CRASH!

         A high-pitched noise reverberated indoors.

          The noise, which would make one close their ears with both their hands reflexively, was produced by none other than Harold’s father. A proud, distinguished man of pure blood who seemed to be in his mid 30’s,  growing a noble Kaiser beard, holding a staff which shined with a black lustre, and donning a high-collared military uniform. He had smashed a huge vase, which was about 1 meter tall, with the staff grasped in his right hand.

          White petals fluttered down, as the leaking water spread onto a deep crimson carpet, further adding to Harold’s furry at the insolent servant. His father was driven to such a wrath that he had broken an expensive vase and sullied the magnificent carpet. All because of the vile, arrogant wrench who couldn’t pay for the fine pottery even if she slaved her entire life away. It was unlikely that even her children could hope to pay amends for all of her trouble. Truly despicable.

         “How will you take responsibility for this!?” 

         “I am extremely sorry! Please forgive me……!” 

         “Don’t screw around, you inferior woman!”

          Those words make something click in Harold’s brain, and he couldn’t help but think he ought to remember something, but at the moment his cold, frigid anger pushed aside any useless thoughts. Harold’s poor father’s face was dyed with a similar anger, and he couldn’t help but be concerned that speaking to the inferior species any longer would be bad for his complexion. The phrase godly wrath, indicated his father’s facial features perfectly in the current situation.

           In his raging anger, which couldn’t be satisfied by merely smashing a vase, Hayden Stokes was even using foul language in a vain attempt to penetrate the thick skull of the servant in front of him, who only knelt on her knees, bowed her head down, and offered words of apology while crying to try and gain sympathy from Harold’s oftentimes too benevolent father. Like she was trying to downplay her vices against Harold, and somehow turn the situation around so that she was the victim here. Even after all the trouble she caused Harold, and her generous treatment, she deliberately splashed him in filthy gardening water.

         Truly the lowest of trash.

         The thought somehow made Harold dizzy, and a familiar feeling had assaulted him; his line of sight suddenly seemed much too short, his center of mass too light, and his proportions much smaller than they should be. In an onslaught of intuition he even realized the servant’s name was Clara. The fact alone that he knew the name of one of the inferior species was peculiar, but even stranger was that he somehow knew, with a distinct certainty, that the lowly servant had a daughter named Colettee. Harold might need that vile medicine soon if his Episode went any further than this. 

           Behind Harold and across from his father, was his mother; a beautiful young woman wearing a resplendent dress named Jessica Stokes. Sensing something amiss with Harold, she tightened her hold on him and broke her scornful stare at the servant to gaze down at him worryingly. 

         “It’s okay, Harold. I won’t let that foul servant’s crocodile tears sway your father’ judgement. I promise you.”

          Harold couldn’t believe it was happening again, and at such an inopportune time, but as always there was little he could do to control it. This current episode seemed to be much stronger than usual. His perception even flickered, and for a moment it seemed as though Harold’s father, in the military uniform, and the woman, in the elegant dress, were verbally assaulting a lone servant. It felt like… he was someone else entirely.

         Hiroshi Kishino panicked. And then, as fast it arrived, it was over. But it was still there, lingering in his mind despite how hard he tried to distract himself. A severe chill ran down his spine, and he tried to curse aloud, but he was unable to. It was flaring up again.

          He recognized this figure and this scene. Presently, the sequence of arguments unfolding in front of him bore a resemblance to a scene in one of the most famous and widely acclaimed single-player RPGs ever known – Brave Hearts, which was up for sale a few years ago.

          Why did he know that? What was this “Brave Hearts”? He was able to recall it instantly because he was a fan of the game, and for no other reason. Even the fingers on both his hands weren’t enough to count the number of times he had completely played or watched play-throughs of the game. No, Harold had never played this ‘video game’. Someone else was messing with his head.

         There is no mistake, I’ve read the dialogue of the characters in each major cutscene countless times, and memorized not a small number of them. But where did I read it? What is a cutscene!?

         The man in the military uniform and the woman in the dress were the parents of a character appearing in the game, and the servant begging for forgiveness while crying was the mother of a main character of the game. Of that much, they were certain. 

         Grasping the circumstances, the boy falls into a state of extreme confusion and comes to a standstill. What was he thinking? This was not the time to be dreaming. But who was the one dreaming? Harold, or Kishino? The boy could not tell.

         His thoughts were racing with each emerging question.

         Abruptly being dropped into this scene of fighting, to which his comprehension couldn’t catch up, a single thing was clear.

         Some seriously weird-ass shit is occurring but why is it that I cannot move!? Am I tripping? I’d imagined that I would never take any foul substances such as that scum. However...

         Unbidden by Harold’s will, he understood that if the current scene were to trace the scenario of…  the game… then the servant, Clara’s, life was in an extremely precarious situation. 

        Of course it was! That was the point, was it not? Whomever demon is invading my mind with such heresy, and has perhaps occupied my mind before in my previous Episodes, let it be known that your punishment for cursing one of pure noble blood will not simply end with death.

          Based on Kishino’s thoughts, it could be guessed that this is an event where the servant is killed. Clara’s life is later taken by the hands of Harold, the son of the man in the military uniform.

         Where is Harold, the vital character? What nonsense am I blubbering about, dumbass? Am I blind?

         And then, the boy realizes a fact which comes as a huge blow – That his current position is the same as Harold’s.

         This event scene is shown as a reflection of the past in the story. Similar to that occasion, Harold was a boy of about 10 years old, and he has a great pool of memories belonging to him as well. Various factors displayed an unpleasant coincidence. 

          -I have, perhaps, always been inside Harold, and just waking up now…?

          The warmth transmitted from being hugged, the angry voice striking his ears, carrying a sense of reality, screams at the young boy’s five senses. 

          -Is this the world of some sort of game? The world of the game…if that’s how it is, then isn’t Clara-san going to die!? 

         Being torn between the conflicting thoughts the young boy could only stand still as he tried to make sense of the world. He wanted to stop thinking altogether, as his thoughts were repeatedly spinning around and around in incoherent circles.

         As though it was cut off from his will, his body moved in contrast with his thoughts. Shaking off his mother’s arm, his legs advance, step-by-step.

        “There is no merit in lending my ears to you begging for your life. I will personally purge that corrupt blood of yours.”

        “Father, wait. Entrust the execution of this woman to me.”

         The man had taken the sword which was hung on the wall, ready to cut down the servant. From behind him, the boy spoke words of restraint.

         He was familiar with those words as he had seen them on-screen. He spoke the dialog which wasn’t completely voiced out in the game originally, in the voice of a younger, high pitched version of Harold. Intervening at that point wasn’t entirely either of their intentions, as if their body had moved on its own.

         “To you? What do you plan to do?”

         “Recently, I learned a new magic. Let her become a guinea pig for testing that. Instead of dirtying the room with the blood of an inferior species like this, isn’t that a better use?”

         The corners of his lips rose up. A villainous smile showed as Harold applauded himself for thinking of such an ingenious idea. It was only natural, of course, as he was born of pure blood, but it was genius nonetheless.

         Though, the boy wasn’t entirely sure whether they had expressed any complacency to express the smile or not. On top of being placed in an incomprehensible situation, his body overturning their will and taking action on its own was an unendurable terror for them. Harold had thought of the idea beforehand, of course, so it was possible he was only imagining it. Yes, that was the reasonable explanation. Losing control of his body was never a part of the previous Episodes, after all.

           The boy hadn’t piled up an abundance of life experience to think fast in such a situation. A person who can adapt to and deal with such a situation surpasses what can be called as calm or skillful and can only be called as a freak.

           Fortunately or unfortunately, the boy wasn’t a freak. But if viewed from another angle, this meant that the flow of this event was irreversible.

          “Hohou, that might also be amusing. Until then, throw this woman in the dungeon!”

           As soon as Harold’s father raises his voice, immediately a soldier arrives and drags Clara away by grabbing her hand. The boy could only see her retreating figure off.

         “Filthy mixed-blood. Even though she was hired after I took pity on her, when asked to pull her weight, she can’t do even a single thing properly.”

         “She is an inferior species after all. Still, Harold wants to test his magic, so she might at least be useful in death.”

        “Humph, that is also true.”

        As though looking at a filthy object, their eyes had no intention of hiding their disgust. Harold’s parents didn’t even perceive the servant, Clara, as a human being.

         Under normal circumstances, towards this, the boy would have expressed his disgust as well. However, since his outlook had contracted due to the chaos, the married couple’s speech and conduct didn’t reach his ears. Even if it had reached him, he wouldn’t have properly perceived the contents.

         He had fallen into a stupor for several minutes. Let alone his surroundings, since then, what kind of conversations he exchanged with whom, how he reached this location, not a single thing did he have a recollection of.

          When he finally came to his senses, the boy was in his room, resting deeply on a single person sofa, with his gaze wandering about in empty space.

          “My name…my name is…”

          While muttering with a powerless voice, without an aim, he looked around inside the room with swimming eyes. Similar to the previous episodes, he felt an alien feeling of ‘newness’ from merely looking at the width of his own room. The canopied bed, the sofa he was resting on, it was his own room, which belonged to him for years, but he felt as if he were experiencing the details of it for almost the very first time.

          In a corner of the room, there was a full-length mirror whose height was greater than a grown male’s. The boy swallowed his saliva, with a sharp sound resounding from his throat.

          Standing up after putting all his power into his trembling knees, he walked towards the full-length mirror with unsteady footsteps.

To confirm a question. To reaffirm himself.

          As he got closer step-by-step, his heartbeat increased violently and his breathing also became fast and shallow. And yet, the boy didn’t stop his footsteps.

And finally, he stood in front of the full-length mirror. Why was he nervous to see his own reflection? Facing the full-length mirror, he opened his tightly shut eyelids. The person who was reflected from its surface, was without a doubt――

          “Hah… it’s only me. Of course it is. There is no one else it could be, after all.”

Reflected back at him, was the figure of Harold with the appearance of a young boy. Just Harold. And yet, why was the image of his own noble figure so… unsettling?