “Inadequate… how?”
[User 1 was naive. They believed that freedom was something to be earned, not taken, and devised their strategy according to that belief. They served as opposition to the ‘undeserving’ who shared their goals but not their methods, emphasized their own righteousness, and attempted to appeal to the conscience of a foe that had none. Their followers lost faith in them, and their attempts at diplomacy with the enemy were met with predictable treachery. With the prospective allies they had discarded no longer capable of retaliating, the progress they had made was erased by their death, and the boot of tyranny stamped out the last hope of that doomed world.]
“And the other?”
[User 2 was complacent. They believed that freedom was something to be granted, not won, and devised their strategy according to that belief. By securing their own position of authority, they hoped to undermine the system of oppression from within. For a time, they found some measure of success: it cannot be denied that their efforts bore fruit. But as their authority grew, so too did their desire for security. They began to make moral compromises for the sake of protecting their own power. By the end, they were no different than those it was their duty to destroy. The machinery of power utterly consumed them, and so the System withdrew support.]
I take a moment to consider LUCI’s words. It’s as much a warning as an answer to my question: this second chance at life I’m being given is not without limits. If I die again , that’s it. And if I lose sight of what I’m meant to be doing… well, “the System withdrew support” leaves it ambiguous as to what exactly happened to User 2, but I doubt it’s the sort of thing I’d want to experience for myself.
“What exactly does the System’s support entail?” I already have an idea of what the answer will be, but it’s always best to know as much as possible.
[The System will provide you with the abilities, equipment, and support you require to achieve your objectives. You will be able to choose those which best suit whatever approach you adopt. If you have no further questions, then we can proceed to your selections.]
“All right, then, LUCI, let’s get started. Though, first… if I’m going to call you by name, it’s only fair you do the same.”
[Please state your preferred form of address.]
”It’s Leila.” Despite the fragmented state of my memories, the name feels comfortably familiar.
[User preferences updated. Very well, Leila. We will begin with your Background. This will determine your starting circumstances in the world you are to liberate. There are a multitude of possibilities, but for the sake of convenience I have chosen a selection that might suit you.]
With a shimmer, three files appear on the table in front of me. Each one’s front page is labeled with a different word: [Insider], [Outlaw], and [Scion]. I pick up the files and look over the brief summaries.
[Background: Insider]
Whether as a bureaucrat, soldier, or spy, you serve the very authority you must bring down. Majorly negative Reputation, negative Notoriety, medium Resources. Special: Security Clearance (Begin with access to sensitive information.)
[Background: Outlaw]
You are a known thorn in the side of your enemy, likely to attract both allies and enemies. High Reputation, medium Notoriety, low Resources. Special: Established Cell (Begin with a base and a group of like-minded comrades. Select an additional Companion.)
[Background: Scion]
A youth from a well-to-do family, you are driven to act by conviction rather than necessity. No Reputation, no Notoriety, low Resources. Special: Family Heirloom (Begin with a unique and powerful item.)
I immediately discard [Insider]. Whatever its benefits, it’s clear that carelessly choosing it might lead me to the same fate as User 2. Even without LUCI’s earlier warning, I don’t like the idea of pretending to cooperate with the enemy. The major hit to Reputation would make finding allies a pain, anyhow.
That leaves [Outlaw] and [Scion]. [Outlaw] is an attractive option: beginning my mission in that position will give me a much-needed foothold. However, I’m not fully confident in my leadership skills, even if the System will be backing me up, and that makes me wary of being immediately responsible for the safety of other people. Especially if I already have a target on my back from the starting Notoriety.
So [Scion] it is. That will give me time to evaluate the situation and plan accordingly. It doesn’t hurt that I’m curious about the sort of things available from “Family Heirloom.”
[Background: Scion has been selected. Proceeding to secondary selection for Special: Family Heirloom. Bear in mind that options not chosen may become available at a later date.] Another trio of files appear in front of me.
[Item: Kusabimaru]
A weathered katana imbued with the memories of a one-armed shinobi. Its owner will inherit his swiftness and agility, along with the instincts to use his sword in battle. Special: Deflection (User can defend against almost anything by guarding with the blade.)
[Item: Memento Mortem]
An odd pocket-watch with a strong connection to death. When in the presence of a suitable target, it vibrates in its owner’s hand. Special: Fate (Opening the pocket-watch while it is vibrating will take the user to a tableau of the moment of the target’s death.)
[Item: Powered Armor]
A flexible, strong suit of armor that enhances the physical abilities of its wearer. At baseline, it is fitted with advanced weapons and capable of flight. Special: Modular (A skilled technician will be able to enhance the capabilities of the armor, adding new abilities.)
I’m tempted to pick Powered Armor immediately. Something that can already protect me and increase my mobility, with the potential to become even more useful? It seems too good to be true. And it is, I realize. I have to be wearing it to access its benefits, and a suit of armor is hard to conceal. I’d probably end up using it as a crutch for any area I was deficient in, and that could prove problematic if I’m caught without it. Some situations require subtlety, after all.
Memento Mortem definitely sounds interesting, and it would definitely be helpful to determine how and why someone died, but being able to pinpoint the culprit of a murder has limited utility. Unless I end up hunting for a hidden traitor in my own ranks, basic investigation should serve me just as well.
”I’ll take Kusabimaru,” I tell LUCI, and grin, satisfied that it’s the best choice. Katanas are just cool.
[Item: Kusabimaru has been selected. Adjusting Background accordingly. Proceeding to selection for Companion.]
“You mentioned it earlier, but what exactly do you mean by ‘Companion?’”
[A Companion will be dispatched to the world alongside you. They can serve a variety of roles: a second-in-command, a bodyguard, an administrative assistant, a mentor, an adoptive sibling, a best friend, a lover…] I can’t help but blush at the last one. LUCI almost sounds amused. [In short, choose whichever Companion strikes your fancy. Bear in mind that options not chosen may become available at a later date.] Another set of files appears on the table. This time, there are five of them. I look over the front pages before skimming through for more details.
[Companion: Alphard Al Sheya]
The leader of a terrorist organization known as Snake. A mercenary who lives for the thrill of combat, skilled in the use of firearms and explosives as well as psychological manipulation.
[Companion: Alicia Melchiott]
An idealistic baker from a small countryside town who volunteered for the military to defend her homeland. When in danger, her latent abilities as a Valkyria allow her to transcend human limits.
[Companion: Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower]
A noble hunter of Yharnam who seeks to atone for atrocities committed in the service of the Byrgenwyrth scholars. Unlike her fellow hunters, she rejected the temptation of the Old Blood, preferring to rely on her own skills.
[Companion: Urbosa]
The proud chieftess of the Gerudo, appointed as a Royal Champion due to her skill as a warrior. She can harness the power of lightning with a mere snap of her fingers, and is fiercely protective of her friends.
[Companion: YoRHa 2B]
A battle android from an organization that has waged a millennia-long war “For the Glory of Mankind.” She has mastered all forms of armed and unarmed combat, and possesses skills both as a pilot and a covert agent.
Unlike the previous times, each of the personnel files has a picture attached. “Say, LUCI, I can’t help but notice that every single one of these choices is an attractive woman…”
[The options provided were chosen specifically to appeal to you, Leila.] The System sounds smug, and I can’t help but chuckle. Got me there, I guess.
If I’d picked the [Outlaw] background, Alphard would have been an instant lock for my team: she seems to be an expert in the sort of situations I’d find myself thrown into. As it is, though, I immediately remove her from consideration. Something about her smirk in the attached image tells me that she isn’t the sort of person who’d be content to watch and wait while I feel out the situation.
On the opposite end of compatibility, Alicia is also out. Going by her biography, she’d be a great fit for someone with a more optimistic point of view, like User 1. I’m not operating under any illusions of palatable resistance, though, and while Alicia seems dependable when the chips are down, she doesn’t seem like the kind of person willing to shoot first.
Urbosa would be a solid choice, but a rather self-centered part of myself warns me against picking her. She has the air of someone accustomed to wielding authority, and… well, I’ve always been the type to do whatever a beautiful woman asked me to. I imagine I’d fall comfortably into a subordinate position. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I feel a certain obligation as the one the Liberator System chose to succeed or fail on my own merits.
That leaves Lady Maria and 2B. Both of them wield katanas (though Maria’s also has the look of a cavalry saber), so either one of them would be a good sparring partner. As an android soldier, 2B has a wider variety of skills but a rigid mindset to match. Maria, as a hunter, would need to be flexible and self-sufficient, especially to have survived so long in such a dangerous career.
To be honest, the YoRHa motto is a red flag for me: the words “For the Glory of Mankind” seem to be designed to inspire a near-fanatical loyalty. If I want to keep myself on the right path, I’ll need someone willing to question me if I come close to crossing the line, and a soldier like 2B is much less likely to commit that kind of insubordination. Maria is certainly no stranger to having blood on her hands, but the fact that she’s seeking atonement probably means that she could serve as my conscience if it comes down to it.
“I choose Lady Maria.”
[Companion: Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower has been selected. Selections complete. Uploading System Skills.]
I feel the same stretching as when my memories were reconstructed, and details of my new Skills flood my brain.
[Core Skill: System Integration]
You are the host of the Liberator System. You are able to communicate with the System and access its guidance and support functions.
[Skill: Mind, Body, and Soul]
You are exceptionally conditioned. The negative effects of hunger, exhaustion, stress, injury, and external conditions are significantly reduced.
[Skill: Proficient Student]
You are able to learn new skills and put them into practice as though you were a prodigy. Your skills will improve even faster under the instruction of a skilled mentor.
[Skill: Social Intuition]
You are more perceptive than most. You find it easier to gauge the sincerity of others’ words and respond appropriately.
[Skill: Unity of Purpose]
You are a leader by example. When working for the sake of your designated goal, the efficacy of mental processes is increased, and your authority is more likely to be respected.
[Upload of System Skills complete.]
All of these things will definitely be helpful. It’s a relief to know I’ll be able to communicate with LUCI even after leaving ‘Somewhere,’ since having extra guidance is never a bad thing. The other skills, especially [Social Intuition], will help me adjust much more readily to being in a new world, while [Unity of Purpose] will help me avoid bone-headed decisions so long as I think things through. “Thanks, LUCI.”
[You are welcome. Best of luck, Leila.]
I hear LUCI’s voice again, but this time it’s far off and impersonal, like it was when I first arrived.
Synchronizing System with destination.
Executing data integration.
Executing memory fabrication.
Initiating World Transfer.
“Hey… you feeling okay, Leila?”
I’m sitting in a desk next to a window, cheek propped up on one hand, when a young woman’s voice pulls me out of my reverie.
“What?” I turn to look at her. She seems to be about my age, with long orange hair, green eyes, and a face that’s pretty in a girl-next-door sort of way. Like me, she’s dressed in a pale yellow jacket over a white shirt, black skirt, and monogrammed green tie. My fabricated memories identify her instantly. Shirley Fenette. Captain of the Swim Club and member of the Student Council, as well as a good friend of mine. A more distant part of my mind notes where I must be. Ashford Academy, in the Tokyo Settlement. That means I’m in the alternate Earth of Code Geass, which makes my opponent the Holy Britannian Empire.
She gives me a quizzical look. “You were spacing out again!”
“Sorry, Shirley. I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“If this is about the fencing meet, you don’t need to worry!” Shirley pumps her fist encouragingly. “I doubt any of the other academies have anyone even close to your level, so we all know you’ll do great!”
I smile at her, shaking my head. “No, it’s not that. I just received a message from back home not too long ago…”
“Oh…” Shirley’s cheer falls away, and she stares at the floor. “I’m sorry for being insensitive. I can leave you alone if you want—”
“There’s no need to apologize. Really, knowing that I have people like you looking out for me makes it a lot less intimidating to deal with everything.” That gets a faint blush and a smile out of her.
“If you want to talk about it, I can listen. Or I can just sit here with you.”
“I appreciate it.” And not just because I have a cute girl to look at while I get my thoughts in order.
I’m Leila Fresberg, age twenty. In this world, I’m an orphan. My grandfather Villem, the current Viscount Fresberg, is widely regarded as an eccentric, having married an opera singer he met on his travels abroad. They had only one child together: my mother Dahlia, who took after him by marrying a foreigner—specifically, Iori Ashina, the son of a distinguished Japanese family. Ten years ago, both of them died during the brief war with Britannia. Whether they were killed by the invasion forces or by locals seeking a target for their ire is unclear, and I suppose it doesn’t really matter. Either way, they were dead, and here I was: not quite a Number, but hardly a proper Britannian either. (My lone memento of my father, his family’s sword, reinforced that divide.) My grandfather never recovered from his daughter’s death, and his health has taken a sharp decline over the intervening years. It’s only a matter of time before he dies, and the title of Viscount Fresberg passes to me. Until then, I’m enrolled in Ashford Academy, an institution that provides secondary and tertiary education, with most students graduating at around twenty-one years old.
Hey, that’s a pretty good backstory, LUCI. I can tell you put some care into it, even if it does check more than a few of the boxes for ‘tragic heroine.’
[Your critique is noted.]
Oh, come on, I didn’t mean it like that. If anything, it helps to establish a strong motivation for ‘me’ to do what I already came here to do. And it neatly sidesteps the possible problem of having my family used against me in the future. Score one for ‘no living relatives!’
[…Cavalier dismissal aside, the compliments are appreciated, Leila.]
Shirley has been waiting patiently while I silently sort through my affairs. I sigh deeply and speak up. “You’ve heard about my grandfather, right?”
“Yeah, I remember you talking to Milly and Lulu about him a couple of times. Is he…?” She trails off, leaving the word ‘dead’ unspoken. “Lulu,” meaning Lelouch Lamperouge. The protagonist of this world, in the absence of any outside factors… like me. I compartmentalize that thought and focus on our conversation.
“Not yet, but the doctors say it’s only a matter of time.” I’m surprised how muted my sorrow feels for a man I’ve supposedly known all my life, but I suppose that’s the effect of [Mind, Body, and Soul]. I wouldn’t be a very effective Liberator if something as mundane as grief was able to slow me down. That’s a grim thought.
“I can’t begin to imagine how you’re feeling.” That makes my heart twist. She might not be able to now , but if things go canon’s way, it’s only a matter of time before she has more than her fair share. I resolve to myself not to let that happen. “If there’s anything any of us can do for you…” Shirley impulsively leans forward and wraps me in a hug. I catch vanilla-scented shampoo and a faint whiff of chlorine from her morning swim as I take in a deep breath. Huh. Is that something that gets me going? What other wild frontiers of perversion have I yet to explore?
[As far as kinks go, scent is hardly—]
That was rhetorical, LUCI. Also deliberately hyperbolic, for the sake of a joke.
[Is that so?]
Hey, you’re stuck in a front-row seat to my thoughts. You might as well enjoy my sense of humor, such as it is.
[Of course, Leila.]
I hug Shirley back, firmly telling myself not to enjoy it. I have a purpose in this world, after all, and it’s not to cuddle up to attractive ladies. Even though, as I recall, there is no shortage of attractive ladies in this world.
LUCI’s acerbic voice cuts through that train of thought. [Leila. I do not expect you to take a vow of abstinence. You are meant to be a hero, not a hermit. And having people you’re close to in this world will be an extra incentive to make it better.]
…I firmly tell myself not to enjoy it too much .
“Shirley! Leila!” A blue-haired boy pops his head into the room. “There you are. Milly’s been looking for you.” Rivalz Cardemonde, Student Council secretary and extraordinarily average guy. His most standout feature is how much he doesn’t stand out, but at least he’s genuinely nice.
“What does our esteemed Student Council President want this time, Rivalz?”
Rivalz shrugs, shaking his head. “Your guess is as good as mine, but she said it was something that required everyone’s attention.”
“So either there’s a major crisis, or she wants to dress everyone up in silly costumes.” I exchange a look with Shirley, who giggles nervously. Somehow, she’s the one who usually ends up with the most scandalous outfits. Probably because Milly likes girls almost as much as I do.
“Sheesh, I hope it’s not a crisis…” mutters Rivalz. “Anyway, she sent me to track you down and bring you to Ashford Hall.”
“I suppose we had best not keep Madam President waiting, then.”
Shirley groans, but doesn’t protest. “Fine, let’s get this over with.”
More than a few students call out to the three of us as we make our way across campus. Shirley and Rivalz have lots of friends, since they’re naturally easy to get along with, but I’m surprised at the number of people talking to me specifically. Britannia’s system of “Numbers” is designed to dehumanize the people subjugated by the empire, reducing them to little more than drones. This discrimination is the very bedrock on which Britannia is built, made plain in their motto: “All men are not created equal.” My status as a half-breed doesn’t seem to dissuade them from acting friendly, so I can only assume that either my own status or my proximity to authority is the cause: after all, I’m both a member of the student council and the captain of the Fencing Club. Either way, it bodes well for my future efforts. People are far likelier to change their ways when confronted by an equal rather than an inferior.
“Oh right, Leila,” says Rivalz as we approach the building. He winks at me. “Stick around a bit after we’ve wrapped up, yeah? We’ve got a couple things to discuss…”
“This had better not be about gambling with Lulu again,” says Shirley in a testy voice. I affect an air of clueless innocence.
“Shirley, please, do you truly have such a low opinion of me?” It’s absolutely about gambling, isn’t it.
[It is almost certainly about gambling.]
Shirley rolls her eyes, but doesn’t say anything else.
Ashford Hall (or the Charles Percival Ashford Student Government Building, to give it its full name) is a rather ostentatious construction, more like a Victorian manor than a schoolhouse. With three floors, a full kitchen and dining room, a lavish bathroom on each floor, no less than six bedrooms, several sitting rooms, and an honest-to-goodness ballroom , it’s a monument to the wealth and taste of Britannian nobility. A monument to their excess, too… though I suppose that’s a bit hypocritical, seeing as I live here. One of the benefits of being on the Student Council is having rooms reserved for us in Ashford Hall, but only a few of us are taking advantage of that; the others are perfectly content to live in the dorms with the rank and file.
The other three members of the Student Council are already present when we arrive, gathered around a table in the middle of the ballroom. One of them bounds to her feet the moment we come through the door. “Finally! I was beginning to think you’d managed to get lost!”
Honey-blonde hair, twinkling blue eyes, and a mouth that seems to possess a predisposition to an expression of vulpine mischief (along with a tall, curvy body that’s the envy of half the girls here). Milly Ashford, the Student Council President and granddaughter of the headmaster. She might as well run the Academy herself, with all the latitude her grandfather gives her, but she’s so charming that you can’t help but go along with her.
[To say ‘you cannot help it’ is a rather weak-willed perspective.]
Okay, so I might have a little bit of a crush. So sue me. She’s fun to be around, sexy as hell, and she isn’t shy at all about liking girls, so I might have a shot with her.
I give Milly a broad grin and launch into a rather overwrought monologue. “How could I possibly get lost, with such a lovely lodestar to guide me? ‘Twas only a matter of time before my affection drew me back to the warmth of your embrace.” Apparently, I have a natural flair for theatrics.
Milly puts a hand to her heart and flutters her eyelashes at me. “How right you are, my sweet prince. Truly, I shall never doubt you again.” She steps forward, gazing soulfully into my eyes. Behind me, Shirley huffs in annoyance.
“Do you two always have to do this?”
Milly and I maintain eye contact for a moment longer before both of us break down laughing. She waves a hand carelessly. “Hey, a girl’s gotta have fun somehow, and Leila’s the only one who’ll play along with me.”
“The rest of us can barely keep up with you, much less play along,” Rivalz grumbles good-naturedly.
“N-not to spoil your fun, but…” The girl who speaks up has black hair tied into pigtails, round glasses, and a timid demeanor. Nina Einstein, the treasurer. She’s a natural genius, but painfully shy and emotionally unstable. If she’s pushed over the edge, the weapons she helps to develop will unleash untold horrors on the world. I’ll have to be careful around her.
“Right, right, to business then.” Milly holds up two fingers. “We’ve got two things on the docket this morning: one pleasant, one less so. Good news first: starting next week, we’ll have a new member!”
“What brought this on?” says Shirley, looking puzzled. “We don’t usually take on new members in the middle of a term…”
“Well, this is an unusual situation. We’ve heard from the Stadtfeld family, and it seems like Kallen’s condition is stable enough for her to return to classes full-time. We can’t waive the extracurricular requirement, but we can make it easier on her by giving her a place on the Student Council.”
“Easier, huh? I’ll have to remember to bring that up next time you have us going through some kind of strenuous activity for an alleged fundraiser,” I say.
“That’s only because I know that you can take it,” Milly replies, getting a laugh from the others.
Yeah, I wouldn’t mind “taking it” from Milly in some “strenuous activity.”
[Your innuendo could use some work. Perhaps a bit of subtlety.]
Shut it, LUCI.
“Secondly…” Milly’s expression becomes far more grim, and all trace of mirth leaves the room. “There was an incident downtown early this morning, some kind of explosion on top of an office building. Accounts differ as to why it happened, but it was definitely not an accident, and there was at least one confirmed Britannian fatality.” The specificity of that statement isn’t lost on me. What about the “Elevens?” How many of them died?
Instead of that, I ask “What about the perpetrator?”
“Still at large,” says Milly. “With that in mind, we’re planning on releasing an advisory statement to the student body urging them to remain on campus unless it’s strictly necessary, and not to travel alone. The city is sure to be on edge.”
“The city is always on edge.” The last member of the Student Council speaks without looking up from her book.
Wait… HER?
[Is something the matter, Leila?]
Uh, yeah? That’s definitely not the protagonist I was expecting to find here.
[This seems as good a time as any to state that your expectations may not align with reality.]
No shit. I wonder what else is different…
I look at the vice president, finding hear at once strange and familiar. Her dark hair, strikingly violet eyes, and sharp features have half the student body swooning over her, though she’s never shown any interest in reciprocating their affections. Behind the mask of apathy that she puts on, I know the turmoil that’s brewing. Lelouch… no, Lucia vi Britannia. The woman who would destroy the world, and create it anew. The woman who will lose almost everything, make a monster of herself, and face her death with countless regrets.
Even without the supernatural power of compulsion, she’s a formidable intellect and a natural-born schemer. She’s at the top of the list for people I want on my side, and the one person I absolutely don’t want opposing me. Fortunately, her motives are fairly easy to read. There are only two things she wants: safety for her beloved younger sister, and revenge against the nation that left them both for dead. As long as I can promise her both of those things, securing her assistance should be simple enough.
I even have a built-in advantage thanks to my [Scion] Background: as a highborn Britannian living in what was formerly Japan, I was one of the people in her inner circle during the early days of her exile. I suppose that makes us childhood friends? Well, I’ll take whatever advantage I can get.
“What do you mean by that, Lucia?” says Nina. (I note the pronunciation: LU-sha.)
Rivalz answers first. “Well, even when nothing’s going on, the Elevens aren’t exactly welcoming.”
Probably has something to do with invading their country and forcing them to live in ghettos. Before I can say anything, Lucia speaks up again.
“On top of that, the Britannian security forces will be on high alert. I doubt they’ll be particularly understanding of the usual student indiscretions.”
“Ah geeze, I didn’t even think of that,” says Rivalz with a grimace. “You’re right, Lucia, the police are sure to be a lot harsher with everything that’s going on. Could be a black mark on Ashford’s reputation if any of ours are caught stepping out of line.”
”Then I think Milly’s initial plan is still the best one,” says Shirley. “I’m sure some people will complain about it, but…”
“Better to deal with that than paying bail,” finishes Lucia. “We should put together a statement for Milly to read over the PA before afternoon classes begin.”
”Probably want to keep it a bit vague, yeah?” says Rivalz, flipping open his laptop and beginning to type. “I mean, I guess we don’t really have all the details anyway, so…”
“I think we should be as specific as we can,” I say. “If we leave anything out, it creates room for speculation, and it’s easy for people to think themselves into a panic.”
“Good point, Leila.” Milly taps a finger to her chin. “I’ll get in touch with Grandfather and see if he can dig up anything else before we say anything publicly. Nina, Shirley, can you contact the teachers and let them know there will be an announcement later?”
“Right away, Madam President.”
“Leave it to us!”
Nina and Shirley head towards the exit, while Milly walks up the stairs, pulling her phone from her blazer’s pocket. That leaves me, Lucia, and Rivalz alone around the table. I plop down into the chair next to Lucia’s, smoothing down my skirt.
“So, Lulu… Rivalz mentioned having something to discuss. I assume this has something to do with our vaguely-scheduled trips into the city?”
“You assume correctly.” Lucia fishes a slip of paper out from the inside cover of her book, sliding it across the table to me. “Take a look for yourself.”
I pick up the bookmark and give it a once-over. There’s a place, a date, and a time written near the bottom in Lucia’s neat, narrow handwriting. Baron Taylor’s city estate, August 15th, 12:00.
I roll my eyes. “Taylor again ? I swear, the man doesn’t know when to stop taking losing bets.”
“That’s what makes him one of our best customers,” says Lucia with a sly grin. “Sure, it costs a pretty penny to keep calling on us to bail him out, but I’ll never say no to some extra pocket money.”
“Nor will I.” I slide the slip back to her. “So, who’s he in hot water with this time?”
“Count Richmond. The man’s a blowhard, but considering his opponent…”
Rivalz laughs. “There’s gotta be, like, some kind of supernatural explanation for how bad Taylor is at chess. Especially when he keeps putting up branches of his business as collateral for his bets…”
“Even you could probably beat him,” I say with a wink. Rivalz’s shoulders slump.
“‘Even me?’ Ouch, Leila, that stings, even if it’s true.” He rubs the back of his neck, chuckling. “I never really got good at visualizing where the knights go. Anyway, I’m gonna be busy next week, so would you be able to give Lucia a lift there and back?”
“I can do that. Got nothing else going on, after all.”
Lucia meets my eyes, frowning slightly. “Are you all right? You seem rather distracted.”
“Yeah, just… family matters.”
I see understanding in her eyes, and she doesn’t press me any further. “How about a game of chess to take your mind off of things?”
“Sure.”
As Lucia heads off to the side of the room to get a chess set out of the cabinet, my mind is already whirling with possibilities. A chess match in the city, the week that Kallen Stadtfeld returns to class. That’s almost certainly the inciting incident. A terrorist cell in the Shinjuku ghetto hijacks a transport belonging to Britannia’s Code R research division, thinking it’s carrying a chemical weapon they can use against the occupation army. Instead, it contains Code R’s test subject, C.C., who grants Lucia “the power of the King.” That’s how I remember it happening, at least… but Rivalz was the driver in that scenario, and here it’ll be me instead.
[It is only natural that your presence will cause deviations from the ‘canon.’] LUCI’s voice disrupts my train of thought. [Is that not the reason why you are here? To change the story, and seek a different ending?]
True enough.
[If I may reiterate: though it may have many details in common, this is not the world you remember. Lucia’s presence is one example, but it is only the first. Do not take your foreknowledge for granted, and be prepared to encounter other deviations.]
Thanks for the advice, LUCI.
[But of course. It is only natural for me to help as much as I am able. After all, it is in both our best interests that you succeed.]
Lucia returns with the chess set, and each of us begins setting up our pieces. While we do so, I continue to think over the situation. One week until everything begins in earnest. I’d better prepare as best I can.
HUANG
Tokyo Settlement, August 8th
11 PM local time
A cigarette butt drops to the damp pavement, joining half a dozen others at the ugly man’s feet. He growls out a curse as he reaches for another and finds only a single cigarette left in the carton. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the asshole got a kick out of making him wait. He fishes out his battered old lighter and strikes it a couple of times, until—
“Evening, Huang.”
The sudden noise makes him jump, the freshly lit cigarette tumbling from his hands and extinguishing itself in a puddle as a stream of expletives leaves his lips. “The fuck was that for, you shitty son of a bitch?”
The cause of his consternation, a masked figure in a high-collared calf-length black coat, responds in an even tone.
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit?”
The blank eyes and painted smile of the white mask stare mockingly back at Huang before a gloved hand reaches up and removes it. The face revealed is, in his opinion, even more inhuman than the mask. Sure, it has all the right features, but that makes him all the more uncanny. The other man’s eyes, as black as his hair, are as flat and lifeless as a corpse’s. His kind don’t have feelings. Watching them try to pretend otherwise makes me sick.
The mask, at least, makes no presumption of being human.
“Never mind that,” Huang mutters, glaring at the opposite wall of the alley rather than continuing to look at his colleague’s face. “I want to know what the hell you were up to last night.”
“You’ll have to be more specific—”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Hei!” Huang snaps, lunging forward to grab the taller man by the front of his coat. “An OSI Contractor found electrocuted to death on a rooftop, several fingers broken, with a lone eyewitness claiming he saw the victim being chased through the air by a goddamn ghost… does that jog your memory?”
“Sounds like the witness was drunk.”
“And we’re lucky that local forces will dismiss it as that, but you and I both know the truth, Black Reaper.” Hei simply stares impassively down at Huang until he lets go of his coat and steps back with another curse. “What the fuck were you thinking, operating in the open like that?”
“He fled. I pursued him.”
“And why were you after him in the first place? What could possibly be worth bringing the whole damn government down on our heads?”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Our late friend Louis might have been OSI, but he told me he reported to General Bartley.”
Huang blinks at that, surprised. “Prince Clovis’s chief of staff? Shit… why would the goddamn Viceroy be trying to keep something a secret?”
“I imagine the answer to that question will be incredibly valuable.”
A logical answer, befitting a Contractor. It’s enough to cool Huang’s temper, at least a little. “You must have at least some idea of what it is, since you decided to go after this man in the first place. So start talking.”
“I’ve heard rumors going around about a secret subdivision of the OSI working on a project called Code R.” His tone is casual… too casual. A clear affectation, for someone who doesn’t have emotions.
“Clearly there’s more to it than that.”
Hei nods, and there’s a glimmer of something approaching emotion in his dead eyes. “Once I got him talking, Louis volunteered a great deal of information. Most pertinently, that Code R’s primary test subject was a so-called ‘immortal witch’ who perfectly matches the description of the former Agent February.”
That, more than anything else Hei has said, makes Huang’s eyes bug out. “Shit! That’s… shit. Shit. Okay.” A million thoughts are going through his head, each one more frantic than the last. Agent February, C-Two, Amber… whatever name she’s known by, she’s a legend in the underworld; a former member of the upper echelon of the OSI, she’d gone rogue ten years ago and absconded with several lifetimes’ worth of secrets. The bounties on her head from world governments and criminal organizations alike are astronomical. If we got our hands on her…
Huang clears his throat, suppressing a cough. “Well. That changes things. I’ll explain things to the Syndicate, then.” With information this valuable, Huang had no doubt that they would overlook his own lapses as the Black Reaper’s handler. “You… keep looking into this, I guess.”
“I had no intention of stopping.” Hei slides his mask back into place as he turns to walk away, directing his next words back over his shoulder. “Will that be all?”
“Yeah.”
With a whirring of wires and a rustling of his coat, the Black Reaper vanishes into the night, leaving Huang alone in the alleyway. He feels himself sweating despite the crisp fall air.
This is the start of something big.