The Protagonist’s Party is Too Diligent – 122
EP.122 Interlude
Alice and Sylvia returned to the imperial palace the following evening.
Although it had only been three short days, Sylvia’s face seemed more relaxed than ever in Alice’s eyes. It was as if all her worries had melted away, leaving her with a calm, carefree expression.
That tranquility disappeared entirely, however, as Sylvia changed back into her academy uniform before entering the palace.
Alice found herself pondering a strange, unfamiliar thought: the imperial palace, which she considered her home, might not feel like home to Sylvia.
It was an alien concept for Alice, something she had never questioned or even considered before. The palace had been her home since the day she was born, so naturally, she assumed Sylvia felt the same way. But she was wrong.
Sylvia seemed to regard the Grace Estate, which she had visited for the first time, as a more comfortable place. And oddly enough, Alice thought she might understand why.
“Did you have fun at the Academy?”
Though both Alice and Sylvia had entered to meet the Emperor, now it was only Alice and the Emperor speaking.
Was it because Alice shared the Emperor’s blood? Perhaps.
Alice was aware that Sylvia possessed superior abilities and that the Emperor considered her a potential successor to the throne. If the Emperor was favoring Alice as the next ruler, it wasn’t because she surpassed Sylvia in capability, but because Sylvia had no desire for the throne.
It likely stemmed from Alice’s conduct before their departure for the academy—her actions and words in front of the Emperor. If there were a direct reason, that would be it.
Even so, the Emperor treated Alice and Sylvia differently in subtle ways.
The Emperor spoke of them as “equal princesses” and acted as though that were the truth. But if one had to choose which of them the Emperor treated more like a true daughter, it would undoubtedly be Alice.
“Yes, I had fun,” Alice replied, recalling the Grace Estate.
The baroness treated Leo and Claire equally. Perhaps it was because Claire, as a woman, had no prospect of inheriting the barony. Despite being adopted for her abilities, in the end, she was still female.
Even if Claire were to carry on the Grace family name, her brightest future would likely involve marrying into a respectable household. Considering Leo and Claire as siblings wouldn’t harm the Grace family, regardless of the circumstances.
Yet, despite all these considerations, the baroness treated Claire as though she were her biological daughter. Unless discussing the orphans Claire had lived with, the baroness never emphasized the fact that Claire was adopted.
…Could the same be said for the Emperor?
Would a parent who truly thought of Sylvia as their own child send her on assassination missions at a young age? Would they almost deploy her to the battlefield before she even entered the academy?
Was it trust that led the Emperor to assign such tasks? Or was it something else entirely?
And did Sylvia know this? Did she feel it?
“You seem to have had a good time with your sister,” the Emperor remarked.
It had been enjoyable—truly. Especially since Alice hadn’t needed to dwell on the obsessive thoughts about the throne that had plagued her as a child.
“What about Sylvia? Did she seem to be enjoying the academy?”
“…I believe so,” Alice answered after a brief hesitation.
“I see.”
The Emperor nodded, scrutinizing Alice carefully.
“Sylvia even dressed as she did for the sake of your plan, so she must have enjoyed her time at the academy with you in her own way.”
Alice quietly looked up at the Emperor.
For some reason, she felt she already knew what the next words would be.
“That individual we encountered that day.”
The Emperor began to speak slowly, as if to draw out the significance of the words. It wasn’t hesitation—it felt more like a deliberate emphasis.
“Did Sylvia say anything about the one in the robe?”
“She did not.”
If Sylvia had spoken about that individual’s identity—whoever they might have been—Alice would have been thrown into turmoil. Contemplating such matters alone was one thing; confirming their reality was an entirely different matter.
“Since then, do you think Sylvia has… used her special abilities?”
“…I don’t know.”
Even if she had used them, Sylvia hadn’t said anything, and Alice hadn’t pressed her about it.
The Emperor’s lips held the same composed smile as always. Alice stared intently at the Emperor, trying to mask her own expression. She doubted she was successful. If Alice could read Sylvia’s expressions, surely the Emperor—with far greater insight—could read hers even better. And Alice didn’t believe she was better at hiding her emotions than Sylvia.
“Hmm.”
The Emperor gazed down at Alice silently.
“That day, at the scene.”
The Emperor continued speaking, taking a measured tone.
“The individual we presumed to be carrying the relic disappeared in an instant. There were no signs of magic being cast, nor did it appear they used any other kind of device. A thorough search afterward uncovered no alternate escape routes.”
The Emperor leaned slightly forward, towering over Alice as though scrutinizing her from above. Maintaining that posture, the Emperor spoke with a subtle intensity.
“At that moment, Sylvia collapsed. Or rather, to be precise, she was already collapsed. None of us witnessed the act of her falling. But based on the bruises on her body and the torn collar of her uniform, we can infer that something happened during that brief interval.”
The Emperor laid out each fact deliberately, as if constructing a case, presenting them one by one in front of Alice. These were details everyone present that day already knew, but the Emperor spoke them aloud intentionally.
“Are you saying Sylvia truly told you nothing about what happened that day?”
She had not. Alice hadn’t asked, either.
But—
“No, she didn’t.”
Alice remembered.
For reasons unknown, inexplicable even to herself, Alice recalled the battle that none of the others present seemed to remember.
It wasn’t clear.
She vividly remembered the events leading up to facing the robed figure. Even the moments when the battle began were sharp in her mind.
But the actual fight was fragmented.
She thought she had struck the figure with her sword, but it hadn’t happened. She believed they had been hit by a bullet, yet again, they hadn’t. It was as if the future and the past overlapped, as though the figure’s survival was somehow predetermined.
Still, Alice distinctly remembered a sequence of events that should have been impossible in that reality—events that could never have occurred but remained etched in her memory.
Until the moment that figure grabbed Sylvia’s collar.
The space around them fractured and warped, and finally, the figure began to bleed—
And then, the memory abruptly stopped. When Alice regained her senses, she found herself at the moment the Emperor had been speaking of.
So, what had happened?
She didn’t know.
In the end, the figure had vanished, and the relic that should have been there was gone as well.
Why was Alice the only one who remembered that figure?
She didn’t know that either.
“Sylvia still hasn’t said anything.”
And neither had Alice.
“……”
She could feel the Emperor’s gaze fixed on her through her bowed head. But Alice stayed silent, simply waiting.
“I see.”
The Emperor finally spoke, the tension that had seemed to press down on Alice dissipating in an instant.
“But there’s one thing I can say with certainty.”
A faint smile appeared on the Emperor’s lips, as if finding the situation amusing.
“At the very least, Sylvia can’t go back to the way things were before that moment. If she could, she would have erased that event entirely. Whoever that robed figure was, they’ve inadvertently done us a favor.”
“Even if they took the relic?”
Alice asked cautiously.
“And what exactly can they do with it?”
“……”
Having a few scattered pieces of a fragmented relic didn’t mean much. Wild speculations and legends existed all over the world, but they were just that—legends. No one had ever succeeded in gathering all the relics.
“But if that figure appears again to steal more relics—”
“They won’t show themselves so easily,” the Emperor said with a confident smile.
“If they could appear that easily, they’d have gathered all the relics long ago. And if the future where they collect all the relics is already set in stone… well.”
The Emperor shrugged.
“Then I suppose we’d have to accept that as our fate.”
But Alice, as the Emperor’s daughter, knew better than anyone that her father would never leave it at that.
“Regardless, you’ve done well.”
Even after discussing such weighty matters, the Emperor spoke as if they had been chatting about ordinary, mundane affairs.
“I imagine you’d like to spend some time talking with your sister, but I’ve taken up too much of your time. You may go now.”
“……”
Alice gave a slight bow to the Emperor, then turned and left the audience chamber, unable to quell the unease simmering deep in her chest.