Long ago, following the fall of the Alhatan Empire, Cynthia established the Cynthia Empire and transferred its rule to the King of Medea. Upon ascending to the throne, Queen Grace II granted the Chynthia Empire a high degree of autonomy, rather than a mere vassal state. However, military and diplomatic authority remain with the Medea central government and governor.
Because of its low labor costs and abundant natural resources, many high-ranking nobles and businessmen leased land for business purposes and built numerous industrial plants. Its location also makes it useful for export trade.
I arrived in Dakanhab, the capital of Cynthia, with Noah and Vincent. It's a warm, humid climate, but the strong sun makes long sleeves necessary for protection. Vincent, who frequents this area, seems to understand why his skin has developed a stunning bronzed complexion, like that of a surfer.
“I asked him to come with me because he seemed to like traveling even though he didn’t like going out.”
Noah shook my hand, his face begging for praise. I was exhausted, but I responded as best I could, seeing his sincerity.
“Yes. It’s hot and nice.”
The harbor was teeming with vendors selling colorful flowers and fruits, and Cynthia's children, shirtless, were wading in the shallow waters. Black water buffalo with long horns roamed freely here and there, a little frightening. A gore from one of those horns would surely blow a hole in your throat.
The chauffeured car we drove to was a grand mansion, as grand as a palace. The gardens were so extensive that it took a long walk from the main gate, past the lake, through a jungle-like path lined with large banyan trees and palm trees. A turbaned Cynthia servant, standing at the entrance, helped us carry our luggage, then placed a hand on his forehead and bowed. He spoke in a broken Medea accent.
“Sahib, it is a pleasure to serve you.”
Seeing him call me Mrs. Sahib, I knew it was a respectful title. The interior of the mansion, decorated with vibrantly colored carpets with Oriental patterns, gold furniture, and ivory decorations, emanated a faint, distinctive scent of incense.
“It’s been a while. Mr. Rotsilt, Mr. Ford, and Mrs. Rotsilt.”
A man in his fifties, wearing a knee-length, button-down sheniwar, greeted us. He had a dignified demeanor and silver-white hair like Noah's. He offered a friendly greeting and smiled warmly.
“My name is Khan Ostrik.”
He seemed to be one of the Esatians rescued by Noah's father. I debated whether to follow that greeting, but I simply offered the universal greeting I knew. Noah introduced him very simply.
“He’s my father’s friend.”
The blue eyes of the middle-aged man looking at me widened, and wrinkles formed around his eyes.
“Yes, I have been indebted to you for your kindness long ago. The descendants of Esath, too.”
"I see. I'm glad you look healthy. Do you live here?"
"Yes. As branch manager, I oversee the operations of the Dakanhav branch of a company long jointly operated by the Rotsilt and Ford families. I'm also a member of the Medea National Aeronautics Industry Corporation, a cooperative company based here."
The families have been partners for a long time. Since it's under Medea's control, Frogen won't be able to interfere, so establishing an overseas branch seems like a wise move. I looked at Vincent with a slightly apologetic expression.
“But the secretary does all the work.”
"Before Mr. Rotsilt left Frogen, he transferred everything to my name. Do you know how difficult it was, including the stock price? And then he demanded a transfer of ownership again. His conscience is..."
“So, please take care of me in the future, partner.”
Noah smoothly cut off the disgruntled secretary's words and smiled. He patted Vincent on the shoulder. Finally, a servant approached and politely gestured toward the dining room.
“The meal is ready.”
A long ivory table was filled with a lavish array of dishes, carried by servants. Chyntia dishes, made with the expensive spice saffron, and dishes from Eyland, the homeland of the Esath people, were also served. After dinner, while enjoying tea, the three of them seemed poised to begin serious business. Uninterested, I quietly got up and left, pretending to take a walk in the garden.
“Mrs. Sahib.”
As I was looking around the glass-enclosed tea room, I heard a woman's soft voice from afar. I turned around and saw a figure peeking out from behind a tree laden with date palms. She had shoulder-length, flowing, silver-white hair. She smiled beautifully at me.
“Hello, Countess Rotsilt. My name is Johanna Ostrik.”
Judging by her blue eyes, which matched Branch Manager Ostrik's, she seemed to be his daughter. Her eyes were large, and her eyelashes were long. Her small face had harmonious and beautiful features. Are all Esatians good-looking? She's pretty.
"Hello."
"How could you have such beautiful hair? It looks like black spinel, the jewel of this place."
She stared at my hair, which was the complete opposite color to her own, with a look of wonder on her face. I see it every day, so it doesn't really surprise me.
“Thank you. Your hair is beautiful, too, Miss Ostrik.”
“Please call me Johanna, ma’am.”
Johanna smiled shyly, stroking her hair. We sat side by side on a stone garden bench, chatting away. It was all about pointless things like how tall I was and when my birthday was, but the conversation with her wasn't bad.
From a distance, I could see a car speeding toward the mansion's entrance. A gust of sand blew up behind the car, rapidly approaching us.
“Oh my, why did you come today?”
Johanna, who did know who it was, seemed quite embarrassed, and she hurriedly stroked her hair, straightened the hem of her skirt, and adjusted her clothes.
The person who opened the car door and got out was a young gentleman wearing a suit and a bowler hat. He approached Johanna with measured steps, his gaze focused solely on her.
“Johanna, today with me...”
A man who had belatedly spotted me next to Johanna flinched and greeted me. He removed his fedora, revealing dark hair. Judging by his hair color and appearance, he was from Medea. He was a tall, handsome businessman from Dhakahab, and his name was Logan Reynolds.
“I’m sorry, we have guests.”
Johanna, who had answered somewhat stiffly, smiled at me and signaled for me to go inside. As I hesitantly got up and followed her, I heard a man's wistful voice.
“Is it okay if I come tomorrow?”
“Mr. Reynolds, I hope you don’t come here for personal reasons.”
Unlike Johanna, who had mercilessly rejected his date request, the moment she turned around, her face turned sad and gloomy. I glanced at Logan Reynolds, who was standing there in the distance, and then quietly followed her. I thought, "It might be nice to go on a date."
“I’m not in a position to meet anyone.”
As if she had read my unasked question, Johanna spoke in a hoarse voice.
“That could be.”
“Haha, I have my own goals.”
What purpose could there possibly be? She was watching his departing figure with hazy eyes. She couldn't tear her gaze away from the car, which, like before, was kicking up a lot of sand as it drove away.
I sat in the glass tea room with Johanna, munching on dried dates alongside my coffee. The coffee was bitter, and the dates were sweet, a perfect combination. She had been talking about Logan Reynolds, whom she'd dumped earlier.
“He is the heir to the Baron Reynolds family, descended from Medea Tristana, and he intends to cede the title to his younger sister, who is entering politics.”
“Really? Please bring some dried dates with you when you go home.”
"Yes, yes, it's delicious. I picked and dried it myself. Mr. Reynolds likes it too."
I put down my coffee cup and asked seriously.
"You seemed interested in that guy. Why did you reject him? What are your goals in life?"
“Oh my. How did you know that?”
Johanna, her face visibly flustered, stammered a question. Her gaze was fixed on the brave fortune teller. "I've been talking about that man endlessly for a while now, and isn't it weirder to not notice?" Her face flushed at my bewilderment, and she fell facedown, banging her forehead against the table, which was made from a single piece of rubberwood.
“Please keep it a secret.”
“Oh, yes.”
I think your father already knows. It seems like a very obvious fact, but I hooked my finger on her pinky as she offered me a promise. Her age-appropriate innocence was endearing.
“I'm going to be a pilot soon... so I don’t think we’ll be able to see each other often.”
“Pilot, that’s cool.”
Although she was reacting calmly, she was sincere. She'd be wearing a pilot's uniform and a muffler around her neck. She'd look quite cool with the goggles. Perhaps she'd work for the Medea National Aeronautics and Space Corporation. As I pondered this, she looked up at the blue sky through the glass and spoke.
“The plane I will be piloting soon will be completed.”
“Really? Is that the new pleasure plane that just came out?”
“No, it’s a bomber. It’s huge.”
Driving a bomber? The thought of her dodging anti-aircraft fire and dropping high-explosive bombs on a city, turning it into a sea of fire, felt a little daunting. I was inwardly startled, but feigned nonchalance as I asked back.
“...Bombing? Are you a soldier?”
“Yes. I graduated early from the Air Force Academy here.”
A woman a year younger than me smiled brightly.
Going to war at such a young age was hard to believe for me as a 20-something adult.
"If you come with me tomorrow, you'll see. The airbase has been covered in camouflage to prevent reconnaissance aircraft from spotting it. From the air, it looks like a field."
“The goal was... so, to go to war?”
"Yes, that's right."
Johanna narrowed her eyes. She dared to give up love for her dream, but why did she have to fight in an air battle? Each person has their own motivations and goals, but if we look at it dichotomously, there are only two possible outcomes: life or death.
“Aren’t you scared?”
"It's scary, but I want to look down from on high and witness the downfall of a nation that trampled us and stole everything under the guise of their own superiority. Like an apostle descending from heaven."
His glassy blue eyes narrowed to resemble a strait surging with waves. It felt a little strange, as if I were facing someone who would aid in the near-future prosecution of a war criminal nation. If history were to unfold similarly to my original world, the Frogen Empire would receive a lesson from the coalition of major powers. And that would be a long time later.
Even if Johanna didn't do it, it would have happened. I didn't want to spread my complacent thoughts about living without even a plausible goal or motivation, so I kept silent.
Johanna clutched her coffee cup with both hands, gazing out at the deep green garden. Her eyes, calm and clear from the storm, were now filled with a lingering sense of sadness and regret.
“I can’t escape death either. I am an apostle, a lamb.”
The leaves of the barley trees outside slowly swayed to the sound of her lonely voice, as if reciting apocalyptic prophecies. The sunlight seen from inside the glass tea room was dazzling and brilliant.
Because of its low labor costs and abundant natural resources, many high-ranking nobles and businessmen leased land for business purposes and built numerous industrial plants. Its location also makes it useful for export trade.
I arrived in Dakanhab, the capital of Cynthia, with Noah and Vincent. It's a warm, humid climate, but the strong sun makes long sleeves necessary for protection. Vincent, who frequents this area, seems to understand why his skin has developed a stunning bronzed complexion, like that of a surfer.
“I asked him to come with me because he seemed to like traveling even though he didn’t like going out.”
Noah shook my hand, his face begging for praise. I was exhausted, but I responded as best I could, seeing his sincerity.
“Yes. It’s hot and nice.”
The harbor was teeming with vendors selling colorful flowers and fruits, and Cynthia's children, shirtless, were wading in the shallow waters. Black water buffalo with long horns roamed freely here and there, a little frightening. A gore from one of those horns would surely blow a hole in your throat.
The chauffeured car we drove to was a grand mansion, as grand as a palace. The gardens were so extensive that it took a long walk from the main gate, past the lake, through a jungle-like path lined with large banyan trees and palm trees. A turbaned Cynthia servant, standing at the entrance, helped us carry our luggage, then placed a hand on his forehead and bowed. He spoke in a broken Medea accent.
“Sahib, it is a pleasure to serve you.”
Seeing him call me Mrs. Sahib, I knew it was a respectful title. The interior of the mansion, decorated with vibrantly colored carpets with Oriental patterns, gold furniture, and ivory decorations, emanated a faint, distinctive scent of incense.
“It’s been a while. Mr. Rotsilt, Mr. Ford, and Mrs. Rotsilt.”
A man in his fifties, wearing a knee-length, button-down sheniwar, greeted us. He had a dignified demeanor and silver-white hair like Noah's. He offered a friendly greeting and smiled warmly.
“My name is Khan Ostrik.”
He seemed to be one of the Esatians rescued by Noah's father. I debated whether to follow that greeting, but I simply offered the universal greeting I knew. Noah introduced him very simply.
“He’s my father’s friend.”
The blue eyes of the middle-aged man looking at me widened, and wrinkles formed around his eyes.
“Yes, I have been indebted to you for your kindness long ago. The descendants of Esath, too.”
"I see. I'm glad you look healthy. Do you live here?"
"Yes. As branch manager, I oversee the operations of the Dakanhav branch of a company long jointly operated by the Rotsilt and Ford families. I'm also a member of the Medea National Aeronautics Industry Corporation, a cooperative company based here."
The families have been partners for a long time. Since it's under Medea's control, Frogen won't be able to interfere, so establishing an overseas branch seems like a wise move. I looked at Vincent with a slightly apologetic expression.
“But the secretary does all the work.”
"Before Mr. Rotsilt left Frogen, he transferred everything to my name. Do you know how difficult it was, including the stock price? And then he demanded a transfer of ownership again. His conscience is..."
“So, please take care of me in the future, partner.”
Noah smoothly cut off the disgruntled secretary's words and smiled. He patted Vincent on the shoulder. Finally, a servant approached and politely gestured toward the dining room.
“The meal is ready.”
A long ivory table was filled with a lavish array of dishes, carried by servants. Chyntia dishes, made with the expensive spice saffron, and dishes from Eyland, the homeland of the Esath people, were also served. After dinner, while enjoying tea, the three of them seemed poised to begin serious business. Uninterested, I quietly got up and left, pretending to take a walk in the garden.
“Mrs. Sahib.”
As I was looking around the glass-enclosed tea room, I heard a woman's soft voice from afar. I turned around and saw a figure peeking out from behind a tree laden with date palms. She had shoulder-length, flowing, silver-white hair. She smiled beautifully at me.
“Hello, Countess Rotsilt. My name is Johanna Ostrik.”
Judging by her blue eyes, which matched Branch Manager Ostrik's, she seemed to be his daughter. Her eyes were large, and her eyelashes were long. Her small face had harmonious and beautiful features. Are all Esatians good-looking? She's pretty.
"Hello."
"How could you have such beautiful hair? It looks like black spinel, the jewel of this place."
She stared at my hair, which was the complete opposite color to her own, with a look of wonder on her face. I see it every day, so it doesn't really surprise me.
“Thank you. Your hair is beautiful, too, Miss Ostrik.”
“Please call me Johanna, ma’am.”
Johanna smiled shyly, stroking her hair. We sat side by side on a stone garden bench, chatting away. It was all about pointless things like how tall I was and when my birthday was, but the conversation with her wasn't bad.
From a distance, I could see a car speeding toward the mansion's entrance. A gust of sand blew up behind the car, rapidly approaching us.
“Oh my, why did you come today?”
Johanna, who did know who it was, seemed quite embarrassed, and she hurriedly stroked her hair, straightened the hem of her skirt, and adjusted her clothes.
The person who opened the car door and got out was a young gentleman wearing a suit and a bowler hat. He approached Johanna with measured steps, his gaze focused solely on her.
“Johanna, today with me...”
A man who had belatedly spotted me next to Johanna flinched and greeted me. He removed his fedora, revealing dark hair. Judging by his hair color and appearance, he was from Medea. He was a tall, handsome businessman from Dhakahab, and his name was Logan Reynolds.
“I’m sorry, we have guests.”
Johanna, who had answered somewhat stiffly, smiled at me and signaled for me to go inside. As I hesitantly got up and followed her, I heard a man's wistful voice.
“Is it okay if I come tomorrow?”
“Mr. Reynolds, I hope you don’t come here for personal reasons.”
Unlike Johanna, who had mercilessly rejected his date request, the moment she turned around, her face turned sad and gloomy. I glanced at Logan Reynolds, who was standing there in the distance, and then quietly followed her. I thought, "It might be nice to go on a date."
“I’m not in a position to meet anyone.”
As if she had read my unasked question, Johanna spoke in a hoarse voice.
“That could be.”
“Haha, I have my own goals.”
What purpose could there possibly be? She was watching his departing figure with hazy eyes. She couldn't tear her gaze away from the car, which, like before, was kicking up a lot of sand as it drove away.
***
I sat in the glass tea room with Johanna, munching on dried dates alongside my coffee. The coffee was bitter, and the dates were sweet, a perfect combination. She had been talking about Logan Reynolds, whom she'd dumped earlier.
“He is the heir to the Baron Reynolds family, descended from Medea Tristana, and he intends to cede the title to his younger sister, who is entering politics.”
“Really? Please bring some dried dates with you when you go home.”
"Yes, yes, it's delicious. I picked and dried it myself. Mr. Reynolds likes it too."
I put down my coffee cup and asked seriously.
"You seemed interested in that guy. Why did you reject him? What are your goals in life?"
“Oh my. How did you know that?”
Johanna, her face visibly flustered, stammered a question. Her gaze was fixed on the brave fortune teller. "I've been talking about that man endlessly for a while now, and isn't it weirder to not notice?" Her face flushed at my bewilderment, and she fell facedown, banging her forehead against the table, which was made from a single piece of rubberwood.
“Please keep it a secret.”
“Oh, yes.”
I think your father already knows. It seems like a very obvious fact, but I hooked my finger on her pinky as she offered me a promise. Her age-appropriate innocence was endearing.
“I'm going to be a pilot soon... so I don’t think we’ll be able to see each other often.”
“Pilot, that’s cool.”
Although she was reacting calmly, she was sincere. She'd be wearing a pilot's uniform and a muffler around her neck. She'd look quite cool with the goggles. Perhaps she'd work for the Medea National Aeronautics and Space Corporation. As I pondered this, she looked up at the blue sky through the glass and spoke.
“The plane I will be piloting soon will be completed.”
“Really? Is that the new pleasure plane that just came out?”
“No, it’s a bomber. It’s huge.”
Driving a bomber? The thought of her dodging anti-aircraft fire and dropping high-explosive bombs on a city, turning it into a sea of fire, felt a little daunting. I was inwardly startled, but feigned nonchalance as I asked back.
“...Bombing? Are you a soldier?”
“Yes. I graduated early from the Air Force Academy here.”
A woman a year younger than me smiled brightly.
Going to war at such a young age was hard to believe for me as a 20-something adult.
"If you come with me tomorrow, you'll see. The airbase has been covered in camouflage to prevent reconnaissance aircraft from spotting it. From the air, it looks like a field."
“The goal was... so, to go to war?”
"Yes, that's right."
Johanna narrowed her eyes. She dared to give up love for her dream, but why did she have to fight in an air battle? Each person has their own motivations and goals, but if we look at it dichotomously, there are only two possible outcomes: life or death.
“Aren’t you scared?”
"It's scary, but I want to look down from on high and witness the downfall of a nation that trampled us and stole everything under the guise of their own superiority. Like an apostle descending from heaven."
His glassy blue eyes narrowed to resemble a strait surging with waves. It felt a little strange, as if I were facing someone who would aid in the near-future prosecution of a war criminal nation. If history were to unfold similarly to my original world, the Frogen Empire would receive a lesson from the coalition of major powers. And that would be a long time later.
Even if Johanna didn't do it, it would have happened. I didn't want to spread my complacent thoughts about living without even a plausible goal or motivation, so I kept silent.
Johanna clutched her coffee cup with both hands, gazing out at the deep green garden. Her eyes, calm and clear from the storm, were now filled with a lingering sense of sadness and regret.
“I can’t escape death either. I am an apostle, a lamb.”
The leaves of the barley trees outside slowly swayed to the sound of her lonely voice, as if reciting apocalyptic prophecies. The sunlight seen from inside the glass tea room was dazzling and brilliant.
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